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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
Gift of
WILLIAM H. MORGAN, '26 S.

THE PROPHECY QF OUR NATIONAL GREATNESS,

lI see

freedoms established reign; cities atidmen,
Numerous as sands upon, the ocean shore,
Andernpires rising where the sun descends!
The Ohio soon shall glide bymany a town.
Of Note! and where the Mississippi's stream.,
By forests shaded, now runs sweeping on,
Nations shall Orow.and. states, not les sin. fame
Thau Greece and Rome of old! We, too,shall boast
Our Scipios, Solons, Catos,_sap^e.s, chiefs,
That in the lapse of time yet dormant lie,
Waiting the joyous hour of life andlidht."
"Philip Treneau, the AmericatiPoetml775.

ITS FULFILMENT.

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3he advance oflhh wirn/iy notalvne in if,i umt/tii, which had more than doubled every
ten yearn, but- in the increase tfi/3 population, which i j even more valuable than gold and dilver
haA been Mutinied more titan Jrwt Or/lain, nine, thrtea/nore IhanJIuAtria, Ten titnei more titan
Zfttmee, andio deidinedtcyweusahundtvdnii/lion4 dttlte endoftite century; and, beyond it
our nation ioio bc,init6fwu>et;mitiigiwidmr,inin territorial arw,in itA resourced, inttd ca/wci-
tie^ondin/tfo/i/w/tund/e^wnaiSdarenotdtievn/itto/tred/ct'' Drwn 0rientfo Ccc/denf, from moutrfa/n 1o mountain, JromJillanlic to'i'acific.jhm hun
dred-harbored ./flaine to the 9vtden Sate, thejuturc ofmidgreaf-wwtlru,tfonly priidence,ui^ -
dotnJuMce andrightond/ieace, A/taliyuide it, dhat/Oehegottdtltc/witraifalof/anc/aage, 
heyottu 'anu words that my head 'could 'deoti>e»orthafniy longue, can e//irej<) ."
<DurGeirfenniaJ,/liinivenlary o/'liieBec/arahbn ofSnde/wtdence u/illf indent, n,> an en -
-lire nation, reeoyniziny the great hvitid of thai inunotlal Magna Qiarla; enjoy inyafiune wide
n.iilic uwr/d, and eternal a.i the itnr.i, wilh a/wrifterrhj thatahall ec/ifiiie in lite Tfutuir all lite
briylmt gloried of 'thefaal! " S nr Yr^j/detttQt/firX.

Oue Fiest Centtjey:
BEING A
POPULAR DESCRIPTIVE PORTRAITURE
OP THE
tyne |{iuit!«t( tytwt ami ^t\\mw\($mt

%

OF PERPETUAL INTEREST

W THE HISTORY OF OUR COUNTRY,
Political, Military, Mechanical, Social, Scientific
and Commercial:

EMBRACING ALSO

DELINEATIONS OE ALL THE GREAT HISTORIC CHARACTERS
CELEBRATED IN THE ANNALS OF THE
REPUBLIC ;
Men of Heroism, Statesmanship, Genius, Oratory, Adven
ture and Philanthropy.
With -Additions to the Present Time.

By R. M. IDEVENS,
Member ofthe Historical Society of Pennsylvania, Author of Appleton's Commercial and Business Cyclopedia,
Lives of Washington, Napoleon, and Wellington, fre, fre.

Splendidly Illustrated with Several Hundred Plates, Portraits, and other Embellishments.

PUBLISHED BT
C. A. NICHOLS & CO., SPRINGFIELD MASS.
HUGH HERON, CHICAGO, ILL.
1880.

Entered according to Act of <'ongi'ess,'in the year 1876, by
C. A. NICHOLS & Co.
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, fit Wasbington.

SPRINGFIELD PRINTING COMPANY,
Electrotypes s, Printers and Binders
SPK1NGFIFLD, MASS.

'Columbia, £rc;U Republic! thou art blest,
While Empires drop, and Monarchs sink to rest."

GLORY OF THE AMERICAN" CENTURY.

%v*t**j>*t'>'

¦RAND and impressive, beyond all that is yet written in the
Volume of Human History, will be that transcendent Chapter,

which shall unfold, in philosophic narrative, the birth and onward
march, in greatness and power, of the Republic of the United States, — the completion
of its First Century of mighty national development in Political Liberty and
Free Civilization, and the momentous relations of that development to the interest,
progress, and destiny of mankind.
A taskso stately and magnificent might fitly engage the pen of a Bancroft, a Motley,
or other historiographer tf kindred fame; for, surely, no power of mental grasp or
of historic portrayal inferior to theirs, could adequately set forth the resplendent
advances and triumphs of Humax Illumination — wide streaming, wondrous,
beneficent, energizing, — ou this western continent, and under the inspiration of

8

DEDICATION.

liberal institutions, during the Century of
the American Republic; a country which,
when it first clothed itself with the pre
rogatives of sovereignty, numbered but
thirteen feeble States, with three million
inhabitants, occupying the small familiar
strip of territory lined on one side by
the Atlantic ocean, and on the other by
the Alleghany ridge, but whose vast out
lying boundaries are now watered also by
the great Pacific, the gulf of California,
and the Arctic ocean, — comprising, in fact,
a continental chain of zones, sweeping, in
hemispheric magnitude, from the moun
tain crests of eternal snows to the region
of perpetual flowers ; — its census of popu
lation, too, with similar strides of amazing
augmentation, rolling up a free, intelli
gent, and powerful citizenship of forty
round millions !
Never before has the world witnessed
so superlative an illustration of the capac
ity of man for self government; never
before has the Glory of Man, in bis unre-
pressed enthusiasm and unfettered activi
ties, been confirmed by achievements so
splendid and enduring.
Sharing, in full measure, the patriotic
pride of a birthright and nationality so
exalted, and of associations so illustrious, —
the conscious sentiment of every American
bosom, —
I DEDICATE THIS WORK TO MY ENLIGHT
ENED Fellow Countrymen in the
NEARLY TWO SCORE FRATERNAL COM
MONWEALTHS OE OUR GLORIOUS UNION,
—E Pluribus Unvm ! "All for each,
AND EACH KOR ALL."

Our common interest in these marvel
ous recitals of the nation's Wonderfully
varied Life during the Centennial Era,
now just completed, is without distinction
of party, section, or calling ; and our con

gratulatory lot it is, under the gracious
blessing of Heaven, to boast of a career
more renowned, diversified in character,
and more boundless in its results to the
human race, than that of the most com
manding Empires of the Past, of what
ever name or period.
These memorials of that unparalleled
and majestic drama possess,, .too, — many
of them, — an historical significance which
is not limited to the past, nor to the gener
ation whose fortune it is to rehearse them
at this dividing threshold, between their
occurrence and their commemoration ; —
their influence will reach forward to the
setting of the sun of time!
Vain Predictions of the Enemies of
Free Government.
Contemplating, with but the briefest
survey, the data exhibiting our prodigious
national growth, scarcely can it be realized,
at tbe present day, that, even after the
lapse of successive decades from the na
tion's birth, there were prophets of evil
omen across the water, the devotees of
monarchical rule and the enemies of free in
stitutions, who oracularly predicted that
the American Republic was but a tran
sient experiment — a mere political will-o'-
the-wisp — an aerial edifice, which a few
rough storms would shatter and dissipate;
that it would, indeed, prove like Jonah's
gourd, which grew up in a night, and per
ished in a day !
Statesmen of no less sagacity than Rus
sell, Macaulay, Brougham, and, still later,
even that astute philosopher, Mi. Carlyle,
heralded with blind and self-conceited as
sumption, the downfall of our nation, — the
same nation, of whose geographical mag
nitude already attained during its tenth
decade, one of the most prominent of
American Statesmen could declare, that,
were all the countries conquered by Roman

DEDICATION.

il

arms, or reduced to subjection by Roman
power, arrayed contiguously, in compact
form, and placed in tho center of the
United States, ono of our swift railroad
trains, with its palace cars, containing
more of elegance and luxury of travel than
the most sybaritic of the Roman emper
ors ever dreamed of, must run at tho rate
of twenty-five miles the hour, continu
ously, for more than two days, from either
exterior boundary of our jurisdiction, to
reach the outward limits of the Roman
empire, when thus placed, even when she
claimed to be mistress of the world.
But, though the vauntings of evil proph
ecy, the assaults of envy and ridicule, the
tirades of a hostile press, and the machina
tions of kings and cabinets, have ever and
anon swept across the Atlantic, and sought
to weaken the stability and humiliate the
name of our glorious Republic, it still
stands, confronting and challenging the
tribunal of the world, in the majesty of
those eternal principles embodied in its
Declaration of Independence, — in the
strength of its dignity as the commanding
arbiter of its own affairs, and of the des
tiny oi the Western hemisphere as well, —
in the prowess of its fleets and armies, —
in the incalculable wealth of its natural
resources, — in the splendor of its world
wide commerce, its gigantic material en
terprises, its vast industries, its affluence
in the whole range of art, science, and lit
erature, — and in the still growing ascend
ancy of all those moral, social, educa
tional, and political forces, which shall
carry it onward and dominant, with ever-
increasing power, "while Empires drop
and Monarchs sink to rest."
Well, then, may every true American,
standing on this Centennial outpost, and
seeing the gorgeous ensigns of the repub
lic studded with naught but stars of ever-

brightening light and luster, proudly ex
claim, "There stands the Past — All hail
the Hereafter ! Ring out the Old — Ring
in the New ! "
Scope of this Volume: Wonders and
Prodigies, Men and Events.
Leaving to tho tpsk of tho general his
torian, the discussion of those grave themes
of constitutional and legislative polity, tbe
triumphs and failures of diplomacy, and
the complex details of civic and military
administration, which make up the politi
cal life of a State and give to a government
its distinguishing consideration and status
in the family of nations, it is proposed
in this volume, — as meeting what is be
lieved will be the almost universal prefer
ence of the People, — to present, rather, a
panoramic view of those wonders and prod
igies, both of men and events, which pe
culiarly reflect the patriotism, taste and
genius, the exploits, tragedies and achieve
ments, of the Century, in their most promi
nent and emphasized examples; — those
red-letter days, scenes and sensations,
which exhibit, in distinctive portraiture,
the glory of our arms, the triumphs of in
vention, the marvelous phenomena of the
heavens above and the earth beneath, the
enthusiasm of reform, the valorous adven
tures of voyage and travel, the contests of
the forum, tho horrors of calamity and
crime, the startling play of the human will
and passions, the gala days of national re
joicing, etc., etc., in all the rich and ex
citing phases of one hundred changeful
years. An eminent writer, in ono of the most
influential of the foreign Reviews, re
marks: "If the sense of wonder in civilized
man has not been wholly destroyed, we
can not doubt that this age in which we

10

DEDICATION.

live will be looked back upon by our chil
dren's children as more replete with won
ders than any which the world's history
has hitherto recorded."
How forcible tho truth of this observa
tion is, in respect to tho one hundred years
of our own history, the characterizations
spread out in the following pages will at
test. The calendar of that century has
been multitudinous with wonders — social,
moral, political, physical, scientific, — so
vast, so dazzling, as to render familiar to
us, as matters of common interest and
daily thought, results and facts, greater
and intrinsically more strange, than any
that past ages afford, and eclipsing any
that pertain to distant countries.
The superior value, therefore, of this
volume, for the great mass of readers, as
compared with works of simple chronologi
cal summary with the usual comments and
discussions, is seen iu the more diverse
range — the wider scope — of attractive sub
jects here collected, and which are adapted
to meet so fully the average taste and
need. Thus, the pages of no history, cast
in the customary mould of that order of
literature, could be expected to contain
more than a passing allusion, if so much,
tothepeculiarly readable matter which com
prises one-third, at least, of tha topics here
treated, and, without which, the work
would fail in its mast piquant element.
History Illustrating Itself by Ex
ample.
Adopting the words " great " and " mem
orable," according to the liberal definition
of lexicologists, and guided by the familiar
injunction of Cicero, "Choose with dis
cretion out of the plenty before you," the
plan of thi3 work is, in a special and per
spicuous sense, that of history illustrating
itself by example. It says to all, Look
on this picture — and on this.

Suffice it to say, on this point, that
every event chosen for these pages is, in
addition to its own intrinsic interest, such
as illustrates and brings into striking relief
the prevailing spirit or excitement of the
period marked by its occurrence, — photo
graphs of each recurring marvel, as the
canvas of national life" was unrolled, — he-
ginning with the world-renowned transac
tion in the Hall of Independence, July 4,
1776, and ending with the Centennial com
memoration, July 4, 1876, of that august
scene, under circumstances the most grand
and imposing that ever related to any peo
ple under the sun.
Popular Interest of the Subjects
here Treated.
The popular and permanent fame of
these celebrated events, which thus distin
guish a century confessedly the most won
derful of any in the ages of the world, and
pertaining to a country whose career has
been unequaled by that of any of the na
tions of Christendom, may well be said to
constitute a quality in this volume, com
pared with which the ordinary terms ap
plicable to books designed for wide-spread
circulation would be but tame. The char
acter of this work is, rather, in the fullest
sense, romantic, stimulating, instructive, —
adapted, in the highest degree, to enlist
the rapt emotions and curiosity of every
American reader, so long as the republic
shall endure. Here, also, are presented to
view, in addition to the long and thrilling
role of subsequent events, those grand
Time-marks in our earlier history, to
which the out-stretched forefinger of a
century points, as most memorable and
engrossing. They were rehearsed by the
fathers to the children ; and the children
of the present, and those of future genera
tions, will peruse the varied story with
eager and absorbing attention.

DEDICATION.

11

For that large number, too, who though
now in advancing years are familiar with
manj- of these events only tlirough veibal
repetition, or from scanty and fragmentary
sources, this ample detail, through the
printed page, of whatever is most famous
in the past of their native land, will surely
be invaluable.
Exclusion of All Dry Topics and
Details.
As already remarked, incidentally, the
treatment of those topics which involve
tedious documentary array, those, too,
which are more property within the scope
of scientific speculation, or political theo
rizing, or legal disquisition, — sr.ch, for in
stance, as the shifting conflicts of party,
our international complications, and those
profound problems of public policy which
have agitated the country since its very
foundation, — has not been attempted here,
excepting in those spec al features which
admit of attractive nnrrative and the em
bodying of genial anecdote and pleasing
memorabilia. A host of ready pens will
not be wanting, to elaborate, in well-woven
thread of continuity, the copious facts and
proceedings relating, respectively, to the
political, military, religious, benevolent,
commercial and industrial growth of the
republic, during the wondrous cy.le just
completed; and it is safe to assume, there
fore, in this regard, that the interests of
no class or profession will suffer from the
lack of a competent representative in the
circle of authorship.
The Universal Heart Touched by
these Scenes and Events.
It will readily be conjectured that, to
"choose with discretion" from the multi
farious materials which the preparation of
suc'i a work involved, — discriminating

aptly among their number and variety, —
was no indifferent task.
The utmost pains-taking has been put
forth by the editor, to perform this duty in
such a manner as to omit nothing, the
absence of which would impair the com
pleteness of the work, by making it in any
measure less than it should be — a mirror
reflecting the great and striking occur
rences of an Era to which has been di
rected, from first to last, the wondering
gaze of people of every clime. Especially
may they be described as those at which
the American citizen, taking a retrospect
of the annals that flow through the period
thus marked, involuntarily finds himself
filled, alternately, with astonishment —
pride — horror — delight.
In a word, the contents of these pages,
as will be seen by a glance at the Topi
cal or Classified List, comprise those
events which called forth the greatest in
terest, curiosity, admiration, or terror, on
the part of the public; — those black and
white keys, whose changeful notes, oft-
times of weal,ofttimes of woe, touched, as
did no others, the universal heart!
Different Tastes and Preferences
Consulted.
That the number of subjects pertinent
for such a work might be somewhat ex
tended, soon became apparent. Thus, of
the many battles in the five great wars, —
the revolutionary struggle, the war of
1812, the Mexican campaign, the conflict
for the Union, and the wars with the In
dians, — a description will be found of the
fifteen most decisive, together with ac
counts of some others of controlling im
portance ; to portray all, however, of ac
knowledged moment, would have been to
devote a whole volume, at least, to that
specialty alone. Particularly does this

12

DEDICATION.

remark apply to that vast and prolonged
drama of the war for the Union ; — it was
absolutely impossible, and it would also
have been equally unprofitable, to present
more than a few of those teeming events.
such, for instance, as marked its inaugura
tion, and those which, during its progress,
distinctly foreshadowed or were immedi
ately identified with the final result.
The same statement holds true, rela
tive])*, with reference to great political
measures, crimes, disasters, reforms, and
the wide field of discoveries and inven
tions. Of these latter, numbering in the
Patent Office at Washington scores of
thousands, the "New American Cyclopae
dia" gives place, in its masterly table of
Chronology, to barely half a dozen exam
ples ; more than this number, however, are
here described, linked with the fascinating
story of their extraordinary origin and in
troduction, and tlieir amazing revolution
ary influence.
Without pursuing this train of explana
tion farther, it may be observed that, in
prosecuting the contemplated plan of this
volume, it was found that, though the
grand object in view would be amply and
satisfactorily attained by restricting the
topical contents to the original one hun
dred, there were yet certain notable occur
rences which, though by no means " great,"
in the pre-eminent meaning of that word,
possessed, nevertlnless, so largely the char
acter of being novel and exhilarating, and
partook so peculiarly of the " bloom, effer
vescence, and gush" of the times, that
their presentation would add most agree
ably to the variety, readableness, and eclat
of the text.
It was finally determined, therefore,
that a limited number of this collateral or
secondary class should be included, — pop
ular side-light scenes, or episodes, in the

varying tableaux, — such as the account of
the sea serpent, the musical tour of Jenny
Lind, the chess triumphs of Morphy,
Rarey's feats of horse-taming, etc., etc., —
but not by subtracting from the full roll
of the One Hundred events which were
selected, from the first, as legitimately
illustrating the broad National Epoch, and
which so distinctly fulfill the name and
design of this work.
Great Historic Actors as well as
Deeds Described.
It will hardly be necessary to remark at
much length upon what, in the nature of
the case, is so obvious, namely, that not
alone the great Events distinguishing tlie
past, but also the Actors, w th whose lives
those events are so intimately identified,
are here delineated in the most striking
crises of their career; so that no sphere or
phase of public concern, however diverse,
which aroused world-wide attention, is
without its personal portraitures in these
pages. Washington, and his immortal
compatriots of " the times that tried men's
souls," and, following them, all the chief
historic characters whose deeds loom up so
conspicuously, and whose fame for good or
ill, success or disaster, is national, — men
of heroism, statesmanship, oratory, genius,
adventure, philanthropy, crime, — havo
here their appropriate place.
Character and Extent of Labor In
volved.
The matter of these volumes is of such
a nature as necessarily to render mere
rhetorical platitudes quite out of place;
and the too common plan of presenting
rivulets of fact in meadows of verbiage,
would be at utter variance with the object
and value of our prescribed space. Res,
non verba! It has consequently been a

DEDICATION.

13

paramount aim with the editor, while
strictly avoiding that degree of condensa
tion which would result in arid outlines,
or bare skeletons, to — first, avoid micro
scopic details, and, second, to fuse the vital
facts and racy incidents of each subject in
such a manner as would body it forth to
the reader in judicious fullness and com
plete unity. That no reasonable desire in
this respect has been left unsatisfied, it is
sufficient to say, that, to each great event
is devoted a number of pages equal to that
usually given to articles, descriptive or
narrative, in the various first-class maga
zines of widest circulation.
Manifestly, too, it could form no part of
such a work as this to create, or to adorn
by the mere artifice of words, but rather,
with simple fidelity, to rehearse and per
petuate. Sources of information, wher
ever available, embracing the well nigh
endless files of American newspapers, and
in particular the issues of the metropoli
tan press; the immense range of periodi
cal literature traversing the whole period
of one hundred years ; voluminous masses
of judicial and legislative documents; the
personal narratives of those who were
foremost participants in the scenes de
picted ; innumerable incidents and data
communicated by eye-witnesses ; the teem
ing libraries, public and private, of our
principal cities; — the whole store-house,
in fact, of history in every department,
has been industriously explored, and its
contents, diligently examined and sum
marized, made tributary to the interest of
these pages.
No event or transaction has in any case
been selected, or excluded, because of any
bias, political or religious, on the part of
the editor; but, alike in respect to the
events themselves and tlieir dramatis per-
wnce, the variety here presented, as well

as the authorities and sources of informa
tion cited, will abundantly evince the en
tire impartiality practiced. Nor was it
deemed desirable to augment the bulk of
the work by indulging in diffuse com
ments, or philosophical reflections, on the
events set forth, however fruitful and
tempting the opportunity. The "plain
unvarnished tale" is allowed to stand by
itself, teaching its own lesson, and sug
gesting its own commentary.
The difficulty of attaining unchallenged
accuracy in all the minutiae of each event
— as, for example, the diverse combina
tions and maneuvers incident to pro
longed battles, — as well as other transac.
tions involving great and many-sided
detail, need but to be mentioned in order
to be appreciated. The various and pro
tracted controversies growing out of the
statements contained in the volumes of
our foremost national historian, Mr. Ban
croft, are fresh in the minds of all wrho are
familiar with current literature and affairs,
and furnish a case in point ; and if any ad
ditional evidence were requisite to show
the difficulties of even the most conscien
tious narrator, the experience of Sir Wal
ter Raleigh will at least be taken as suf
ficiently suggestive. It is well known
that his " History of the World " was
composed while he was a political prisoner
in the Tower of London. Only a portion
of the work, however, was published,
owing to the following circumstance : —
One afternoon, looking through his win
dow into one of the courts of the Tower,
Sir Walter saw two men quarrel, when the
one actually murdered the other. Shortly
after this occurred, two gentlemen, friends
of Sir Walter, came into his room, and,
remarking upon the tragedy, disagreed
materially in their statements. Sir Wal
ter, who, like them, had witnessed the

14

DEDICATION.

whole affair, declared that neither was ac
curate, and gave his own version of the
matter. Thus, three eye-witnesses disa
greeing about an act so recently com
mitted,. R.ileigh, in a rage, took up the
volumes of manuscript which lay near,
and belonging to his " History of the
World," and threw them on a large fire
that was in the room, exclaiming, that " it
was not for him to write the history of the
world, if he could not verify or relate
what he saw a quarter of an hour be
fore." It remains to be added here, in terms of
warm and giateful appreciation, that much
of the irksomeness inseparable from labor
of this character, has been relieved by the
aid afforded us, so cheerfully, by corre
spondents in different parts of the coun
try, — authors, statesmen, military and
other officials, — and without whose friend
ly co-operation, insuperable difficulty would
have been experienced by the editor, at
more than one stage in the progress of his
task. The valuable assistance thus rendered is
hereby gratefully acknowledged, .with a
deep sense of personal obligation.
Superb Attractiveness of the Illus
trations.
Of the numerous and elegant pictorial
adornments of these pages, much might
be said. This attractive as well as essen
tial feature, namely, the full and graphic
illustration, by views and portraits, of
each event and its chief actors, together
with the signatures of the latter, was de
termined on simultaneously with the first
conception of the book itself; and the re
sult — a complete Picture Gallery of the
National Century, — will be found in keep
ing with the selectest attainments of taste
and genius in this direction, and worthy

of the vivid transactions thus delineated.
They have been furnished by the most
eminent artists, and at a lavish cost, — the
number, variety, and beauty of the plates
being far in advance of those of any other
work of the same compass ever before pub
lished in America, and equaled by few or
none issued abroad.
That nothing should be deficient in this
feature, the plan pursued was, to obtain,if
possible, accurate representations of every
scene to be described, fresh and contem
porary with its occurrence, and, where no
facility was afforded for this, to resort to
the best skill capable of realizing the end
desired. They comprise copies of some
of the masterpieces of Trumbull, Copley,
Healy, and others of that renowned school,
and portraits, sketches, designs, vignettes,
etc., by the most gifted leaders of art in
America. It is but simple justice, also, to remark
here, that for the completeness character
izing this wide field of embellishment, our
warmest thanks are due, in repeated in
stances, to the generosity of courteous
correspondents, — authors, artists, publish
ers and others, — for portraits and auto
graphs so rare that, but for the kind favor
thus extended, access to some of the most
valued engravings here given would have
been well nigh impracticable. Nor would
it be possible, in this connection, to over
state the credit belonging to the unrivaled
illustrated journals of our great cities.
whose prompt and profuse photographs of
current events and memorable objects and
personages, in all parts of the world, dur
ing the last quarter of a century, leave
nothing unprovided in that line for the
future historian. In a vast majority of
instances, indeed, those journals are the
only sources from which life-like picto
rial descriptions of American history, and '

DEDICATION.

lo

that of other nations as well, can be
drawn.
Timely Appearance of the Work.
Without egotism or boastfulness, it may
be claimed for this work, in conclusion,
that, original and unique in plan, rich in
its varied and ample contents, and unsur
passed in abundant ornamentation, its ap
pearance at the close of the Grand Na
tional Era was peculiarly called for; — it
being confidently believed that, under the

stimulus of the universal celebration of
the Great Commemorative Anniversary,
throughout all the borders of the land,
and on a scale of magnificence becoming
the most powerful, happy, and prosperous
nation on the face of the globe, public at
tention would naturally bo directed to the
desirableness of just such a Memorial of
that eventful centenary period which the
Day of Jubilee — July Fourth, 1876, —
rounds out to full-orbed completeness.
R. M. DEVENS.

Birth of the New Republic. — 1776.

Declaration of American Independence and National Sovereignty, July Fourth, 1776. — The
Gauntlet of Defiance thrown at the Feet of the British Empire by Her Youngest Colonies.
— Vast Disparity, in Power and Resources, between the Contestants. — The whole World
Looks on Astonished. — Seven Years' Bloody and Desolating War. — The American Cause Tri
umphant. — Grandest Modern Event. — America Resists Unjust Taxation. — Haughty Obsti
nacy of King George. — Burning Eloquence of Patrick Henry. — His Summons, " We Must
Fight." — Washington Endorses this Sentiment. — Determination of the People. — War Prefer
red to Submission. — Momentous Action by Congress. — Separation from England Decreed. —
Effect of the Act in America. — Its Reception in England. — Excitement of the King and Court.
— Lord Chatham, America's Advocate. — His Passionate Change of Views. — Scorching Speech
against the Colonies — He is Struck Dead while Speaking. — Magnanimity of Burke and
Fox. — Recognition from France Secured. — Her Timely Aid in the Struggle. — Victories over
the British Armies.— England Gives Up the Contest. — World-wide Welcome to the New
Nation  65
2

18 CONTENTS. II.
Capitulation of General Burgoyne. — 1777.
First Royal Army Ever Surrendered to Americans. — Utter Failure of England's Grand Scheme
to " Subdue the Rebellious Colonies." — European Sympathy for the Struggling Infant Na
tion.— Alliance between France and the United States. — Brilliant and Effective Combination
of French and American Forces. — Gloomy Prospect for America in 1777. — Britain's Honor
Intrusted to Burgoyne. — His Magnificent Army. — Rebels to be Sternly Dealt With.- — San
guine Expectations of Success. — Savages Leagued with the Invaders. — Their Murder of
Miss McCrea. — Burgoyne's Triumphant Progress. — Fall of Ticonderoga. — American Victor
ies at Bennington, etc. — Gates's Army in Fine Spirits. — General Fraser Shot Dead. — The
"King's Regulars" Desperate. — General Clinton Fails to Aid Them. — All Hope Abandoned.
— Burgoyne Lays Down his Arms. — His Meeting with Gates. — Trophies of this Victory. —
How Washington Got the News. — Unbounded Joy of Americans. — Crushing Blow to British
Pride. — Effect upon Other Nations  72
III.
First American Naval Victory. — 1779.
John Paul Jones, Commanding tbe Bon Homme Richard, Fights and Captures King George's
Powerful Ship-of-war, the Serapis, in British Waters.- — Crowds of Spectators Line the En
glish Coast. — The Most Sanguinary Battle Ever Fought between Single Ships. — Jones is
Hailed as " The Washington of the Seas." — World-wide Interest of this Combat. — Commo
dore Jones's Early Career. — Offers his Services to Congress. — Appointed a Naval Lieutenant.
—Joins the Continental Fleet. — The First to Hoist its Ensign. — Style and Motto of the Flag.
¦ — Sails from France on a Cruise. — Terror Created by His Movements. — Characteristic Anec
dotes. — Two British Frigates in Sight. — Jones Ready for Bloody Work. — The Ships Muzzle
to Muzzle. — Superiority of the Serapis. — A Most Deadly Contest. — Both Vessels on Fire. —
Jones Attacked by Another Foe. — One of His Vessels Treacherous. — Remarkable Scenes. —
Britain's Flag Struck to America. — An Act without Precedent. — Sinking of the Victorious
Vessel  81
IV.
The Wonderful Dark Day. — 1780.
The Northern States wrapt in a Dense Black Atmosphere for Fifteen Hours. — The Day of
Judgment Supposed to have Come. — Cessation of Labor. — Religious Devotions Resorted to.
—The Herds Retire to their Stalls, the Fowls to their Roosts, and the Birds Sing Their Even
ing Songs at Noonday. — Science at Loss to Account for the Mysterious Phenomenon. — One
of Nature's Marvels.— Redness of the Sun and Moon. — Approach of a Thick Vapor.— Loud
Peals of Thunder.— Sudden and Strange Darkness. — Alarm of the Inhabitants. — End of the
World Looked For.— Dismay of the Brute Creation.— An Intensely Deep Gloom.— Difficulty
in Attending to Business.— Lights Burning in the Houses.— Vast Extent of the Occurrence.
—Condition of the Barometer.— Change in the Color of Objects.— Quick Motion of the
Clouds.— Birds Suffocate and Die.— The Sun's Disc Seen in Some Places.— Oily Deposit on
the Waters.— Impenetrable Darkness at Night.— Incidents and Anecdotes. — Ignorant Whims
and Conjectures. — An Unsolved Mystery  „ 89
V.
Treason of Major-General Benedict Arnold.— 1780.
Darkest Page in American Revolutionary History.— Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibraltar
of America, Over to the British.— Movements of the Guilty Parties.— Discovery and Frus
tration of the Crime.— Major Andre, the British Spy, is Captured, and Swings from a Gib
bet—Escape of Arnold to the Enemy.— Is Spurned and Isolated in England— Arnold's
Unquestioned Bravery— Commended by General Washington— Infamous Personal Transac
tions—Reprimanded by His Chief— Determines on Revenge— Correspondence with the Foe.
—Ingratiates Washington's Favor Again— Obtains Command of West Point— Midnight
Conference with Andre— Andre Seized while Returning— Astounding Evidence Against

CONTENTS. 19
Him. — Attempts to Bribe His Captors. — Carried to American Head-Quarters. — Arnold Ap
prised of the Event.— A Hurried Farewell to His Wife. — Quick Pursuit of the Traitor.— He
Reaches a British Man-of-War— Washington's Exclamation at the News. — His Call on Mrs.
Arnold. — Andre's Trial and Conviction. — Arnold's Reward for His Crime. — His Unlamented
Death  97
VI.
Cornwallis Surrenders His Splendid Army to General Washington. — 1781.
Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America.— Consternation and Despair in the Cabinet of
King George.-'-Their Vaunted Wager of Battle Returns to Them with the Loss of Their
Fairest Possession. — Washington's Countrymen Everywhere Hail aud Extol Him as Their
Deliverer. — Last Act in the Military Drama. — Cornwallis Halts at Yorktown.- — Makes it His
Defensive Post. — Decoy Letter Sent by Washington. — The British Strongly Fortified. —
American and French Forces United — Their Advance on the Enemy. — Furious Bombard
ment. — Redoubts Stormed by Lafayette. — Both Sides Confident of Triumph.- — British Efforts
to Retreat. — Cornwallis Prefers Death to Defeat. — Reckless Bravery of Washington. — Ardor
and Exultation of His Troops. — Cornwallis Fails of Re-enforcements. — He Asks a Cessation
of Hostilities. — Forced to Yield the Struggle. — Universal Rejoicing of Americans. — Morti
fication of the English. — Eloquence of Burke, Fox, and Pitt. — They Demand that the War
Cease. — The Voice of Parliament. — Commemorative Action by Congress  104
VII.
Adieu to the Army by Washington. — 1783.
Affecting Interviews and Parting Words between the Great Chieftain and His Comrades-in-
Arms. — Solemn Farewell Audience with Congress. — In Its Presence He Voluntarily Divests
Himself of His Supreme Authority, Returns His Victorious Sword, and Becomes a Private
- Citizen. — History of the Election of a Military Leader — America's Destiny in His Hands.
— Appointment of George Washington. — The Army at Cambridge, Mass. — He Immediately
Takes Command. — Is Enthusiastically Greeted. — Leads Its Fortunes Seven Years. — Record
of His Generalship. — Ends the War in Triumph. — Scheme to Make Him King. — Indig
nantly Rebukes the Proposal. — Last Review of His Troops. — His Strong Attachment for
Them. — Intention to Leave Public Life. — Congress Informed of this Fact.- — Embarkation
from New York. — Homage Paid Him Everywhere. — Arrival at Annapolis. — Proceeds to the
Halls of Congress. — Impressive Ceremonial There. — Rare Event in Human History. . 112
VIII.
Appointment of the First Minister Plenipotentiary, from the New Republic
to the English Court. — 1785.
John Adams, America's Sturdiest Patriot, and the Foremost Enemy of British Tyranny, Fills
this High Office. — Interview between Him and King George, His Late Sovereign.- — Their
Addresses, Temper, Personal Bearing, and Humorous Conversation. — The Two Men Rightly
. Matched against Each Other. — Old Animosities Unhealed.— Mutual Charges of False Deal
ing. — Settlement Demanded by the United States. — What Adams's Mission Involved. — Dis
memberment of the British Realm. — Loss of the Fairest Possession.- — Bitter Pill for the
King.— His Obstinacy Forced to Yield.— Humiliation of the Proud Monarch.— All Europe
Watches the Event. — Mr. Adams Presented at Court.— Patriot and King Face to Face. —
Official Address by the Minister.— Reply of King George.— His Visible Agitation.— Adams's
Presence of Mind.— Pays His Homage to the Queen.— Her Majesty's Response.— Civilities
by the Royal Family.— Results of this Embassy. — Pitiable Position of George the Third—
Fatal Error of Great Britain  119
IX.
First Organized Rebellion in the United States. — 1786.
Daniel Shays, at the Head of an Armed and Desperate Force, Boldly Defies the State and Fed
eral Laws in Massachusetts. — " Taxation and Tyranny " the Alleged Grievances. — Alarming

20 CONTENTS.
Disaffection throughout all New England. — Bad Leaders and Furious Mobs. — Rout of the
Insurgents, by General Lincoln, in the Dead of Winter. — Patriotic Old Massachusetts in a
Ferment.— Causes of Public Discontent. — Total Exhaustion of Credit. — Prostration of Trade.
— Ruinous Debts, Heavy Taxation. — Weakness of the Government. — An Excited Populace.
— Turbulence and Lawlessness. — All Authority Spurned. — A Bloody Conflict Invited. —
Courts of Justice Broken Up. — Indignation of Washington. — Heroism on the Bench. — The
National Forces Augmented. — Fears of a General Civil War. — Unscrupulousness of Shays.
— Intention to Seize the Capital. — Governer Bowdoin's Defenses. — General Lincoln in Com
mand. — Active Movement of His Troops. — A Terrible Snow-Storm. — Hardships of Shays's
Army. — Federal Bayonets Triumphant  125
X.
Formation and Adoption of the Federal Constitution. — 1787.
The United States no Longer a People without a Government. — Establishment of the Repub
lic on a Permanent Foundation of Unity, Organic Law and National Polity. — Dignity,
Learning, and Eloquence of the Delegates. — Sublime Scene on Signing the Instrument. —
Extraordinary Character of the Whole Transaction. — State of Things After the War. —
Financial Embarrassment. — Despondency of the People. — Grave Crisis in Public Affairs. —
A Grand Movement Initiated. — Plan of Government to be Framed. — All the States in Con
vention. — Washington Chosen to Preside. — Statesmen and Sages in Council. — The Old Com
pact Abrogated. — New Basis of Union Proposed. — Various Schemes Discussed. — Jealousy of
the Smaller States. — Angry Debates, Sectional Threats. — Bad Prospects of the Convention. —
Its Dissolution Imminent. — Franklin's Impressive Appeal. — Compromise and Conciliation. —
Final System Agreed Upon. — Patriotism Rules all Hearts. — Ratification by the States. —
National Joy at the Decision  132
XI.
First Election and Inauguration of a President of the United States. — 1789.
Washington, " First in War, First in Peace, and First in the Hearts of His Countrymen," the
Nation's Spontaneous, Unanimous Choice. — His Triumphal Progress from Home, and Sol
emn Induction into Office. — Jubilee throughout the Republic, over the August Event. —
Auspicious Commencement of the National Executive Government. — Requirements of the
Constitution. — A President to be Chosen. — Four Years the Term of Service. — All Eyes
Fixed Upon Washington. — His Reluctance to Accept. — Reasons Given for this Course. —
Urgent Appeals to Him. — The Result of the Election. — One Voice and One Mind. — He
Bows to the People's Will. — Joy Produced by His Decision. — Departs ac Once from Mount
Vernon. — Farewell Visits to His Mother. — Inauguration Appointed for March Fourth. —
Postponement to April Thirtieth. — Order of Ceremonies. — New Spectacle in the Western
World. — Distinguished Celebrities Present. — Washington's Elegant Appearance. — Dignity
when Taking the Oath. — Reverentially Kisses the Bible. — Curious Customs Initiated. . 139
XII.
Greatest Defeat and Victory of American Arms in the Indian Wars. — 1791.
Headlong Flight and Destruction of St. Clair's Army, in 1791, before the Trained Warriors
of " Little Turtle."— This Mortifying Disaster Retrieved by Wayne's Overwhelming Tri
umph in 1794.— Final and Crushing Blow Dealt by Jackson, in 1814. — The Question of
Power between the Two Races Forever Settled in Favor of the Whites.— Old Feuds between
the Races.— Harmer's Expedition to the North-west.— Powerless in Ambush Warfare-
Repeated and Bloody Reverses. — St. Clair put in Command. — Warning Words of Washing
ton. — Sudden Attack by the Miamis. — Terrible Slaughter of the Whites. — Overthrow of the
Whole Campaign. — Washington's Reception of the News. — His Appalling Wrath.  Sketch
of St. Clair's Conqueror.— His Fame at Home and Abroad.— General Wayne Sent to the
Field. — Unsuccessfully Proffers Peace. — Instantly Prepares for Battle. — Great Army of
Indian Warriors. — Their Sagacious Choice of Position. — Desperate Fury of the Conflict. 
Wayne's Prowess Irresistible. — Death Knell of the Savages. — Their Confederacy Shat
tered  UQ

CONTENTS. 21
XIII.
Whitney's Extraordinary Cotton-Gin Invention. — 1793.
Amazing Impetus Given to the Culture, Uses and Consumption of Cotton. — Revolution in the
Industrial Prospects and Political Power of the South. — How Cotton Became "King." — Its
Relation to the Great Themes and Events in American History. — Ingratitude to Whitney. —
His Brilliant Change of Fortune in Another Sphere. — Whitney's Obscure Circumstances. —
His Early Mechanical Genius. — Determined to Get an Education. — Goes to the South as a
Teacher. — Change of Pursuits. — Befriended by General Greene's Widow. — Amateur Invent
ive Efforts. — Low State of Southern Industry. — Objection to Cotton-Raising. — Mrs.
Greene's Apt Suggestion. — Whitney's Characteristic Resolve. — Secret and Persevering Toil.
— Exciting Rumors as to His Purpose. — Great Expectations Entertained. — Triumphant Suc
cess. — Enthusiasm of the Cotton-Growers. — His Machine Stolen from Him. — Infringements
upon His Patent. — Law-Suits, but no Redress for Him. — His Pathetic Letter to Fulton. —
He Invents a Valuable Firearm. — Southern Strides in Wealth  153
XIV.
The Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania. — 1794.
Violent Resistance to the United States Excise Laws. — Monster Meetings and Inflammatory
Appeals. — Officials and Loyal Citizens Whipped, Branded, Tarred, and Feathered. — Intense
Excitement in all the States. — Washington Declares that the Union is in Peril and Heads an
Army to Meet the Crisis.— Precipitate Flight of the Armed Rebels. — Congressional Tax on
Spirits. — Cry of " Tyranny 1 " from Distillers. — Western Pennsylvania in a Blaze. — Extent of
Her Whiskey Interests.— Ambitious Politicians at Work. — A Revolt Incited by Them. —
Bradford the Chief Desperado. — Reign of Terror Inaugurated. — Tax-Collectors Roughly
Handled. — The Incendiary's Torch. — " Tom the Tinker's " Ruffianism. — Fury of the Fac-
tionists. — Firm Courage of Loyal Men. — Perplexity of the United States Government. —
Presidential Proclamation. — Law and Order to be Maintained. — Troops Summoned into
Service. — Prompt and Patriotic Response.— The Olive Branch vs. the Sword.— Bradford
Scorns Conciliation. — Washington's Mind Made Up. — Prevents the Effusion of Blood. 160
XV.
Founding and Establishment of the National Capital. — 1799.
Bitter Sectional Contest in Deciding the Location. — First " Compromise " in Congress between
the North and the South. — Final Removal of the Government and its Archives to Washing
ton.— Official Observance of the Event.— Magnificent Site and Plan of the City.— Splendor
of its Public Buildings.— Congress First Sits in Philadelphia.— Need of a Permanent Capi
tal—National Dignity Involved. —Violent Agitation of the Subject.— Philadelphia and New
York Proposed. — They are Objected to by the South.— Northern Disunion Threats-
Schemes of Conciliation.— How the Question was Settled.— Sweetening Two Bitter Pills. —
Jefferson's Graphic Account.— General Washington's Preference.— His Site on the Potomac
Adopted.— Some Rather Personal Anecdotes.— Work of Laying Out the City.— Its Original
Aspect and Condition.— Early Trials of the President's Wife.— Construction of the Capitol.
—Its Corner-Stone Laid by Washington.— Congress in its New Halls.— Growth of the Me
tropolis. — The New Comer-Stone of 1851  187
XVI.
Death of George Washington. — 1799.
' His Sudden and Brief Illness, Last Hours, and Dying Words.— Fortitude and Serenity through
all His Sufferings.— He Calmly Announces His Approaching Dissolution Without a Mur
mur. — The Whole World Does Honor, by Eulogy and Lamentations, to His Exalted Worth
and Immortal Fame.— He Anticipated an Early Death.— His Invariably Good Health-
Exposure in a Snow-Storm.— Takes a Fatal Cold— Last Letter Written by His Hand-
Reads the Papers in the Evening.— Characteristic Reply to His Wife.— Passes a Restless
Night— Alarming Condition the Next Day.— Medical Treatment of no Avail.— Calls for His
Two Wills, Burns One.— Affecting Scene at His Bedside.— Last Words, " 'Tis Well ! "—

22 CONTENTS.
Only One Day's Sickness. — Acute Laryngitis His Disease. — Burial in the Old Family Vault.
— Tidings of His Death. — Tributes from Peoples and Kings. — A Man Without a Parallel. — •
Last Page in His Journal. — Re-entombment in 1837. — Appearance of His Remains. . 174
XVII.
Punishment and Complete Degradation of the Barbary States by the Young
Republic. — 1803.
Tribute Exacted of all the Nations of Christendom, by the Piratical Powers. — The Thunder of
American Cannon before Their Cities. — Ignominious Submission of Morocco, Algiers, Tunis,
and Tripoli. — Their Audacious Corsairs Vanquished and Driven in Terror from the Seas. —
A Boon to the Civilized World. — Barbary a Nation of Freebooters. — All Commerce at their
Mercy. — The United States Unknown to Them. — Its Flag Descried on the Ocean. — Fresh
Plunder Anticipated. — Seizure of American Ships. — Retaliation by the Yankees. — Tripoli's
Flag Struck at Last. — Treaty between the Belligerents. — New Exactions by the Algerines. —
Retribution in Store for Them. — A United States Frigate in the Pirate Haunts. — Grounding
of the Philadelphia. — Her Triumphant Capture by the Enemy. — Their Boisterous Exulta
tion. — Decatur Burns Her During the Night. — Fierce Rage of the Turks. — Bombardment of
Tripoli. — How "Christian Dogs" were Viewed. — Peace Sued for by the Despots. — Their
Duplicity and Treachery. — America's " Tribute " is Powder and Balls  182
XVIII.
Fatal Duel between Mr. Burr and General Alexander Hamilton. — 1804.
Fall of Hamilton at First Fire. — His Death in Thirty Hours. — Profound Sensation and Solemn
Obsequies in all Parts of the Laud. — Mourned as One of the Founders of the Republic. —
Indictment of the Assassin for the Crime of Murder. — Hamilton's Brilliant Public Life. —
Washington's Right-hand Man. — Champion of the Federalists. — Burr's Career in the Revo
lution. — His Notorious Debauchery. — Finally Dismissed by Washington. — Becomes Vice-
President in 1800. — Deadly Personal Hatreds. — Criticisms on Burr by His Opponents. —
Challenge Sent to Hamilton.— Pacific Explanations Spurned. — Forced to Meet Burr. — Makes
His Will in Anticipation. — Sings at a Banquet the Day Before. — Arrival of the Fatal Hour.
— Hamilton's Mortal Wound. — Wrhat He Said of the Event. — Conversation before Dying. —
Partakes of the Communion. — His Testimony against Dueling. — Heartless Conduct of
Burr. — A Fugitive and an Outlaw  189
XIX.
Total Solar Eclipse at Mid-Day. — 1806.
The Darkness of Night Falls upon the Earth.— Stars and Planets in Full Radiance. — Magnifi
cent Spectacle of the Glittering Corona around the Moon and the Brilliant Rosy Protuber
ances Flaming from the Sun.— Splendor of tbe Returning Night— Similar Eclipse iu 1869.
— Millions of Faces Turned Upward.— The Phenomenon Viewed with Curiosity, Wonder,
and Absorbed Delight.— Remarkably Fine Weather.— Serene and Cloudless Heavens.— Busi
ness Pursuits Abandoned.— The Moon Crossing the Sun.— Distinctness of the Lunar Orb-
Grand, Dark, Majestic, Mighty.— Total Obscurity Some Five Minutes.— Appearance of
Nature.— Sensations Produced in the Mind.— Involuntary Exclamations.— Effect on Birds
and Animals.— Triumphs of Astronomical Science.— Exquisitely Constructed Instruments.
—Revelations of the Spectroscope.— Great Thermometrical Changes.— Spots on the Sun Ex-
amined.— Openings in the Moon— Peculiar Color of that Body— Its Dark and Dismal
Shadows.— Search for New Stars.— Meteors 'mid Earth and Moon.— Climax of the Impres-
sive Scene  _ -jgg
XX.
Conspiracy and Trial of Aaron Burr.— 1806.
Lawless Scheme of Conquest and Dominion at the South-west— A New Empire Contemplated,
with Burr as Sovereign.— Seizure of His Flotilla and Dispersion of His Men when Ready
to Embark, by the Federal Forces.— Capture and Arraignment of Burr for High Treason.—

CONTENTS. 23
Reckless Character of Burr. — His Unscrupulous Ambitions. — Enlists Blennerhassett in His
Plans. — Their Expedition Arranged.— Mexico the Ultimate Point. — Discovery of the Whole
Plot. — Its Complete Frustration. — Burr Flees in Disguise. — Scene at His Arrest. — Attempt
to Escape. — The Iron-Hearted Man in Tears.— His Social Fascination. — Preparations for the
Trial. — Its Legal and Forensic Interest. — Acquittal on Technical Grounds. — Shunned as a
Man of Infamy. — Devotion of His Daughter Theodosia. — Lifelong and Unalterable Love. —
Her Mysterious Fate. — Burr's Anguish and Agony. — A Moral Wreck and Warning. . 204
XXL
Fulton's Triumphant Application of Steam to Navigation. — 1807.
First Steam-boat Voyage on American Waters under His Direction. — Astonishment Produced
by the Exhibition. — Great Era in National Development — The World at Large Indebted to
American Ingenuity and Enterprise for this Mighty Revolutionary Agent in Human Prog
ress and Power. — The Whole Scale of Civilization Enlarged. — Fulton's Early Mechanisms.
— His Inventive Projects Abroad. — Steam Propulsion the End Sought. — Various Experi
ments and Trials. — Livingston's Valued Co-operation. — Studying the Principle Involved. —
Its Discovery at Last. — Legislative Encouragement Asked. — Public Ridicule of the Scheme.
— Construction of a Steam-boat. — The " Queer-Looking Craft." — Incidents at the Launch. —
Undaunted Confidence of Fulton.- — Sailing of the " New-Fangled Craft." — Demonstrations
Along the Route. — Complete Success of the Trip. — First Passage Money. — That Bottle of
Wine. — Opposition Lines, and Racing. — First Steam-boat at the West. — Amazing Subse
quent Increase. — Fulton's Checkered Fortunes   212

XXII.
Extensive and Calamitous Earthquake at the West.— 1811.
Its Convulsive Force Felt All Over the Valley of the Mississippi and to the Atlantic Coast—
The Earth Suddenly Bursts Open and a Vast Region of Country is Sunk and Lost. — Awful
Chasms and Upheavals. — Ruin and Desolation Brought upon the Inhabitants. — Humboldt's
Interesting Opinion of the Western Earthquake. — Its Central Point of Violence. — Terrible
Consternation Produced. — The Ground Swellings and Crackings. — Great Agitation of the
Waters. — Houses Buried, Boats Wrecked. — Giant Forests Crushed. — Purple Tinge of the
Atmosphere. — Thunder, Lightning, Flood, etc. — A Mighty Struggle. — Hills and Islands Dis
appear. — Burial Grounds Engulfed. — Nature's Secrets Unbosomed. — Lakes Drained, New
One? Formed. — Present Aspect of the Country. — Account of the More Recent Earthquakes
in California, Their Characteristics and Destructiveness. — Most Serious in San Francisco. —
Lives and Property Lost. — Women and Children Panic-Struck. — Direction of the Shocks. —
Indications of Their Approach. — Effect in the Harbor and Bay  218

XXIII.
Capture of the British Frigate Guerriere by the United States Frigate Con
stitution. — 1812.
Captain Dacres's Insolent Challenge to the American Navy. — Captain Hull's Eager Accept
ance. — His Unrivaled Tactics and Maneuvers. — -A Short, Terrific, Decisive Contest. — Yankee
Valor on the Ocean a Fixed Fact, Sternly Respected. — The Constitution Becomes the Favor
ite Ship of the Nation and is Popularly Called " Old Ironsides."— Cruise of the Constitution.
— Hull, the " Sea King," in Command. — A Sail! The Enemy's Squadron I— Chased Three
Days by Them. — Rowing and Warping in a Calm. — Most Wonderful Escape on Record. —
Another Frigate, in Sight, the Guerriere. — Her Signals of Defiance. — Yankee Eagerness for
Action. — The Two Frigates Afoul. — Yard-Arm to Yard- Arm Encounter. — Fire of the Con
stitution Reserved. — Final and Deadly Broadsides.— Fearless Conduct of Her Crew.— British
Colors Hauled Down. — Sinking of the Shattered Wreck.— Armament and Power of the
Ships. — An Almost Equal Match. — Anecdotes of the Two Commanders. — Honors to th-!
Brave Victors. — Future Annals of the Constitution.— Her Varied and Noble Career. . 225

24 CONTENTS. XXIV.
America and England Matched Against Each Other in Squadron Combat. — 1813.
Lake Erie the Scene of the Encounter. — Sixteen Vessels Engaged. — The British, under Captain
Barclay, one of Lord Nelson's Veteran Officers, and with a Superior Force, are Thoroughly
Beaten by the Americans, under Commodore Oliver H. Perry. — Every British Vessel Cap
tured. — General Harrison Completes the Victorious Work on Land. — Building of the Fleet
on the Lake. — Great Difficulties to be Overcome. — Commodore Perry the Master Spirit. —
Completion and Sailing of the Fleet. — Challenge to the Enemy. — Line of Battle Formed. —
Perry's Blue Union-Jack. — Its Motto, " Don't Give Up the Ship I " — Wild Enthusiasm of His
Men. — Flagship Lawrence in the Van. — Meets the Whole Opposing Fleet— Badly Crippled
in a Two Hours' Fight. — Huzzas of the Enemy. — The Day Supposed to be Theirs. — Indomi
table Resolution of Perry. — He Puts Off in an Open Boat. — Reaches the Niagara with His
Flag. — Again Battles with the Foe. — Severe and Deadly Conflict. — American Prowess Invin
cible. — Barclay Strikes His Colors. — Perry only Twenty-seven Years Old  234
XXV.
Conquest and Burning of Washington, by the British. — 1814.
Precipitate Flight of the President of the United States, and His Cabinet. — The Capitals of
Europe Protected from Fire and Devastation by Their Conquerors. — Contrast of British War
fare in America. — The Capitol, Presidential Mansion, etc., Sacked and Fired. — National In
dignation Aroused by these Barbarities. — Veterans from Europe's Battle-Fields Execute
these Deeds. — Orders to " Lay Waste " the American Coast. — Operations at the South. —
Washington the Prize in View. — Inefficiency of its Defense. — Winder and Barney in Com
mand. — The Idea of an Attack Scouted. — Onward March of the Invaders. — Fearful Excite*
ment in the City.— High Officials in Camp. — The Armies at Bladensburg. — Winder De
feated, Barney Taken. — Ross's Progress Unopposed. — Complete Master of the City. — A Rush
for the Spoils. — British Soldiers in the White House. — They Eat the President's Dinner. —
Cockburn's Bold Infamy. — Retreat of the Vandal Foe. — Their March upon Baltimore. — Ross
Shot Dead in the Fight  242
XXVI.
McDonough's Naval Victory on Lake Champlain. — 1814.
The Projected British Invasion of the Northern States, by Land and Water, Frustrated by an
Overwhelming Blow on their Favorite Element. — Most Unexpected and Mortifying Result
to the Enemy's Pride. — Not One of the Seventeen British Ensigns Visible Two Hours After
the Opening of the Action by Downie. — McDonough's Laconic Message. — British Advance
on New York. — Grand Scheme of Conquest. — Picked Men Employed. — Great Land and
Naval Force.— Their Fleet on Lake Champlain.— Downie, a Brave Officer, Commands —
Flushed Confidence of Victory.— Pleasure Parties to " See the Fight."— Pluck of Commo
dore McDonough— His Prayer on the Eve of Battle.— Strange and Beautiful Omen.— Its
Inspiriting Effect on the Men.— McDonough Sights the First Gun.— The Flagships in Close
Grapple.— Their Aspect Like a Sheet of Fire.— Tremendous Cannonade.— The Two Fleets
in Full Action. — Desperate Situation of Both. — McDonough's Extraordinary Resort. —
Downie Completely Circumvented.— At the Mercy of the Americans.— No English Flag on
the Lakes  250
XXVII.
General Jackson's Terrible Rout and Slaughter of the British Army, at New
Orleans.— 1815.
His Consummate Generalship in the Order nnd Conduct of this Campaign.— The War with
England Terminated by a Sudden and Splendid Victory to the American Arms— Jackson is
Hailed as One of the Greatest of Modern Warriors, and as the Deliverer and Second Savior
of His Country.— National Military Prestige Gained by this Decisive Battle.— British Inva
sion of Louisiana— Preparations to Resist Them— Jackson Hastens to New Orleans.— His
Presenoe Inspires Confidence.— Martial Law Proclaimed— Progress of the British Forces.—

CONTENTS. 25
They Rendezvous at Ship Island. — Pirates and Indians for Allies. — Capture of the United
States Flotilla. — Arrival of Veterans from England. — Desperate Attempts at Storming. —
Both Armies Face Each Other. — The Day of Action, January Eighth. — General Pakenham
Leads the Charge. — His Motto, "Booty and Beauty." — Fire and Death Open Upon Them. —
They Are Mown Down Like Grass. — Pakenham Falls at the Onset. — Panic and Precipitate
Retreat. — America's Motto, " Victory or Death." — The Result at Home and Abroad. — Start
ling and Impressive Effect  257

XXVIII.
The Ever-Memorable September Gale. — 1815.
Its Violence and Destructiveness without a Parallel Since the Settlement of the Country. —
Terror Excited by its Sudden and Tumultuous Force. — Unprecedented Phenomena of Tem
pest, Deluge and Flood. — One Hour of Indescribable Havoc on the Land and Sea. — Premon
itory Indications. — Heavy North-east Rains. — Sudden and Violent Changes of Wind. — Its
Rapidity and Force Indescribable. — Demolition of Hundreds of Buildings. — Orchards and
Forests Instantly Uprooted. — Raging and Foaming of the Sea. — Its Spray Drives like a
Snow-Storm over the Land. — Tremendous Rise in the Tides. — Irresistible Impetuosity of the
Flood. — Several Feet of Water in the Streets. — Innumerable Fragments Fill the Air. — Flight
for Safety to the Fields. — The whole Coast Swarms with Wrecks. — Perils, Escapes, Fatali
ties. — Peculiar Meteorological Facts. — Bright Skies in the Midst of the Tempest. — Suffo
cating Current of Hot Air. — Sea Fowls in the Depths of the Interior. — Effect upon Lands,
Crops, and Wells. — All New England Desolated. — Comparison with Other Gales. . . 264

XXIX.
Visit of Lafayette to America, as the Guest of the Republic. — 1824.
His Tour of Five Thousand Miles through the Twenty-four States. — A National Ovation on
the Grandest Scale. — Cities, States, Legislatures and Governors, Vie in Their Demonstrations
of Respect. — The Venerable Patriot Enters the Tomb and Stands beside the Remains of his
Great Departed Friend, Washington. — Noble Qualities of the Marquis. — A Favorite of
Louis XVI. — Hears of the Battle of Bunker Hill. — Pleads the Cause of the Americans. —
Resolves to Join their Army. — Freely Consecrates his Vast Wealth. — Equips a Vessel and
Embarks. — Introduced to General Washington. — Admiration of Him by the Chieftain.— One
of Washington's Military Family. — A Major-General in His Nineteenth Year. — Heroic Fi
delity During the War. — Subsequent Vicissitudes in France. — America's Heart-felt Sym
pathy.— He Leaves Havre for New York. — Enthusiasm Excited by his Presence. — Incidents,
Interviews, Fetes. — Greetings with Old Comrades. — Memories Joys and Tears. — Departs in
the United States Ship Lafayette.— His Death in 1834.— National Grief  272

XXX.
Duel between Henry Clay, Secretary of State, and John Randolph, United
States Senator from Virginia. — 1826.
Randolph's Bitter Insult to Clay on the Floor of the Senate. — Accuses him of Falsifying an
Official Document  The Puritan and " Blackleg " Taunt.— Clay Challenges the Senator to
Mortal Combat— Words and Acts of these Two Foremost Men of their Times, on the " Field
of Honor."— Result of the Hostile Meeting.— Fame of these Party Leaders.— Ancient Politi
cal Antagonists.— Origin of the Present Dispute.— Randolph's Gift of Sarcasm.— Applies it
Severely to Clay.— Clay Demands Satisfaction.— Reconciliation Refused.— Bladensburg the
Dueling Ground. — Pistols the Weapons Chosen.— Colonel Benton a Mutual Friend.— Inci
dents the Night Before  Randolph's Secret Resolve.— Going to the Field of Blood.— View
of this Shrine of " Chivalry."— Salutations of the Combatants.— Solemn Interest of the
Scene. — Distance Ten Paces.— A Harmless Exchange of Shots.— Clay Calls it "Child's
Play | " — Another Fire. — No Injury. — " Honor " Satisfied. — Pleasant Talk with Each
Other  282

26 CONTENTS. XXXI.
Fiftieth Anniversary and Celebration of the Independence of the
Republic. — 1826.
Sudden and Simultaneous Death of Ex-Presidents John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, its Two
Most Illustrious Founders. — The Day of Resounding Joy and Jubilee Changed to One of
Profound National Sorrow. — No Historical Parallel to Such a Remarkable Coincidence. —
World-Renowned Career of these Statesmen. — Extraordinary Preparations for the Day. —
Adams and Jefferson then Alive. — Sires and Patriarchs of the Nation. — Their Names House
hold Words. — Invited to Share in the Festivities. — They Hail the Glorious Morn. — Great
Rejoicings ; Death's Summons. — Jefferson's Distinguishing Honor. — Adams's Patriotic Lus
ter. — Their Imperishable Deeds. — Calm Yet High Enthusiasm. — Hostile Leaders in After-
Life. — Racy and Piquant Anecdote. — Crisis Point in Adams's Fortunes. — His Last Toast
for His Country, — " Independence Forever." — Two Sages in Old Age. — Serenity, Wisdom,
Dignity. — Former Friendship Revived. — Letters of Mutual Attachment. — European Admir
ation Excited. — Reverence to Their Colossal Fame  •  291
XXXII.
The " Great Debate " between Webster and Hayne, in Congress. — 1830.
Vital Constitutional Issues Discussed. — Unsurpassed Power and Splendor of Senatorial Elo
quence. — Webster's Speech Acknowledged to be the Grandest Forensic Achievement in the
Whole Range of Modern Parliamentary Efforts. — Golden Age of American Oratory. — Un
precedented Interest and Excitement Produced in the Public Mind. — No American Debate
Comparable with This. — Known as "The Battle of the Giants." — Inflamed Feeling at the
South. — Hayne's Brilliant Championship. — His Speech Against the North. — Profound Im
pression Created. — Its Dash, Assurance, Severity. — Bitter and Sweeping Charges. — His Op.
ponents Wonder-Struck. — Webster has the Floor to Reply. — An Ever-Memorable Day. —
Intense Anxiety to Hear Him. — Magnificent Personal Appearance. — His Exordium; All
Hearts Enchained. — Immense Intellectual Range. — Copious and Crushing Logic. — Accumu
lative Grandeur of Thought. — Thrilling Apostrophe to the Union.— The Serious, Comic,
Pathetic, etc. — Hayne's Argument Demolished.— Reception Accorded the Speech. — Rival
Orators; Pleasant Courtesies  297
XXXIII.
Rise and Progress of the Mormons, or "Latter-Day Saints," under Joseph
Smith, the "Prophet of the Lord."— 1830.
His Assumed Discovery of the Golden Plates of a New Bible.— Apostles Sent Forth and Con
verts Obtained in All Parts of the World.— Founding and Destruction of Nauvoo, the '¦ City
of Zion." — Smith's Character. — Removal to Utah, the " Promised Land."  Smith the " Mo
hammed of the West."— His Origin and Repute.— Pretended Supernatural Interviews—
Revelations of Divine Records.— Finds and Translates Them— Secret History of this
Transaction— Pronounced to be a Fraud— Teachings of the Mormon Bible— Smith Claims
to be Inspired— Announced as a Second Savior— Organization of the First Church-
Strange Title Adopted— Smith's Great Personal Influence— Rapid Increase of the Sect-
Settlement at the West— Violent Opposition to Them— Outrages, Assassinations, Riots-
Polygamy " Divinely" Authorized— Smith in Jail as a Criminal— Is Shot Dead by a Furi
ous Mob— Brigham Young His Successor— The " New Jerusalem."  306
XXXIV.
Career, Capture, and Execution of Gibbs, the Most Noted Pirate of the Cen
tury.— 1831.
His Bold, Enterprising, Desperate, and Successful War, for Many Years, Against the Com
merce of All Nations— Terror Inspired by His Name as the Scourge of the Ocean and the
Enemy of Mankind— Scores of Vessels Taken, Plundered and Destroyed— Their Crews
and Passengers, Male and Female, Instantly Butchered— Gibbs Born in Rhode Island-

CONTENTS. 27
Joins the Privateer Maria.— Captures Her in a Mutiny.— Hoists the Black Flag.— Gibbs
Chosen Leader.— Rendezvous at Cape Antonio.— Booty Sold in Havana.— No Lives Spared.
—One Beautiful Girl Excepted.— Atrocious Use Made of Her.— The Maria Chased All Day.
—Her Final Abandonment.— A New Craft : Rich Prizes.— Fight with a United States
Frigate.— Gibbs Overmatched and Flees.— Fatal Voyage in the Vineyard.— Lands at South
ampton, L. I.— His Infamy Brought to Light.— Arrested with His Treasure.— Confession of
His Guilt— Black Record of Crime and Blood. —Close of His Ill-Starred Life. ... 314
XXXV.
Nullification Outbreak in South Carolina, under the Lead of Calhoun,
McDuffie, Hayne, and Others.— 1832.
State Sovereignty, instead of the Federal Government, Claimed by Them to be Supreme—
The Wrath of President Jackson Aroused.— His Stern and Heroic Will Upholds the Na
tional Authority and Saves the Union from Anarchy and from the Perils of Dismember
ment.— Momentous Nature of this Contest.— The Tariff a Rock of Offense.— Action in the
"Palmetto" State.— Anti-National and Defiant.— Pacific Proposals Scouted.— A Political
Dinner in Washington.— Jackson's and Calhoun's Toasts.— Plan of the Conspirators.— A
Bomb-shell in Their Camp. — Convention of Agitators in Columbia.— Nullification Ordinance
Passed. — " Old Hickory " Bold and Resolute. — His Peremptory Proclamation.— South Caro
lina's Counter-Blast.— United States Troops Sent to Charleston.— Presidential Idea of Com
promising. — Clay's Conciliation Scheme. — The Leading Nullifiers in Danger. — Jackson
Threatens to Hang Them. — They are Roused from Bed at Midnight. — Two Alternatives
Presented. — Swallowing a Bitter Pill  320
XXXVI.
Sublime Meteoric Shower all over the United States.— 1833.
The Most Grand and Brilliant Celestial Phenomenon Ever Beheld and Recorded by Man. — The
Whole Firmament of the Universe in Fiery Commotion for Several Hours. — Amazing Veloc
ity, Size, and Profusion of the Falling Bodies. — Their Intense Heat, Vivid Colors, and
Strange, Glowing Beauty. — Unequaled in Every Respect. — Cloudless Serenity of the Sky. —
The People Wonder-Struck. — Admiration Among the Intelligent. — Alarm Among the Ignor
ant. — Conflagration of the World Feared. — Impromptu Prayer-Meetings. — Prodigious Star
Shower at Boston. — Myriads of Blood-Red Fire-balls. — The Display at Niagara Falls— Blaz
ing Heavens, Roaring Cataracts. — Some of the Meteors Explode. — Trains of Light in their
Track. — Radiant Prismatic Hues. — Substance Composing these Bodies. — Dissipated by
Bursting. — One Great Central Source. — Velocity, Four Miles a Second. — Novel Shapes and
Motions. — Hotter than the Hottest Furnace. — Possible Result to the Earth. — Half a Conti
nent in Presumed Jeopardy  32D
XXXVII.
Attempted Assassination of President Jackson, at the United States Capitol
in Washington, by Richard Lawrence. — 1835.
Failure of the Pistols to Discharge. — The President Rushes Furiously upon His Assailant, and
is Restrained from Executing Summary Vengeance only by His Friends. — Political Hostil
ity Supposed, at first, to have Instigated the Act. — Lawrence Proves to be a Lunatic, without
Accomplices. — His History and Trial. — Funeral of a Member of Congress. — Great Concourse
at the Capitol. — President Jackson and Cabinet Present. — Lawrence Enters during the Ser
mon. — Moves to the Eastern Portico. — President Jackson Leaves with Secretary Woodbury.
— Their Carriage at the Portico Steps. — Approach to Lawrence's Position. — He Levels a
Pistol at Jackson. — Explosion of the Percussion Cap. — A Second Pistol Snapped. — Jackson
Raises His Cane Fiercely. — Lion-like Energy of the Old Hero. — Is with Difficulty Kept Back.
— Lawrence Stunned and Secured.— His Perfect Calmness through All. — The Crowd Wish to
Kill Him. — Fine Appearance of the Assassin. — Frank Avowal of His Motives. — Insane Idea
Possessing Him. — Claims to be a King. — Is Confined in a Mad-house  337

28 CONTENTS. XXXVIII.
Morse's Invention of the Electric Telegraph. — 1835.
Realization of the Highest Ideal of a Mechanical Miracle. — Principle, Structure, and Operation
of the Machine. — NetWork of Lines Established Over the Four Continents. — The Inventor's
Experiments, Labors, Discouragements, and Triumphs. — "Orders of Glory," Gifts, and
Other Honors, Bestowed upon Him by Crowned Heads. — Casual Origin of the Invention. —
Mr. Morse's European Voyage in 1832. — Recent French Experiments then Discussed.— Im
portant Question and Answer.— Two Great Existing Facts.— The Electric Spark Transmis-
sive— Easy Control of the Current.— Theory Applied to Practice.— Completion of a Crude
Model.— Private Exhibition in 1835.— Simplicity of the Instrument. — The Invention Made
Public in 1837.— Wonder and Incredulity. — Appeal to Congress for Pecuniary Aid. — Merci
less Ridicule Ensues. — Scene in the Committee-Room. — A Machine at the Capitol. — Perfect
in Its Operation.— Success of Morse's Appeal.— His Joy at the Decision. — Putting Up the
Wires to Baltimore. — First Message Through  345
XXXIX.
Tremendous Fire in New York City. — 1835.
Its Destructiveness Unparalleled, up to this Period, in the Western World. — Resistless Devas
tation for Sixteen Hours in Midwinter. — A Pall of Ruin and Desolation over the Richest
Business Locality in America. — Nearly Seven Hundred Warehouses, Filled with Costly Mer
chandise, and the Commerce of Every Clime, Laid in Ashes. — Loss Upwards of Eighteen
Millions. — Peculiar Seat of this Fire. — The Money Center of America. — Breaking Out in the
Evening. — Fury of the North Wind. — The Flames Spread Violently.— Bitter and Intense
Cold. — Freezing of the Engine Water. — All the Elements Hostile. — Human Endeavors Pow
erless. — Acres on Fire at Midnight. — Sweeps from Point to Point. — Mingled Horror and
Sublimity. — Efforts to Save the Exchange. — Fate of that Splendid Pile. — Fall of its Magnifi
cent Dome. — Numberless Reverses of Fortune. — Rich Men Made Penniless. — A Singular
Exception. — Swarms of Bold Robbers. — Military Protection Required. — Discovery of a
Diabolical Crime. — Supposed Cause of the Fire  353
XL.
Struggle for the Right of Petition in Congress. — 1836.
John Quincy Adams, the "Old Man Eloquent," Carries on a Contest of Eleven Days, Single-
Handed, in its Defense in the House of Representatives. — Passage of the " Gag Rule." — Ex
pulsion and Assassination Threatened. — His Unquailing Courage. — A Spectacle Unwitnessed
before in the Halls of Legislation. — Triumph of His Master Mind. — The Right of Petition a
Constitutional One.— Indiscriminate and Unrestricted. — Anti-Slavery Petitions. Mr. Adams
Their Champion. — An Unpopular Position. — He Defies Every Menace.— His Bold and In
trepid Conduct. — The North and South at Variance. — Monster Petitions Pour In. — A Me
morial from Slaves. — Wild Tumult in the House.— Cries of "Expel the Old Scoundrel!" 
Proposal to Censure and Disgrace Him. — Mr. Adams Unmoved Amidst the Tempest.  Elo
quence and Indomitableness. — A Petition to Dissolve the Union. — Increased Exasperation.
—Violent aud Denunciatory Debate.— Sublime Bearing of Mr. Adams. — Vindicated and
Victorious at Last — What He Lived to See.— Honor from His Opponents  362
XLI.
Passage of BenTon's Famous " Expunging Resolution," in the U. S. Senate, after
a Three Years Parliamentary Struggle. — 1837.
Vindication of President Jackson against the Condemnatory Sentence Passed by that Body in
1834, for His Removal of the Government Deposites— Strong Black Lines are Drawn Around
Said Sentence, by the Secretary, in the Presence of the Senate and of a Vast and Tumultu
ous Crowd, at Midnight.— Opposition to the United States Bank. — Jackson's Message against
It. — Public Opinion Divided.— Congress Grants a Charter.— Presidential Veto of this Bill. 
Jackson Denounces the Bank. — Declares it to be Corrupt. — Orders the United States, Funds
Removed. — Secretary Duane Declines to Act.— Taney Succeeds Him and Obeys.  Fierce

CONTENTS. 29
Conflict in Congress. — Weeks of Stormy Debate. — Proposed Censure of Jackson.— Resolu
tion to this Effect Passed. — Benton's Motion to Expunge. — He Follows it up Unceasingly. —
His Consummate Tact. — Approach of the Decisive Hour.— Excited Crowds Pour In. — Triumph
of the Master Spirit. — Execution of the Resolve. — Strange and Impressive Scene. . . 373
XLIL
Magnificent Aurora Borealis Encompassing the Whole Firmament to its Far
thest Bounds. — 1837.
A "Vast Canopy of Gorgeous Crimson Flames Encircles the Earth. — Arches of Resplendent
Auroral Glories Span the Hemisphere. — Innumerable Scarlet Columns of Dazzling Beauty
Rise from the Horizon to the Zenith. — The Face of Nature Everywhere Appears, to an As
tonished World, as if Dyed in Blood. — Uncommon Extent and Sublimity. — Remarkable
Duration and Aspects. — Intensely Luminous Character. — Universal Outburst of Luster. —
Preceded by a Fall of Snow. — First Signs of the Phenomenon. — Exquisite Rosy Illumina
tion. — The Snow Appears Deep Red. — A Fiery Vermilion Tinge to Nature. — Alarm Pro
duced by the Scene. — Great Moving Pillar of Light. — Vivid Streamers in All Directions. —
Pure White and Brilliant Colors.— Contrast of the Glowing Tints.— Wide Fields of Rainbow
Hues. — Radiant Beauty Heaven Wide. — Superlative Pageant of Splendor. — Perfection of the
Stellar Form. — Millions of Wondering Observers. — Visible Nearly the Whole Night. — Ac
counts from Different Points. — Europe's Share in the Display  379
XLIII.
Exploring Expedition to the South Pole, under Command of Captain Charles
Wilkes, United States Navy. — 1838.
First Naval Enterprise of the Kind Ever Undertaken by the American Navy. — The Squadron
Sails Ninety Thousand Miles in Four years. — Extent and Importance of the Investigations.
— Discovery of the Great Antarctic Continent. — Other Geographical, Nautical, and Scientific
Results. — Selection of Officers and Vessels. — A Scientific Corps Organized. — Route Pre
scribed ; Seas and Lands. — Enthusiastic Departure. — Arrival at Terra del Fuego. — Observa
tions at Cape Horn. — Excursion to the Cordilleras. — Ascent of a Lofty Peak. — Desolation
and Silence — New Islands Discovered. — An Observatory Established. — The Samoan Group
Examined. — Descent into an Extinct Volcano. — New South Wales Visited. — Extreme South
ward Cruise. — View of the Ice-Bound Continent. — A Landing Effected. — Account of this
Achievement. — Experiences at Feejee. — On the Summit of Mauna-Loa. — Homeward-Bound
Tracks. — Safe Arrival  386
XLIV.
Breaking Out of the Temperance Reformation. — 1840.
Origin, Rapid Spread, Influence and Wonderful History of the Movement. — Enthusiasm At
tending the " Washingtonian " Era. — Its Pioneers Rise from the Gutter to the Rostrum, and
Sway Multitudes by Their Eloquence. — Father Mathew's Visit. — His 600,000 Converts. — Ca
reer of Hawkins, Mitchell, Gough, Dow, and Others. — First Temperance Society in the
United States. — Singular Terms of Membership. — Social Customs in Former Times. — Unre
strained Use of Spirits. — Growing Desire for Reform. — Influential Men Enlisted. — Meetings,
Societies, Agitation. — A Congressional Organization. — Origin of " Tee-Totalism." — Deacon
Giles's Distillery. — '• My Mother's Gold Ring." — Rise of " Washingtonianism." — Six Re
formed Drunkards. — Cold Water Armies, Processions, etc. — Music, Banners, and Badges. —
The Country All Ablaze. — An "Apostle of Temperance." — Administering the Pledge. — Con
flict Concerning Measures. — Anecdotes of Washington. — General Taylor's Whiskey Jug. —
Farragut's Substitute for Grog  393
XLV.
Fremont's Heroic Expedition of Discovery to the Untracked Region of the
North-west, Oregon, California, Etc. — 1842.
His Exploration of the Sierra Nevada, and of that Wonderful Gateway in the Rocky Mount
ains, the South Pass. — Plants the American Flag on the Highest Peak of that Lofty Range.

30 CONTENTS.
— He Enriches Every Branch of Natural Science, and Illustrates a Remote and Boundless
Country before Entirely Unknown. — Fremont a Pioneer of Empire. — National Objects of
this Tour.— Enchanting Record of Adventures. — Surveys and Researches. — Humboldt's
Tribute of Admiration.— Wild Grandeur of the Route.— Scenes in this Vast Domain—
The Rocky Mountains ; First Glimpse.— Formation of the South Pass.—" Kit Carson," the
Intrepid Guide.— At the Topmost Peak, 14,000 Feet.— Startling Boldness of the View-
Overpowering Quiet and Solitude.— Evidences of Awful Convulsions.— Unfurling the Flag
of the Union.— Appearance of Great Salt Lake.— Eternal Snows of the Sierra Nevada—In
the San Joaquin Valley.— An Immense Circuit of Travel.— Fremont, the Modern Path-
Finder.— Honors from his Countrymen.— A King's Gift and Regards  402
XLVI.
Rebellion in Rhode Island under Thomas W. Dorr. — 1842.
Dissatisfaction With the Old Restricted Charter Granted by King Charles.— Popular Suffrage
and Equal Political Privileges Demanded. — Resistance of the Party in Power to these
Movements. — The Contestants Arm and Take the Field. — Defeat of the Agitators and Flight
of Dorr. — Ultimate Prevalence of Their Principles.— A Charter Two Hundred Years Old-
Its Monarchical Provisions. — Suffrage for Property Holders. — Denied to all Others. — An Ex
clusive Legislature. — Reformed Measures Demanded. — A People's Convention Called. —
They Form a Constitution. — Proclaimed the Supreme Law. — Legislature Chosen under It. —
Thomas W. Dorr Elected Governor.— Is Treated as a Traitor. — Claims to be the People's
Man. — Governor King's Military Activity. — Dorr Heads a Large Force. — Tries to Seize the
Reins of Power. — Is Routed ; Quits the State. — Returns Again to the Conflict. — Entrenches
at Chepachet ; Retreats. — Tried for Treason and Imprisoned. — Pardoned and Restored. —
Something About " Barn-Burning," or the Anti-Rent Insurrection in New York. . . . 408
XLVII.
Mutiny on Board the United States Brig-of-War Somers, Captain A. S. Mac
kenzie. — 1842.
Deep-Laid Plot to Seize the Vessel, Commit Wholesale Murder of Her Men, Raise the Black
Flag, and Convert Her into a Pirate. — All Prizes to be Plundered. Burnt, Their Crews
Butchered, and Women and Girls Ravished. — Midshipman Spencer, Son of a United States
Cabinet Officer, the Ringleader. — The Chief Conspirators Hung at the Yard-Arm. — First
Mutiny in the United States Navy. — Spencer's Hold Upon His Comrades. — Death the Pen
alty of Disclosure. — Confidence Fortunately Misplaced. — A Man of Honor Tampered With.
— Captain Mackenzie Informed of the Plot. — Treats it as Wild and Improbable. — Confronts
and Questions Spencer. — Orders Him to be Ironed. — Plan Found in His Razor Case. —
Alarming Disaffection of the Crew. — None of the Officers Implicated. — Close Investigation
of the Case. — Spencer, Cromwell, and Small, to Die. — Their Fate Announced to Them. 
Spencer's Account of His Life.— They Meet on Their Way to be Hung. — Treatment of
Each Other.— Spencer Begs to Give the Last Signal.— Closing Scene of the Tragedy.— All
Hands Cheer the Ship. — Raising the Banner of the Cross  415
XLVIII.
Sudden Appearance of a Great and Fiery Comet in the Skies at Noonday.— 1843.
It Sweeps Through the Heavens, for Several Weeks, with a Luminous Train 108,000,000
Miles in Length.— Almost Grazes the Sun, and, after Whirling Around that Orb with Pro
digious Velocity, Approaches the Earth with a Fearful Momentum.— Its Mysterious Disappear
ance in the Unknown Realms and Depths of Space.— Most Notable of all Comets.— First
Visible in the Day-time.— Its Conspicuous Aspect.— Strange and Chreatening Motion.— Goes
Twice Around the Sun.— Their Supposed Contact.— Becomes Red in Passing.— Recedes
Straight to the Earth.— Watched with Deep Concern.— The Magnetic Needle Agitated-
Wide Fears of a Collision.— Its Probable Result.— Indian Terror and Prediction.— Triumphs
of Astronomy— Diameter of the Comet's Head— Measurement of Its Tail.— Stars Seen
Through the Train.— Appearance in the Equator.— Like a Stream of Molten Fire.— Beauti
ful Ocean Reflection.— Double Sweep of the Tail — Other Cometary Phenomena. . . 424

CONTENTS. BI
XLIX.
Expected Destruction of the World. — 1843.
Miller's Exciting Prediction of the Second Advent of Christ. — The Speedy Fulfillment of the
Latter-Day Bible Prophecies Boldly Declared. — Zealous Promulgation of His Views. — Scores
of Thousands of Converts. — Public Feeling Intensely Wrought Upon. — Preparations by
Many for the Coming Event. — The Passing of the Time. — Miller's Apology and Defense. —
— His Deism in Early Life. — Studies History and Scripture. — Is Struck by the Prophecies. —
Reads Daniel and John, Critically. — Calculates Their Time. — "About 1843," the Consumma
tion. — Basis of these Conclusions. — Reluctantly Begins to Lecture. — Interesting Incident. —
His Labors and Enthusiasm. — Three Thousand Lectures in Ten Years. — Secret of his Great
Success. — Approach of the Final Day. — Cessation of Secular Pursuits. — Encamping in the
Fields, in Gr-tve-yards and on Roofs. — Some Curious Extravagances. — Rebuked by Miller.
— Repeated Disappointments. — Misinterpretation of Texts. — Miller as a Man and Preacher.
— His Calm and Happy Death  431
L.
Awful Explosion of Commodore Stockton's Great Gun, the "Peacemaker," on
Board the United States Steamship Princeton. — 1844.
The Secretaries of State and of the Navy, and Other Eminent Persons, Instantly Killed. —
Miraculous Escape of the President. — Sudden Transition from the Height of Human Enjoy
ment to the Extreme of Woe. — Stockton's High Enthusiasm. — His Vast and Beautiful Ship.
— Her Model and Armament. — Styled the Pride of the Navy — Invitations for a Grand Gala
Day. — President Tyler Attends. — Countless Dignitaries on Board. — Array of Female Beauty.
— Music, Toasts, Wit and Wine. — Firing of the Monster Gun. — Its Perfect Success. — "One
more Shot ! " by Request. — A Stunning and Murderous Blast. — Bursting of the Gun, — Death
All Around. — Frightful Shrieks and Groans. — Scattering of Mangled Remains. — Agony of
Woman's Heart. — Standing-Place of the President : Absent Just One Moment. — The Dead
in Union Flags. — Funeral at the White House  439
LI.
Two Hundred Years of Free Popular Education. — 1844.
An Experiment in Beualf of the Highest Civilization. — Condition of the Country Previous to
such Efforts. — Early Scenes and Customs. — Public Law Invoked and Applied — Impulse Given
to the Work. — Progress aud Results. — America in the Van. — Most Enlightened and Success
ful System in the Wrorld.— Female .Education. — Colleges, Universities, etc. — A Very Modern
Idea. — No National System of Education. — Undertaken by the Individual States. — Effect of
Wise Legislation. — State Vieing with State. — School-houses in "ye olden time." — The East
and the West. — Wonderful Changes in Public Opinion. — Some Strange Contrasts. — Archi
tectural Splendor of the Present Day. — Ingenious Helps and Appliances. — Congressional
Grants in Aid of the Cause. — Government Bureau at Washington. — Grand Aim and Scope.
— Standard of Female Instruction Raised. — Principles and Methods. — The Higher Institu
tions of Learning. — Ideas and Plans at, the Start. — Founding of Harvard, Yale, etc. — Then
and Now— Nearly 400 Colleges in the U. S— Some 8,000,000 Common School Pupils, . 448
LII.
Discovery of the Inhalation of Ether as a Preventive of Pain.— 1846.
Performance of Surgical Operations Involving the Intensest Torture, During the Happy Un
consciousness of the Patient. — Account of the First Capital Demonstration before a Crowded
and Breathless Assembly. — Its Signal Success. — Thrill of Enthusiastic Joy. — Most Benefi
cent Boon Ever Conferred by Science upon the Human Race. — Instinctive Dread of Pain. —
Fruitless Search Hitherto for a Preventive. — Terror of the Probe and Knife. — Heroes Quail
before Them. — Case of the Bluff Old Admiral. — Discovery of the Long-Sought Secret.— Sul
phuric Ether the Prize. — Bliss During Amputation.— Honor Due to America. — A Whole
World Elated. — Medical Men Exultant. — Curious Religious Objections. — Test-Case in Sur
gery. — Startling and Romantic Interest. — Value in Public Hospitals. — War's Sufferings

32 CONTENTS.
Ameliorated. — Various Effects While Inhaling. — Amusing and Extraordinary Cases. —
" Thocht the Deil Had a Grip o' Her ! " — Odd Talk of an Innocent Damsel. — Old Folks
Wanting to Dance. — Awards to the Discoverers  456
LIII.
Invention of that Wondrous Piece of Mechanism, the Sewing Machine. — 1846.
Romantic Genius and Perseverance Displayed in Its Production. — Toils of the Inventor in His
Garret. — World-Wide Introduction of the Device. — Upwards of One Thousand Patents
Taken Out in the United States. — The Industrial Interests of the Country Affected to the
Amount of $500,000,000 Annually. — The Humble Inventor Becomes a Millionaire. — The
Main Principle Involved. — Comparison With Hand Sewing. — How it was Suggested. — Lis
tening to Some Advantage. — History of Mr. Howe's Efforts. — Ingenuity, Struggles, Triumphs.
— Value of a Friend in Need. — A Machine at Last. — Its Parts, Capabilities, etc. — Reception
by the Public. — Doubt Succeeded by Admiration. — Great Popularity and Demand. — Weari
some Litigation With Rivals. — Interesting Question of Priority. — Decided in Howe's Favor.
— He Rises to Affluence. — Improvements by Others. — Unique and Useful Devices. — Number
of Machines Produced. — Time and Labor Saved.— Effect Upon Prices. — New Avenues of
Labor Opened  464
LTV.
Spiritual Knockings and Table-Tippings. — 1847.
Familiar Intercourse Claimed to be Opened between Human and Disembodied Beings. — Al
leged Revelations from the Unseen World. — Singular and Humble Origin, in a Secluded
New York Village, of this Great Modern Wonder. — Its Development Among all Nations in
all Lands. — Astonishing and Inexplicable Character of the Manifestations. — First Rappings
in Hydesville, New York. — Time, Manner, Circumstances. — Murdered Man's Spirit. — How
the Mystery Was Solved. — Rappings, the Spirit Language. — Its Interpretation Discovered. —
Two Young Girls the " Mediums."— Their Harassed Experience. — Public Efforts to Sift the
Matter.— No Clue to any Deception. — The Family go to Rochester. — Knockings Accompany
Them. — New Forms of " Manifestations." — Many Mediums Spring Up. — Things Strange
aud Startling. — Universal Wonder Excited. — Theories of Explanation. — Investigations and
Reports. — Views of Agassiz, Herschel, etc.— Press and Pulpit Discussions. — Different Opin
ions as to the Tendency of the Phenomena. — Thirty Years' History.  472
LV.
Voyage of the United States Ship Jamestown with a Cargo of Food for the
Starving in Ireland. — 1847.
Famine, Pestilence, Woe and Death Sweep Frightfully Over that Land. — Appeal to the Sympa
thy of Nations. — The Tale of Horror Borne Across the Atlantic. — Spontaneous Generosity
of America. — A Ship of War Converted into a Ship of Peace, and Laden with Free Gifts for
the Suffering.— Total Failure of the Potato Crop.— A Universal Scourge.— Disease Added to
Destitution.— Ghastly Scenes on Every Side— Mulfctudes Perish in the Streets.— Parliament
Grants $50,000,000.— The Message of Humanity.— America's Ready Bounties.— Use of the
Jamestown Granted.— Food Substituted for Guns.— Interesting Bill of Lading.— Departure
from Boston.— Enthusiastically Cheered.— Only Fifteen Days' Passage.— Going up the Har
bor of Cork.— Throngs of Famished Spectators. — Tumultuous Greetings on Arrival.— Public
Welcomes and Honors.— A Tour of Inspection.— Indescribable Horrors.— Distribution of the
Cargo. — The Mission a Great Success  479
LVI.
General Scott in the Halls of the Montezumas, as the Conqueror of Mex
ico— 1847.
General Taylor's Unbroken Series of Victorious Battles from Palo Alto to Buena Vista-
Flight of Santa Anna in the Dead of Midnight— The Stars and Stripes Float Triumphantly
from the Towers of the National Palace.— First Foreign Capital Ever Occupied by tha

CONTENTS. 33
United States Army. — Peace on the Invaders' Own Terms. — Original Irritation between the
Two Powers. — Disputed Points of Boundary.— Mexico Refuses to Yield. — General Taylor
sent to the Rio Grande. — A Speedy Collision. — Declaration of War by Congress. — Santa
Anna Leads the Mexicans. — Battles of Palo Alto and Resaca do la Palma. — Raging Fight
at Monterey ; Its Fall. — Santa Anna's War-like Summons. — It is Treated with Contempt. —
His Awful Defeat at Buena Vista. — Doniphan's March of Five Thousand Miles. — Vera
Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, Churubusco, etc. — Scott's Order, " On to Mexico ! " — Huzzas
and a Quick-Step. — Terrific Storming of Chapultepec. — Scott Holds the Key to Mexico. —
The Last Obstacle Overcome. — Grand Entrance of the Victors. — Territorial Gain to the
United States  487
LVH.
Expedition to the River Jordan and the Dead Sea, by Lieut. W. F. Lynch. — 1847.
The Sacred River Successfully Circumnavigated and Surveyed. — Twenty Days and Nights
upon the "Sea of Death." — It is Explored, and Sounded, and its Mysteries Solved. — Strange
Phenomena and Unrelieved Desolation of the Locality. — Important Results to Science. —
Zeal in Geographical Research. — Interest in the Holy Land. — -American Inquiry Aroused. —
Equipment of Lynch's Expedition. — On its Way to the Orient. — Anchoring Under Mount
Carmel. — Passage Down the Jordan. — It is Traced to its Source. — Wild and Impressive
Scenery. — Rose-Colored Clouds of Judea. — Configuration of the Dead Sea. — Dense, Buoyant,
Briny Waters. — Smarting of the Hands and Face. — Salt, Ashes, and Sulphureous Vapors,
etc. — Tradition Among the Arabs. — Sad Fate of Former Explorers. — Temperature of this
Sea. — Submerged Plains at its Bottom. — Sheeted with Phosphorescent Foam. — Topography,
Width and Depth.—" Apples of Sodom " Described.— The Pillar of Salt, Lot's Wife. . 494
LVIII.
Discovery of Gold at Sutter's Mill, California. — 1848.
Widely-Extended and Inexhaustible Deposits ef the Precious Metal. — The News Spreads Like
Wild-Fire to the Four Quarters. of the Globe. — Overwhelming Tide of Emigration from all
Countries. — Nucleus of a Great Empire on the Pacific. — California Becomes the El Dorado
of the World and the Golden Commonwealth of the American Union. — First Practical Dis
covery of Gold. — On Jqhn A. Sutter's Land. — Found by J. W. Marshall. — Simple Accident
That Led to It.— Marshall's Wild Excitement. — Shows Sutter the Golden Grains. — A Dra
matic Interview. — The Discovery Kept Secret. — How it was Disclosed. — A Real Wonder of
the Age. — Trials of the Early Emigrants. — Their Bones Whiten the Soil. — All Professions
at the Mines. — Impetus Given to Commerce. — Life Among the Diggers. — Disordered State
of Society. — Crimes, Outrages, Conflagrations. — Scarcity : Fabulous Prices. — Mining by
Machinery. — Order and Stability Reached. — Population in 1857, 600,000. — Gold iu Ten
Years, $600,000,000  500
LIX.
Astor Place Opera-House Riots, New York. — 1849.
Terrible Culmination of the Feud between Macready, the English Star Actor, and Forrest, the
Great American Tragedian. — Macready Commences to Perform, but is Violently Driven
from the Stage. — A Mob of 20,000 Men Surrounds the Theater, and Thunders at its Doors.
— Attempt to Fire and Destroy the House. — Charge of the Military. — Lamentable Loss of
Life. — Fame of these Great Actors. — Their Former Mutual Friendship. — Macready's Tour
in this Country. — Forrest Performs in Europe. — Professional Jealousies Aroused. — Open
Rupture at Last. — Macready Again in America. — Engages to Play in New York. — Opposi
tion to Him There.— Appears on the Stage, May Eighth. — Fierce Tumult in the House. —
Groans, Hisses, Insults. — He Stands Undismayed. — Flight of the Audience. — Re-appearance,
May Tenth. — The House Filled to the Dome. — Riotous Yells and Cries. — " Down with the
British Hog I " — Heroic Dsmeanor on the Stage. — Threats of the Raging Mob. — Its Bloody
Dispersion. — Macready Leaves the Country  508
3

34 CONTENTS. LX.
Awful Visitations of the "Angel of Death." — 1849.
Yellow Fever and Cholera Epidemics at Different Periods.— Frightful Mortality and Panic in
1849. — Business Abandoned, Churches Closed, Streets Barricaded, Cities Deserted.— Proc
lamation by the President of the United States. — The Virtues, Passions, and Vices of Hu
man Nature Strikingly Illustrated. — Tens of Thousands Swept at Once from the Face of the
Earth.— Various Eras of American Epidemics.— Wide and Ghastly Ravages— Self-Preserva-
tion the First Law.— Social Intercourse Suspended.— Ties of Affection Sundered. — Parents
Forsake Children.— Husbands Flee from Wives. — Rich Men Buried like Paupers.— Money
and Rank Unavailing.— Rumble of the Dead-Carts.— Activity in the Grave-yards. — They
Look as if Plowed Up.— Women in Childbirth Helpless.— Their Screams for Succor. — Care
of a Lunatic Patient. — The Tender Passion Still Alive.— Courageous Marriages. — Death in
the Bridal Chamber.— Anecdotes of the Clergy.— Crime, Filth, and Disease.— Quacks and
Nostrums Rife.— The Celebrated " Thieves' Vinegar."  515
LXI.
Murder of Dr. George Parkman, a Noted Millionaire of Boston, by Prof. John
W. Webster, of Harvard College. — 1849.
High Social Position of the Parties. — Instantaneous Outburst of Surprise, Alarm, and Terror,
in the Community, on the Discovery of the Deed. — Remarkable Chain of Circumstances
Leading to the Murderer's Detection. — Solemn and Exciting Trial. — Account of the Mortal
Blow and Disposal of the Remains. — Parkman's Wealth and Fame. — Mysterious Disappear
ance, November Twenty-third. — Appointment with Professor Webster that Day. — Their Un
happy Pecuniary Relations. — Search for the Missing Millionaire. — Webster's Call on Park-
man's Brother. — Explains the Interview of November Twenty-third. — No Trace of Parkman
After that Date. — The Medical College Explored. — Scene in Webster's Rooms. — The Tea-
Chest, Vault, and Furnace. — Human Remains Found There. — Identified as Doctor Park-
man's. — Arrest of Webster at Night. — Attempt at Suicide on the Spot. — Behavior in Court.
— His Atrocious Guilt Proved. — Rendering the Verdict. — He Boldly Addresses the Jury.
— Asserts his Entire Innocence. — Final Confession of the Crime. — Hung Near the Spot
of his Birth. — The Similar and Tragical Case of John C. Colt, Murderer of Samuel
Adams  523
LXH.
The United States Grinnell Expeditions of 1850 and 1853, to the Arctic
Seas.— 1850.
Search for Sir John Franklin, the Lost Navigator. — Traces of His Melancholy and Mysterious
Fate. — Dr. Kane's Discovery of an Open Polar Sea, Three Thousand Square Miles in Area. —
The " Great Glacier," a Lofty and Dazzling Ice-Wall of Boundless Dimensions. — The " Stars
and Stripes " Carried Farther North than Any Other Flag. — Origin of this Undertaking-
Franklin's Bold Enterprise.— No Tidings of Him for Years. — Vessels Sent in Search.— Lady
Franklin's Warm Appeal.— Mr. Grinnell's Noble Response. — Fits Out Dellaven's Expedi
tion. — Sailing of the Advance and Rescue.— Franklin's Winter Quarters Found.— DeHaven
Imbedded in Ice.— Eighty Days Polar Darkness.— Fruitless Efforts ; Return Home. — Renewed
Search by Dr. Kane.— At the Extreme Solitary North.— Its Terror and Sublimity.— Mer
cury and Whiskey Freeze Solid.— No Sunlight for Five Months.— A Vast Crystal Bridge-
It Connects Two Continents. — Kane Ice-Bound ; Awful Perils.— One Thousand Three Hun
dred Miles Traveled in Sledges.— Final Escape ; Arrival Home.— Dr. Hayes's Heroic Ad
ventures  t 533
LXIII.
Brilliant Musical Tour of Jenny Lind, the " Swedish Nightingale."— 1850.
This Queen of Song Comes under the Auspices of Mr. Barnum.— Twenty Thousand Persons
Welcome Her Arrival— Transcendent Beauty and Power of Her Voice.— A Whole Continent
Enraptured with Her Enchanting Melodies— Pleasant Exhilaration of Feeling Throughout

CONTENTS. 35
the Land by the Presence of the Fair Nightingale. — Honors from Webster, Clay, and Other
Dignitaries. — Her Praises Fill the Wide World. — The Vocal Prodigy of the Age. — An Opera,
the " Daughter of the Regiment." — Barnum's Happy Conception. — Proposes to Her this
American Tour. — His Generous Terms Accepted. — She Reaches New York. — Sunny and Joy
ous Outburst. — A Real " Jenny-Lind " Era. — First Concert at Castle Garden. — Tempest of
Acclamation. — Encores, Showers of Bouquets.— Public Expectation Exceeded. — Jenny's Com
plete Triumph. — All the Receipts Given to Charity. — Equal Enthusiasm Everywhere. — Beau
tiful Incidents. — She is a Guest at the White House. — Henry Clay at Her Concert. — Web
ster and the Nightingale. — A Scene " Not Down on the Bills." — Ninety-five Concerts Yield
$700,000   '  541
LXIV.
Reign of the Vigilance Committee in California. — 1851.
Revolution in the Administration of Justice. — Powerlessness and Indifference of the Regular
Authorities. — Robbery, Arson, and Murder, Alarmingly Prevalent. — The Committee's Secret
Chamber of Judgment.— Sudden Seizure and Trial of Noted Criminals. — Solemn Tolling of
the Signal Bell. — Swift and Terrible Executions. — Renovation of Society. — Swarming of
Desperate Felons. — England's Penal Colonies Emptied. — Organized Society of " Hounds." —
A Band of Cut-throats. — Society at Their Mercy. — Harvests Reaped by Them. — Corrupt
Courts and Officers. — The Vigilance Committee Formed. — Prompt, Resolute, Powerful. — The
Criminals Taken Unawares. — Instant Summons to Death. — A Gallows at Midnight. — Ex
traordinary Horrors. — Confessions by the Victims. — Astounding Revelations. — Magistrates
Implicated. — Warnings by the Committee. — A Double Execution. — Thousands of Spectators.
— Wild Shouts of Approval. — The Lawless Classes Terrified. — The Results of the Move
ment  550
LXV.
Victorious Race of the Yacht " America," in the Great International
Regatta. — 1851.
She Distances, by Nearly Eight Miles, the Whole Fleet of Swift and Splendid Competitors,
and Wins "the Cup of all Nations." — Grandest and Most Exciting Spectacle of the Kind
Ever Known. — Queen Victoria Witnesses the Match. — Universal Astonishment at the Result.
— Admiration Excited by the " America's " Beautiful Model and Ingenious Rig. — Scenes at
the " World's Exhibition " at Londoi^ — Grand Finale Yet to Come Off. — Championship of
the Sea. — England Sensitive on this Point. — Her Motto, " Rule Britannia 1 " — George Steers
Builds the America. — Commodore Stevens Takes Her to England. — His Challenge to all
Countries. — An International Prize Race. — Eighteen Yachts Entered. — The Scene on Wave
and Shore. — All Sails Set : The Signal. — Every Eye on " the Yankee." — Her Leisurely Move
ments. — Allows Herself to be Distanced. — Her Quality Soon Shown. — No "Bellying" of
Canvas. — Amazing Increase of Speed. — All Rivals Passed, One by One. — They Return in
Despair. — Great Odds for the America. — Is Visited by Queen Victoria  558
LXVI.
Frightful Catastrophe in a New York Five-Story Public School-House Contain
ing Eighteen Hundred Pupils. — 1851.
Panic Caused by a Call for " Water."— Furious Rush of the Little Ones Throughout the Vast
Building, to Escape the Supposed Fire. — The Stair Railing Breaks, and They are Precipitated
to the Bottom, in Helpless Agony. — Nearly Fifty Children, in Their Beauty and Innocence
Suffocated to Death. — Hundreds of Families in Mourning. — Slight Source of all this Horror.
—Sudden Illness of a Teacher.— Cries of "Help!" for Her.— Heard in tho Other Rooms-
Fatal Misapprehension.— Instant and Awful Fright. — Vain Attempts to Escape. — They all
Pour Forth at Once.— The Street-Door Locked I— Bewildered Crowds.— Their Headlong
Descent. — A Pile of Bodies Fourteen Feet Square. — Their Sighs and Writhings— Arrival of
the Firemen. — Entrance Effected by Them.— Thousands Waiting Outside. — Indescribable
Excitement. — Anguish of Parents. — Rescuing the Sufferers. — Scenes Among the Little Ones.
— Sweet and Tender Devotion. — Burial of the Innocents  567

36 CONTENTS. LXVII.
Appearance of the Marine Monster Known as the Sea-Serpent, along the At
lantic Coast. — 1851.
Statements of Numerous Eye-AVitnesses, as to Its Form, Size, Color, and Movements— Esti
mated Length, One Hundred Feet— Its Body Cylindrical in Shape, and of the Diameter of
a Large Cask.— Effect of Shot upon the .Animal.— Astonishing Rapidity of Its Course-
Observers Struck with Wonder and Awe at Such a Sight.— The Monarch of the Deep-
Opinions of Scientific Men.— Existence of the Animal Proved.— Evidence on this Point.
—Reliability of the Witnesses.— Their Various Descriptions.— Concurrence of Testimony—
•No Similar Sea Animal— Seen in Different Localities.— Observed from Sea and Shore-
Frequents New England.— Nearer Views Obtained of Him.— Clear AVeather, Smooth Seas.
—Drawings Made on the Spot.— His Gigantic Dimensions.— Linnfean Society's Report-
Supposed to be the " Leviathan."— His Steady and Onward Pace.— A Mile in Three Min
utes.— Attitude of the Body.— Elevation of the Head.— Dark Brown the Chief Color. . 575
LXVIII.
Reception of Governor Kossuth, the Great Hungarian Exile, as the Invited
Guest of the Nation. — 1851.
Splendid Military Pageant in New York, on His Arrival.— Welcomed and Banqueted by Presi
dent Fillmore.— Received with Distinguished Official Honors on the Floor of Congress-
He Eloquently Pleads His Country's Cause in All Parts of the Land.— Processions, Congratu
latory Addresses, Acclamations, Etc.— A True-Hearted Patriot.— What Hungary Fought
For.— Austrian Despotism Resisted.— Independence Demanded. — Kossuth the Leading
Champion.— Armies in the Field.— Successes and Reverses.— Russia's Sword for Austria—
Kossuth's Flight to Turkey.— Long an Exile There.— America Interposes for Him.— Offers
a Conveyance to the United States.— The Nation's Courtesy Accepted.— Frigate Mississippi
Sent— Kossuth and Suite on Board.— His Landing at New York. — Magnificent Preparations
for Him.— Invited to Washington.— Speech before Congress. — An Unprecedented Distinc
tion. — His Untiring Labors.— Greatest Orator of the Day  583
LXIX.
Naval Expedition to Japan, under Commodore M. C. Perry. — 1852.
Negotiations to be Opened for Unsealing the Ports^of that Empire to America. — Letter of
Friendship from the President of the United States to the Emperor. — Distinguished Favor
Shown the Representatives of the Great Republic. — Ceremonies, Entertainments, and Diplo
matic Conferences. — Treaty of Peace, Amity, and Commercial Intercourse Concluded. —
Former Japanese Isolation Policy. — Exclusive Privileges to the Dutch. — Effects of this Re
striction. — European Efforts to Change It. — Mission of Commodore Biddle. — Seeks the
Release of United States Sailors. — Ordered to Depart Forthwith. — Firm Conduct of Captain
Glynn. — Contempt for Japanese Etiquette. — Champagne as a Mediator. — Commodore Perry's
Fine Fleet. — The Letter in a Golden Box. — Its Presentation to the Emperor. — Commissioners
Meet Commodore Perry. — Their Attire, Manners, Etc. — The Conference in Session. — Friend
liness of the Japanese. — Civilities and Festivals. — Reception on the Flag-Ship. — Substance
of the Treaty. — A Talk with the Emperor. — More Privileges Extended  592
LXX.
Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations, in New York. — 1853.
Construction of the Crystal Palace, a Colossal Building of Glass and Iron. — Four Acres of
Surface Covered with the Treasures of Art, Science and Mechanism, from Every Land. —
Inauguration of the Enterprise by President Pierce. — Five Thousand Contributors. — Splen
dor of the Palace of Industry by Day ; Its Gorgeous Illumination at Night. — Eclat of the
Great London Fair. — Emulation Stimulated Abroad. — An American Exhibition Proposed. —
Popularity of the Idea. — Plan for a Building Accepted. — Its Style, Size, and Decorations. —
Admirable Adaptation of the Structure. — Superiority to the London Palace. — Rapid Prog
ress of the Enterprise. — Interest of Foreign Countries Enlisted  Programme of Manage-

CONTENTS. 37
ment. — Brilliant Ceremony at the Opening. — Celebrities Present : Speeches Made. — Grand
Hallelujah Chorus Sung. — Constant Tide of Visitors.— Beauty, Utility, Amusement. — At
tractions from Abroad. — Contributions by Monarchs. — Victoria's Beautiful Offering. — The
Grand Industries of Civilization. — Lesson Taught by Such a Display. — Luster Reflected on
America  600
LXXI.
Loss of the Splendid Collins Steamship Arctic, of New York, by Collision with
the Iron Steamer Vesta. — 1854.
Occurrence of the Disaster in Mid-Ocean, at Noonday, in a Dense Fog. — Sinking of the Noble
Ship Stern Foremost. — Hundreds of Souls Engulfed in a Watery Grave. — Experiences
Crowded Into that Awful Hour. — The Wail of Agony and Despair from the Fated Throng.
— Her Non-Arrival; Painful Suspense. — The Dreadful News at Last.— Shock to the Public
Mind. — Strong Build of the Arctic. — Prestige of the Collins Line. — A Casualty Undreamed
Of. — Surging Crowd in AVall Street. — Names of Lost and Saved Read. — Hope, Joy, Grief,
Anguish. — The Sad Tale on all Lips. — Captain Luce in the Hour of AVoe  Manliness of
His First Order. — Ship Deserted by the CreW— " Every Man for Himself." — A Raft Con
structed, but in Vain. — Courage of the AVomen. — Not One of their Sex Saved. — Instances
of Cool Bravery. — An Engineer's Heroic Fidelity. — £30,000 for a Chance in a Boat — Pleas
ure Tourists on Board. — All of Mr. Collins's Family Lost  008
LXXII.
Assault on the Hon. Charles Sumner, by Hon. Preston S. Brooks. — 1856.
Twenty Sudden and Terrible Blows, with a Solid Gutta Percha Cane, Dealt upon Mr. Sum
ner's Bare Head. — He Staggers and Falls, Senseless, Gashed, and Bleeding. — Sumner's Great
Kansas Speech for Free Soil and Free Labor. — Speech by Senator Butler, of South Carolina.
— Mr. Sumner's Scorching Reply. — South Carolinians Offended. — An Assault Determined
On. — Mr. Brooks Their Champion. — Two Days' AVatcL for His Victim. — Finds Him Alone at
His Desk. — Approaches Unobserved. — A Quick and Deadly Blow. — Mr. Sumner is Instantly
Stunned. — His Ineffectual Defense. — Brooks's Accomplices at Hand. — Their Advantage over
Sumner. — Storm of Public Indignation. — Action Taken by Congress. — Reign of Terror at
the Capital. — Mr. Sumner's Three Years' Illness. — Recovery. — Illustrious Career. — Death of
Brooks and His Allies. — Time's Retributions  616
LXXIII.
Foundering of the Steamer Central America, in a Gale, off Cape Hatteras. — 1857.
More than Four Hundred Lives Lost, and Two Million Dollars in Treasure. — Fury and Terror
of the Tempest. — The Staunch and Noble Vessel Springs a Leak. — Successive Great and
Terrible Waves Break Over and Drag Her Under, in the Night.— The Tale of Peril, Suffer
ing, Despair, Parting, and Death. — Unparalleled Nature of this Disaster. — Hundreds of
Homes Desolated. — Gloom of the Public Mind. — The Financial Panic Aggravated — Rise of
the Fatal Gale. — Hard Labor of the Steamer. — A Leak Caused by the Strain. — Incessant
Working at the Pumps. — Four Anxious Days. — Approach of the Brig Marine. — AA'bmen and
Children Rescued. — Perils of the Life-Boat. — Terrible Height of the Sea. — Harrowing Ex
periences. — The Two Little Babes. — Gradual Filling of the Ship. — Three Plunges, and She
Sinks. — Captain Herndon on the Wheel-House. — His Sad but Heroic End. — A Night on the
Waves. — Dead and Living Float Together. — Narratives of the Survivors  626

LXXIV.
Terrible Crisis in the Business and Financial World. — 1857.
Known as "the Great Panic!" — A Sudden, Universal Crash, in the Height of Prosperity. — ¦
Caused by Wild Speculations and Enormous Debt. — Suspension of Banks all Over the Coun
try. — Failure of the Oldest and Wealthiest Houses. — Fortunes Swept Away in a Day. — Pros
tration of Every Branch of Industry. — Prolonged Embarrassment, Distrust, and Suffering.—

38 CONTENTS.
The Panic of 1837 in Comparison.— Extravagance and High Prices.— Chimerical Railroad
Schemes. — Mania for Land Investments. — Reckless Stock Gambling. — AVestern Paper Cities.
— Fabulous Prices for " Lots." — Money Absorbed in this AVay. — Bursting of the Bubble. —
The First Great Blow. — A Bomb in Money Circles. — AVide-Spread Shock and Terror.
— Fierce Crowds at the Banks. — A Run Upon Them for Specie. — They " Go to the Wall." —
Savings Bank Excitement. — Rare Doings at the Counters. — AVit, Mirth, Despair, and Ruin.
— Forty Thousand Persons in AVall Street. — Factories, Foundries, etc., Stopped. — Business
Credit Destroyed.— Root of the AVhole Difficulty. ,  635
LXXV.
The " Great Awakening " in the Religious World, and the Popular Movement
(in 1875-6) under Messrs. Moody and Sankey. — 1857.
Like a Mighty Rushing Wind, it Sweeps from the Atlantic to the Pacific. — Crowded Prayer-
Meetings Held Daily in Every City and Town, from the Granite Hills of the North to the
Rolling Prairies of the AVest and the Golden Slopes of California. — Large Accessions, from
all Classes, to the Churches of Every Name and Denomination. — The "American Pentecost."
—Early American Revivals. — Dr. Franklin and Mr. AVhitefield. — The Revival of 1857 Spon
taneous. — No Leaders or Organizers. — Its Immediate Cause. — Universal Ruin of Commerce,
— Anxiety for Higher Interests. — All Days of the AVeek Alike. — Business Men in the AVork.
— Telegraphing Religious Tidings. — New York a Center of Influence. — Fulton Street Prayer-
Meeting. — Scenes in Burton's Theater. — New Themes and Actors. — Countless Requests for
Prayers. — A Wonderful Book. — Striking Moral Results. — Men of ^Violence Reformed. —
Crime and Suicide Prevented. — Infidels, Gamblers, Pugilists. — Jessie Fremont's Gold Ring.
— "Awful " Gardner's Case  644

LXX"VI.
Unrivaled Performances by Paul Morphy, the American Chess Champion. — 1858.
His Extreme Youth, Marvelous Gifts and Genius, and Astonishing Trumphs. — The Most
Renowned Players in America and Europe Vanquished by Him.— His Wonderful Victories
in Blindfold Games with the Veteran Masters of Chess. — Morphy's Bust Crowned with
Laurel in Paris. — Honors and Testimonials at Home. — Morphy's Personal History. — Early
Aptness for Chess.— Skill When Twelve Years Old.— Introduction to the Public— At the
National Chess Congress. — Great Champions There. — Morphy Takes the First Prize. — AA'ins
Eighty-One out of Eighty-Four Games.— Professional Visit Abroad.— Challenges the Chesa
Celebrities.— His Boyish Appearance. — Modesty and Great Memory. — Aspect AA'hen at Play.
— His Brilliant Combinations.— Feats Performed in Paris.— Long and Profound Games-
Great Match Against Eight.— Unparalleled Spectacle.— Victor Over Every Rival.— Without
a Peer in the World. — Banquets to Him in Europe. — America Pr^ud of Her Son. . . 657
LXXVII.
Burning of the Steamship Austria, on Her AVay from Hamburg to New
York.— 1858.
She Takes Fire on the Eleventh Day, from Combustion of the Hot Tar Used in Fumigation—
Three Decks Instantly in a Blaze— Inability to Stop the Engines— The Ship Continues on Her
Course in Furious Flames— Torture and Death in Every Form— Nearly Five Hundred Men
, Women, and Children Lost—A Hot Chain in the Bucket of Tar— Sudden and Singular Ig!
niton— Rapid Headway of the Flames— They Leap up the Shrouds— Powerlessness of the
Officers— The Captain Pamc-Stricken— Frantic Conduct of Passengers— Swamping of the
Boats— Children Trodden Under Foot— Writhing in the Heat— Shrieks and Cries— Being
Roasted Alive— Only One Boat Afloat— Jumping into the Waves— Last Embrace of Lovers
—Adieus of Husbands and Wives— Seven Brothers and Sisters— Struggles of the Firemen
—A Living Wall of Fire— Fate of the Women— Father and Sou—" a' Saill "—Rescue of a
Few  664

CONTENTS. 39
LXXVIII.
Political Debate Between Abraham Lincoln and Stephen A. Douglas, in Illi
nois. — 1858.
Cause of this Remarkable Oratorical Contest. — Intense Interest in All Parts of the Land— The
Heart of every American Citizen Enlisted iu the Momentous Issue Involved. — Eminent
Character of the Combatants. — Their Extraordinary Ability and Eloquence Universally Ac
knowledged. — The Discussions Attended by Friends and Foes. — Aictory, Defeat, Life and
Death. — Condition of the New Territories. — Form of Constitution to be Decided. — Domestic
Institutions : Slavery. — Mr. Douglas Advocates " Popular Sovereignty." — " Prohibition "
Urged by Mr. Lincoln. — National Importance of the Question. — The Public Mind Divided. —
Joint Debates Proposed. — Agreement between the two Leaders. — Personal Appearance and
Style. — Plans, Places, Scenes.— Theories and Arguments Advanced. — Skill and Adroitness of
the Disputants. — Immense Concourses. — Result Impartially Stated.— Mr. Douglas Re-elected
Senator. — Mr. Lincoln Nominated for President. — His Election to that Office. — Douglas'
Magnanimity. — The Olive Branch. — Shoulder to Shoulder as Unionists. — Sudden Decease of
the Great Senator  672
LXXIX.
Thirty Thousand Miles of Railway in Thirty Years, and Eighty Thousand in
Half a Century. — 1859.
Curious Chronicles Relating to the Introduction of Improved Means of Transit. — The Old and
the New. — Development and Progress. — Numerous and Important Advantages. — Great Sav
ing of Time and Expense. — Initiatory Undertakings in the United States. — First American
Railway with Steam as the Locomotive Power. — Small Beginnings : Great Results.— Amaz
ing Growth and Expansion in all Directions — Social and Business Changes. — Infancy of
Mechanism in this Line. — Pioneer Coach and Locomotive. — Successive Steps of Advance
ment. — Usual Channels of Trade Abandoned. — Power of Capital Demonstrated. — Distant
Sections and Interests Equalized. — Stimulus to Industry. — Vast Constructive Works Involved.
— U. S. Enterprise not Behindhand. "Breaking the Ground."— Less than 20 Miles in 1829.
— Some 30,000 Miles in 1859. — Constant and Rapid Increase. — Inventive Genius Displayed. —
"Improvements" by the Thousands. — Steel Rails Substituted for Iron. — Luxury on AVheels.
— Palace and Sleeping Cars. — Tremendous Speed Attained. — American and Foreign Lines. —
Railways 16,000 Feet Above the Sea  079
LXXX.
Petroleum Excitement in Pennsylvania. — 1859.
Discoveries of Prodigious Quantities of Illuminating Oil in the Depths of the Earth. — Boring
of Innumerable Wells.— Fabulous Prices Paid For Lands.— Poor Farmers Become Million
aires.— The Supply of Oil Exceeds the Wants of the AVhole Country.— Immense Exporta-
tions of the Article. — Vast Source of National Wealth and Industry.— Revolution in Artifi
cial Light— Ancient Knowledge of this Oil.— Floating on Ponds and Creeks.— Its Collection
and Use.— Native Sources : Origin. — Locality of the Springs.— Great Value of the Oil-
First Attempt at Boring.— Plans For Sinking Wells.— Their Exhaustless Yield.— Intense
Excitement Prevails. — Eager Crowds at the Oil Region. — Buying and Leasing Lands. — En
terprise of the Pioneers. — Sudden Fortunes Made. — Other Side of the Picture. — Towns and
Cities Built. — Fire : Awful Scenes and Losses.- Bringing the Oil into Market.— Its Cheap
ness and Excellence. — Universal Introduction. — Valuable for Various Purposes. . . . 687
LXXXI.
Fatal Duel between Hon. D. C. Broderick, and Hon. D. S. Terry.— 1859.
Scene of the Meeting near San Francisco. — Details of the Barbarous Encounter. — Broderick
Falls Mortally Wounded, by His Adversary. — He Expires in Two Days. — Flight of Terry. —
Society Shocked at the Event. — Parallel Case of Messrs. Graves and Cilley— Politics and
Dueling in America. — Broderick's Alleged Offense.— Terry's Challenge Accepted. — Terms of
the Duel. — Choice of Seconds and Arms. — Aspect of the Two Men. — Serious Bearing of

40 CONTENTS.
Broderick. — Terry's Fearlessness. — Marking the Distance. — Its Murderous Shortness. — The
Duelists Placed. — Their Persons Examined. — " Gentlemen, are you Ready 1" — The
Word Given. — Both Parties Fire. — Broderick Shot in the Breast. — Last Sufferings and End.
— Sorrow of the Community. — His Body Lies in State. — A Similar Deed of Horror. — Con
gressional Tragedy in 1838. — Its Deadly Character  696
LXXXII.
John Brown's Capture of Harper's Ferry, Va. — 1859.
Seizure and Occupation of the United States Armory. — A Bold Scheme to Free the Slaves. —
Attacked by the Militia, He Retreats to the Engine House and Makes it His Fortress. —
The Building is Surrounded by Federal Troops and Forced by a Battering Ram. — Brown,
Refusing to Surrender, is Overpowered and Made Prisoner. — His Genuine Heroism on the
Scaffold. — A Long Cherished Plan. — Conference Held in Canada. — Programme of Opera
tions. — Harper's Ferry the Strategic Point. — First Active Movement at Night. — Only
Twenty-two Men in Force. — The Town in Brown's Possession. — Strange Scenes at Day
break. — Indescribable Consternation. — Fighting and Bloodshed. — News of the Attack Sent
Off. — Military Companies Pour in. — Marines Sent from AVashington. — No Mercy Shown the
Insurgents. — Brown is Terribly AVounded. — His Indomitable Fortitude. — Tried for Treason
and Murder. — Conviction: Speech in Court. — Admiration of Him by His Foes. — Walks
Fearless to the Gallows. — Mounts the Fatal Platform. — " I am Ready at any Time 1 " . 704
LXXXin.
Fall of the Great Pemberton Mills in Lawrence, Mass. — 1860.
Nearly One Thousand Persons Buried in the Ruins. — Multitudes, Male and Female, in Youth
and Beauty, Brought in a Moment to Agony and Death. — Bursting Forth of a Sweeping
Conflagration. — Commingling of Horrible Sights and Sounds. — Hair-Breadth Escapes. —
Three Fair and Beautiful Corpses Tight Together. — The Calamity Instantaneous* — Sensa
tions of the Occupants. — Two Acres of Ruins. — Flames Suddenly Belch Forth. — Thrilling
Cries : AVoeful Scenes.— Efforts to Rescue the AVounded.— Many Left to Their Fate.— Thou
sands of Excited Visitors.— Sympathy and Relief.— A Room Stored with the Dead— AVon-
derful Escape of a Young Woman. — Astonishing Presence of Mind.— Female Heroism and
Devotion.— Tender Girls Struggling in the Ruins.— Despair and Suicide.— Ladies AVork the
Fire Engines.— Harrowing and Piteous Appeals.— Cool Pluck of an Irishman.— Reading the
List of Victims. — Touching Request of a Dying Girl.— Endurance and Resignation.— Acr
count of the Avondale Colliery Disaster  712
LXXXIV.
Grand Embassy From the Empire of Japan, with a Treaty of Peace and Com
merce, to the United States Government. — 1860.
First Ambassadors Ever Sent from that Ancient Country to a Foreign Land. — Their Official
Reception by President Buchanan, and Tour of Observation to the Chief Cities.— Public In
terest Excited by this Extraordinary Mission.— Their Oriental Costume, Manners, Ceremo*
nies, Eta—Japanese Distinction Shown to Americans.— Character of the Embassy.— Headed
by Eminent Princes— Numerous and Brilliant Suite— Arrival at Washington— Procession
to the Hotel— Most Curious Spectacle— How the Treaty was Carried— Ceremonies at the
AVhite House. — Salutations and Speeches. — Impressive International Scene. — Japanese
Diplomacy— Delivering the Tycoon's Letter— Personal Appearance of the Ambassadors-
President Buchanan's Opinion— Humors and Drolleries—" Tommy," the Ladies' Pet-
Gallantry to Miss Lane— The Embassy at the Navy Yard— Astonishment Expressed by
Them.— Adieu to the President.— America's Message to the Emperor  721
LXXXV.
Arrival and Exhibition, in New York, of the Iron Steamship Great Eastern— 1860.
The Largest and Most Extraordinary Vessel Ever Constructed— Burden, 20 000 Tons ¦ Length
Sxx Hundred and Eighty Feet—Tens of Thousands of Visitors from all Parts of the Union!

CONTENTS. 41
—Admiration of Her Majestic Proportions, Ease of Movement, and Her Splendid and Power,
ful Machinery. —Matchless Triumph of Human Genius and Skill. — " AVonders of the
World," So Called. — Modern Achievements Pre-eminent.— Marvels of Steam Application—
First Crossing of the Atlantic— Voyage of the Savannah in 1818.— Curiosity and AVonder
Excited. — Visited by Crowned Heads.— Most Peculiar Reminiscences —Building the Great
Western.— First Regular Ocean Steamer.— Her Complete Success.— Growth of Ocean Steam
Transit. — Conception of the Great Eastern. — Her Nautical Peculiarities. — Architectural
Perfection. — Superb Appointments Throughout. — Working Power, Eight Thousand Horses. —
Ship's Weight, 12,000 Tons. — Rated for Four Thousand Passengers.— Appearance in New
York Harbor. — Salutes, Escorts, Etc.— Greeted by Dense Throngs  729
LXXXVI.
General Walker's Filibustering Expeditions to Sonora, Nicaragua, and Hon
duras.— 1860.
Character, Method, and Object of His Schemes. — His Movements Marked by Bloodshed and
Bold Usurpation of Authority. — Retreat, Capture, and Court-Martial at Truxillo. — Cool Res
ignation to His Death-Sentence. — Solemn March to the Place of Execution. — -Is Shot, and
Instantly Expires. — AValker's " Star of Destiny." — Short-Sighted Calculations. — Daring
Qualities of the Man. — Bitter Luck in Sonora. — -Starvation : Inglorious Flight. — Nicaragua
the Land of Promise. — Contempt of Neutrality Laws. — United States Officials Outwitted. —
Champagne vs. Handcuffs. — Battles at Rivas and Virgin Bay. — Splendid Successes of
Walker. — Styles Himself " The Regenerator." — Treaty between Generals AValker and Cor
ral. — Corral Charged with Treason, and Shot.— Combination Against Walker. — His Escape
to the United States. — New but Abortive Attempts on Nicaragua. — Turns Up Next at Trux
illo. — Is Defeated by the Honduras Troops. — His Doom Announced to Him. — Dying Declara
tions. — A Volley ; Three Cheers ; the End  737
LXXXVII.
Tour of His Royal Highness, Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, Through the
United States. — 1860.
Friendly Letters between President Buchanan and Queen Victoria on the Subject. — The
Prince's First Entrance Into American AVaters. — Unbounded Hospitalities Extended Him.
— Hunting Excursions, Military Reviews, Balls, Illuminations, Etc. — Splendid Banquet at
the White House. — England's Appreciation of these Honors to Her Future King. — Heir to
the British Throne. — Arrival at Detroit, Chicago, Etc. — Enthusiastic Crowds Greet Him. —
His Way Completely Blocked Up. — On a Hunt : Fine Sportsman. — Receptions at Various
Cities. — Locomotive Ride to Washington. — Guest of President Buchanan. — Courtesies and
Ceremonials. — Visit to Mount Vernon. — At the Tomb of Washington. — Unparalleled His
torical Scene. — He Plants a Tree at the Grave. — Rare Scenes in Philadelphia. — New York
and Boston Festivities. — Present from Trinity Church, New York. — Greatest Balls Ever
Known. — He Meets a Bunker Hill Veteran. — Impressions of America. — Incidents, Anecdotes,
Interviews.— His Looks, Manners, Dress, Etc.— Brilliant Farewell at Portland. . . . 745
Lxxxvm.
Bombardment and Reduction of Fort Sumter. — 1861.
Inauguration of Civil War in the United States.— First Military Act in the Long and Bloody
Struggle to Dismember the Union. — Organization of the Southern Confederacy. — President
Lincoln's Proclamation for 75,000 Volunteers. — Spontaneous Uprising of the Loyal People.
— Calling the Battle-Roll of the Republic. — Supreme Crisis in the Fate of the Nation-
Northern and Southern Variances. — Slavery the Cause of Contention. — Culmination of the
Antagonism. — Disunion Banner of the South. — Secession of Several States. — AVar AVager
Boldly Staked. — Vain Efforts at Reconciliation. — Federal Property Seized at the South. —
Batteries Erected at Charleston. — Fort Sumter Closely Besieged. — Beauregard Demands its
Surrender. — Major Anderson's Flat Refusal. — Weakness of His Garrison. — Attempts to Re-

42 CONTENTS.
enforce It. — Prevented by Confederate Batteries. — All Eyes Riveted on the Fort. — Opening
of the Attack, April Fourteenth. — Incessant and Tremendous Fire. — Terms of Evacuation
Accepted.— Southern Rejoicings.— The Great Military Outlook. — Washington the National
Key  753
LXXXIX.
Astonishing Feats of Horse-Taming Performed by Mr. John S. Rarey. — 1861.
The Most Savage and Furious Animals Made Tractable as Lambs. — The Ferocious and Far-
Famed " Cruiser " Lies Docile at His Master's Feet.— Acclamations of Wonder and Admira
tion by Crowded Audiences. — Brilliant Honors from Monarchs and Courts Abroad.— Philos
ophy of Mr. Rarey's Method and Success.— Mr. Rarey Personally.— Boyhood Fondness for
Horses. — Aptness in Training Them. — Discovers an Improved Method.— Its Perfect Success.
— Wild Prairie Horses Subdued. — Determines to Exhibit Abroad. — His Skill Challenged in
London. — " Cruiser " to be the Great Test. — Rage and Fury of the Animal. — Plunging,
Rearing, Yelling, Biting. — Rarey's Complete Triumph. — Monarchs and Princes Present. —
Their Surprise and Delight— Victoria's Rapturous Applause. — Exhibitions in the United
States. — Terrible Cases Dealt AVith. — Rarey Always Conqueror. — His Calm, Fine, Firm
Voice. — Cool, Quiet, Quick Movements. — Magnetism of His Presence. — Details of the Sys
tem  761
XC.
Battle at Bull Run, Va., between the Federal and Confederate Armies. — 1861.
First Important Engagement in the Great Civil War. — Severe Fighting for Many Hours. —
Most Disastrous Defeat of the Federal Troops. — Their Uncontrollable Panic and Headlong
Flight. — The South Jubilant. — Gloom and Humiliation of the Loyal States. — Three Months
Since Sumter Fell. — Armies Massed at AVashiugton and Richmond. — Threats Against the
Federal Capital. — Irritation and Impatience of the North. — " On to Richmond ! " the Union
AVar-Cry. — March of McDowell's Army. — Plan of the Movement. —Rousing the Southern
Forces. — Their Unexpected Strength. — Uncertain Fate of the Day. — Re-enforcements for the
Confederates. — Davis's Arrival on the Ground. — He Exclaims, " Onward, My Brave Com
rades ! "—Their AVild Enthusiasm. — A Lost Battle for the Union.— Complete Demoralization.
— Three Miles of Scattered Troops. — Arms, Stores, etc., Flung Away. — Distressing Sights
and Sounds. — Thanksgiving Appointed by Davis. — Te Deums Sung in the Southern Churches.
— Lessons Taught by this Battle  769
XCI.
Extraordinary Combat between the Iron-Clads Merrimac and Monitor, in
Hampton Roads. — 1862.
Sudden Appearance of the Merrimac Among the Federal Frigates. — Their Swift and Terrible
Destruction by Her Steel Prow.— Unexpected Arrival of the " Little Monitor " at the Scene
of Action.— She Engages and Disables the Monster Craft in a Four Hours Fight.— Total
Revolution in Naval Warfare the AVorld Over by this Remarkable Contest.— How the Mer-
rimac Changed Hands— Burned and Sunk at Norfolk, Va— Her Hull Raised by the Confed
erates.— She is Iron Roofed and Plated— Proof Against Shot and Shell.— A Powerful Steel
Beak in Her Prow.— Most Formidable Vessel Afloat.— In Command of Commodore Buchanan.
—Departs from Norfolk, March Eighth.— Pierces and Sinks the Cumberland.— Next Attacks
. the Congress.— The Noble Frigate Destroyed.— Fight Begun with the Minnesota.— Suspended
at Nightfall.— Trip of the Monitor from New York  Her New and Singular Build.— Lieu
tenant AVorden Hears of the Battles. — Resolves to Grapple with the Monster.  The Two
Together Next Day.— A Scene Never to be Forgotten.— Worden Turns the Tide of Fortune.
•—Repulse and Retreat of the Merrimac  p 778

CONTENTS. 43
XCII.
Battle of Antietam, Maryland. — 1862.
Bloodiest Day That America Ever Saw. — Nearly One Hundred Thousand Men on Each Side.
—General McClellan Declares on the Field that it is " the Battle of the War."— Four Miles
and Fourteen Hours of Fighting and Slaughter. — The Shock and " Glory " of AVar on a
• Colossal Scale. — Obstinate Bravery of the Contending Foes. — Some of the Regiments Almost
Annihilated. — The Union Troops Hold the Disputed Ground. — Lee's Great Military Object.
— His Troops Enter Maryland. — Frowning Masses of Soldiery. — Surrender of Harper's Ferry.
— McClellan's Army in Motion.— He Attacks the Enemy in Position.— Hooker Leads the
Advance. — He is Shot and Disabled.— Death of General Mansfield. — Other Union Generals
-AVounded. — Reno's Untimely End. — Rain of Shot and Shell. — Various Fortunes of the Day.
— Close and Stern Ordeal. — Feat of Burnside's Corps. — Their Struggle for the Hill. — A Fear
ful Crisis with General Burnside.— He Asks for Re-enforcements. — McClellan's Memorable
Reply. — Driving the Enemy en masse. — Forty of Their Colors Taken. — The After-Scene of
Horror  787
xcni.
Proclamation of Emancipation, as a AVar Measure, by President Lincoln. — 1863.
More than Three Millions, in Bondage at the South, Declared Forever Free. — Most Important
American State Paper Since July Fourth, 1776. — Pronounced, by the President, " the Great
Event of the Nineteenth Century." — The Whole System of Slavery Finally Swept from the
Republic, by Victories in the Field and by Constitutional Amendments. — Mr. Lincoln's
Views on Slavery. — Opposed to all Unconstitutional Acts. — His Orders to Union Generals. —
Prohibits the Arming of Negroes. — Alarming Progress of Events. — The Great Exigency at
Last. — Slavery versus the Union. — Solemn and Urgent Alternative. — Emancipation Underthe
War-Power. — Preparation of the Great Document. — Its Submission to the Cabinet. — Opin-
i ions and Discussions. — Singular Reason for Delay. — Mr. Lincoln's Vow to God. — Waiting
for a Union Triumph. — Decided by the Battle of Antietam. — Final Adoption of the Measure.
— Mr. Carpenter's Admirable Narrative. — Public Reception of the Proclamation. — Promulga
tion at the South. — Scenes of Joy Among the Freedmen. — Enfranchisement Added to Free
dom  796
XCIV.
Campaign against Vicksburg, "The Gibraltar of the Mississippi," by the Union
Forces.— 1863.
The Genius, Valor, and Resources of Both Armies Tasked to Their Utmost. — Final Capitula
tion of the City by General Pemberton, After a Prolonged and Brilliant Siege. — Heaviest
Blow Yet Dealt the Secession Cause. — General McPherson Receives the Formal Surrender. —
37,000 Prisoners, Fifteen Generals, Arms and Munitions for 60,000 Men, the Trophies. — Geo
graphical Importance of Vicksburg. — Its Commanding Fortifications. — Farragut's Naval
Siege Powerless. — Sherman's Attack Repulsed. — Grant Assumes Active Command. — Vigor
ous Operations Undertaken. — His Series of Victorious Battles. — Futile Attempt to Storm
Vicksburg. — Hours of Terrific Cannonading. — A Systematic Siege Begun. — Thorough In
vestment at all Points. — Federal Sapping and Mining. — They Mine and Blow up Fort Hill. —
Awful Spectacle of Blood and Ruin. — Deadly Struggle for a Foothold. — Success of the Forty-
fifth Illinois. — Their Colors Surmount the AVork. — Pemberton Sends a Flag of Truce. — His
Interview with Grant. — Grant's Terms : " Unconditional Surrender." — The Victors Enter
the City, July Fourth. — Curious Reminiscences  800
XCV.
Three Days' Battle between the Concentrated Armies of Generals Meade and
Lee, at Gettysburg, Pa. — 1863.
Overwhelming Invasion of Pennsylvania by the Confederate Forces. — The Union Army Drives
Them with Great Slaughter Across the Potomac. — Unsuccessful Attempt to Transfer the
Seat of War from Virginia to Northern Soil.— One of the Most Decisive and Important

44 CONTENTS.
Federal Victories in the Great American Civil Conflict. — Lee's Army Impatient to go North.
 Order of March at Last. — Consternation in the Border States. — Call for One Hundred
Thousand More Men. — Advance of Meade's Army. — Face to Face With the Foe. — Engagement
between the Vanguards. — Terrific Artillery Contests. — Movements and Counter Movements. —
Severe Reverses on Both Sides. — Carnage at Cemetery Hill. — Longstreet's Furious Onset. —
Most Destructive Cannonade. — Gettysburg a Vast Hospital. — Crawford's Grand Charge. —
Standing by the Batteries !— Hand-to-Hand Conflict.— Following the Battle-Flag.— Deadly
and Impetuous Fighting. — Forty-one Confederate Standards Taken. — Unbounded Joy of
the Victors. — President Lincoln's Announcement  815
XCVI.
Oratorical Championship of America's Cause in England, b"v Rev. H. W.
Beecher— 1803.
His Olympian Speeches, in Defiance of British Sentiment, in the Great Cities of the Kingdom.
— His Eloquence Rises to the Very Crown of the Occasion. — Superb Exhibition of Forensic
Power in Liverpool. — He Wrestles, Single-Handed and Triumphantly, for Three Hours, with
a Vast and Tumultuous Mob in that City. — Reception at Exeter Hall, London. — Mr. Beech-
er's Tour Undertaken for His Health. — Reaches England, Homeward Bound. — Civil Conflict
Raging in America. — Mr. Beecher Urged to Speak on United States Affairs. — Opening^
Speech in Manchester. — Great Audience of Seven Thousand. — Attempts to Silence Him. —
Powerlessness of the Opposition. — Splendid Qualities as an Orator. — Discussions in Glasgow
and Edinburgh. — Battle AVaged by Mr. Beecher in Liverpool. — Violent Efforts to Gag Him.
— A Maddened Sea of Insult. — Taunts, Curses, Hisses, Fury. — Stampings, Hootings. Yell-
ings. — Beecher's Pluck, and Good Humor. — He Triumphs Over the AA'ild Tempest. — A Spec
tacle Never Before Witnessed. — Grand Closing Scene in the British Capital. — Vast and
Excited Assembly. — He Carries the House by Storm. — Plaudits and Congratulations. . 825
XCVII.
Erection and Inauguration of the Great Organ in Tnu Boston Music Hall. — 1863.
Most Majestic aud Perfect Instrument of the Kind in America. — Almost without an Equal
in the AVhole AVorld— Height, Sixty Feet; AVidth, Forty-eight Feet; Depth, Twenty-four
Feet; AVeight, Seventy Tons; Cost, $60,000.— Its Vast and Enchanting Harmonies and
AVondrous Frame of Architectural Beauty. — The Masterpiece of Musical Art. — Origin of the
Enterprise.— Dr. Upham's Grand Conception.— Full Powers Conferred Upon Him.— His
Seven Years' Labor and Care. — America and Europe Explored. — A Colossal Instrument
Decided On.— Object and Influence of Such.— Contract for Its Construction in Germany—
Unrivaled Mechanism of the AVork— Completed, and Shipped for Boston.— Three Months'
Tempestuous Voyage.— Enshrinement of tho Organ in a Case.— Its Towers, Domes, and
Sculptures— Wind Pipes, Thirty-two Feet Long— Eighty-nine Full Registers— Total Num
ber of Pipes, Five Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy-four.— Capacity of the Organ, Six
Thousand Voices— Ease with which It is Performed.— Marvelous Lights and Shades of Tone.
—First Exposition to the Public— Enthusiasm and Joy on the Occasion.— Music, Poetry,
Art, Beauty  83g
XCVIII.
Combat between the Alabama, Captain Semmes, and the Kearsarge, Captain
Winslow, off Cherbourg.— 1864.
The Alabama is Sunk after an Hour's Engagement, in Sight of the Two Great Maritime Pow
ers of Europe— Semmes Throws His Sword Away, Jumps Overboard, and Escapes— Rela
tive Equality, in Size and Armament, of the Two Vessels. — The Previous Destructive
Career of the Alabama Against Northern Commerce— Causeless Raid on Marine Property.
—Fault in the Law of Nations— British Origin of the Alabama— Her Unmistakable Char
acter—Peculiar Model aud Equipment— Adapted to Destroy, Fight, or Run— Adroit Ship
ment of Stores and Guns— Ready for a Start— All Hands Mustered Aft— Semmes Reads
Aloud His Commission— Cheers for Davis, Semmes, Etc.— Salute Fired : Hoisting the Flag.

CONTENTS. 45
— A Long Cruise : Terrible Ravages. — Puts in, at Cherbourg, France. — The United States
Ship Kearsarge on His Track. — Semmes Boldly Offers to Fight. — Preliminary Maneuvers of
the Ships. — Seven Circles Round Each Other.— Semmes's Rapid and Furious Fire. — Supe
rior Gunnery of the Kearsarge. — Its Fatal Effect on the Alabama. — Incidents of this
Renowned Fight  810
XCIX.
Admiral Farragut's Achievements at New Orleans in 1862, and at Mobile Bay in
1804 ; and Admiral Porter's Crowning Victory in 1865, at Fort Fisher. — 1864.
His Astonishing Feat of Rowing Past the Confederate Batteries. — Fierce and Sanguinary Con
test between the Admiral's Flag-ship, the Hartford, and Admiral Buchanan's Monster Ram,
the Tennessee.— The Latter Proves Herself, for a Time, a Match for the AArhole Union Fleet.
— Farragut's Overwhelming Victory. — Farragut Pressed to Join the South. — His Unswerv
ing Fidelity to the Old Flag. — High Trust Committed to Him.— Sailing of His Great Fleet.
— Bold and Successful Plan of Battle. — Admiral Porter's Splendid Services. — Ports Jackson
and St. Philip AVrecked. — New Orleans Again Under the United States Flag. — Another
Theater of Naval Operations. — Forts, Rams, Iron-Clads, Etc., to Fight. — Powerful Build of
the Tennessee. — Makes for Her Antagonist at Full Speed. — Intended Running Down of the
Hartford. — Farragut's Masterly Maneuvers. — Unexpected Feature in His Tactics. — Deadly
Contact of the Various Craft. — Tremendous Cannonades. — The " Glory" and Horrors of
War. — Stubborn Bravery of the Great Ram. — Crippled at Last: The White Flag. — The
Stars and Stripes on Her Staff. — Buchanan Yields His Sword  848

Grand March of the Union Army, under General Sherman, Through the Heart
of the South. — 1864.
Generals and Armies Baffled, and States and Cities Conquered, Without a Serious Disaster to
the Victors. — Display of Military Genius Unsurpassed in Any Age or Country. — The Southern
Confederacy Virtually Crushed Within the Coils of this Wide-Sweeping, Bold, and Resist
less Movement. — The Great Closing Act in the Campaign. — Sherman's Qualities as a Com
mander. — His Great Military Success. — His Own Story. — A Brilliant Campaign Planned. —
Brave and Confident Troops. — Atlanta, Ga., the First Great Prize. — Destroys that City: Smarts
for the Coast. — Kilpatrick Leads the Cavalry. — Thomas Defends the Border States. — Success
ful Feints Made by Sherman. — Subsists His Men on the Enemy's Country. — Immense Sweep
of the Onward Columns. — Savannah's Doom Sealed. — Fall of Fort McAllister. — Christmas
Gift to the President. — Advance Into South Carolina. — The Stars and Stripes in Her Cap
ital. — All Opposition Powerless. — North Carolina's Turn Next. — Swamps, Hills, Quagmires,
Storms, Floods.— Battles Fought: Onward to Raleigh. — Johnston's AVhole Army Bagged. —
Sherman Described Personally  857
CI.
Fall of Richmond, Va., the Confederate Capital. — 1865.
The Entrenched City Closely Encompassed for Months by General Grant's Brave Legions and
Walls of Steel. — Flight of Jefferson Davis, and Surrender of General Lee's Army.— Overthrow
of the Four Years' Gigantic Rebellion. — The jEgis and Starry Ensigns of the Republic
Everywhere Dominant. — Transports of Joy Fill the Land. — A Nation's Laurels Crown the
Head of the Conqueror of Peace. — Memorable Day in Human Affairs. — Momentous Issues
Involved. — Heavy Cost of this Triumph. — Without It, a Lost Republic. — Unequaled Valor
Displayed. — Sherman's Grand Conceptions. — Sheridan's Splendid Generalship. — Onward
March of Events. — Strategy, Battles, Victories. — Lee's Lines Fatally Broken. — Approach of
the Final Crisis. — Richmond Evacuated by Night. — Retreat of Lee : A'igorous Pursuit. —
His Hopeless Resistance to Grant. — Their Correspondence and Interview. — The Two Great
Generals Face to Face. — AVhat Was Said and Done. — Announcing the Result. — Parting of
Lee with His Soldiers. — Presideut Lincoln's Visit to Richmond. — liaising the United States
Flag at Fort Sumter. — Davis a Prisoner in Fortress Monroe  866

46 CONTENTS. CII.
Assassination of President Lincoln, at Ford's Theater, Washington, by J.
Wilkes Booth. — 1865.
Conspiracy to Murder, Simultaneously, all the Chief Officers of the Government. — The Most
Exalted and Beloved of Mortal Rulers Falls a Victim. — A Universal AVail of Anguish and
Lamentation Poured Forth from the National Heart. — Darkest Page in the History of the
Country. — Funeral Cortege Through Fifteen States. — Tragical Fate of the Conspirators. —
Object of this Most Infamous of Crimes. — Singular Time of Its Perpetration. — Virtual End
of the Great Civil War. — Dawn of Peace : Universal Joy. — President Lincoln's Happy Frame
of Mind. — How He Passed His Last Day. — Conversations on the Evening of April Four
teenth. — Makes an Engagement for the Morrow.— Last Time He Signed His Name. — Re
luctantly Goes to the Theater. — Arrives Late: Immense Audience. — Plans and Movements of
the Assassin. — The Fatal Shot : a Tragedy of Horrors. — Removal of the President to a Pri
vate House. — Speechless and Unconscious to the End. — Death-Bed Scenes and Incidents—
The Nation Stunned at the Appalling News. — Its Reception at the South, and by General
Lee. — A Continent in Tears and Mourning. — Most Imposing Obsequies Ever Known. —
Booth's Swift and Bloody End. — Trial of His Male and Female Accomplices. ... 876

CIII.
Successful Laying of the Telegraph Cable Across the Atlantic Ocean. — 1866.
The Old AA'orld and the New United by Instantaneous Communication. — Pronounced the
Grandest of Human Enterprises.— Ten Years of Difficulty and Failure in the Mighty Task.
—Tho Name of Its Indomitable Projector Crowned with Immortal Honor. — Illustrations of
the Power and AVondsrs of this New-Born Agent of Civilization. — Ocean Telegraphs Early
Predicted.— First Attempt in 1857.— Breaking of the AVire— Fresh but Abortive Trials in
1858 and 1835.— Great Preparations for 1866.— Exquisite Construction of the Cable— A
Wealthy and Powerful Company.— Cyrus AV. Field, Its Master-Spirit.— Employment of the
Great Eastern.— Laying the Shore-End at Valentia. — Rejoicing of the Inhabitants.— Voyage
of the Fleet to America.— Incidents and Accidents.— Intense Solicitude, Day and Night.— A
Joyous Morning! July Twenty-seventh.— Perfect Success from End to End.— First News
Dispatch, Peace in Europe.— Messages between the President and Queen.— Compliments to
Mr. Field.— His Interview with Lord Clarendon.— John Blight's Sparkling Tribute.— Moral
Uses of the Cable  888
CIV.
Completion of the Pacific Railroad.— 1869.
Spikes of the Richest Gold and a Hamm»r of Pure Silver Used in Laying the Last Rail.— The
Blows of the Sledge Telegraphed to all the Great Cities.— The AVide Continent Spanned with
Iron from the Farthest East to the Golden Gate— Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific
Oceans— Seven Days from New York to San Francisco— Greatest Railroad Route on the
Face of the Earth— "Manifest Destiny " of the United States— A Pacific Highway Agitated'
For Years— Its National Importance and Necessity— Charters and Government Aid at Last.
— Th.3 "Union" and "Central" Companies— National Difficulties to be Overcome— Feats
of Engineering Involved— Triumphs of Science in this Respect— Mountains Tunneled. Riv
ers Bridged— Gulfs Spanned, Depths Fathomed.— Vastness and Progress of the Work— A
Force of Twenty-five Thousand Men and Six Thousand Teams— First Train at the Top of
the Sierras— Pushing the Line to Completion— Approach of the Two Grand Divisions-
Union at Promontory Point, Utah— Exultation Over the Victory— Historic Scene in the
Heart of America— Offerings of Gold, Silver, Iron, and Laurel— Telegram to President
Grant— Celebrations in the Principal Cities— Easy Journey Around the World. ... 896

CONTENTS. 47
CV.
National Peace Jubilee and Musical Festival For Five Days, in Boston, in Honor
of the Restoration of the Union of the States. — 1869.
Ten Thousand Singers, an Orchestra of One Thousand Instruments, and Tons of Thousands of
Spectators, in the Coliseum, an Immense Building Erected for the Occasion. — Attendance of
President Grant. — Sublime and Inspiring Harmonies. — Most Majestic Musical Demonstra
tion of Modern Times.— Origin of the Jubilee. — P. S. Gilmore: His Zeal and Enthusiasm. —
All Discouragements Overcome. — Magnificent Programme. — Splendor of the Coliseum. — It
Covers Nearly Four Acres. — Inauguration Ceremonies. — A'iew of tho Audience. — Scene of
Surpassing Enchantment.— Beauty of the Decorations.— Overtures, Choruses, Anthems, Etc.
— Parepa-Rosa, Phillipps, Ole Bull.— Their Professional Triumphs.— Zerrahn, Tourjee, Eich-
berg— The Famous "Anvil" Chorus.— Chiming the City Bells.— Novel Commingling of
Artillery with Music— Tremendous Ovation to Grant.— Half a Million People in the City. —
Testimonial to Mr. Gilmore.— Last Day : Concert by 10,000 Children.— Triumphant Success
of the Jubilee  904
CVE.
Burning of the City of Chicago, III., the Commercial Metropolis of the North-
AVest— 1871.
Most Destructive Conflagration in the History of Civilized Nations. — A Thirty Hours' Tornado
of Fire in all Directions. — Arast Billows of Inextinguishable Flrmie. — Upwards of Two Thou
sand Acres, or Seventy-three Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed : Loss,
$200,000,000.— Ignoble Origin of the Fire.— Fatal Mistake of a Policeman.— Combustibles
all Around. — A Strong Gale Prevailing. — Frightful Rapidity of the Flames. — Destruction of
the AVater-AA'orks. — Stores and Warehouses Swept Away. — Palaces and Hovels a Common
Prey. — Engines Sent from Seven States. — The Midnight Scene. — Terror Indescribable. —
Flight for Life.— Burning of the Bridges. — Hopelessness, Desperation, Death. — Churches,
Hotels, Theaters, in Ashes. — Fate of the Newspapers, Banks, etc. — Explosion of the Gas-
Works. — Tombs and Graves Consumed. — Most Ghastly Spectacle. — Nearly 100,000 Persons
Homeless.— The Wail for Help.— A AVorld's Sympathies Poured Forth  913
CAHI.
Terrible Fire in the Business Heart of Boston. — 1872.
It Rages Fiercely, Night and Day, and Consumes the AAridest and Most Magnificent Area of
Solid Granite AVarehouses on the Continent. — Some Sixty-five Acres of these Massive and
Apparently Indestructible Commercial Palaces Crumble Like Chalk in the Intense Heat. —
The Great Financial and Commercial Center of New England Destroyed. — Surprising Char
acter of this Fire. — Comparison with that of Chicago. — No Gale : Moderate AVeather. —
Strange Rapidity of the Flames. — They Spread in all Directions. — Triumphant Sweep from
Block to Block. — Thoroughness of the Destruction. — Iron and Stone No Barriers. — Difficulties
of the Situation. — Great Height of the Stores. — Narrowness of the Streets.- -Trinity Church
in Ruins. — Blowing up with Gunpowder. — Grand and Terrible Scenes. — Narrow Escape of
the " Old South." — State Street and its Treasures Reached. — A'ietory at Last by the Firemen.
— Peril, Bravery, Death. — A AVhole City in Darkness. — Some Eight Hundred Buildings
Burned— Trades that Specially Suffered.— Loss About $85,000,000  920
CVTLL
The National Grange Movement. — 1872.
Popular Organizations in the Interests of Labor. — Changes Sought in the Relations between
Producers and Consumers. — General Declaration of Principles and Aims. — A System of Uni
versal Co-operation Proposed. — Results to be Realized by Such Coinbinations. — Patrons of
Husbandry and Sovereigns of Industry. — Initiative Proceedings in 1867. — First Grange
Founded in AVashington, D. C. — Agriculture the Grand Basis. — Mutual Protection and
Advancement. — Small Encouragement at the Beginning. — Immense Growth in Five Years.

48 CONTENTS.
 Activity in the West and South. — Social and Moral Aspects. — Plan of Business Action. —
Partisan Prejudices Disavowed. — No Political Tests Involved— Opinions of Eminent Leaders
Cited.— Views of Foreign Publicists.— Vital Point in the New System. — Commercial and
Financial Theories.— Grain and Cotton Products. — Alleged Errors in Trade Customs. — Indi
vidual vu. Associated Efforts.—' Middlemen ' a Disadvantage. — Substitute for Their Interven
tion. — The Case Illustrated. — Difficulties and Remedies  927
CIX.
Consecration of the First Cardinal in the United States. — 1875.
The Venerable Archbishop McCloskey, of New York, Selected by the Roman Pontiff, for this
Great Office. — He becomes a Prince in the Church. — The Highest Ecclesiastical Appointment
in the Catholic Hierarchy. — Reasons given for this Step. — Solemn Investiture, in the Cathe
dral, by Clerical Dignitaries from All Parts of the Country. — An Unparalleled Scene. — Illus
trious Nature of this Office. — Special Envoy sent from Rome. — Announcing the Event to the
Archbishop.— Time of Public Recognition Assigned. — A Mighty Stream of Humanity—
Decorations of the Church. — Procession of Priests. — Incensing the Altars. — Sacred Vessels
and Vestments.— Insignia Peculiar to this Rank. — The Scarlet Cap. — Profoundly Impressive
Service. — Unprecedented on this Continent. — Imposing the Berretta. — Intoning and Chanting.
— Official Letter from the Pope. — Use of the Latin Language. — Inspiring Strains of Music. —
Incidents attending the Ceremonial. — Pontifical Benediction by the Cardinal. — Retirement of
the Celebrants. — Dispersion of the Vast Throng  934
CX.
"Miracles of Science," or, Four New Wonders of the World. — 1876.
The Electric Light, or Brilliant and Abundant Illumination by Means of Electricity. — The
Telephone, or Instantaneous Articulate Communication between Distant Points. — The Pho
nograph, or Talking Machine, Reproducing and Preserving Human Utterances, whether of
Speech or Song, in all their characteristics. — The Microphone, or Prodigious Magnifier of
Sound, however Slight or Remote. — Splendor of the Electric Rays. — Former Inventions in
this Line. — Prof. Farmer's Early Success. — Edison's Improved Device- — Its Special Charac
teristics. — Sanguine Expectations Entertained. — Interest Excited by the Telephone. — Enco
miums from English Sources. — Principles of Construction and Use. Simplicity and Service-
ableness. — Tens of Thousands in Operation. — How the Phonograph was Developed. — Other
Inventions Fairly Eclipsed. — Its Appearance, Form, Outcome. — AVords and Tones Recorded.
— Astonishment and Delight. — Its Five Chief Features. — Marvels of the Microphone. — A
Touch or Tick Audible for Miles. — Arrangement of the Apparatus. — Curious Feats Accom
plished — Explanation of this property  945
CXI.
Centennial Commemoration of the Birth of the Republic. — 1876.
Year of Jubilee, Festival, and Pageant, throughout the Land.— Prosperity, Power, and Renown
of the Nation.— A Union of Nearly Forty Great Commonwealths and Forty Million People-
Anticipations of the Coming Anniversary.— Legislation by Congress for its Patriotic Obser
vance—A Grand Exposition of the Century's .Growth and Progress, the Principal Feature
Decided Upon— Vast Work of Preparation.— The Whole World at Peace, and All Countries
and Climes in Sympathy with the Republic and its Auspicious Era— Ushering in the Year's
Ceremonials— Every City, Town, and Village, Covered with Gay Streamers and AVaving
Flags.— Pomp, Parade, and Universal Fraternization.— AVondrous Microcosm of Civilization
Concentrated at Philadelphia.— The Culminating Art and Skill of Sixty Centuries of Human
Advancement, and the Products of Every Quarter of the Globe, Displayed in Their Richest
Illustrations— An Unprecedented Scene : President and Emperor Receiving the Salutations
of the American People— Oratory, Music, Poetry, Bells, Illuminations, Cannon, Regattas,
Banners, Hallelujahs, and Huzzas— The Beauty, Utility, and Magnificence of the Orient and
Occident, in Boundless Combinations.— The " Glorious Fourth," All Over the Land.— Con
gratulatory Letter from the Emperor of Germany  , 948

MOMENTOUS POLITICAL EVENTS OF ABSORBING INTEREST.
1776. — Declaration of American Independence.
Birth of the Nation.
1785. — First Minister From the United States to England.
John Adams and Old King George Face to Face.
1786. — Shays's Rebellion in Massachusetts.
Armed Defiance of State and Federal Laws.
1787. — Formation and Adoption of the Federal Constitution.
The United States no longer an Unorganized Nation.
1789.: — Election and Inauguration of a President of the United States.
Unanimous Choice of George Washington.
1794. — The Famous AVhiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania.
Resistance to the United States Excise Tax.
1799. — Founding of Washington City, The National Capital.
Establishment of the Government in that City.
1806. — Conspiracy and Trial of Aaron Burr.
His Scheme of Conquest and Empire.
1826. — Fiftieth Anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.
A Jubilee throughout the Land.
1826. — Death of Ex-Presidents John Adams and Thomas Jefferson,
On the Fourth of July, the Nation's Half-Centenary.

50 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST.
1830. — The "Great Debate" between Senators Webster and Hayne.
Known as " the Battle of the Giants.''
1832. — Nullification Outbreak in South Carolina, under Calhoun, McDuf
fie, and Others.
The Wrath of President Jackson Aroused.
1836. — Struggle for the Right of Petition in Congress.
John Quincy Adams's Eleven Days' Dramatic Conflict, Single-Handed.
1837. — Passage of the Famous Expunging Resolution, in the United States
Senate.
Memorable Parliamentary Scene at Midnight.
1842. — Rebellion in Rhode Island, under Thomas W. Dorr.
Popular Suffrage and Political Equality Demanded.
1844. — Anti-Rent or "Barn-Burning" Agitation in New York.
Terrible Violence by Persons Disguised as Indians.
1851. — Reign of the Vigilance Committee in California.
Sudden Seizure and Punishment of Criminals.
1852. — Expedition to Japan, under Commodore Perry.
The Ports of that Empire Unsealed to America.
1858. — Political Debate between Lincoln and Douglas.
One of the Most Remarkable Oratorical Contests.
1859. — John Brown at Harper's Ferry.
A Bold Scheme to Free the Slaves.
1860. — Grand Embassy from the Empire of Japan.
First Ambassadors Ever Sent From that Country.
1863.— Championship of America's Cause in England, by Henry Ward
Beecher.
He Wrestles, Victoriously, with Vast and Tumultuous Mobs.
1863. — Proclamation of Emancipation.
Pronounced, by President Lincoln, " the Great Event of the Nineteenth
Century."
1870— Enfranchisement, by Constitutional Amendment, of the Colored
Race.
Equality of All Men before the Law.
1872. — The Grange Movement at the West.
Popular Organizations in the Interests of Labor.
1876— One Hundredth Birthday of the American Republic.
Universal Jubilee throughout the Land.

TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 51

II.
BATTLES, SIEGES, INSURRECTIONS, AND OTHER MILITARY
OCCURRENCES.
1777. — Capitulation of General Burgoyne to General Gates.
First Royal Army Ever Surrendered to Americans.
L780. — Treason of Benedict Arnold.
Plot to Deliver West Point to the British.
1781. — Surrender of Lord Cornwallis to General Washington.
Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America.
1783. — Adieu to the Army by General Washington.
Resigns his Great Commission and Returns his Sword to Congress.
1786. — First Organized Rebellion in the United States.
Led by Daniel Shays, of Massachusetts.
1791. — Greatest Battles with the Indians.
St. Clair's Defeat : Wayne's Victory.
1794. — Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania.
Subdued by General Henry Lee.
1803. — Chastisement of the Barbary Powers.
Humiliation of Morocco, Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli.
1806. — Burr's Military Expedition to the South-West.
His Schemes of Conquest and Empire.
1813. — Harrison's Victory at the Battle of the Thames.
Death of Tecumseh.
1814. — Conquest and Burning of Washington, by the British.
Flight of President Madison.
1815. — Jackson's Terrible Rout of the British at New Orleans.
Sudden and Decisive Close of the War.
1842. — Rebellion in Rhode Island, under Thomas W. Dorr.
The Two Great Political Parties Arm and Take the Field.
1847. — General Taylor's Victorious Campaign in Mexico.
Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, Buena Vista, Etc.
1847. — General Scott in the Halls of the Montezumas.
First Foreign Capital Ever Occupied by a United States Army.

52 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST.
1859. — John Brown's Seizure of Harper's Ferry.
His Capture, Trial, and Execution.
1861. — Bombardment and Reduction of Fort Sumter.
Inauguration of the Great Civil War in the United States.
1861. — Disastrous Defeat of the Union Army, at Bull Run, Va.
First Important Engagement in the War of the Rebellion.
1862. — Battle of Antietam, Md.
Bloodiest Day Ever Known in America.
1863. — Surrender of Vicksburg, " the Gibraltar of the Mississippi."
37,000 Prisoners, 15 Generals, and Arms for 60,000 Men, the Trophies.
1863. — Three Days' Battle at Gettysburg, Pa.
A Decisive Union Victory, of Supreme Importance.
1864. — Sherman's March Through the Heart of the South.
Display of Military Genius Unsurpassed in any Age.
1865. — Fall of Richmond, and Surrender of General Lee to General
Grant.
Overthrow of the Four Years' Gigantic Rebellion.
1865. — Re-possession of Fort Sumter.
The Old Flag Raised Again on its Battlements.

III.
BRILLIANT NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS AND HEROIC EXPLOITS.
1779.— Capture of the Ship-of-AVar Serapis, by John Paul Jones.
First American Naval Victory.
1804. — Bombardment of Tripoli.
The Proud Corsair Flag Strikes to the Stars and Stripes.
1812.— Fight between the Frigates Constitution and Guerriere.
The British Colors Struck to " Old Ironsides."
1812—Wonderful Escape of the Frigate Constitution from a British
Fleet.
Splendid Naval Tactics of the Americana.
1813. — Perry's Victory on Lake Erie.
First Squadron Fight between England and America.

TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 63
1814. — McDonough's Victory on Lake Champlain.
Seventeen British Ensigns Disappear in Two Hours.
1862. — Extraordinary Combat between the Merrimac and Monitor.
Total Revolution in Naval Warfare.
1864. — Engagement between the Kearsarge and Alabama.
Sinking of the Alabama after a Brilliant Contest of One Hour.
1864. — Heroic Achievements of Admirals Farragut and Porter.
New Orleans and Mobile the Scenes of their Exploits.
1865. — Brilliant Capture of Fort Fisher, N. O, by Admiral Porter and
General Terry.
Pronounced, by Gen. Grant, one of the Great Successes that Ended the War.

IV.
SUPERB ACHIEVEMENTS OF ORATORY.
1830. — The Great Debate between Webster and Hayne, in the United
States Senate.
Known as " The Battle of The Giants."
1836. — Struggle for the Right of Petition in Congress.
John Quincy Adams's Dramatic Contest, Single-Handed, for Eleven Days.
1858 — Political Debate between Lincoln and Douglas.
One of the Most Remarkable Oratorical Contests.
1863. — Championship of America's Cause in England, by Henry Ward Beecher.
He Wrestles, Victoriously, with Vast and Tumultuous Mobs.

V.
CELEBRATED CRIMINAL CASES AND TRIALS, TRAGEDIES, MUTI
NIES, DUELS, CONSPIRACIES, Etc.
1780. — Treason of Benedict Arnold.
Darkest Deed of Infamy during the Revolutionary War.
1804. — Fatal Duel between Vice-President Burr and Alexander Hamilton.
Hamilton Falls, Mortally Wounded.
1806.— Aaron Burr's Trial for High Treason.
August Judicial Scene.

54 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST.
1826.  Duel between Henry Clay and John Randolph.
Two Shots, and a Reconciliation.
1831.— Capture and Execution of Gibbs, the Noted Pirate.
Known as " the Scourge ofthe Ocean" and the Enemy of Mankind.
1835— Attempt to Assassinate President Jackson in the United States
Capitol. The Perpetrator, Richard Lawrence, Proves to be a Lunatic.
1838.— Barbarous Duel between Hons. W. J. Graves and Jonathan Cil-
ley, Members of Congress.
Cilley Slain at the Third Firing.
1841.— Cold-Blooded Murder of Samuel Adams by John C. Colt, in New
York. One of the Most Celebrated of Modern Crimes.
1842. — Mutiny on Board the United States Brig-of-War Somers.
Hanging of Spencer and Other Ringleaders from the Yard-arm.
1849. — Astor Place Opera-House Riots, New York.
Feud between the Two Great Tragedians, Forrest and Macready.
1849. — Murder of Dr. George Parkman, a Boston Millionaire, by Prof.
J. W. Webster, of Harvard College.
Intense Interest in this Case, in both Hemispheres.
1851. — Reign of the Vigilance Committee in California.
Swift and Terrible Dealings with Criminals.
1856. — Assault on Hon. Charles Sumner, in the United States Senate
, Chamber, by P. S. Brooks.
Twenty Hard and Rapid Blows on the Senator's Bare Head.
1859. — Fatal Duel between Hon. D. C. Broderick, United States Senator
from California, and Chief Justice Terry.
Broderick Mortally Wounded ; His Speedy Death.
1860. — Walker's Fillibustering Expeditions.
His Retreat, Capture and Execution.
1865. — Assassination of Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States.
The Most Exalted and Beloved of Mortal Rulers.
1865. — Trial of the Assassination Conspirators.
Their Swift and Awful Doom.

TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 55
VI.
WONDERFUL PHENOMENA OF THE EARTH, OCEAN, AND HEAVENS.
1780. — Mysterious Dark Day in the Northern States.
The End of the World Supposed to be at Hand.
1806. — Greatest Total Solar Eclipse Ever Known.
Five Minutes Total Obscuration at Noonday.
1811. — Desolating Earthquake at the West.
All Over the Mississippi to the Atlantic Coast.
1815. — The Ever-Memorable September Gale.
Unparalleled Since the Settlement of the Country.
1833. — Sublime Meteoric Shower all Over the United States.
The Whole Firmament in Fiery Commotion for Several Hours.
1837. — Magnificent Aurora Borealis Covering the Whole Heavens.
Visible All Night to Millions of Observers.
1843. — Appearance of a Fiery Comet at Mid-Day.
It Sweeps through the Sky, in Plain Sight, for Several Weeks.
1851. — Visit of the Marine Monster, Called the Sea-Serpent, along the
Atlantic Coast.
Accounts Given by Eye-Witnesses.
1868. — Disastrous Earthquakes in California.
Lives Lost and Property Destroyed, in '65 and '68.
1869. — Total Eclipse of the Sun.
Most Interesting and Important Observations of the Phenomenon Ever Made.

VII.
EXTRAORDINARY DISCOVERIES AND INVENTIONS, SCIENTIFIC EX
PEDITIONS, AND THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF MECHANICAL
GENIUS.
1793. — Whitney's Great Cotton-Gin Invention.
Revolution in the Prospects and Power of the South.
1807. — Fulton's Application of Steam to Navigation.
First Steam-boat Voyage on American Waters.

56 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST.
1835 — Morse's Invention of the Electric Telegraph.
The Scientific Miracle of the Age.
1838.— Exploring Expedition to the South Seas, under Commodore Wilkes.
Discovery of the Great Antarctic Continent.
1842.— Fremont's Exploration of the Far North-West.
Plants the American Flag on the Highest Peak of the Rocky Mountains.
1846.— Discovery of Painless Surgery by the Inhalation of Ether.
Most Beneficent Boon to Humanity Ever Conferred by Science.
1846.  Invention of that Wondrous Mechanism, the Sewing Machine.
Romantic Genius and Perseverance of the Inventor.
1847.  Expedition to the Jordan and Dead Sea, under Lieutenant Lynch.
The " Sea of Death" Explored, Sounded, and its Mysteries Solved.
1848. — Discovery of Gold at Sutter's Mill, California.
California Becomes the El Dorado of the World.
1850. — Grinnell Expeditions to the Arctic Seas.
Doctor Kane Discovers an Open Polar Sea.
1851. — Victory of the Yacht America, in the International Race at Cowes.
She Wins " The Cup of all Nations."
1852. — Expedition to Japan, under Commodore Perry.
Opening of that Empire to American Intercourse.
1853. — Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations, in New York.
Splendid Display ofthe Arts and Treasures of Civilization.
1859. — Thirty Thousand Miles of Railway in Thirty Years, and 80,000 in
Half a Century.
Widespread Social and Business Revolution Produced.
1859. — Petroleum Excitement in Pennsylvania.
Discovery of Vast Quantities of Illuminating Oil in the Depths of the
Earth.
1860. — Exhibition, in New York, ofthe Mammoth Steamship Great Eastern.
Largest Vessel Ever Built.
1863. — Inauguration of the Great Organ in Boston.
Most Majestic and Perfect Instrument in America.

TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 57
1866. — Successful Laying of the Atlantic Telegraph Cable.
The Grandest of Human Enterprises.^
1869. — Completion and opening of the Pacific Railroad.
Junction ofthe Atlantic and Pacific Ocean.
*
1876. — The "Miracles of Science," or Four New Wonders of the World.
The Electric Light — the Telephone — the Phonograph — the Microphone.

VEIL
REMARKABLE REFORMS, DELUSIONS, AND EXCITEMENTS, IN THE
MORAL AND RELIGIOUS AVORLD, Etc.
1830. — Founding of the Mormon Church by Joseph Smith.
Origin, Character, and Progress.
1840. — "Washingtonian" or Temperance Reformation.
Career of Hawkins, Mitchell, Gough, and Others.
1843. — Expected Destruction of the World.
Rev. William Miller's Second Advent Predictions.
1844. — Two Hundred Years of Free Popular Education.
Most Enlightened and Successful System in the World.
1847. — The Phenomena of "Spiritual Manifestations."
Singular and Humble Origin, and World-wide Development.
1847. — Voyage of the United States Ship-of-War Jamestown, with Food
for Ireland.
First War Vessel Ever Sent on Such a Mission of Mercy.
1849. — Visit of Father Mathew, the Apostle of Temperance.
His 600,000 American Converts to Total Abstinence.
1857. — The "Great Awakening" in the Religious World.
Known as the American Pentecost.

58 TOPICAE OR CLASSIFIED LIST.
1863. — Proclamation of Emancipation to the Slaves.
Millions of Slaves Declared to be Forever Free.
1875-6.  The Popular Revival Movement under Messrs. Moody and Sankey.
Great Success of these Earnest and Devoted Evangelists.
1875. — Consecration of the First Cardinal in the United States.
Archbishop McCloskey becomes a Prince in the Church.

IX.
POPULAR OVATIONS, NATIONAL JUBILEES, PAGEANTS, FEATS, Etc.
1824. — Farewell Visit of Lafayette to America.
The Invited Guest of a Grateful Republic.
1826. — Celebration of the Fiftieth Anniversary of American Independence.
Sudden Death of Ex-Presidents Adams and Jefferson, on the Day of the
Jubilee.
1849. — Tour of Father Mathew, the Apostle of Temperance.
A Joyous Welcome Extended Him, Throughout the Land.
1850. — Brilliant Musical Tour of Jenny Lind.
A Whole Continent Enchanted with Her Melodies.
1851. — Reception of Gov. Kossuth, of Hungary.
Enthusiastic and Multiplied Ovations.
1858. — Morphy's Marvelous Chess Triumphs.
Vanquishes the Most Renowned Players in Europe and America.
I860. — Grand Embassy from the Empire of Japan.
Curious and Extraordinary Tour to the Great Cities.
I860.— Arrival and Tour of the Prince of Wales, England's Future King.
Received with Magnificent Honors and Hospitalities, as the Nation's Guest.
1861. — Rarey's Astonishing Feats of Horse-Taming.
Wonder and Admiration from Croivded Audiences.
1863.— Inauguration of the Colossal Organ in Boston.
The Masterpiece of Modern Musical Art.
1869.— National Peace Jubilee and Musical Festival.
Ten Thousand Singers, and an Orchestra of One Thousand Players.
1871.— Journey over the Land, of the Duke Alexis, of Russia.
Son of the Emperor Alexander.

TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 59
1874. — Visit of King Kalakaua, of the Sandwich Islands.
First Instance of a Reigning Crowned Head entering tlte United States.
1876. — One Hundredth Birthday of thb American Republic.
Universal Jubilee Throughout the Land.

X.
APPALLING PUBLIC CALAMITIES, DISASTERS, PANICS, Etc.
1799. — Death of George AVashington, the Father of his Country, and
America's Most Illustrious Citizen.
The Whole World Dors Honor, by Eulogy and Lamentations, to His Exalted
Worth and Immortal Fame.
1811. — Desolating Earthquake at the AArEST.
All Along the Valley of the Mississippi.
1815. — The Ever-Memorable September Gale.
Unparalleled Since the Settlement of the Country.
1835. — Tremendous Fire in New York, in the Richest Locality in America.
700 Richly Filled Warehouses laid in Ashes, in the Dead of Winter.
1844. — Explosion on Board the United States Steamer Princeton.
The Secretaries of State and the Navy Instantly Killed.
1849. — Astor-Place Opera-House Riots, New York.
A Mob of 20,000 Men : Lamentable Loss of Life.
1849. — Awful Visitations of the "Angel of Death."
Yellow Fever and Cholera Scourges, at Different Periods.
1851. — Frightful Panic in a N. Y. School of Eighteen Hundred Pupils.
Scores of Children Suffocated to Death.
1854. — Loss of the Splendid Collins Steamship Arctic.
Collision with Steamer Vesta, in Mid-Ocean, at Noonday, in a Dense Fog.
1857. — Foundering of the Steamer Central America.
More than 400- Lives Lost, and $2,000,000 in Treasure.
1857. — Terrible Crisis in the Business and Financial World.
Known as "the Great Panic."
1858. — Burning of the Steamship Austria.
Nearly 500 Lives Lost.

60 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST.
I860. — Fall of the Pemberton Mills, in Lawrence, Mass.
Nearly 1,000 Persons Buried in the Ruins.
1865. — Assassination of Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States.
Darkest Page in the History of the Nation.
1868. — Disastrous Earthquake in California.
Severe and Repeated Shocks Over a Wide Extent.
1869. — Avondale Colliery Disaster, in Pennsylvania.
More than 100 Suffocated in the Mines.
1871. — Burning of Chicago, III., the Commercial Metropolis of the North-
West.
73 Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed.
1872.-— Terrible Fire in the Business Heart of Boston.
The Great Financial and Mercantile Center qf New England Consumed. ^

Illustrated Page.
Signing the Declaration of Independ
ence (Frontispiece).
3. Glory of the American Century, -
4. The Opened Pages, - - - -
6. The Record of Time, .....
6. Symbolical Head-piece, -
7. Genius of Art, .....
8. Ringing of the Bell, July 4th, 1776,
9. Hall of Independence, Philadelphia, 1776,
10. Gates's Head-quarters, ¦-
11. General Burgoyne ; Portrait and Autograph,
12. General Gates; Portrait and Autograph,
13. Capitulation of Bup.goyne's Army, -
14. Hoisting First Naval Flag, - - -
15. Jolm Paul Jones; Portrait and Autograph, -
16. First American Naval Victory,
17. Wonderful Dark Day, May 19, 1780, -
18. Traveling during the Dark Day, - - -
19. Change of Scene after Ihe Dark Day,
20. Price of Arnold's Treason, ...
21. Capture of Andre. - - ...
22. Benedict Arnold ; Portrait and Autograph,
23. West Poiut in 1780, ¦
24. General Arnold's Head-quarters,
25. Tlie House where Cornwallis Surrendered,
26. Cornwallis's Surrender,
27. Cornwallis; Portrait and Autograph,
28. Washington's Sword, - -
29. The Washington F.lm. Cambridge, Mass.,
30. Washington's Resignation, -
31. Amity between England and America,
32. George the Third ; Portrait and Autograph, -
33. First Minister to England,— Reception
of John Adams, ------
34. John Adams; Portrait and Autograph, -

1
15 17
49Cl650772
747477818384

93
9709
100 101 102
104
106 110
112 114115
119120
122123

39.
40.41.42.43. 44.45.
40.47.48.
40.50.51.52.
53. 54.55.50.57.58.59.60.
61. 62.
63.64.65.00.67.
68.

SUBJECT.
Scene in Shays's Rebellion, - - - -
Shays' s Forces in Massachusetts,
Daniel Shays ; Portrait and Autograph,
General Lincoln; Portrait and Autograph,
Enrolling the Constitution,
Convention at Philadelphia, 1787,
Franklin Pleading for Pacification, -
Washington's Inauguration Bible,
First Inauguration of a President,
Presidential Mansion, 1789,
Presidential Mansion, 1876,
Treating with the Indians, -
Wayne's Defeat of the Indians,
Anthony Wayne; Portrait and Autograph,
General St. Clair; Portrait and Autograph,
"Little Turtle"; Portrait,
Results of the Cotton-Gin, ....
Eli Whitney's Cotton Gin, 1793,
Eli Whitney; Portrait and Aulogi-ajih,
Causes of the Whiskey Insurrection in Penn
sylvania,

128 130132
134136
139 141
143 143
146148150151152153155157100

Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania, 161
David Bradford; Portrait, - - 164
General Henry Lee; Portrait, - 166
Washington, D. C, in 1876, - - 171
National Capitol in 1876, - - 172
Symbolic Statueof America, Surmounting the
U. S. Capitol, - - 172
Martha Washington; Portrait and Autograph, 175
Death of Washington, December 14, 1799, 177
George Washington, as Colonel, 178
George Washington, General U. S. A., - 179
George Washington, President ot the United
States; Portrait and Autograph, - - - 179
Tomb of Washington, - - 180
U.S. Tribute to Barbary, - - - - 182
Commodore Dale ; Portrait and Autograph, - 183

62

ILLUSTRATIONS.

no. subject.
69. Commodore Preble ; Portrait and Autograph, 184
70. Commodore Bainbridge ; Portrait and Auto
graph,
71. Burning of the Philadelphia,
72. Commodore Decatur ; Portrait and Auto
graph, - - -
73. Bombardment of Tripoli,
74. Monument to Alexander Hamilton,
75. Alexander Hamilton ; Portrait and Autograph,
76. Aaron Burr; Portrait and Autograph,
77. Scene of the Burr and Hamilton Duel,
Weehawken,
78. Total Solar EcursE, in 1806, -
79. Progress of the Solar Eclipse, - - - -
80. Total Eclipse, in 1869, - ...
81. Eclipse, as seen iu Brazil, - - -
82. Burr's Flight,
83. Breaking up of Burr's Expedition,
84. Burr and His Deluded Followers, -
85. Theodosia; rortrait and Autograph,
86. First Steam boat on tho Hudson,
87. Robert Fulton; Portrait and Autograph,
88. Fulton's First Steam boat, - - -
89. After the Earthquake,
90. Scene of the Great Earthquake in the West,
91. Earthquake Scene in San Francisco, -
92. Captain Hull; Portrait,
93. Action between the Frigates Consti
tution and Guerriere, -
91. Perry's Flag ou Lake Erie,
95. Commodore Perry; Portrait and Aufograph, -
96. Battle of Lake Erie,— Perry's Victory,
97. General Harrison ; Portrait and Autograph, -
98. A Cloud on the National Escutcheon,
99. General Winder ; Portrait and Autograph,
100. President Madison; Portrait, -
101. Capture and Burning of Washington
bv the British, in 1814,
102. Jack's Offering to his Country,
101. Commodore McDonough; Portrait,
104. McDonough's Victouy on Lake Cham
plain',
105. American Defenses at New Orleans,
106. Andrew Jackson ; Portrait and Autograph,
107. Battle of New Orleans, — Jackson's
Terrific Slaughter of the British,
108. Destruction by the Great Gale and Flood,
109. The Ever-Memorable Gale, September 23,
1815,
110. Horrors of the Whirlwind throughout New
England, - -
111. The Landing of Lafayette at New York,
112. Lafayette; Portrait and Autograph,
113. Sword of Honor Presented to Lafayette,
114. Lafayette's Residence,
115. Lafayette's Birthplace, - -
116. Laf iyette'8 Tomb, -
117. Preliminaries of the Code of Honor,
118. Henry Clay ; Portrait and Autograph, -
1 1 9. John Randolph ; Portrait and Autograph,
120. Dueling-Ground at Bladensburg,
121. The Jefferson Mansion at Monticello,
122. Thomas Jefferson; Portrait and Autograph, - 294
123. The Adams Mansion at Quincy, - - seik
124. The Victor's Wreath, - - - -
125. Robert Y. Hayne ; Portrait, - - -
126. Daniel Webster; Portrait, ...
127. Webster's Reply tn Hayne,
128. Joseph Smith; Portrait and Autograph,
129. Brigham Young; Portrait and Autograph,
130. Mormon Temple,
131. Salt Lake City, the Mormon Zion,

iGE.

NO.

184

132

184

133.

185

134.

186

135.

187

136.

169

137.

190

138.

190

139.

140.

193

141.

197

198

142.

199

143.

202

204

144.

208

145.

208

146.

210

147.

212

148.

213

215
149.
218
150.
220
223
151.
227
152.
153.
230
154.
234
230
155.
238
156.
241
157.
242
138.
244
159.
246
160.
247
250
161.
251
102.
254
103.
257
164.
200
105.
1GG.
202
107.
264
1G8.
266
109.
170.
209
272
171.
274
172.
276
173.
277
174.
279
281
175.
282
170.
284
177.
286
178.
288
292
179.
294
180.
296
297
181.
299
182.
301
304
183.
308
310
184.
312
185.
313
186.
subject. page.
Appeal of a Beautiful Girl to Gibbs to Spare
her Life, - - 314
Pirate Gibbs; Portrait, - 316
Gibbs Butchering the Crew of one of
his Prizes, ... 313
Favorite State Emblem, S. C, - - - 320
Old Slate-House at Columbia, - - 322
George McDuffie ; Portrait and Autograph, - 324
J. C. Calhoun ; Portrait and Autograph, - 326
Meteoric Shower at Boston, 329
Meteoric Shower, as seen at Niagara Falls, - 331
Remarkable Meteoric Display on the Missis-
sippi,  334
The Preservation, ... 337
Attempted Assassination of President
Jackson, - - 339
Richard Lawrence; Portrait, - - - 341
Hanging the Telegraph Wire, - - 345
The Original Telegraphic Instrument, 347
Professor Morse ; Portrait and Autograph, 349
Orders of Glory Conferred on Professor
Morse, - - - - 351
View of Wall Street during the Fire, - 355
The Great Conflagration, as Viewed
from Coenties Slip, - 357
Ruins of the Merchants' Exchange, 360
Monster Petition to Congress, - - - 362
John Quincy Adams; Portrait and Autograph, 364
John Quincy Adams Defending the
Right of Pktition in Congress, 3C8
Safe place for the Key to the Public Funds, - 373
Thomas H. Benton ; Portrait and Autograph, 375
Fac Simile Copy of Expunging Resolution, - 377
Singular Form of Auroral Arch, 379
Magnificent Aurora Borealis of No
vember 13 and 14, 1837, - 381
View of the Aurora Borealis in its Early
Stages, 384
Captain Wilkes; Portrait and Autograph, 388
View of the Antarctic Continent Dis
covered by Com. Wilkes, U. S. N. - 390
Wilkes's Paity Dealing with the Savages, - 392
Effect of the Temperance Reformation, - 393
Signing tho Pledge, - - 396
Distinguished Temperance Advocates, 399
Exploring the North-west, - - 402
Planting American Flag on the Rocky Moun
tains, by Fremont, - 404
John C. Fremont; Portrait and Autograph, - 405
Fremont on his Great Exploring Tour to the
Far West and Rocky Mountains, - - 406
Charter vs. Constitution, - - - 408
Thomas W. Dorr; Portrait and Autograph, 410
Governor King; Portrait and Autograph, 412
Final Dispersion of Governor Dorr
and his Forces, - - - - 413
The Black Flag, - - - 415
Captain McKenzie; Portrait and Autograph, 417
Philip Spencer; Portrait and Autograph, - 419
Hanging of Ringleaders from the
Yard-arm, - 421
View of the Comet when Nearest the Earth, - 427
Appearance of the Comet in full
Splendor, - - - 428
Telescopic View of the Comet, - - 430
The Great Day Prophesied hy the Second Ad-
ventists, - - - 431
Symbolical Illustrations of the Sec
ond Advent Prophecies, - 433
William Miller; Portrait and Autograph, - 437
Stockton's Great Gun, the " Peacemaker," 439
President Tyler; Portrait and Autograph, - 440
ILLUSTRATIONS.

63

NO. SUBJECT. PA(
187. Secretary Gilmer; Portrait and Autograph, -
188. Explosion of the Great Gun on Board tho
United States Steamship Princeton, -
189. Secretary Upshur; Portrait and Autograph, -
190. Commodoro Stockton ; Portrait and Auto
graph,
191. School House as it Was, ...
192. Yale College in 1784,
193. Old King's College, - -
104. First Harvard College, - -
195. Western College, -
196. Normal School, New York, - - - -
197. Yale College, -
198. Harvard College, --.--.
199. Relieving Pain by the Use of EJier,
200. The Three Claimants of the Discovery of
Painless Surgery, by Ether,
201. Monument Erected in Honor of TnE
Discovery of Ether, ...
202. The Inventor Toiling in His Garret,
203. Elias Howe, Jr.; Portrait and Autograph,
204. The Old and New: Sewing by Hand and
Machine,
205. Houseinwhich Spiritual Rappings Originated,
206. The Misses Fox; Portraits
207. D. D. Home; Portrait,
208. Cora L. V. Hatch; Portrait,
209. Spiritual Autograph of Lord Bacon,
210. A. J. Davis; Portrait,
211. Judge Edmonds; Portrait,
212. Spiritual Autograph of Swedenborg,
213. Scene of Misery during the Famine,
214. Corn for the Land of Want and Woe, -
215. Arrival of the Jamestown at Cork, -
210. The Storming of Chapultepec,
217. President Polk; Portrait and Autograph,
218. General Taylor; Portrait and Autograph,
219. Santa Anna; Portrait and Autograph. -
220. General Scott; Portrait and Autograph,
221. General Scott's Grand Entrance into
the Mexican Capital,
222. Lieutenant Lynch; Portrait and Autograph,
223. Valley of the Jordan and Dead Sea,
224. Right Bank of the Dead Sea, - - - -
225. Mining Operations in California,
226. Sutter's Mill, where Gold was First
Discovered in 1848, -
227. John A. Sutter; Portrait,
228. James W. Marshall; Portrait, -
229. Forrest, as Sparlacus, -
230. Edwin Forrest; Portrait and Autograph,
231. W. C. Macready; Portrait and Autograph,
232. Astor Place Opera-House Riots, -
233. Struck with the Cholera, - - - -
234. Monument to the Victims of Cholera,
235. Horrors of the Great Epidemic,
236. Professor Webster's Murder Appliances,
237. Doctor Parkman; Portrait and Autograph,
238. Professor Webster; Portrait and Autograph,
239. Professor Webster's Cell in Prison, -
240. Henry Grinnell; Portrait and Autograph, -
241. The Advance and Rescue, ....
242. Doctor Kane; Portrait and Autograph, -
243. View of the Arctic Regions,
244. Jenny Lind; Portrait and Autograph, -
245. P. T. Barnum; Portrait and Autograph,
246. Jenny Lind's Appearance at Castle Garden, -
247. Double Execution in San Francisco,
248. Seal of the California Vigilance Committee,
249. Executions by the Vigilance Commit
tee, in San Francisco, - - - -
250. George Steers; Portrait, ...

GE.

NO.

442

251.

443

252.

414

253.

4-10

251.

418

449

255.

419

256.

4-19

450

257.

451

453

25S.

451

259.

450

200.
458
201.
202.
402
404
203.
406
264.
205.
4C8
472
474
266.
475
267.
477
477
477
268.
<77
269.
477
270.
479
271.
482
272.
484
273.
487
274.
488
489
275.
490
276.
491
277.
492
278.
490
279.
407
280.
4C8
500
281.
282.
502
283.
503
505
284.
508
285.
510
286.
511
513
287.
515
288.
517
519
289.
523
290.
525
291.
527
292.
529
293.
534
294.
536
205.
538
296.
539
.297.
543
298.
545
299.
547
300.
550
301.
552
302.
303.
555
304.
660
subject. page.
YAcnT America; J. C. Stevens, Commo
dore,
" Cup of All Nations," Won by tho America,
School-House on Greenwich Avenue, New
York, tho Scene of the Awful Panic,
Frightful Catastrophe In a Public School-
Houso, New York,
Monster Sca-Serpcnt at Full Length, -
Appearance of the Huge Sea-Serpent
along the Atlantic Coast, -
L'nitcil States Steamer Mississippi, Convey
ing Kossuth, - -
Governor Kossuth; Portrait and Autograph,
Grand Military Reception of Gov
ernor Kossuth in New York,
Treaty of Peace, Amity, etc., - - -
Commodore Perry; Portrait and Autograph,
Naval Expedition to Japan, under Com
modore M. C. Perry, -
Interior of the World's Fair, New York,
Theodore Sedgwick; Portrait and Autograph,
Crystal Palace of New York, for the
Exhibition of the Industries of All
Nations,
Steamship Arctic,
Loss of the Collins Steamship Arctic,
by Collision at Noonday in Mid-
ocean,
Liberty for Kansas,
Senator Butler; Portrait and Autograph,
Senator Sumner; Portrait and Autograph,
Assault on Senator Sumner, hy P. S. Brooks,
Preston S. Brooks; Portrait,
Captain Herndon on the Wheel-house, -
Foundering of the Steamer Central
America, - -
Victims of the Central America,
Run on a Bank,
Excitement in Business Circles during
the Great Pakic,
Effects of the Hard Times,
Book of Requests for Prayers,
Group of Eminent Revival Preachers, dur
ing the National .Century,
Dwight L. Moody; Portrait,
Ira D. Sankey; Portrait, - -
Revival Meeting in Brooklyn, Con
ducted by Messrs. Moody and Sankey,
Morphy's World-Renowned Triumphs, -
Paul Morphy; Portrait and Autograph,
Paul Morphy, Playing Eight Games of
CnEss WnnouT Seeing TnE Boards, -
Escape from the Burning Steamer,
Burning of the Steamship, Austria,
with Five Hundred Souls on Board, -
Last View of tho Unfortunate Steamer,
State Capital of Illinois, -
Debate between Lincoln and Douglas,
S. A. Douglas; Portrait and. Autograph,
Travelers Dependence in Former Times,
Locomotive Rocket, 1829,
Locomotive of To-day, - - - -
Original Steam Car, ------
Modern Railway Car, ----- 683
Petroleum Wells, - ... 667
Petroleum Wells in Pennsylvania, - - - 089
Process of Boring for Petroleum, - 090
Burning of one of the Great Oil Wells, 093
The Spot where Broderick Fell, 096
D. C. Broderick; Portrait, 698
The Body of Senator Broderick Lying
in state, san francisco, - - - 700
502
604 509C71
575 5795E3585588 5S2
594597 COO002
004008
C12C10C18 C20C22
023 626628630035037 C39 044
o-nC52 C52C54C57054061004CC6CCSC72 073
C77 079CEOCE1C82
64

ILLUSTRATIONS.

NO. SUBJECT. P;
305. Capture of John Brown, -
306. John Brown; Portrait and Autograph, -
307. Harper's Ferry and the Arsenal
Taken by Brown, -
308. The Rescue,
309. Ruins of Pemberton Mills, -
310. " Lizzie " Amidst the Awful Ruins,
311. Japanese Box Containing the Treaty, -
312. President Buchanan's Reception of
the Grand Embassy from Japan,
313. Ambassadors Simmi Boojsen Nokami and
Mooragaki Awajsi Nokami, -
314. The Great Eastern,
315. Arrival of the Steamship Great East
ern, at New York, -
316. Execution of General Walker,
317. General Walker; Portrait and Autograph,
318. Landing of General Walker's Fili
bustering Expedition at Truxillo, -
319. The Prince of Wales at Washington's Tomb,
320. Prince of Wales; Portrait and Autograph,
321. Grand Ball Given to the Prince of
Wales, in Boston,
322. Flag of Fort Sumter, After the Bombard
ment,
323. Major Anderson; Portrait and Autograph,
324. General Beauregard ; Portrait and Auto
graph,
325. Interior of Fort Sumter after the
Bombardment, -
326. " Cruiser," Untamed, - ...
327 John S. Karey; Portrait, -
328. Mr. Rarey Exhibiting his Celebrated Method
of Taming Horses,
329. Monument on the Bull Run Battle-field,
330. General McDowell; Portrait and Autograph,
331. General Johnston; Portrait and Autograph, -
332. Battle of Bull run,
333. Interior of tlie Tower of the Monitor,
334. Commodore Franklin Buchanan ; Portrait
and Autograph,
335. Naval Combat between the Merrimac
and Monitor,
336. Lieutenant Worden; Portrait and Autograph,
337. Burying the Dead at Antietam,
338. General McClellan; Portrait and Autograph,
339. General Burnside; Portrait,
340. Battle of Antietam,
341. General ''Stonewall " Jackson; Portrait,
342. General Hooker; Portrait and Autograph,
343. Pen used in Signing the Proclamation, -
344. Secretary Seward; Portrait,
345. Secretary Stanton; Portrait, ...
346. President Lincoln; Portrait and Autograph, -
347. Proclamation of Emancipation, -
318. Operations at Vicksburg, - - -
349. General Pemberton; Portrait,
350. Siege of Vicksburg, hy General Grant, -
351. General McPherson; Portrait,
352. Interview between Generals Grant
and Pemberton,
353. Meade's Head-quarters, ....
351. General Meade; Portrait and Autograph, -
355. Battle of Gettysburg, - - .
356. General Longstreet; Portrait and Autograph, 821
357. Soldiers' Monument at Gettysburg,
358. Rev. H. W. Beecher Defending the American
Union, in Exeter Hall, London, -
359. Mr. Beecher's Church, Brooklyn, N. Y.,
360. Statue of Beethoven, in Boston, - , -
361. The Great Organ in Boston Music Hall,
362. Genius of Alt and Music, ....

GE.

NO.

704

363.

706

364.

365.

708

366.

712

714

367.

719

368.

721

369.

370.

723

371.

372.
727
373.
729
374.
375.
733
737
376.
739
377.
741
378.
745
379.
747
380.
750
381.
382.
753
383.
755
384.
385.
757
386.
387.
759
388.
761
763
389.
390.
766
391.
768
392.
771
773
393.
775
778
394.
780
395.
300.
783
785
397.
787
398.
789
790
399.
791
400.
792
401.
793
796
402.
797
403.
798
404.
799
405.
801
406.
806
407.
808
809
408.
811
409.
812
410.
815
411.
817
412.
819
413.
821
823
414.
415.
827
416.
831
417.
833
418.
835
419.
837
420.
subject. page.
Merchant Vessel Burned by the Alabama, - 840
Captain Semmes; Portrait and Autograph, • 842
Captain Winslow; Portrait, and Autograph, - 844
Naval Contest between the Kear
sarge and Alabama,
Farragut's Flag-Ship, " Hartford,"
Admiral Farragut; Portrait, -
Admiral Porter; Portrait, ...
Admiral Foote ; Portrait, ....
Admiral Dupont; Portrait,
Union Naval Victory in Mobile Bay, -
Head-quarters, Atlanta, Ga., - - -
General Sherman; Portrait and Autograph, - 859
Sherman's Great March through TnE
Heart of the South,
General Grant Stating Terms of Surrender,
Richmond, TnE Confederate Capital,
ENTERED BY THE UNION ARMY,
Lincoln's Early Home,
Ford's Theater at Washington,
The Assassination of President Lin
coln,
House where Lincoln Died, -
J. Wilkes Booth; Portrait and Autograph, -
Lincoln's Residence at Springfield, 111.,
Sergeant Boston Corbett; Portrait,
Burial Place of Lincoln, - -
Section of the Atlantic Cable, ...
Cyrus W. Field; Portrait and Autograph,
Arrival of the Great Eastern at Heart's Con
tent, with the Atlantic Cable,
Mountain Scene on the Pacific Railroad,
Completion of the Pacific Railroad,
P. S. Gilmore; Portrait and Autograph,
National Peace Jubilee and Musical Festival
at Boston,
Mr. Ogden's House Untouched in the Midst
of the Great Fire, - - -
Burning of Chicago, October 8 and 9,
1871,
Trinity Church, Boston, Destroyed,
Terrible Fire in tiie Business Heart
of Boston, Nov. 9 and 10, 1872,
Emblematic Head piece, -
Symbols of tho Co-operative Labor Organiza
tions,
Spirit of the Grange Movement, -
Tlie Great Cathedral, N. Y., - -
Archbishop McCloskey the First American
Cardinal, . - - - -
Consecrational of the Cardinal,
Electric Lamp, - - - -
Electric Light at Sea, ....
Thos. A. Edison; Autograph, -
Phonograph, - - - . -
House in which Jefferson Wrote the Declara
tion of Independence, - -
Opening of the Centennial ExniBinoN
in Philadelphia,
The Corliss Engine, ------
Exhibition Buildings in Philadelphia,
Independence Hall, July 4, 1876, -
Union Square, New York, July 4, 1876,
Reading the Original Declaration of
Independence, July 4, 1876, - - -
Entrance of the N. Y. 7th Regiment, -
State Avenue, Nat'l Centennial Exhibition, -
Woman's Pavilion, Nat'l Centenn'l Exhibit'n,
The Tunisian Tent, Nat'l Centenn'l Lxhiblt'n,
All Hail to the Hereafter ! -
Flag of the German Empire, . . -
Emperor William; Portrait and Autograph, -
846 848
850850 800
850
853£57
861866869870877879880861
882883EE5E88890894
896 900000
909913917920023927929931934 935937940942943944
048950 051953904 956 058960961962 963965966
BIRTH OF THE NEW REPUBLIC— 1776.

Declaration of American Independence and National Sovereignty, July Fourth, 1776. — The Gauntlet ot
Defiance thrown at the Feet of the British Empire by Her Youngest Colonies. — Vast Disparity, In
Power and Resources, between the Contestants. — The whole World looks on Astonished — Seven
Years' Bloody and Desolating War. — The American Cause Triumphant. — Grandest Modern Event.
America Resists Unjust Taxation. — Haughty Obstinacy of King George. — Burning Eloquence of Pat
rick Henry. — His Summons, " We Must Fight." — Washington Endorses this Sentiment. — Determina
tion of the People. — War Preferred to Submission — Momentous Action by Congress. — Separation from
England Decreed. — Effect of the Act in America. — Its Reception in England. — Excitement of the
King and Court. — Lord Chatham, America's Advocate. — His Passionate Change of Views — Scorch
ing Speech against the Colonies. — He is Struck Dead while Speaking — Magnanimity of Burke and Fox.
— Recognition from France Secured — Her Timely Aid in the Struggle. — Victories over the British
Armies. — England Gives Up the Contest. — World-wide Welcome to the New Nation.

" ft will be celebrated by succeeding fenerations, as the preat anniversary festival, lt ought to be commemorated aa tbe day of dellveranc*,
by solemn acta of devotion to Almighty God. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, frames, sports, guns, bells, bon-
IlK'S, and illuminations, from one end uf tlie continent to the other, from this time toith, forevermore."— Jou" Adaus.

NE HUNDRED YEARS ago, namely, on
the Fourth of July, 1776, there was born in
the western world a New Nation, — the Re
public of the United States. Defiance to
tyrants was emblazoned in empyreal light upon
w, and Freedom and Justice were the
frontlets between her eyes. Mon
archs, crowned with kingly dia
dems, stood awed at the august
manifesto, and at the solemn ar
raignment of King George before
the judgment of mankind, and
parliaments and cabinets started
in dismay to their feet; but the
People, as they descried the eagle
of Liberty spreading her wings,
and soaring proudly aloft, breath
ed freer and took stronger heart,
as the clear ring of her voice
sounded through the air, declar
ing, with grandly rounded enun
ciation, that " all men are created
equal."
Refusing to pay the tribute of taxation arbitrarily imposed
upon them at the point of the bayonet by the British crown, —

~ KINGING OF THE BELL, JULY 4, 1776

66

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

failing, too, to move the king and his min
isters from their career of haughty and
reckless obstinacy, — the thirteen American
colonies found themselves reduced to the
alternative of abject submission to their
so-called royal masters, or of armed resist
ance. Already there had flashed through
out the country the electric words of Pat
rick Henry, " We must fight ! An appeal
to arms and to the God of Hosts is all
that is left us. I repeat it, sir, we must
fight ! " And as the blood of patriot
hearts had now flowed freely and bravely
at Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker
Hill, Washington declared, in words of
solemn emphasis and characteristic brevity,
" Nothing short of Independence, it ap
pears to me, can possibly do." He also
warmly approved and commended Paine's
pamphlet, " Common Sense," written to
this end. The sons of liberty shouted their
responsive acclaim to this manly summons
from the great American soldier — Wash
ington — and, like the sound of many wa
ters, the spirit of national independence
which thus possessed the people came upon
the continental congress, then in session in
the state-house at Philadelphia, Pennsyl
vania. It was in this temple of freedom, where
in was sitting as noble and august a legis
lative body as the world ever saw, that
Richard Henry Lee introduced a resolu
tion, on the 7th of June, 1776, declaring,
" That the United Colonies are and ought
to be free and independent States, and that
their political connection with Great Brit
ain is and ought to be dissolved." Upon
this resolution there sprang up at once an
earnest and powerful debate. It was op
posed, principally, on the ground that it
was premature. Some of the best, and
strongest advocates of colonial rights spoke
and voted against the motion, which at last
was adopted only by a vote of seven States
in its favor to six against. Some of the
delegates had not received definite instruc
tions from their constituents, and others
had been requested to vote against it. Its
further consideration was accordingly post
poned until there was a prospect of greater

unanimity. On the eleventh of June,
therefore, a committee was appointed to
draft a formal Declaration ; this commit
tee consisting of Benjamin Franklin, John
Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Roger Sherman,
and Robert R. Livingston.
On the twenty-eighth of June, the com
mittee made their report, and presented
the Declaration which they had drawn up.
The first or original draft was penned by
Mr. Jefferson, chairman of the committee.
On the second of July, congress proceeded «
to the serious consideration of this mo
mentous paper ; the discussion, as to the
tone and statements characterizing the
document, and the propriety of adopting
at that time a measure so decisive, lasted
for nearly three days, and was extremely
earnest. It was so powerfully opposed by
some of the members, that Jefferson com
pared the opposition to " the ceaseless ac
tion of gravity, weighing upon us by night
and by day." Its supporters, however,
were the leading minds, and urged its
adoption with masterly eloquence and abil
ity. John Adams,- Jefferson asserts, was
" the colossus in that debate," and "fought
fearlessly for every word of it." The bond
which was formed between those two great
men on this occasion seems never to have
been completely severed, both of them
finally expiring, with a sort of poetic jus
tice, on the fiftieth anniversary of the act
which constituted their chief glory.
Well and truly did the mighty patriot
Adams characterize this event as the most
memorable epoch in the history of Amer
ica. " I am apt to believe," said he, " that
it will be celebrated by succeeding genera
tions, as the great anniversary festival. It
ought to be commemorated as the day of
deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to
Almighty God. It ought to be" solemnized
with pomp and parade, with shows, games,
sports, guns, bells, bonfires and illumina
tions, from one end of this continent to
the other, from this time forth forever-
more ! " The result has equaled the great
patriot's wishes. Tradition gives a dra
matic effect to its announcement. It was
known, throughout the city, that the great

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

6V

event was to be determined that day, by
the last formal acts ; but the closed doors
of congress excluded the populace from
witnessing the august assembly or its pro
ceedings, though thousands of anxious
citizens had gathered around the building,
eager to hear the words of national des
tiny soon to be officially proclaimed. From
the hour when congress came together in
the forenoon, all business was suspended
throughout the city, and the old bellman
steadily remained at his post in the steeple,
prepared to sound forth to the waiting
multitudes the expected glad tidings. He
had even stationed a boy at the door of the
hall below, to give immediate signal of the
turn of events. This bell, manufactured

felt such a professional pride, the electri
fied old patriot rung forth such a joyous
peal as was never heard before, nor ceased
to hurl it backward and forward, till every
voice joined in its notes of gladness and
triumph. The roar of cannon, and illu
minations from every house and hill-top,
added to tliese demonstrations of uni
versal rejoicing.
And this was the type of that exultation
which everywhere manifested itself, as the
news spread with lightning rapidity from
city to city and from State to State. Every
American patriot regarded the declaration
by congress as the noble performance of
an act which had become inevitable ; and
the paper itself as the complete vindica-

HALL OF INDEPENDENCE, PHILADELPHIA, 1776.

in England, bore upon its ample curve the
now prophetic inscription, "Proclaim lib
erty throughout all the land unto all the
inhabitants thereof." Hours passed on,
and fear began to take the place of hope
in many a heart ; even the venerable and
always cheerful bellman was overheard in
his despondent soliloquy, " They will never
do it! they will never do it!" Finally,
at about two o'clock in the afternoon,
the door of the mysterious hall swung
open, and a voice exclaimed, " Passed ! —
it has passed ! " The word was caught up
by ten thousand glad mouths, and the
watch-boy now clapped his hands and
shouted, " Ring ! Ring ! " Seizing the iron
tongue of the bell in which he had long

tion of America before the bar of public
opinion throughout the world. When it
was read by the magistrates and other
functionaries, in the cities and towns of
the whole nation, it was greeted with
shouts, bonfires, and processions. It was
read to the troops, drawn up under arms,
and to the congregations in churches by
ministers from the pulpit. Washington
hailed the declaration with joy. It is
true, it was but a formal recognition of a
state of things which had long existed, but
it put an end to all those temporizing hopes
of reconciliation which had clogged the
military action of the country. On the
ninth of July, therefore, Washington
caused it to be read at six o'clock in the

68

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

evening, at the head of each brigade of
the army. " The general hopes," said he
in his orders, "that this important event
will serve as a fresh incentive to every
officer and soldier, to act with fidelity and
courage, as knowing that now the peace
and safety of his country depend, under
God, solely on the success of our arms ;
and that he is now in the service of a
State, possessed of sufficient power to re
ward his merit, and advance him to the
highest honors of a free country." The
troops listened to the reading of this with
eager attention, and at its close broke forth
in tumultuous applause.
The excitable populace of New York
were not content with the ringing of bells
and the other usual manifestations of
public joy. There was a leaden eques
trian statue of George the Third in the
Bowling Green, in front of the fort.
Around this kingly effigy the excited mul
titude, surging hither and thither, unit
edly gathered, and pulling it down to the
ground, broke it into fragments, which
fragments were afterwards conveniently
molded into bullets and made to do service
against his majesty's troops. Some of the
soldiers and officers of the American army
having joined in this proceeding, Wash
ington censured it, as having much the
appearance of a riot and a want of disci
pline, and the army was ordered to abstain,
in the future, from all irregularities of the
kind. In Boston, that citadel of radical insub
ordination to "his majesty," the public
joy knew no bounds, and even the British
prisoners were courteously summoned to
witness the spirit with which a brave peo
ple, determined to be free, dared to defy
the British throne. On the seventeenth
of July the British officers on parole re
ceived each a card from the governor, re
questing the honor of said officer's attend
ance at a specified hour on the morrow, in
the town hall. As rumors were pretty
well afloat, however, touching the decided
step that had been taken at Philadelphia,
the officers were not without a suspicion as
to the purport of the meeting, and hesi

tated for a while as to the consistency of
giving the sanction of their presence to a
proceeding which they could not but re
gard as traitorous. Curiosity, however,
got the better of these scruples, and it was
resolved, after a brief consultation, that
the invitation ought to be accepted.
On entering the hall, the king's officers
found it occupied by ' rebellious ' function
aries, military, civil, and ecclesiastical, and
among whom the same good humor and
excitement prevailed as among the throng
out of doors. The British officials were
received with great frankness and cordi
ality, and were allotted such stations as
enabled them to witness the whole cere
mony. Exactly as the clock struck one,
Colonel Crafts, who occupied the chair,
rose, and, silence being obtained, read
aloud the declaration, which announced to
the world that the tie of allegiance which
had so long held Britain and her North
American colonies together, was forever
separated. This being finished, the gen
tlemen stood up, and each, repeating the
words as they were spoken by an officer,
swore to uphold, at the sacrifice of life,
the rights of his country. Meanwhile, the
town clerk read from a balcony the solemn
declaration to the collected multitude ; at
the close of which, a shout began in the
hall and passed like an electric spark to
the streets, which now rang with loud huz
zas, the slow and measured boom of can
non, and the rattle of musketry. The
batteries on Fdrt Hill, Dorchester Neck,
the castle, Nantasket, and Long Island,
each saluted with thirteen guns, the artil
lery in the town fired thirteen rounds, and
the infantry scattered into thirteen divis
ions, poured forth thirteen volleys, — all
corresponding to the number of states
which formed the Union. There was also
a municipal banquet, at which speeches
were made and toasts drank ; and in the
evening a brilliant illumination of the
houses. In Virginia, the proclamation of inde
pendence was greeted with that same
ardor of enthusiasm which for so many
years had characterized the people of that

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

69

ancient commonwealth, in the course of
political freedom. In South Carolina, too,
the declaration was read to the assembled
multitudes, amid the greatest rejoicings, —
public addresses, military and civic proces
sions, bands of music, firing of cannon,
and kindred demonstrations of popular
favor. In all the colonies, indeed, the
declaration was hailed as the passing away
of the old world and the birth of the
new. But the declaration, though it thus
solemnly inaugurated a new nation and
made the colonies, for the time, the theater
of patriotic jubilee, involved startling per
ils and imposed momentous duties ; for it
was a defiant challenge to combat thrown
by a mere province in the face of the most
colossal power in all Christendom. This
important paper commences with stating
that, " When in the course of human
events it becomes necessary for one people
to dissolve the political bands which have
connected them with another, and to as
sume among the powers of the earth, the
separate and equal stations to which the
laws of Nature, and of Nature's God, en
title them, a decent respect to the opinions
of mankind requires that they should de
clare the causes which impel them to the
separation." The causes are then stated, and a long
enumeration of the oppressions complained
of by America is closed by saying that
" a prince, whose character is thus marked
by every act which may define a tyrant, is
unfit to be the ruler of a free people."
History may be searched in vain for words
so bold and scathing, used by a colony
against a powerful sovereign.
The fruitless appeals which had been
made to the people of Great Britain are
also recounted, but "they too," concludes
this declaration, " have been deaf to the
voice of justice and of consanguinity. We
must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity
which denounces our separation, and hold
them, , as we hold the rest of mankind,
enemies in war, in peace friends." Then
comes the portentous conclusion —
"We, therefore, the representatives of

the United States of America, in general
congress assembled, appealing to the Su
preme Judge for the rectitude of our inten
tions, do, in the name, and by the author
ity of the good people of these colonies,
solemnly publish and declare, that these
United Colonies are, and of right ought to
be, free and independent states ; that
they are absolved from all allegiance to
the British crown, and that all political
connection between them and the State of
Great Britain, is, and ought to be, totally
dissolved ; and that, as free and independ
ent states, they have full power to levy
war, conclude peace, contract alliances,
establish commerce, and do all other acts
and things, which independent states may
of right do. And for the support of this
declaration, with a firm reliance on the
protection of Divine Providence, we mutu
ally pledge to each other, our lives, our
fortunes, and our sacred honor."
In the whole country, however, between
New England and the Potomac, which
was now to become the great theater of
action, although a vast majority was in
favor of independence, there existed an
influential number, who not only refused
to act with their countrymen, but were
ready to give information and aid to the
enemy. Most of these tories were wealthy
and haughty, and rendered themselves ex
tremely unpopular. Laws passed by the
new State authorities had subjected these
persons to fines and imprisonments, and
their property to confiscation. They en
dured many outrages, and were treated to
" tarrings and featherings" innumerable,
by the more violent among the angry pop
ulace. To prevent these outrages, con
gress gave the supervision of tories to
committees of inspection. Many of these
obnoxious families finally left the country,
and in course of time the tory element was
eradicated or completely silenced.
Scarcely less interesting and important
is the character of the reception which
this remarkable document met on its ar
rival in England. Of the noble band of
American patriots who had been chosen to
deliberate and act for the best good of the

70

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

oppressed colonies, and who, preceding the
final act of the declaration of independ
ence, had sent forth the most magnani
mous appeals to Britain's sense of justice,
 of these men and their works, there had
gone forth one of the grandest eulogies
from the elder Pitt (Lord Chatham), the
greatest of Britain's statesmen, who, in
his place in parliament, dared to say —
"I must declare and avow that in all
my reading and study — and it has been
my favorite study ; I have read Thucydi-
des, and have studied and admired the
master states of the world — that, for so
lidity of reasoning, for force of sagacity,
and wisdom of conclusion, under such a
complication of circumstances, no nation
or body of men can stand in preference to
the general congress of Philadelphia."
But when, a few years after, it was pro
posed, by the British prime minister, to
conciliate the exasperated colonies by treat
ing them as a people possessing certain
independent rights and powers, Pitt
showed the exalted estimation in which
he held the rebellious colonies as part of
the British realm, by opposing such a
course, in a speech of almost dramatic
power and effect, and from which, owing
to the exhaustion it produced in his own
shattered system, the great peer and ora
tor almost immediately died.
In France, the declaration of independ
ence by tlie American colonies was greeted
with secret satisfaction by the court and
rulers, and aroused to universal gladness
the popular heart. Reviewing the scene
and its actors, one of the most brilliant
and popular orators of that intrepid nation
was led to say : " With what grandeur,
with what enthusiasm, should I not speak
of those generous men who erected this
grand edifice by their patience, their wis
dom, and their courage ! Hancock, Frank
lin, the two Adamses, were the greatest
actors in this affecting scene ; but they
were not the only ones. Posterity shall
know them all. Their honored names
shall be transmitted to it by a happier
pen than mine. Brass and marble shall
show them to remotest ages. In behold

ing them, shall the friend of freedom feel
his heart palpitate with joy — feel his eyes
float in delicious tears. Under the bust of
one'of them has been written, ' He wrested
thunder from heaven and the scepter from
tyrants.' Of the last words of this eulogy
shall all of them partake." Still more preg
nant were the words of the great Mira-
beau, as, citing the grand principles of the
American Declaration, from his place in
the National Assembly, "I ask," he said,
" if the powers who have formed alliances
with the States have dared to read that
manifesto, or to interrogate their con
sciences after the perusal ? I ask whether
there be at this day one government in
Europe — the Helvetic and Batavian con
federations and the British isles excepted
— which, judged after the principles of the
Declaration of Congress on the fourth oi
July, 1776, is not divested of its rights!"
For more than a year, commissioners
from congress, at the head of whom was
Dr. Franklin, resided at the court of
France, urging upon that government to
acknowledge the independence of the
United States. But the success of the
American struggle was regarded, as yet,
too doubtful, for that country to embroil
herself in a war with Great Britain. But
that great event, the capture of the British
army at Saratoga, seemed to increase the
probability that the American arms would
finally triumph, and decided France to
espouse her cause. The aid which France
now brought to the Americans was of
great importance. It is even doubtful
whether the colonies, without her contri
butions of money, navy, and troops, would
have been able to resist Britain with final
success ; at least, the struggle must have
been greatly prolonged. To this inter
vention, however, France was inclined, be
her own hostility to England, whom she
delighted to see humbled, especially by a
people struggling for independence. Fi
nally, after the surrender of Cornwallis to
General Washington, the French , court
pressed upon congress the propriety of ap
pointing commissioners for negotiating
peace with Great Britain. In accordance

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

71

with this advice, John Adams, Benjamin
Franklin, John Jay, and Henry Laurens,
were appointed. The commissioners met
Messrs. Fitzherbert and Oswald, on the
part of Great Britain, at Paris, and provi
sional articles of peace between the two
countries were there signed, November
thirtieth, 1782; the definitive treaty being
signed on the third of September, 1783.
Holland acknowledged the independence
of the United States in 1782 ; Sweden, in
February, 1783 ; Denmark, in the same
month ; Spain, in March ; Russia, in July.
And thus, the Republic of the United
States of America became an inde
pendent power among the nations of the
earth. It was not unknown to the wise and
venerable enactors of the Declaration, that
their signatures to such an instrument
would be regarded in England as an act
of treason, rendering them liable to the
halter or the block. In the full apprecia
tion of all this, every man of them placed
his name upon the immortal parchment.
The only signature which indicates a

trembling hand, is that of Stephen Hop
kins, but this was ovving to a nervous
affection ; for, so resolute was he in con
gress, that, when some of the members
suggested a hope of reconciliation, Mr.
Hopkins replied, that "the time had come
when the strongest arm and the longest
sword must decide the contest, and those
members who were not prepared for action
had better go home." The boldest signa
ture is that of John Hancock, he whom
the British had excepted in their offers of
pardon, as one "whose offenses are of too
flagitious a nature to admit of any other
consideration but that of condign punish
ment." The number who signed the Dec
laration was fifty-six ; and the average
length of their lives was about sixty-five
years. Carpenters'Hall — or Independence
Hall — in Philadelphia, where these tre
mendous scenes transpired, is still one of
the places which every American looks
upon with patriotic pride ; for within that
temple was born a Nation, in whose des
tiny were wrapped the interests of Liberty
and Civilization to the end of time.

II.
CAPITULATION OF GENERAL BURGOYNE.— 1777.

First Royal Army Ever Surrendered to Americans. — Utter Failure of England's Grand Scheme to
" Subdue the Rebellious Colonies." — European Sympathy for the Struggling Infant Nation. — Alliance
Between France and the United States. — Brilliant and Effective Combination of French and Ameri
can Forces — Gloomy Prospect for America in 1777. — Britain's Honor IntruBted to Burgoyne. — His
Magnificent Army. — Rebels to be Sternly Dealt With. — Sanguine Expectations of Success. — Savages
Leagued with the Invaders. — Their Murder of Miss McCrea. — Burgoyne's Triumphant Progress. —
Fall of Ticonderoga. — American Victories at Bennington, Etc. — Gates's Army in Fine Spirits. — General
Fraser Shot Dead — The " King's Regulars " Desperate. — General Clinton Fails to Aid Them — All
Hope Abandoned. — Burgoyne Lays Down his Arms — [lis Meeting with Gates. — Trophies of This
Victory. — How Washington Got the News. — Unbounded Joy of Americans. — Crushing Blow to British
Pride. — Effect upon Other Nations.

" I have but to pive stretch to the Indian forces under my direction— and they amount to thousands — to overtake the hardened enemies
at Cirem Bntain." — Buugov.ne's PnoCLAMATlor..

N the panels of that vast and superb
rotunda which forms the center of the
federal capitol at Washington, are four
magnificent paintings by John Trumbull,
which illustrate the first four great events
in the history of the United States,
namely, the Declaration of American In
dependence, the Surrender of Burgoyne,
the Surrender of Cornwallis, and the Res
ignation of Washington as commander-
^fvSZJ^S^"" in-chief of the army. The design of this
Gates's Heao-Quabteks. volume being to portray the scenes and
incidents relating to each of those leading occurrences, of perpetual interest, in the rev
olutionary period, — as well as those that illustrate the remaining j'ears which constitute
the nation's first century, — the account which here follows will be descriptive of that
triumphant achievement of revolutionary valor, the reduction of Burgoyne and his
forces in 1777 ; it being the first royal army that ever capitulated to the Americans.
It was also a fitting close to a year which had been marked by the arrival of Lafayette,
favor from the French government, the battles of Brandywine, Germantown, and Ben
nington, the latter won by General Stark, and the occupation of Philadelphia by Gen
eral Howe.
The campaign of 1777 opened under gloomy auspices, and promised to the American
cause little else than disasters. The army of Washington was totally inadequate in
numbers, discipline, and equipment, to cope with the enemy, with any prospect of suc
cess. The genius of liberty was inclosed between two fires, and once more a fatal crisis
seemed approaching ; for, not only was General Howe preparing to embark with twenty

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

73

thousand veteran troops for the Delaware,
whence he was to move on Philadelphia,
but Burgoyne was approaching with about
half that number, backed by hordes of sav
ages from the north. Burgoyne had long
been one of the pet generals in the British
army, and to him was specially intrusted
the prestige of British arms and honor in
the conflict with America. He was the
inheritor of great wealth, through his
father-in-law, the Earl of Derby ; he served
in Portugal with much credit, as brigadier-
general, in 1762 ; for some time he was a
conspicuous member of parliament ; and
in 1775 he was appointed to a command in
America, " to subdue the rebellious colo
nies." He witnessed the battle of Bunker
Hill. In 1776 he returned to England,
and had a long conference with George
III. on colonial affairs. In 1777 he was
appointed to lead the army which was to
penetrate from Canada into the United
States and crush to atoms the revolution
ary forces ; — with what success, the fol
lowing narrative will show :
Having arrived in Quebec with his com
mission in May, 1777, this ambitious gen
eral, inspired by the distinguished confi
dence placed in his genius and ability by
the English ministry, immediately dis
played great activity' in making those
preparations which were necessary to the
success of an enterprise which was to de
cide the fate of America. The regular
force placed at his disposal, consisting of
British and German troops, amounted to
upwards of seven thousand men, exclusive
of a corps of artillery numbering about
five hundred. To these was added a de
tachment of seven hundred rangers, under
Colonel St. Leger, destined to make an
incursion into the country of the Mohawks,
and to seize Fort Stanwix. According to
the plan of operations decided upon by
Burgoyne, his principal army was to be
joined by two thousand Canadians, in
cluding hatchet-men, and other workmen
whose services were necessary to render
the route practicable. A sufficient number
of seamen had likewise been assembled,
for manning the transports. Besides the

Canadians that were to be immediately
attached to the army, many others were
called upon to scour the woods in the
frontiers, and to occupy the intermediate
parts between the army which advanced
towards the Hudson and that which re
mained for the protection of Canada; the
latter amounted, including the highland
emigrants, to upwards of three thousand
men. They were furnished by the san
guine ministry with an unusual variety
and abundance of provisions, military
stores, and other conveniences, amongst
which was included a large quantity of
uniforms, destined for the loyalists, who,
it was not doubted, would after victory
flock from all quarters to the royal camp.
A great number of cruel and intractable
savages were also gathered together to
swell the force and prowess of this invad
ing host. Burgoyne had taken pains to
be seconded by many brave and able offi
cers, among whom was Major-General
Phillips, the brigadier-generals Fraser,
Powel, Hamilton, and Specht, with the
Brunswick major-general, Baron Riedesel.
The whole army shared enthusiastically
in the ardor and hopes of its chiefs, and
not a doubt was entertained of an ap
proaching triumph, and the thorough con
quest and humiliation of America. The
most base feature in Burgoyne's plan of the
campaign was his employment of hordes
of wild and inhuman savages, whose only
weapons were the tomahawk and scalping-
knife. But bitterly did he rue his course
in this respect, for the deeds enacted by
those hell-hounds of cruelty served, more
than any thing else, to exasperate the
American patriots, and to incite them to
determined resistance and triumph. The
murder of that lovely young woman, Miss
McCrea, at Fort Edward, and the bloody
massacre in the beautiful valley of Wyom
ing, were the legitimate fruits of such a
policy as that of Burgoyne.
The first movement of Burgoyne was to
encamp near the little river Roquet, on
the western bank of Lake Champlain, a
short distance north of Crown Point.
Here he made addresses to the Indians to

74

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

stimulate their ardor but repress their
ferocious propensities, and sent proclama
tions into the country to intimidate the
people. He next made a short stop at
Crown Point, and then proceeded to invest
Ticonderoga. The right wing took the
western bank of the lake, the left advanced
upon the eastern, and the center was em
barked upon the lake itself.

^>iyn^p^U/>^t^'

Unfortunately, the American army, des
tined to oppose the progress of the royal
troops and to defend Ticonderoga, was
altogether insufficient. General Schuyler,
who commanded the American troops in
this quarter, had been disappointed in
procuring re-enforcements, and his men
numbered only about four thousand. Ti
conderoga itself was very strongly fortified
on every side, and its defense was in
trusted to General St. Clair, with a garri
son of three thousand men, one-third of
these being raw militia, and all of them
poorly equipped. Although General St.
Clair put forth every exertion to retard the
operations of tlie advancing enemy, yet in
a few days they succeeded in getting pos
session of Mount Hope and Mount De
fiance, two very important positions, one
of which commanded the American lines
to a dangerous degree, and the other over
looked the entire fort. Ticonderoga be
ing thus easily hemmed in on every side,
a council of officers concluded to evacuate
the fort. They accordingly withdrew on

the night of the fifth of July. All was
done in good order and profound silence ;
and the stores, artillery and provisions,
were put on board two hundred bateaux
and five armed galleys. They would prob
ably have escaped unperceived by the
British, had not a house caught fire on
Mount Independence, which betrayed by
its light all that had taken place. The
Americans were immediately pursued, and
by the next afternoon their boats were
overtaken and attacked at Skenesborough
Falls. Two of the American galleys sur
rendered, and three were blown up ; and,
after setting fire to their works, mills, and
bateaux, that portion of the army escaped
up Wood Creek to Fort Anne. The van
guard of the corps that set out by land,
under St. Clair, had arrived at Castleton;
the rear had rested at Hubbardston, when
it was overtaken and attacked by General
Fraser, on the morning of the seventh.
An obstinate battle ensued, which at
length, after Riedesel came up, resulted in
the dispersion of the Americans, who left
many of their soldiers, together with their
brave commander, Colonel Francis, dead

<zrfn^;fc<f~'

on the field. St. Clair, after hearing this
news, struck into the woods in an eastern
direction, hoping thereby to mislead Bur
goyne as to the course and position of the
American forces.
The English generals next resolved to
drive the Americans from Fort Anne.
After a sanguinary combat they finally
succeeded in this, by bringing suddenly

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

75

to their aid their savage allies. The
Americans set the fort on fire, and re
tired to Fort Edward, . where General
Schuyler had posted himself. On the
twelfth, St. Clair also arrived there with
the remains of the garrison of Ticonder
oga. This, it was expected, would be the
next point of attack. But Burgoyne was
detained at Skenesborough, through want
of provisions and stores. General Schuy
ler took advantage of this delay, and neg
lected no means to procure recruits and
to impede the progress of the enemy.
After succeeding in obtaining posses
sion of Fort George, the British army with
much difficulty attained the banks of the
Hudson, near Fort Edward. The Ameri
cans moved down to Stillwater. Bur
goyne soon experienced a great depriva
tion of provisions. While Colonel St.
Leger was investing Fort Stanwix, on
the Mohawk, he detached five hundred
soldiers and savages to procure cattle at
Bennington. To favor this expedition he
moved his army down to the bank opposite
Saratoga ; but a company of provincials
having assembled from different quarters
at Bennington, under the command of
Colonel Stark, the latter met the enemy
on the border of the town, and after an
obstinate encounter bravely repulsed them.
The British, however, were again strength
ened by a fresh detachment, and once more
the Americans were attacked; but victory
declared for the latter, the English losing
seven hundred men and all their baggage.
But at this time, General Herkimer,
who marched to the relief of Colonel Gan-
sevoort at Fort Stanwix, was ambushed by
the savages, who dispersed his corps with
all that frightful carnage characteristic of
Indian warfare. In a short time, how
ever, the Indians became disaffected, and
the British were obliged to raise the siege
and retreat.
These successes of the Americans at
Stanwix and Bennington, inspired them
with new confidence. The harvests were
now ended, and the country people took
arms in multitudes, and hastened to the
camp elated with the expectation of van

quishing the vaunted ' regulars of tha
king.' General Gates, an officer of no
inconsiderable renown, was appointed to
the command of the army, which also gave
a ne\V spur to their alacrity ; they were ex
cited, too, by the inhuman cruelties of the
savages under St. Leger and Burgoyne,
and the awful butchery of the young and
beautiful Miss McCrea, murdered in cold
blood at Fort Edward by the British-paid
Indians, which was still fresh in their
minds, exasperated them to the extreme.
The savages now deserted Burgoyne, and
the Canadians were frightened to their
homes, by the sinister aspect of affairs.
General Lincoln, with a strong and de
termined body of New Hampshire and
Connecticut militia, assisted by Colonels
Brown and Johnston, proceeded with great
secrecy and celerity to repossess Forts Ed
ward, Anne, and George, Mount Hope,
and Mount Defiance. Complete success
crowned this admirably conducted move
ment. General Burgoyne having amassed about
thirty days' provisions, resolved to pass the
Hudson, engage the American army, and
penetrate to Albany. Towards the mid
dle of September, he crossed the river, and
encamped on the heights and plains of
Saratoga, Gates being then near Stillwa
ter. Burgoyne had now to rely, almost
entirely, on his German and British regu
lar troops, and a battle was soon expected.
This was reserved for the nineteenth of
September, and the question was to be de
cided, whether the Americans could resist
the English upon equal ground, in fair
and regular battle.
Some small woods only separating the
two watchful and eager armies, they were
early on the nineteenth formed in the
order of battle. The right wing of the
British army rested upon the high grounds,
and the left wing and artillery, under Phil
lips and Riedesel, kept along the road and
meadows by the river side. Gates took
the right of the American army, and gave
the left to Arnold. Smart skirmishes im
mediately ensued between the foremost
marksmen of either party, and the two

76

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

forces soon met. General Fraser repulsed
the Americans. Finding the right flank
of the enemy's right wing so well defended,
they left a sufficient guard to defend this
passage, made a rapid movement to -their
right, and vigorously assailed the left flank
of the same wing. Arnold exhibited upon
this occasion all the impetuosity of his
courage, and emboldened his men both by
voice and example. The action became
extremely warm ; and the enemy fearing
that Arnold, by cutting their line, would
penetrate between their wings — as was
manifestly his intention, — hastened to re
enforce the points attacked. General
Fraser came up with the twenty-fourth
regiment, some light infantry, and Brey-
man's riflemen ; he would have drawn
more troops from the right flank, but the
heights, on which it was posted, were of
too great importance to be totally evacu
ated. Meanwhile, such was the valor and
impetuosity of the Americans, that the
English began to fall into confusion, and
would have been utterly routed, but for the
arrival of General Phillips with fresh men
and a. part of the artillery ; upon hearing
the firing, he had rapidly made his way
through a very difficult wood to the scene
of danger. He restored the action at the
very moment it was about to be decided in
favor of the Americans ; but the latter,
nothing daunted, renewed their attacks
with such persevering energy, that night
only parted the combatants.
Benedict Arnold and Daniel Morgan
were the ruling spirits that directed the
battle on the part of the Americans, and
the gallant General Fraser was the direct
ing soul of the British in action. His skill
and courage were everywhere conspicu
ous. He was mounted upon a splendid
iron-gray gelding ; and, dressed in the full
uniform of a field officer, he was a promi
nent object in the eyes of the Americans.
It was evident that the fate of the battle
rested upon him, and this the keen eye
and sure judgment of Morgan perceived.
In an instant his purpose was conceived,
and, calling a file of his best men around
him, he said, as he pointed toward the

British right, " That gallant officer is Gen
eral Fraser. I admire and honor him, but
it is necessary he should die ; victory for
the enemy depends upon him. Take your
stations in that clump of bushes, and do
your duty." Within five minutes Fraser
fell, mortally wounded, and was carried to
the camp by two grenadiers. Just previ
ous to being hit by the fatal bullet, the
crupper of his horse was cut by a rifle ball,
and immediately afterward another passed
through the horse's mane, a little back of
his ears. The aid of Fraser noticed this,
and said, " It is evident that you are
marked out for particular aim ; would it
not be prudent for you to retire from this
place ? " Fraser replied, " My duty for
bids me to fly from danger," and the next
moment he fell. This act is said to have
been originally suggested by Arnold.
After this battle, Burgoyne waited
nearly a month to hear from General
Clinton. At length he received intelli
gence, but it was of such a nature as only
to increase his disappointments and ren
der his situation more hopeless. Driven
to extremity, he resolved to make another
effort to force a passage to Albany by his
enemy's left. In this he utterly failed,
and his troops were driven back to their
intrenchments, being pursued with eager
ness and great loss, even to their camp.
The Americans had now acquired an
opening on the right and rear of the
British army, whose situation was there
fore rendered very perilous. Burgoyne
now operated a change of ground. But
General Gates had taken the precaution
to station strong divisions on almost every
side, to prevent the enemy's escape. Bur
goyne then retired to Saratoga , but so
miserable was the condition of his army,
that it occupied nearly two days to effect
this small movement of six miles, and even
left his hospital in the hands of the Ameri
cans. Hoping to cross the river at Sara
toga, and retreat to the lakes to save his
army, he soon found that Fort Edward, on
the opposite bank, was too strongly man
ned to admit of his attempting any such
purpose ; thereupon he turned his atten-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

77

tion to Fort George, in hopes of crossing
there. He was not long in ascertaining,
however, that there, too, the Americans
were strongly intrenched.
General Gates, with the main body of
the American army, thirsting for battle,
was hard upon Burgoyne's rear. In this
state of affairs it was, that the proud
spirited Briton finally relinquished all
expectation of saving himself by his own

nature of the ground, could not bo at
tacked ; — such was the extremity that pre
sented itself. But Burgoyne's troops, even
while the rifle and grape shot fell thickly
around them in this forlorn state, retained
their ordinary constancy, and, while sink
ing under war's hard necessity, betrayed
no want of temper, or of fortitude.
Clinton's effort to relieve Burgoyne was
unsuccessful. He pushed up the Hudson

CAPITULATION OF BUBGOYNE'S AB.MY.

efforts. His only refuge from despair was
the faint possibility of co-operation from
the parts down the. river ; and he looked
for the aid of Clinton with the most in
tense desire. His army was in a pitiable
condition. Worn out, abandoned, half
their number slaughtered, and amongst
them the most distinguished officers; and
invested closely by a much greater force,
who refused to fight from a knowledge of
their helpless condition, and who, from the

river, captured Forts Montgomery and
Clinton, after a brave resistance by the
American garrison, and then, with wan
ton cruelty, Sir Henry set fire to houses
and buildings of every description, de
stroying, by conflagration, the church and
every other building in the beautiful town
of Esopus. After the capture of these two
forts, Clinton dispatched a messenger by
the name of Daniel Taylor, to Burgoyne,
with the cheering intelligence. Fortu-

78

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

nately, he was taken on the way as a spy.
Finding himself in danger, he was seen to
turn aside and take something from his
pocket and swallow it. The American
commander forthwith ordered a severe
dose of emetic tartar to be administered ;
this produced the effect— the prisoner dis
charging a small silver bullet, which, on
being unscrewed, was found to inclose a
dispatch to Burgoyne. "Out of thine
own mouth thou shalt be condemned."
The spy was tried, convicted, and executed.
Perceiving, now, that all the passes in
his rear were strongly guarded, and that
further retreat or resistance was useless,
Burgoyne called a council on the fifteenth
of October. While the council was qui
etly deliberating, an eighteen-pound shot
crossed the table, and they resolved unani
mously to offer terms to General Gates.
These proposals finally resulted in the ca
pitulation of Burgoyne's whole army. The
news of the capture in the Highlands is
said to have arrived at this juncture, which
led General Burgoyne to temporize, in ex
pectation of possible relief from Sir Henry
Clinton. Gates, seeing the critical mo
ment, drew up his army for immediate on
set, and sent in a flag, demanding a reply
in ten minutes. The exigency was immi
nent, and Burgoyne felt it. With a trem
bling hand and pallid countenance the
proud warrior signed the treaty. The
surrender was duly carried into effect on
the seventeenth of October. Burgoyne
having proposed to Wilkinson, the Ameri
can adjutant-general, a desire to be intro
duced to General Gates, they crossed the
Fishkill, and proceeded to head-quarters
on horseback, General Burgoyne in front,
with his adjutant-general and two aids-
de-camp behind him ; then followed Major-
General Phillips, the Baron Riedesel, and
the other general officers and their suites,
according to rank. General Gates, ad
vised of Burgoyne's approach, met him at
the head of the American camp, Bur
goyne in a rich royal uniform, and Gates
in a plain blue frock. When they ap
proached nearly within sword's length,
they reined up and halted. Adjutant-

General Wilkinson then formally an
nounced the names of the gentlemen,
whereupon General Burgoyne, raising his
hat most gracefully, said :
" The fortune of war, General Gates,
has made me your prisoner."
" I shall always be ready to bear testi
mony," promptly replied the conqueror,
with a courtly salute, " that it has not
been through any fault of your excellency."
Major-General Phillips then advanced,
and he and General Gates saluted and
shook hands, with the familiarity of old
acquaintances. The Baron Riedesel and
other officers were introduced in their
turn. General Gates, with great delicacy,
consented to an arrangement by which the
American soldiery were not to be present
when the British army underwent the
shame and humiliation of piling their
arms. The trophies which were gained by this
great victory, were fiv« thousand seven
hundred and ninety-one prisoners, a train
of brass artillery immensely valuable, con
sisting of forty-two pieces of brass can
non, besides seven thousand muskets, with
seventy-two thousand cartridges, and an
ample supply of shot, shells, and clothing
for seven thousand men, with a large num
ber of tents and other military stores.
The American army numbered about three
times that of the enemy.
The American army engaged in this,
victorious enterprise, contained many fine
officers. Schuyler was a man of great
good sense and experience, having been
an officer in the war of 1755 to 1763.
General Morgan, a bold and intrepid sol
dier, was there, rendering most conspicu
ous service. Arnold's heroism never shone
more brightly than in the various ordeals
through which he passed during this cam
paign. Lincoln, too, showed himself to be
valiant and discreet even in the most try
ing exigencies. Brooks's share in this
event is applauded by every historian of
the war, as is likewise the honorable career
of Dearborn and Hull. The other Ameri
can generals, who may be named in this
campaign, are Poor, Learned, Ten Broeck,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

79

fellows, Patterson, Nixon, and Glover.
Of General Gates, the central figure in
this great act, it may be remarked, that,
though unquestionably a man of talents,
he was so far deficient in judgment as to
be influenced by the arts and representa
tions of those who, under the lead of Gen
eral Conway, — whose offensive conduct in
this matter finally led to a duel between
him and General Cadwalader — were en
gaged in a scheme to wrest the supreme
command of the revolutionary army from
Washington and have it conferred upon
Gates. At this very time, the intrigue of
the Conway faction was at its height, and
the officers who were implicated in it
seized upon the occasion to strike a deci
sive blow. The disastrous loss of the battle
just fought at Germantown they charged
to Washington's delaying his division at
the Chew House. So artful and persever
ing were they in these representations of
Washington's incompetency, and so bril
liant had Gates's military repute become
by the magnificent victory with which he
had relieved the public despondency, that
the idea began to prevail in the minds of
many, that the days of Washington's as
cendency were numbered and finished.
Gates, in his invidious rivalry of Wash
ington, would not deign to communicate
the news of his victory to the latter, but
sent a courier direct to congress instead.
It was, curiously enough, at the precise
period when Washington's star had be
come dimmed by military reverses, that
the rumor was found circulating through
his camp, of Burgoyne's having been con
quered and his whole army taken prison
ers by General Gates. The excitement
became intense, and all were on the watch
for news from the north. Several days,
however, passed away, and no further in
telligence was received. Washington, of
course, had heard the rumor, and doubtless
appreciated the effect it would have, if
true, upon public opinion, as between the
merits of himself and Gates.
Now, it so happened that Washington's
head-quarter^ were on the road leading
from Germantown to York, where congress

was then in session. On the forenoon of
Saturday, October eighteenth, Colonel
Pickering, adjutant-general of the army,
was there transacting business with Wash
ington. They were in a room of the sec
ond story, at the corner of the house,
looking up the road that led from the
north. While sitting there, a horseman
was seen approaching, whose appearance
indicated that he had traveled long and
from far. His aspect, his saddle-bags,
and the manner of his movement, indi
cated that he was an express-rider. The
attention of both Washington and Picker
ing was at once arrested. They took it
for granted that he must be bearing dis
patches from the northern army to con
gress, and were sure that he could inform
them whether the report of Burgoyne's
surrender was well founded. As he ap
proached nearer, Pickering recognized him
as an officer of the northern army. At
Washington's request, he ran down to the
door, stopped him, and conducted him up
to the general's room with his saddle-bags.
Washington instantly opened them, tore
the envelope of a package, spread out an
announcement of the victory at Saratoga
and Burgoyne's surrender to General
Gates, and attempted to read it aloud.
As he read, the color gradually settled
away from his countenance^ his hand
trembled, his lips quivered, his utterance
failed him — he dropped the paper, clasped
his hands, raised them upward, and, thus
transfixed, was for several moments lost in
a rapture of adoring gratitude. " While
I gazed," said Colonel Pickering, "upon
this sublime exhibition of sensibility, I
saw conclusive proof that, in comparison
with the good of his country, self was ab
solutely nothing — the man disappeared
from my view, and the very image and
personification of the patriot stood before
me." Throughout America, the joy which this
victory produced, was unbounded. Indeed,
the contest between England and the
United States was believed to be substan
tially decided. Though the war might be
kept up longer, no further doubt was en-

80

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

tertained of the success with which the
revolutionists' efforts would be ultimately
crowned. Nor was it amongst the small
est advantages expected from it, that it
would probably decide the uncertain and
balancing politics of foreign courts, anx
ious to separate America from Britain, but
apprehensive of the hazards to be encount
ered by taking open part in the war. The
thanks of congress were voted to General
Gates and his army ; and a medal of gold,
in commemoration of this great event, was
ordered to be struck, to be presented to
him by the president of congress, in the
name of the United-States.
The effect produced by this event on the
other side 'of the Atlantic, and in particu
lar on the British cabinet and nation, was
prodigious. It seemed to remove all the
delusive hopes of easy conquest with which
the English had so long flattered them
selves, and suddenly to display in open
view the mass of resistance which had got
to be encountered. The previous disasters
of the American arms had induced a be
lief in Europe, even among the friends of
the colonists, that the cause of independ
ence could not succeed. The rapid ad
vance of Burgoyne into the interior, the
fall of the important fortress of Ticonder
oga, and the boastful announcements of
victory continually made by the British
and circulated all over Europe, had pro
duced a general impression that the -colo
nists were virtually subdued. In the
midst of all this, came the unexpected
and astounding intelligence that Bur
goyne and all his forces had laid down
their arms in submission to an American
general. On the evening of the day on which the
ministry received their private dispatches
containing the news, a rumor of their con
tents had got into the house of commons,
just as the members had assembled. One
of the members arose, and with the most
imperative earnestness of manner ad
dressed the treasury benches, demanding
what were the accounts from America
Being compelled to disclose the mortifying
fact, the chancellor of the exchequer arose,

and, in a weak and faint voice, informed
the house it was too true that General Bur
goyne and his army were prisoners of war.
At this announcement, a storm of indig
nation, sarcasm, reproach and invective,
was poured upon the king's ministers by
the opposition leaders, who overwhelmed
them with the bitterest declamation on
their imbecility, rashness, and obstinacy.
In the house of lords, the Earl of Chatham
— the foremost man of the realm — moved
to amend the address in answer to the
speech from the throne, by introducing a
clause recommending to his majesty an
immediate cessation of hostilities, and the
commencement of a treaty of conciliation.
He vehemently condemned the employ
ment of merciless savages to wage a " bar
barous war against our brethren," and
was desirous of peace on any terms short
of the dismemberment of the empire.
Such, however, was the infatuation of the
court and ministry, that their hostile plans
were still persevered in, the government de
claring that "if ten thousand men cannot
conquer America, fifty thousand shall ! "
And with the help of strong majorities in
parliament, more supplies were raised, new
troops levied, and the war carried on.
The most important among the imme
diate consequences of Burgoyne's surren
der, was the treaty of alliance between
America and France. The communica
tion of this important intelligence from
the American commissioners in France,
diffused extreme joy throughout the Unit
ed States, being received by the people as
the harbinger of their independence; and
in this they were not disappointed, for men,
arms, and money were liberally supplied
by their generous ally, until an acknowl
edgment of that independence was wrung
from King George. Such, then, was the
part played by that army which had ex
cited such high expectations in Britain,
and which, at first, spread alarm and dis
may throughout the United States. Poor
Burgoyne, returning home on parole, was
ill received. The king, petulant and mor
tified, refused to see him ; Jbut he never
had a more faithful servitor.

III.
FIEST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY.— 1779.

John Paul Jones, Commanding the Bon Homme Richard, Fights and Captures King George's Power
ful Ship-of-War, the Serapis, in British Waters. — Crowds of Spectators Line the English Coast.— The
Most Sanguinary Battle Ever Fought Between Single Ships.— Jones is Hailed as " The Washington
of the Seas." — World-wide Interest of this Combat. — Commodore Jones's Early Career. — Offers his
Services to Congress. — Appointed a Naval Lieutenant. — Joins the Continental Fleet. — The First to
Hoist its Ensign. — Style and Motto of the Flag — Sails from France on a Cruise. — Terror Created by
his Movements. — Characteristic Anecdotes. — Two British Frigates in Sight. — Jones Ready for Bloody
Work. — The Ships Muzzle to Muzzle. — Superiority of the Serapis. — A Most Deadly Contest. — Both
Vessels on Fire. — Jones Attacked by Another Foe. — One of his Vessels Treacherous. — Remarkable
Scenes. — Britain's Flag Struck to America. — An Act Without Precedent. — Sinking of the Victori.
ous Vessel.

' The most obstinate aud bloody battle in the annals of naval warfare."— J. Fes [more Cooper.

UCH an exploit as that performed by John Paul Jones, in 1779,
by which, in plain sight of the English coast, he flung to the breeze
IKS\ the gallant ensign of the United States, and, with Britons as wit-
|\ nesses of his daring, fought, victoriously, a battle which has always
Is been spoken of as the most obstinate and sanguinary combat that
ever occurred between single ships, can never be read of by Ameri
cans with other than the deepest and most enthusiastic interest. The
rictory came, too, at one cf the darkest hours in the revolutionary cam
paign, and served to gladden and encourage, for the time being, the de-
pondent hearts of honest patriots. The vaunted invincibleness of the
British navy became a by-word of contumely, the world over, from the
time Jones nailed his flag to the mast, and, under the calm
sky and round harvest moon of September, dealt forth a storm
of death and desolation upon the enemies of his adopted coun
try. The action may well be pronounced one of the most
terrible on record, from its unusual duration for a naval bat
tle, from the ferocity which the combatants displayed, and
from the proximity of the two vessels, the muzzles of the
ships' batteries almost reaching into each other's port-holes.
John Paul was born in Scotland, on the sixth day of
July, 1747, and the scenery and associations of his birth
place — Arbigland — and its vicinity, doubtless encouraged
that restless spirit of adventure and love of change, as
well as that ardent enthusiasm in the objects of his pur
suit, which so strikingly characterized his career through life.
At the age of twelve, he was apprenticed to a merchant
of Whitehaven, who carried on a considerable trade with

UOISTHTO FIRST NATAL FLAG

82

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

the American colonies. His first voyage
was made before he was thirteen years old,
being to Virginia, where his elder brother
was established as a planter. He was after
ward engaged for a short time in the slave
trade, which he left in disgust, and made a
number of voyages to the West Indies.
In 1773, John Paul removed to Virginia,
to attend to the affairs of his brother, who
had died childless and intestate. He now,
for some unknown reason, assumed the ad
ditional surname of Jones, and which he
retained through life. At the commence
ment of the revolutionary conflict, his feel
ings became warmly enlisted in the cause
of the colonies, and this spirit fully pre
pared him for the active part he soon un
dertook in their behalf. An offer of his
services, which he made to the colonies,
was accepted, and, on the twenty-second
of December, 1775, by a resolution of con
gress, he was appointed lieutenant in the
American navy.
It was Lieutenant Jones who hoisted,
with his own hands, the first American
naval flag on board the American frigate
Alfred, the flag-ship, the national ensign
being thus for the first time displayed from
a man-of-war. The circumstances attend
ing this interesting occasion are stated to
have been as follows : The Alfred was an
chored off the foot of Walnut street, Phila
delphia. On a brilliant morning, early in
February, 1776, gay streamers were seen
fluttering from every mast-head and spar
on the river Delaware. At nine o'clock, a
full-manned barge thridded its way among
the floating ice to the Alfred, bearing the
commodore. He was greeted by the thun
ders of artillery and the shouts of a multi
tude. When he reached the deck of the
flag-ship, Captain Salstonstall gave a sig
nal, and Lieutenant Jones gallantly pulled
the ropes which wafted the new flag mast
head high. It was of yellow silk, bearing
the figure of a pine tree, and the signifi
cant device of a rattlesnake in a field of
thirteen stripes, with the ominous legend,
"Don't tread on me!" This memorable
act, it was Jones's high honor and privilege
to perform when in his twenty-ninth year ;

an honor, too, of which, as events afterward
proved, he was fully worthy.
On the fourteenth of August, 1779, Jones
sailed from the roadstead of Groix, France,
in command of a small squadron, consisting
of the Bon Homme Richard, forty-two guns,
the Alliance, thirty-six guns, the Pallas,
thirty-two guns, the Cerf, twenty-eight
guns, and the Vengeance, twelve guns.
Two privateers afterwards joined them, but
did not continue with them till the end of
the cruise. The efficiency of the expedi
tion was marred by a want of subordination
on the part of some of the officers, who do
not appear to have been willing to yield
prompt obedience to orders. Captain Lan-
dais, of the Alliance, habitually disregarded
the signals and orders, throughout the
cruise, and, towards the close, committed
acts of open hostility to his superior. But,
notwithstanding the difficulties against
which he had to contend, Jones inflicted
great damage on the enemy; he coasted
Ireland, England, and Scotland, making
many prizes, and carrying terror wherever
he appeared.
But the action which gave the most dis
tinguishing renown to Jones's brilliant ca
reer, and which so early gave prestige to
American prowess on the ocean, is that of
which a detailed account is given below :
It was about noon, on the twenty-third
of September, 1779, a fleet of over forty
sail appeared off Flamborough Head, on
the coast of Yorkshire, and Jones at once
gave up the pursuit of a vessel in whose
track he was just then following, with all
possible speed, and made signals for a gen
eral chase. The sails in sight were a fleet
of English merchantmen, under convoy of
the ships-of-war Serapis and Scarborough,
and as soon as they saw themselves pur
sued they ran in shore, while their convoys
that protected them bore off from the land
and prepared for an engagement. The
Bon Homme Richard' set every stitch of
canvas, but did not come into fighting po
sition toward the enemy until about seven
o'clock in the evening, at which time, from
the darkness having set in somewhat, ob
jects on the water were dimly discerned,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

83

though not with such difficulty as would
have been the case had not the moon
shone forth with great brightness, and the
weather proved serene and beautiful.
When within pistol-shot, the hail from the
Serapis, " What ship is that ? " was
answered, " I can't hear you." Captain
Pearson says the answer was, " The Prin
cess Royal." A second hail was answered
by a thundering broadside from the bat
teries of the Richard, — a signal that in
dicated a hot and bloody encounter at
hand, as the sequel soon proved.
The American ship, it may here be re
marked, was much inferior to her antag
onist, being, in fact, an old vessel, clumsy,
and unmanageable. She carried six
eighteen-pounders on the lower gun deck,
fourteen twelve-pounders and fourteen
nine-pounders on the middle gun deck,
two six-pounders on the quarter-gun
deck, two six-pounders on the spar deck,
one six-pounder in each gangway, and two
six-pounders on the forecastle. She was
manned by three hundred and eighty
men and boys. The Serapis, on the other
hand, was a new ship, built in the best
manner, and with a much heavier arma
ment. She mounted twenty eighteen-
pounders on her lower gun deck, twenty
nine-pounders on her upper gun deck, six
six-pounders on her quarter deck, four
six-pounders on the forecastle ; and she
had a crew of some three hundred and
twenty men.
Captain Cottineau, of the Pallas, en
gaged the Scarborough, and took her, after
an hour's action, while the Bon Homme
Richard engaged the Serapis.
In the earlier part of the action, the
superior sailing qualities of the Serapis
enabled her to take several advantageous
positions, which the seamanship of Paul
Jones, hampered by the unmanageable
character of his craft, did not enable him
to prevent. Thus he attempted to lay his
ship athwart the enemy's bows, but the
bowsprit of the Serapis sweeping over the
Richard's poop, was grappled and lashed,
and her stern swung round to the bow of the
Bon Homme Richard by the action of the

wind ; the vessels lay yard-arm and yard-
arm, the muzzles on either side actually
touching the enemy. But long before this,
many of the eighteen-pound shot of the
Serapis had entered the Richard's hull be
low the water-mark, and she leaked in a,
threatening manner. Just before they
closed, Commodore Pearson hailed his ad
versary: "Has your ship struck?" "I
haven't begun to fight yet ! " thundered
forth the brave Jones, in reply.
A novelty in naval combats was now
presented to many witnesses, but few ad
mirers, — says Lieutenant Dale, who par
ticipated in the conflict, — the rammers
being run into the respective ships to en
able the men to load after the lower ports
of the Serapis had been blown away, to

make room for running out their guns,
and in this situation the ships remained
until between ten and twelve o'clock,
P. M. From the commencement to the
termination of the action, there was not a
man on board the Richard who was igno
rant of the superiority of the Serapis, both
in weight of metal, and in the qualities of
the crew. The crew of that ship were
picked seamen, and the ship itself had
been only a few months off the stocks ;
whereas the crew of the Richard consisted
of part Americans, English and French,
and a part of Maltese, Portuguese, and Ma
lays, these latter contributing by their
want of naval skill and knowledge of the
English language, to depress rather than
encourage any reasonable hope of success
in a combat under such circumstances.

84

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

85

One of the most disheartening facts in
the early part of the action, was the silenc
ing of the battery of twelve-pounders, on
which Jones had placed his principal de
pendence. Brave and dauntless sailor as he was,
Jones stuck to his little battery, and stimu
lated his men with word and example.
While one of the nine-pounders vomited
double-headed shot against the mainmast
of the Serapis, the two others swept her
decks with grape and canister. The fire
was so hot from the nine-pound battery and
the tops, that not a man could live on the
deck of the English ship. But all this
while, her lower battery of eighteen-pound
ers was making an awful ruin of the Rich
ard. The terror of the scene was also soon
heightened beyond the power of language
to depict, by both vessels taking fire, which
required almost superhuman exertion to
subdue, and, in the midst of all, Jones and
his heroic men were horror stricken to see
their consort, the Alliance, commanded by
Captain Landais, come up and pour a full
broadside into the Richard's stern! The
evidence is regarded as most conclusive,
that Captain L.'s conduct on this occasion
was not due to any mistake on his part in
supposing the Richard to be the Serapis,
but to his personal hostility to Jones.
With jealousy and treason in his heart, his
plan was to kill Jones, and, capturing the
Serapis, claim the victory as his. But the
black-hearted Frenchman failed in his plot.
A quantity of cartridges on board the Ser
apis was set fire to by a grenade from
Jones's ship, and blew up, killing or wound
ing all the officers and men abaft the main
mast. But long after this the fight went
on with fury.
At last, the mainmast of the Serapis be
gan to totter to its fall — her fire slackened,
and, about half-past ten o'clock, the British
flag was struck, and Commodore Pearson
surrendered his sword to his really weaker
foe. In going through the formalities of
this scene, Pearson displayed much irrita
bility, and, addressing Jones as one who
fought under no recognized flag, said :
" It is painful to deliver up my sword to

a man who has fought with a halter around
his neck."
" Sir," replied Jones, good humoredly,
as he handed back the weapon, "you have
fought like a hero, and I make no doubt
but your sovereign will reward you in the
most ample manner."
True enough, the gallant Pearson soon
received from King George the dignity of
knighthood as an acknowledgment of his
bravery in this unparalleled battle, — hear
ing of which honor, Jones is said to have
dryly remarked : " Well, he deserved it ;
and should I have the good fortune to
meet with him again, I will make a lord
of him ! "
Another episode occurred in connection
with a medical officer, — the surgeon of the
Richard, — who ran up from the cock-pit,
in great fright and trepidation, and hur
riedly accosting the captain, said : "Are you
not going to strike the colors ? Is not the
ship fast sinking? " "What! doctor," re
plied Jones, " would you have me strike to
a drop of water ? Here, help me get this
gun over ! " The doctor, as though answer
ing a sudden professional call, was soon
retracing his steps to the cock-pit.
So terribly was the Richard cut to pieces
(being an old ship), that it was found im
possible, after the fight, to get her into
port, and, the wounded being removed, she
soon after sank.
Jones took his prizes to Holland, and it
is no exaggeration to say that the whole
world stood astonished at his bravery and
success. A most interesting account of this cele
brated battle between the Serapis and
Richard was given, soon after its occur
rence, by Commodore Jones himself, a
portion of which, describing in his own
dramatic style, the principal scenes during
the engagement, is given below :
On the morning of that day, September
twenty-third, the brig from Holland not be
ing in sight, we chased abrigantine that ap
peared laying to, to windward. About
noon, we saw and chased a large ship that
appeared coming round Flamborough Head
from the northward, and at the same time

8G

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

I manned and armed one of the pilot boats
to send in pursuit of the brigantine, which
now appeared to be the vessel that I had
forced ashore. Soon after this, a fleet of
forty-one sail appeared off Flamborough
Head, bearing N. N. E. This induced me
to abandon the single ship which had then
anchored in Burlington Bay ; I also called
back the pilot boat, and hoisted a signal
for a general chase. When the fleet dis
covered us bearing down, all the merchant
ships crowded sail toward the shore. The
two ships-of-war that protected the fleet at
the same time steered from the land, and
made the disposition for battle. In ap
proaching the enemy, I crowded every pos
sible sail, and made the signal for the line
of battle, to which the Alliance paid no at
tention. Earnest as I was for the action,
I could not reach the commodore's ship
until seven in the evening, being then
within pistol-shot, when he hailed the Bon
Homme Richard. We answered him by
firing a whole broadside.
The battle being thus begun, was con
tinued with unremitting fury. Every
method was practiced on both sides to gain
an advantage and rake each other ; and I
must confess that the enemy's ship, being
much more manageable than the Bon
Homme Richard, gained thereby several
times an advantageous situation, in spite
of my best endeavors to prevent it. As I
had to deal with an enemy of greatly su
perior force, I was under the necessity of
closing with him, to prevent the advantage
which he had over me in point of ma
neuver. It was my intention to lay the
Bon Homme Richard athwart the enemy's
bow ; but as that operation required great
dexterity in the management of both sails
and helm, and some of our braces being
shot away, it did not exactly succeed to my
wish. The enemy's bowsprit, however,
came over the Bon Homme Richard's poop,
by the mizzenmast, and I made both ships
fast together in that situation, which by
the action of the wind on the enemy's sails,
forced her stern close to the Bon Homme
Richard's bow, so that the ships lay square
alongside of each other, the yards being

all entangled, and the cannon of each ship
touching the opponent's.
I directed the fire of one of the three
cannon against the mainmast, with dou
ble-headed shot, while the other two were
exceedingly well served with grape and
canister shot, to silence the enemy's mus
ketry and clear her decks, which was at
last effected. The enemy were, as I have
since understood, on the instant of calling
for quarter, when the cowardice or treach
ery of three of my under-officers induced
them to call to the enemy. The English
commodore asked me if I demanded quar
ter, and I, having answered him in the
most determined negative, they renewed
the battle with double fury. They were
unable to stand the deck ; but the fire of
their cannon, especially the lower battery,
which was entirely formed of ten-pound
ers, was incessant ; both ships were set on
fire in various places, and the scene was
dreadful beyond the reach of language.
To account for the timidity of my three
under-officers, I mean the gunner, the car
penter, and the master-at-arms, I must
observe, that the two first were slightly
wounded, and, as the ship had received
various shots under the water, and one of
the pumps being shot away, the carpenter
expressed his fears that she would sink,
and the other two concluded that she was
sinking, which occasioned the gunner to
run aft on the poop, without my knowl
edge, to strike the colors. Fortunately for
me, a cannon-ball had done that before, by
carrying away the ensign-staff; he was
therefore reduced to the necessity of sink
ing, as he supposed, or of calling for quar
ter, and he preferred the latter.
All this time the Bon Homme Richard
had sustained the action alone, and the
enemy, though much superior in force,
would have been very glad to have got
clear, as appears by their own acknowledg
ments, and by their having let go an an
chor the instant that I laid them on board,
by which means they would have escaped,
had I not made them fast to the Bon
Homme Richard.
At last, at half-past nine o'clock, the Al-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

87

liance appeared, and I now thought the
battle at an end ; but, to my utter aston
ishment, he discharged a broadside full
into the stern of the Bon Homme Richard.
We called to him for God's sake to forbear
firing into the Bon Homme Richard ; yet
they passed along the off side of the ship,
and continued firing. There was no pos
sibility of his mistaking the enemy's ship
for the Bon Homme Richard, there being
the most essential difference in their ap
pearance and construction. Besides, it was
then full moonlight. The Bon Homme
Richard received various shots under wa
ter from the Alliance ; the leak gained on
the pumps, and the fire increased much on
board both ships. Some officers persuaded

me to strike, of whose courage and good
sense I entertain a high opinion. My
treacherous master-at-arms let loose all my
prisoners without my knowledge, and my
prospects became gloomy indeed. I would
not, however, give up the point. The ene
my's mainmast began to shake, tlieir firing
decreased fast, ours rather increased, and
the British colors were struck at half an
hour past ten o'clock.
This prize proved to be the British ship-
of-war, the Serapis, a new ship of forty-
four guns, built on the most approved con
struction, with two complete batteries, one
of them of eighteen-pounders, and com
manded by the brave Commodore Richard
Pearson.

88

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

IV.

THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY.— 1780.

The Northern States wrapt in a Dense Black Atmosphere for Fifteen Hours. — The Day of Judgment
Supposed to have Come. — Cessation of Labor. — Religious Devotions Resorted to. — The Herds
Retire to their Stalls, the Fowls to their Roosts, and the Birds Sing their Evening Songs at Noonday. —
Science at Loss to Account for the Mysterious Plienomenon. — One of Nature's Marvels. — Redness of
the Sun and Moon. — Approach of a Thick Vapor. — Loud Peals of Thunder. — Sudden and Strange
Darkness. — Alarm of the Inhabitants. — End of the World Looked For. — Dismay of the Brute Crea
tion. — An Intensely Deep Gloom. — Difficulty in Attending to Business. — Lights Burning in the
Houses. — Vast Extent of the Occurrence — Condition of the Barometer. — Change in the Color of
Objects. — Quick Motion of the Clouds — Birds Suffocate and Die. — The Sun's Disc Seen in Some
Places. — Oily Deposit on the Waters. — Impenetrable Darkness at Night. — Incidents and Anecdotes. —
Ignorant Whims and Conjectures — An Unsolved Mystery.

" The Dark Day in northern America was one of those wonderful phenomena of nature which will always be read of with interest, but
which philosophy is at a loss to explain."— Uerscii t l.

DIFFICULTY/ OF TBAVELINO.

jLMOST, if not altogether alone, as the most
mysterious and as yet unexplained phenome
non of its kind, in nature's diversified range of
events, during the last century, stands the
Dark Day of May Nineteenth, 1780, — a most
unaccountable darkening of the whole visible
heavens and atmosphere in New England, —
which brought intense alarm and distress to
multitudes of minds, as well as dismay to the
brute creation, the fowls fleeing, bewildered, to
their roosts, and the birds to their nests, and
the cattle returning to their stalls. Indeed,
thousands of the good people of that day be
came fully convinced that the end of all things
terrestrial had come; many gave up, for the
J time, their secular pursuits, and betook them
selves to religious devotions ; while many others regarded
the darkness as not only a token of God's indignation
against the various iniquities and abominations of the age,
but also as an omen of some future destruction that might
overwhelm the land — as in the case of the countries men
tioned in biblical history, — unless speedy repentance and

90

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

reformation took place. The ignorant in
dulged in vague and wild conjectures as
to the cause of the phenomenon; and
those profounder minds, even, that could
"gauge the heavens and tell the stars,"
were about equally at loss for any rational
explanation of the event. It is related
that the Connecticut legislature was in
session at this time, and that, so great was
the darkness, the members became terri
fied, and thought that the day of judg
ment had come ; a motion was conse
quently made to adjourn. At this, Mr.
Davenport arose and said : '' Mr. Speaker,
— It is either the day of judgment, or it
is not. If it is not, there is no need of
adjourning. If it is, I desire to be found
doing my duty. I move that candles be
brought, and that we proceed to business."
The time of the commencement of this
extraordinary darkness was between the
hours of ten and eleven in the forenoon of
Friday, of the date already named ; and it
continued until the middle of the follow
ing night, but with different appearances
at different places. As to the manner of
its approach, it seemed to appear first of
all in the south-west. The wind came
from that quarter, and the darkness ap
peared to come on with the clouds that
came in that direction. The degree to
which the darkness arose varied in differ
ent localities. In most parts, it became so
dense, that people were unable to read
common print distinctly, or accurately de
termine the time of day by their clocks or
watches, or dine, or manage their domes
tic affairs conveniently, without the light
of candles. In some places, the degree of
darkness was just about equal to prevent
ing persons seeing to read ordinary print
in the open air, for several hours together.
The extent of this darkness was also very
remarkable. It was observed at the most
easterly regions of New England; west
ward, to' the furthest parts of Connecticut,
and at Albany; to the southward, it was
observed all along the sea coasts ; and to
the north, as far as the American settle
ments extended. It probably far exceeded
these boundaries, but the exact limits were

never positively known. With regard to
its duration, it continued in the neighbor
hood of Boston for at least fourteen or fif
teen hours ; but it was doubtless longer or
shorter in some other places. The appear
ance and effects were such as tended to
make the prospect extremely dull, gloomy,
and unnatural. Candles were lighted up
in the houses; the birds, in the midst
of their blithesome forenoon enjoyments,
stopped suddenly, and, singing their even
ing songs, disappeared, and became si
lent; the fowls retired to their roosts; the
cocks • were crowing in their accustomed
manner at the break of day; objects could
not be distinguished at a comparatively
slight distance; and everything bore the
aspect and gloom of night, — to say noth
ing of the effect upon the minds of the
people, which, indeed, was quite inde
scribable. The above general facts concerning this
strange phenomenon were ascertained,
after much painstaking inquiry, soon
after its occurrence, by Prof. Williams, of
Harvard College, who also collected to
gether some of the more particular ob
servations made in different parts of the
country, relative to the remarkable event.
From these data it appears that, with re
gard to the state of the atmosphere pre
ceding this uncommon darkness, it was
noticed in many sections, for several days
before, that the air seemed to be of a
smoky and vaporous character. The sun
and the moon exhibited an unusual red
ness in their color, and divested of their
usual brightness and lucid aspect ; and
this obscuration increased as they ap
proached nearer to the horizon. This
was ascertained to have been the case in
almost all parts of the New England
states, for four or five days preceding the
nineteenth of May. The winds had been
variable, but chiefly from the south-west
and north-east. The thermometer indi
cated from forty to fifty-five degrees. The
barometer showed a somewhat higher range
than usual. The weather had been fair
and cool for the season.
As to the state of the atmosphere when

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

91

the darkness came on, it was observable
that the weight or gravity of it was grad
ually decreasing, the greater part of the
day. According to the observations made
at Cambridge, Mass , the mercury in the
barometer was found, at twelve o'clock, to
stand at twenty-nine inches, seventy; in
half an hour after, the mercury had fallen
the one-hundredth part of an inch ; at one
o'clock, it was twenty-nine inches, sixty-
seven ; at three o'clock, it was at twenty-
nine inches, sixty-five ; at eight minutes
past eight, it was at twenty-nine inches,
sixty-four. A similar course of barometri
cal observations made, at the same time,
in another part of the state, showed as fol
lows : at six o'clock in the morning, the
mercury in the barometer was found to bo
at twenty-nine inches, eighty-two ; as soon
as the darkness began to appear uncom
mon, that is, at ten minutes past ten, the
mercury was found at twenty-nine inches,
sixty-eight ; at quarter before eleven — the
time of the greatest degree of darkness in
that part of the country — the mercury was
at twenty-nine inches, sixty-seven, the
darkness continuing in the same degree
for an hour and a half ; at fifteen minutes
past twelve, the mercury had fallen to
twenty-nine inches, sixty-five, and, in a
few minutes after this, the darkness began
to abate ; the mercury remained in this
state during the whole evening, without
any sensible alteration. At half-past
eight, it seemed to have fallen a little, but
so small was the alteration, that it was at
tended with some uncertainty, nor did it
appear to stand any lower three hours
later. From these observations, it is certain
that, on the day when the darkness took
place, the weight or gravity of the atmos
phere was gradually decreasing through
the whole day. Both of the barometers
in use were instruments of superior work
manship, and consequently to be depended
on as to the accuracy of their indications.
The color of objects that day, is another
point of interest. It is mentioned, in the
record of observations made with reference
to this feature of the phenomenon, that

the complexion of the clouds was com
pounded of a faint red, yellow and brown,
— that, during the darkness, objects which
commonly appear green, were of the deep
est green, verging to blue, — and that those
which appear white, were highly tinged
with yellow. This was the character of
the observations, as given by almost every
one who made any record of the day's ap
pearance. But Prof. Williams states that,
to him, almost every object appeared tinged
with yellow, rather than with any other
color; and this, whether the thing was
near, or remote from the eye.
Another element of peculiarity, in this
remarkable scene, was the nature and ap
pearance of the vapors that were then in
the atmosphere. Early in the morning,
the weather was cloudy ; the sun was but
just visible through the clouds, and ap
peared of a deep red, as it had for several
days before. In most places thunder was
heard a number of times in the morning.
The clouds soon began to rise from the
south-west, with a gentle breeze, and there
were several small showers before eight
o'clock ; in some places there were showers
at other hours, throughout the day. The
water that fell was found to have an un
usual character, being thick, dark, and
sooty. One observer, in the eastern part
of Massachusetts, states, in this connec
tion, that the strange appearance and
smell of the rain-water which people had
saved in tubs, was the subject of universal
and wondering remark. On examining
the water, there was found a light scum
upon it, which, on being rubbed between
the thumb and finger, seemed to resemble
the black ashes of burnt leaves ; the water
also gave the same strong, sooty smell,
which characterized the air. A similar
appearance, in this respect, manifested
itself in other localities ; it was especially
exhibited on the Merrimac river, large
quantities of black scum being seen float
ing upon the surface of that stream, dur
ing the day. In the night, the wind
veered round to the north-east, and drove
this substance towards the south shore;
when the tide fell, the matter lay for

92

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

many miles along the shore, the width of
the deposit being some four or five inches.
An examination of a considerable quantity
of this substance, in several places, failed
to show anything of a sulphurous nature,
either in its taste, color, or smell. Prof.
Williams states that, being apprehensive
as to whether there was not some uncom
mon ingredient in the air that day, he put
out several sheets of clean paper in the air
and rain. When they had been out four or
five hours, he dried them by the fire. They
were much sullied, and became dark in
their color, and felt as if they had been
rubbed with oil or grease ; but, upon burn
ing them, there could not be detected any
sulphurous or nitrous particles.
The motion and situation of the cur
rents or bodies of vapor in the atmosphere
likewise exhibited some striking peculiar
ities. In most places, it was very evident
that the vapors were descending from the
higher parts of the atmosphere towards
the surface of the earth. A gentleman
who made some special observations bear
ing upon this point, mentions a very curi
ous circumstance, as to their ascent and
situation, namely, that at about nine
o'clock in the morning, after a shower,
the vapors rose from the springs in the
low lands, in great abundance. Notice
was taken of one large column that as
cended, with great rapidity, to a consid
erable height above the highest hills, and
soon spread into a large cloud, then moved
off a little to the westward. A second
cloud was formed in the same manner,
from the same springs, but did not ascend
so high as the first; and a third was
formed from the same places, in less than
a quarter of an hour after the second.
About three - quai ters of an hour after
nine o'clock, these clouds exhibited a very
striking appearance. The upper cloud
wore a peculiar reddish hue; the second
showed in some places or parts a green, in
others a blue, and in others an indigo
color ; while the surface of the third cloud
was almost white.
Of a somewhat singular nature, also, is
the fact, as related by another, that, while

the darkness continued, the clouds were in
quick motion, interrupted, skirted one over
another, so as to form — at least to the eye
of the beholder — a considerable number of
strata, the lower stratum being of an uni
form height as far as visible; but this height
was conceived to be very slight, from the
small extent of the horizon that could be
seen, and from this circumstance observed
in the evening. A lighted torch, held by
a person passing along the street, occa
sioned a reflection of a faint red or copper-
tinged light — similar to a faint aurora
borealis, — the apparent height at which
the reflection was made, being some twenty
to thirty feet. And it was generally re
marked, that the hills might be seen at a
distance in some directions, while the in
termediate spaces were greatly obscured
or darkened.
It would thus appear, from the state
ments now cited, as if the vapors, in some
places, were ascending ; in most, descend
ing ; and, in all, very near to the surface
of the earth. To this it may be added,
that, during the darkness, objects seem
ingly cast a shade in every direction, and,
in many instances, there were various
appearances or corruscations in the atmos
phere, not unlike the aurora borealis,—
though it is not stated that any uncom
mon exhibitions of the electric fire were
witnessed during the day. In some ac
counts, however, it is mentioned that a
number of small birds were found suffo
cated by the vapor ; some were found dead,
and some flew affrighted, or stupefied, into
the houses.
In New Haven, Conn., there was a
shower of rain, wilh some lightning and
thunder, about daybreak in the morning,
the rain continuing, with intervals, until
after sunrise. The morning was cloudy
and darkish ; and the sun, rising towards
the zenith, gave no increase of light, as
usual, but, on the contrary, the darkness
continued to increase until between eleven
and twelve o'clock, at which time there
was the greatest obscurity in that place.
What little motion of the air there was
just at this period, was nearly from the-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

93

south ; though the atmosphere was as calm
as the blandest summer morning. There
was something more of a luminous appear
ance in the horizon, than in the hemi
sphere in general ; also, a most marked
liveliness of tint to the grass and other
green vegetation ; and a very noticeable
yellowness in the atmosphere, which made
clean silver nearly resemble the color of
brass. At about twelve o'clock, noon, the
singular obscuration ceased; the greatest
darkness, at any particular time, was at
least as dense as what is commonly called
' candlelighting,' in the evening. In the
town of Hartford, and the neighboring
villages, the phenomenon was observed
with all its distinctive peculiarities ; and,
by some persons, the disc of the sun was
seen, at the time of the greatest deficiency
of light.

such buildings. At twelve, the darkness
was greatest, and a little rain fell ; in the
street, the aspect was like that at the be
ginning of evening, as lights were seen
burning in all tho houses. Tho clouds
were thinnest at tho north ; at the north
east, the clouds were very thick, and so
low that hills could not be seen at the dis
tance of half a mile ; south-westerly, hills
might bo clearly seen at the distance of
twenty miles, though the intermediate
space was so shaded that it was impossi
ble to distinguish woodland from pasture.
At half-past twelve, the clouds, having
been hitherto detached, began to concen
trate at such an height, that all the hills
became visible, and the country around
exhibited a most beautiful tinted verdure ;
at one, the clouds became uniformly
spread, and the darkness was not greater

CHANGE OF SCENE AFTEK THE DARK DAT.

In Middlesex county, Mass , the peals
of thunder were loud and frequent at six
o'clock in the morning, attended with
heavy rain ; at seven o'clock, the rain and
thunder had ceased, but the sky contin
ued cloudy. Between nine and ten o'clock,
the clouds were observed to thicken, and
to receive continual accessions from the
low lands. Before ten, the darkness had
sensibly increased, till it became difficult
to read an almanac in a room having two
windows; at eleven o'clock, candles were
lighted, and at half-past eleven the dark
ness was so great in the meeting-house,
where a court was then sitting, that it
was difficult to distinguish countenances
at the smallest distance, notwithstanding
the large number of windows usual in

than is usual on a cloudy day. The same
weather continued through the whole
afternoon, except that the sun was seen
for a few minutes, in some places, about
three o'clock. At eight in the evening,
the darkness was so impenetrably thick,
as to render traveling positively imprac
ticable ; and, although the moon rose
nearly full about nine o'clock, yet it did
not give light enough to enable a person
to distinguish between the heavens and
the earth.
In the account of this phenomenon given
by Dr. Tenney, of New Hampshire, an in
telligent observer and writer, are some
interesting details, gathered by him while
on a journey to Pennsylvania, from the
east. He repeats and confirms the state-

94

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

ment made by others, that, previously to
the commencement of tiie darkness, the
sky was overcast with the common kind
of clouds, from which there was, in some
places, a moderate fall of rain. Between
these and the earth, there intervened an
other stratum, apparently of great thick
ness ; as this stratum advanced, the dark
ness commenced, and increased with its
progress till it came to its height, which
did not take place till the hemisphere
was a second time overspread — the uncom
mon thickness of this second stratum be
ing probably occasioned by two strong cur
rents of wind from the southward and
westward, condensing the vapors and
drawing them to the north-east.
The result of Dr. Tenney's journey, —
during which he made the best use of his
opportunities for information, — was, that
the darkness appeared to be most gross in
Essex county, Massachusetts, the lower
part of the state of New Hampshire, and
in portions of what was then the province
of Maine. In Rhode Island and Connect
icut it was, not so great, and still less in
New York; in New Jersey, the second
stratum of clouds was observed, but it was
not of any great thickness, nor was the
darkness very uncommon ; in the lower
parts of Pennsylvania, no extraordinary
scene was noticed.
Through the whole extent of country
referred to, the lower cloud-stratum had
an uncommon brassy hue, while the eartli
and trees were adorned with so enchant
ing a verdure as could not escapo notice,
even amidst the unusual atmospheric
gloom that accompanied it. The dark
ness of the following evening was proba
bly a3 deep and dense as ever had been ob
served since the Almighty fiat gave birth
to light ; it wanted only palpability to ren
der it as extraordinary as that which over
spread the land of Egypt, in the days of
Moses. If every luminous body in the
universe had been shrouded in impenetra
ble shades, or struck out of existence, it
was thought the darkness could not have
been more complete. A sheet of white
paper, held within a few inches of the

eyes, was equally invisible with the black
est velvet. And, considering the small
quantity of light that was transmitted
by the clouds, during the day, it is not
surprising that, at night, a sufficient quan
tity of rays should not be able to penetrate
the same strata, brought back by the shift
ing of the winds, to afford the most ob
scure prospect even of the best reflecting
bodies. The denseness of this evening
darkness was a fact universally observed
and recorded.
In view of all the information contained
in the various accounts of this day, it ap
pears very certain that the atmosphere
was charged with an unprecedented quan
tity of vapor, — from what primary cause
has never been satisfactorily determined;
and as the weather had been clear, the air
heavy, and the winds small and variable
for many days, the vapors, instead of dis
persing, must have been constantly rising
and collecting in the air, until the atmos
phere became highly charged with them.
A large quantity of the vapors, thus
collected in the atmosphere, on the day in
question, was floating near the surface of
the earth. Wheresoever the specific grav
ity of any vapor is less than the specific
gravity of the air, such a vapor will, by
the law of fluids, ascend in the air; where
the specific gravity of a vapor, in the at
mosphere, is greater than that of the air,
such a vapor will descend ; and where the
specific gravity of the vapor and air are
the same, the vapor will then be at rest, —
floating or swimming in the atmosphere,
without ascending or descending. From
the barometrical observations, it appears
that the weight or gravity of the atmos
phere was gradually growing less, from
the morning of the nineteenth of May,
until the evening ; and hence the vapors,
in most places, were descending from the
higher parts of the atmosphere, towards
the surface of the earth. According to
one of the observations cited, the vapors
were noticed to ascend, until they rose to
a height where the air was of the same
specific gravity — a height not much above
the adjacent hills, — and here they in-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

95

stantly spread, and floated in the atmos
phere. From these data, the conclusion
is drawn, that the place where the vapors
were balanced must have been, very near
the surface of the earth.
Reasoning from the premises thus set
forth, Prof. Williams was of the opinion
that such a large quantity of vapor, float
ing in the atmosphere, near the earth's
surface, might be sufficient to produce all
the phenomena that made the nineteenth
of May, 1780, so memorable. Thus, the
direction in which the darkness came on
would be determined by the direction of
the wind, and this was known to be from
the south-west; the degree of the dark
ness woald depend on the density, color,
and situation of the clouds and vapor, and
the manner in which they would transmit,
reflect, refract, or absorb the rays of light ;
the extent of the d.irkness would be as
great as the extent of the vapor ; and the
duration of i£ would continue until the
gravity of the air became so altered that
the vapors would change their situation,
by an ascent or descent; — all of which
particulars, it is claimed, agree with the
observations that have been mentioned.
Nor does the effect of the vapors, in dark
ening terrestrial objects, when they lay
near the surface of the earlh, appear to
have been greater than it was in darken
ing the sun and moon, when their situa
tion was higher in the atmosphere.
It being thus evident that the atmos
phere was, from some peculiar cause (per
haps great fires in distant wuods) charged,
in a high degree, with vapors, and that
these vapors were of different densities
and occupied different heights, — the de
duction is, that by this means the rays of
light falling on them must have suffered a
variety of refractions and reflections, and
thereby become weakened, absorbed, or so
reflected, as not to fall upon objects on the
earth in the usual manner; and as the
different vapors were adapted by their
nature, situation, or density, to absorb or
transmit the different kind of rays, so the
colors of objects would appear to be af
fected by the mixture or prevalency of

those rays which were transmitted through
so uncommon a medium. This was the
explanation suggested by Prof. Williams,
though not to the exclusion of other the
ories. But there were not wanting those — and
a large number they were too — who gave
play, in their minds, to the most strange
opinions concerning the cause of so mar
velous an appearance. It was imagined
by some persons, that an eclipse of the
sun, produced of course by an interposition
of the moon, was the cause of the darkness
-—others attributed it to a transit of Venus
or Mercury upon the disc of the sun —
others imputed it to a blazing star, which
they thought came between the earth and
the sun. So whimsical, indeed, were some
of the opinions which possessed men's
minds at this time, that even so bare a
vagary as that a great mountain obstructed
the rays of the sun's light during that
day, obtained advocates ! Whether they
thought that a new mountain was created
and placed between the earth and the sun,
or that a mountain from this globe had
taken flight and perched upon that great
luminary, does not appear.
That this darkness was not caused by
an eclipse, is manifest by the various posi
tions of the planetary bodies at that time,
for the moon was more than one hundred
and fifty degrees from the sun all that
day, and, according to the accurate calcu
lations made by the most celebrated as
tronomers, there could not, in the order of
nature, be any transit of the planet Venus
or Mercury upon the disc of the sun that
year ; nor could it be a blazing star — much
less a mountain, — that darkened the at
mosphere, for this would still leave unex
plained the deep darkness of the following
night. Nor would such excessive noc
turnal darkness follow an eclipse of the
sun ; and as to the moon, she was at that
time more than forty hours' motion past
her opposition.
One of the theories, looking to a solution
of the mysterious occurrence, which found
defenders, was as follows : The heat of tho
sun causes an ascent of numerous particles

9G

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

which consist of different qualities, such as
aqueous, sulphurous, bituminous, salinous,
etc. ; hence the waters of the seas, rivers,
and ponds; the fumes of burning volca
noes, caused by subterraneous veins of
liquid fire ; all the other kinds of smoke —
fat, combustibles, oily matter from various
kinds of earth, the juice of trees, plants
and herbs ; salinous and nitrous particles
from salt, snow water, and kindred sources ;
— these are exhaled into the regions of the
air, where their positions are subject to
various mutations or changes by reason of
the motion and compression of the air,
causing them to be sometimes rarefied and
sometimes condensed. It was (according
to this theory,) a vast collection of such
particles that caused the day of darkness ;
that is, the particles, after being exhaled,
were driven together by certain winds
from opposite points of the compass, and
condensed to such a degree by the weight
of the earth's atmosphere, that they ob
structed the appearance of the rays of the
sun by day, and those of the moon by
night. Having thus presented the facts and
circumstances pertaining to this notable
day in the history of the New England or
northern states, it may not be amiss to
add, that a similar day of mysterious dark
ness occurred on October 21, 1716 ; the
day was so dark, that people were forced
to light candles to dine by, — a darkness
which could not proceed from any eclipse,
a solar eclipse having taken place on the
fourth of that month. There was also a
remarkable darkness at Detroit and vicin
ity, October 19, 1762, being almost total for
the greater part of the day. It was dark
at day-break, and this continued until nine
o'clock, when it cleared up a little, and, for
the space of about a quarter of an hour,
the body of the sun was visible, it appear
ing as red as blood, and more than three

times as large as usual. The air, all this
time, was of a dingy yellowish color. At
half-past one o'clock, it was so dark as to
necessitate the lighting of candles, in
order to attend to domestic duties. At
about three in the afternoon, the darkness
became more dense, increasing in intensity
until half-past three, when the wind
breezed up from the southwest and brought
on a slight fall of rain, accompanied with
a profuse quantity of fine black particles,
in appearance much like sulphur, both in
smell and quality. A sheet of clean paper,
held out in this rain, was rendered quite
black wherever the drops fell upon it ; but,
when held near the fire, it turned to a yel
low color, and, when burned, it fizzed on
the paper, like wet powder. So black did
these powdery particles turn everything
upon which they fell, that even the river
was covered with a black froth, which,
when skimmed off the surface, resembled
the lather of soap, with this difference, that
it was more greasy, and its color as black
as ink. At seven, in the evening, the air
was more clear. This phenomenon was
observed throughout avast region of coun
try ; and, though various conjectures were
indulged in, as to the cause of so extraor
dinary an occurrence, the same degree of
mystery attaches to it as to that of 1780, —
confounding the wisdom even of the most
learned philosophers and men of science.
It may easily be imagined, that, as the
deep and mysterious darkness which cov
ered the land on the memorable nineteenth
of May filled all hearts with wonder — and
multitudes with fear, — so, the return, at
last, of that brightness and beauty charac
teristic of the month and of the season,
brought gladness again to the faces of the
young, and composure to the hearts of the
aged ; for never before did nature appear
clothed in so charming an attire of sun
shine, sky and verdure.

V.
TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD.— 1780.

Darkest Page in American Revolutionary History. — Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibraltar of Amer
ica, Over to the British. — Movements of the Guilty Parties. — Discovery and Frustration of the Crime.
— Major Andre, the British Spy, is Captured, and Swings from a Gibbet. — Escape of Arnold to the
Enemy. — Is Spurned and Isolated in England. — Arnold's Unquestioned Bravery. — Commended by
General Washington. — Infamous Personal Transactions. — Reprimanded by his Chief. — Determines on
Revenge. — Correspondence with the Foe. — Ingratiates Washington's Favor Again. — Obtains Com
mand of West Point — Midnight Conference with Andre — Andre Seized while Returning — Astound
ing Evidence Against Him. — Attempts to Bribe His Captors. — Carried to American Head-Quarters. —
Arnold Apprised of the Event. — A Hurried Farewell to His Wife. — Quick Pursuit of the Traitor. —
He Reaches a British Man-of-War. — Washington's Exclamation at the News — His Call on Mrs. Ar
nold. — Andre's Trial and Conviction. — Arnold's Reward for His Crime. — His Unlamented Death.

"Providence, which has so often and bo remarkably interposed in our favor, never manifested itself more conspicuously than in the timely
discovery oi Arnold's horrid intention to surrender tlie post and garrison of West Point to the enemy."— Washington.

|ARK and tragical, indeed, is that page in the history of
the American revolutionary war, which records Benedict
Arnold's atrocious scheme of treason against his native
land, in its struggle against British oppression. Equally
strange and startling is the story which narrates the dis
covery and frustration of so perfidious a plot. Around
the memory of the unfortunate Andre, pity still wreathes
her romantic chaplet ; while the name of Arnold will,
to the end of time, transfix every patriotic mind, as that
pbice of abnold's Treason. 0f tne blackest among modern criminals. The treacher
ous deed was committed, too, in a year of deep depression on the part of the Americans.
Of Arnold, personally and professionally, it may be remarked, that he was born in
Norwich, Connecticut, in 1740, and began his business career at an early age, as a horse-
dealer, and not over-scrupulous. He was also for a time a druggist and bookseller in
New Haven. At the beginning of the war of the Revolution he placed himself at the
head of a volunteer company, and soon distinguished himself ; was associated also with
General Montgomery in the expedition against Quebec. In this latter most disastrous
affair, undertaken in severe weather, his illustrious colleague lost his life, and Arnold,
who was severely wounded in the leg, displayed the highest abilities as a commander
and the greatest gallantry as a soldier, eliciting Washington's warmest esteem and ad
miration. But, licentious and rapacious as he was brave and intelligent, he plundered
Montreal in his retreat, and by his misconduct exasperated the minds of the Canadians,
who previously were not hostile to the Revolution. After exhibiting great courage
and skill on Lake Champlain, at Port Schuyler, and the battle of Stillwater, his leg
was shattered by a ball on the seventh of October, 1777, in a daring assault on

98

OUR PIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the English lines, which he penetrated, and
but for his wound would have carried.
Being thus unfitted for active service, he
was appointed commander of the garrison
at Philadelphia, but his dissipation, extor
tion, and peculation, at last subjected him
to a trial by court martial, and to a repri
mand from Washington, at the beginning
of 1779. This sentence was approved by
Congress, and carried into execution by
General Washington. Embarrassed in his
circumstances, disappointed in his expec
tations, and exasperated by disgrace, he
formed the design of retrieving his misfor
tunes and satisfying his revenge, by be
traying his country. It was in this wise :
While the British army was in Phila
delphia, in the spring of 1778, a grand
parting entertainment was given by the
royalists to Sir William Howe, the British
commander-in-chief. Major Andre, made
Adjutant-General of the army by Howe's
successor, was one of the chief managers
of the affair. Miss Shippen, a Philadel
phia belle (and who subsequently became
Mrs. Arnold), figured conspicuously among
the actors of the entertainment, and she
and Andre kept up a correspondence after
ward. Through this channel Arnold saw,
after his marriage with Miss Shippen, an
opportunity for communicating with Sir
Henry Clinton, the British commander at
New York. In other words, he deter
mined to betray his country, — being, in
this respect, an almost solitary instance,
Dr. Benjamin Church, of Massachusetts,
surgeon-general, being the other principal
offender. Under fictitious names, and in the dis
guise of mercantile business, Arnold was
even now in treacherous correspondence
with Sir Henry Clinton, through Major
Andre. To him the British general com
mitted the maturing of Arnold's treason,
and, to facilitate measures for its execu
tion, the sloop of war Vulture moved up
the North river, and took a station con
venient for the purpose, but not so near as
to excite suspicion. An interview was
agreed on, and in the night of September
twenty-first, 1780, he was taken in a boat,

which was dispatched for the purpose, and
carried to the beach, without the posts of
both armies, under a pass for John Ander
son. He met General Arnold at the house
of a Mr. Smith.
Yielding with reluctance to the urgent
representations of Arnold, Andre laid aside
his regimentals, which he had hitherto
worn under a surtout, putting on a suit of
ordinary clothes instead ; and now, receiv
ing a pass from the American general,
authorizing him, under the feigned name
of John Anderson, to "proceed on the
public service to the White Plains, or
lower if he thought proper," he set out on
his return in the evening of the twenty-
second, accompanied by Joshua Smith, and
passed the night at Crompond. The next
morning he crossed the Hudson to King's
Perry on the east side. A little beyond
the Croton, Smith deeming him safe, bade
him adieu. Alone, and without having
excited the least suspicion, Andre passed
the American guards, and was silently
congratulating himself that he had passed
all danger, when, coming to a place where
a small stream crossed the road and ran
into a woody dell, a man stepped out from
the trees, leveled a musket, and brought
him to a stand, while two other men, sim
ilarly armed, showed themselves prepared
to second their comrades. The man who
at first stepped out wore a refugee uniform.
At sight of it, Andre's heart leapt, and he
felt himself secure. Losing all caution,
he exclaimed eagerly :
"Gentlemen, where do you belong? I
hope to our party ! "
" What party?" was their immediate
inquiry in response ; the trio consisting of
scouting militiamen, named Paulding,
Williams, and Van Wart.
"The party below," — meaning New
York, was the answer.
" We do," was the shrewd reply of the
three, as they now seized the bridle of the
unfortunate man's horse, and challenged
his business in that place.
Seeing, beyond all doubt, the hands he
had fallen into, Andre quickly shifted his
tactics by jocosely remarking that what he

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

99

had first represented himself to be was
merely by way of badinage, and that he
was in reality a Continental officer, going
down to Dobbs Ferry to get information
from below ; so saying, he drew forth and
showed them the pass from General Arnold.
This in the first place would have sufficed,
but his strange conduct and imprudent
speech had so thoroughly betrayed him,
that the three militiamen insisted on
searching his person. They therefore
obliged him to take off his coat and vest,
and found on him eighty dollars in Conti
nental money, but nothing to warrant sus
picion of anything sinister, and were about
to let him proceed, when one of them —

marks on the works ; also other important
documents. While dressing again, Andre endeavored
to ransom himself from his captors. He
would give any sum of money, if they
would let him go; would give his horse,
saddle, bridle, gold watch, and ono hundred
guineas, and would send them to anyplace
that might be fixed upon.
Williams asked, ironically, whether he
would not give more than all that.
Andre replied, that he would give any
reward they might name either in goods
or money, and would remain with two of
tlieir party while one went to New York
to get it.

CAPTURE OF ANDRE.

Paulding, a stout-hearted youngster — ex
claimed :
"Boys, I am not satisfied — his boots
must come off."
At this Andre changed color. His
boots, he said, came off with difficulty, and
he begged he might not be subjected to
the inconvenience and delay. His remon
strances were in vain. He was compelled
to sit down ; his boots were drawn off and
the concealed papers discovered. Hastily
wanning them, Paulding exclaimed—
"My God! He is a spy!"
The papers, which were in the hand
writing of Arnold, contained exact returns
of the state of the forces, ordnance, and
defenses of West Point, with critical re-

Here Paulding broke in and declared
with an oath, that if he would give ten
thousand guineas he should not stir one
step. On the morning of the twenty-eighth of
September, Andre, in charge of Major
Tallmadge, was conveyed in a barge to
King's Perry. Being both young, of equal
rank, and prepossessing manners, a frank
and cordial intercourse grew up between
them. By a cartel, mutually agreed upon,
each might put to the other any question
not involving a third person. They were
passing below the rocky heights of West
Point and in full view of the frowning
fortress, when Tallmadge asked Andre
whether he would have taken an active

100

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

part in the attack on it, should Arnold's
plan have succeeded.
Andre promptly answered this question
in the affirmative ; pointed out a table of
land on the west shore, where he would
have landed a select corps, described the
route he would have taken up the moun
tain to a height in the rear of Fort Put
nam, overlooking the whole parade of
West Point — "and this he did," writes
Tallmadge, " with much greater exactness
than I could have done. This eminence
he would have reached without difficulty,
as Arnold would have disposed of the gar
rison in such manner as to be capable of
little or no opposition — and then the key

public ear, and all hearts turned for relief
to the wisdom of Washington Unfortu
nately for the ends of justice, Andre asked
permission of Colonel Jameson, as soon as
he was taken to the latter's custody, to
write to General Arnold, to inform him
that 'Anderson' was detained. Not
knowing the rank of his prisoner nor the
magnitude of the plot, the letter was al
lowed by Jameson to be sent, and Arnold,
being thus apprised, escaped. Colonel
Jameson also forwarded to General Wash
ington the papers found on the prisoner,
and a statement of the manner in which
he was taken.
The papers sent to Washington missed

of the country would have been in his
hands, and he would have had the glory
of the splendid achievement." Tallmadge
ventured to ask Andre what was to have
been his reward had he succeeded. To
this the reply was : " Military glory was
all I sought. The thanks of my general
and the approbation of my king would
have been a rich reward for such an under
taking." Tallmadge also adds : " I think
he further remarked, that, if he had suc
ceeded, he was to have been promoted to
the rank of a brigadier-general."
The news of Andre's arrest and Arnold's
treason fell like a thunderbolt upon the

him, as he did not return by the road he
went, but took the northern route to Fish-
kill, where, September twenty-fourth, he
arrived late in the afternoon, the very day
after Andre's capture, — of which event
and of Arnold's treason he was wholly
unconscious. Stopping at Fishkill only a
short time, he pushed on for the quarters
of his brave general, Arnold, some eighteen
miles distant. He had gone, however, but
a mile or two, before he met the French
minister, Chevalier Luzerne, on his way to
Newport, to visit Rochambeau, the French
naval commander. The latter prevailed
on him to return to Fishkill for the night,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

101

as he had matters of importance to com
municate. The next morning, Washington was
early in the saddle, having sent word be
forehand to Arnold that he would break
fast with him. It was a bright autumnal
morning, and the whole party in high
spirits pushed rapidly forward through the
gorges of the Highlands. As they came
opposite West Point, Washington, instead
of continuing on to Arnold's quarters,
which were on the same side, turned his
horse down a narrow road toward the
river. Lafayette observing this, ex
claimed —
" General, you are going in the wrong
direction; you know Mrs. Arnold is wait
ing breakfast for us, and that road will
take us out of the way."

Jameson, commanding at North Castle,
announcing the capture of Andre, and who
had been brought in to Jameson's post, by
three militiamen, Paulding, Williams, and
Van Wart, his captors, whom the gallant
but unfortunate man vainly endeavored to
bribe, in order to his release. They knew
him to be u, spy, but were ignorant of his
military rank.
Merely remarking that his presence at
West Point was necessary, Arnold re
quested the aids to say to Washington on
his arrival that he was unexpectedly called
over the river, and would be back soon.
Repairing to his wife's chamber, he sent
for her at the breakfast table, and told her
that he must instantly leave her and his
country forever, for death was his certain
doom if he did not reach the enemy before

WEST POINT IN 1780.

"Ah ! " replied Washington, laughingly,
"I know you young men are all in love
with Mis. Arnold, and wish to get where
she is as soon as possible. You may go
and take breakfast with her, and tell her
not to wait for me. I must ride down and
examine the redoubts on this side of the
river, and will be there in a short time."
The oflicers preferring not to proceed
without him, two aids were dispatched to
tell Arnold not to wait breakfast. The
latter, therefore, with his family and the
two aids sat down to the table. While
they were conversing on indifferent topics.
a messenger entered and handed a letter
to Arnold, who opened and read it in pres
ence of the company, without, of course, di
vulging its contents. It was from Colonel

lie was detected. Paralyzed by the sud
den blow, she fell senseless at his feet.
Not daring to call for help, Arnold left her
in that state, and rapidly descending to the
door, mounted one of the horses belonging
to Washington's aids, and taking a
by-way pushed for the river, where his
barge was moored. Jumping in, he or
dered his six oarsmen to pull for Teller's
Point. Stimulating them to greater
efforts by the promise of two gallons of
rum, he swept rapidly past VerplancFs
Point, and as he approached the British
ship Vulture, waved a white handkerchief,
and was soon on board. In the meantime,
Washington, having finished his survey,
rode on to Arnold's house. Taking a
hasty breakfast, and being informed that

102

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Mrs. Arnold was in her room, unwell, he
said he would not wait for Arnold to
return, but cross over to West Point and
meet him there. As the boat swept over
the water, he remarked —
"Well, gentlemen, I am glad on the
whole that General Arnold has gone before
us, for we shall now have a salute, and the
roaring of the cannon will have a fine
effect among these mountains."
At this moment an officer was seen
coming down the rocky hill-side, to
meet the barge. It was Colonel
Lamb, who looked confounded on
seeing the commander-in-chief. He
commenced an apology, declaring
that he was wholly ignorant of his
excellency's intention to visit West
Point. " How is this, sir," broke in Wash
ington, "is not General Arnold here?"
"No, sir," replied the colonel, "he has
not been here these two days, nor have I
heard from him in that time."
" This is extraordinary," replied Wash
ington; "he left word that he had crossed
the river. However, our visit must not
be in vain. Since we have come, we must
look around and see in what state things
are with you."
And now it was that Hamilton broke
the astounding news to his chief. The
latter, stunned and bewildered, ordered
Hamilton to mount a horse and ride as for
life to Verplanck's Point, and stop Arnold,
if possible ; he called in Knox and Lafay
ette, and told them what had occurred,
merely remarking at the close, " Whom
can we trust now ? " His countenance
was calm as ever, and being informed that
Arnold's wife was in a state bordering on
insanity, he went up to her room to soothe
her. In her frenzy she upbraided him
with being in a plot to murder her child.
One moment she raved, another she melted
into tears. Sometimes she pressed her
infant to her bosom and lamented its fate,
occasioned by the imprudence of its father,
in a manner that would have pierced in
sensibility itself. It was four o'clock in
the afternoon when these disclosures of

Arnold's treason and Andre's capture were
made to Washington, and, an hour later,
dinner being announced, he said —
" Come, gentlemen, since Mrs. Arnold
is unwell and the general is absent, let us
sit down without ceremony."
No one at the table but Knox and La
fayette knew what had transpired, nor
did Washington exhibit any change of
demeanor, except that he was more than

GENERAL ARNOLD'S HEAD-QUARTERS.
usually stern in his voice and manner.
But his mind, oppressed with nameless
fears, wandered far away from that dinner
table, and no sooner was the quiet repast
over than he addressed himself to the task
before him. He wrote rapidly, and cour
iers were soon seen galloping in every di
rection. He announced the treason to
Colonel Wade, commanding at West Point,
in the absence of Colonel Lamb, in the
single sentence, " General Arnold is gone
to the enemy." Having done all he could
to arrest the tremendous evils that threat
ened to overwhelm him, Washington re
tired late at night to his bed, fearful that
the sound of the enemy's cannon, under
the auspices of Arnold's treacherous
schemes, would awake him before day
light. It happily did not prove so.
A court-martial, having condemned
Andre as a spy, Sir Henry Clinton, the
British general, put forth every effort to
avert the dreadful fate of his officer. He
sent three commissioners to reason and re
monstrate with the officers of the court.
He appealed to Washington, while Arnold
wrote him a threatening letter, declaring
if Andre was hung he would revenge his
death on every American prisoner that fell
into his hands. Washington deigned no
reply to the letter, but tenderly forwarded

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

103

Mrs. Arnold and her baggage over to the
British side.
Washington, though his heart was filled
with the keenest sorrow for the fate of one
so universally beloved, and possessed of
such noble qualities of heart and mind,
refused to arrest the course of justice. As
in all cases where great trouble came upon
him, so in this, he said but little, but

sternly and silently wrestled with it alone.
Arnold was made brigadier-general in the
British service, and put on an official level
with honorable men, who scorned, how
ever, to associate with him. What golden
reward he was to have received had he
succeeded in delivering West Point to the
snemy, is not known ; £30,000, most prob-
i ably.

VI.

CORNWALLIS SURRENDERS HIS SPLENDID ARMY TO
GENERAL WASHINGTON.— 1781.

Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America. — Consternation and Despair in the Cabinet of King
George.  Their Vaunted Wager of Battle Eeturns to Them with the Loss of their Fairest Possession.
 Washington's Countrymen Everywhere Hail and Extol Him as their Deliverer. — Last Act in the
Military Drama. — Cornwallis Halts at Yorktown.— Makes it His Defensive Post.— Decoy Letter
Sent by Washington. — The British Strongly Fortified— American and French Forces United.— Their
Advance on the Enemy.— Furious Bombardment. — Redoubts Stormed by Lafayette. — Both Sides
Confident of Triumph. — British Efforts to Betreat. — Cornwallis Prefers Death to Defeat— Reckless
Bravery of Washington. — Ardor and Exultation of His Troops. — Cornwallis Fails of Re-enforcements.
— He Asks a Cessation of Hostilities. — Forced to Yield the Struggle. — Universal Rejoicing of Amer
icans. — Mortification of the English. — Eloquence of Burke, Fox, and Pitt. — They Demand that the
War Cease. — The Voice of Parliament. — Commemorative Action by Congress.

**Oh, Qodl It ia all over— it isaUoverl''— Lobd North, Prime Minister of England, on Hearing of Cohnwallis's Surrender.

0? the head of a powerful army, with
which he had just established himself
in Virginia, Lord Cornwallis vaunt-
ingly wrote to General Clinton, his
superior, as follows : —
"I have ventured, these last two
days, to look General Washington's
whole force in the face, in the posi
tion on the outside of my works, and
have the pleasure to assure your Ex
cellency that there is but one wish
throughout the army, which is, that
the enemy ivould advance."
Scarcely did Cornwallis have
time to awake from his day-dream
of security, when a courier was
thundering at the doors of the
Continental Congress, with the
following dispatch from General
Washington : " I have the honor to inform congress that a reduction of the British army,
under the command of Lord Cornwallis, is most happily effected. The unremitted ardor,
which actuated every officer and soldier in the combined army on this occasion, has
principally led to this" important event, at an earlier period than my most sanguine
hopes had induced me to expect. The singular spirit of emulation, which animated the
whole army from the first commencement of our operations, has filled my mind with the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

105

highest pleasure and satisfaction, and had
given me the happiest presages of success."
A glorious event, one eliciting the
most unbounded demonstrations of joy
throughout the United States, and which
completely destroyed British military
power at the south, thus setting the seal of
American success upon the contest with
the mother country, — was the capture, as
announced in the above dispatch, of Lord
Cornwallis and his splendid army, at York-
town, Virginia, in October, 1781, by the
combined American and French forces
under General Washington and Counts de
Rochambeau and Grasse.
In the summer of 1781, Cornwallis had
taken possession of several places in the
south, and, in the latter part of July, de
sirous of establishing himself firmly in
Virginia, he accordingly selected York-
town as a suitable defensive post and capa
ble of protecting ships of the line. Little
did he think, as he began leisurely to for
tify the place, that it was a net which
would entangle him in crushed hopes and
ruined fortunes. Yorktown is situated at
the narrowest part of the peninsula formed
by the York and James rivers, where the
distance across is but eight miles. By
placing his troops, therefore, around the
village, and drawing about them a range
of outer redoubts and field works calcu
lated to command this peninsula, Cornwal
lis had, as he thought, established himself
well. Lafayette, with an inferior number of
troops, was at this time at Williamsburg,
but was unable to make successful engage
ments with the superior force of the Brit
ish. Seeing, at once, the importance of
putting some check upon the progress of
Cornwallis at the south, Washington de
termined to unite the American and French
forces, then in the neighborhood of New
York, and join Lafayette at Williamsburg.
This junction was effected on the four
teenth of September, Washington being at
the head of the American troops, and the
Count de Rochambeau at the head of the
French forces. At the same time the
Count de Grasse, with his fleet, entered

the Chesapeake, after a slight engagement
with Admiral Graves off the capes, and
was joined by the squadron of the Count
de Barras from Newport. Three thou
sand men, under the Marquis St. Simon,
were also added to the troops under La
fayette's command ; and these combined
forces then moved toward Yorktown and
Gloucester, where Corwallis was sta
tioned. The British general had been expecting
aid from Sir Henry Clinton at the north,
but so adroitly had Washington withdrawn
his troops, that Sir Henry scarcely sus
pected his design, till it was too late to
frustrate it. On the thirteenth of Septem
ber, the allied army occupied the outer
lines of Cornwallis, which that general
had abandoned without a struggle. York-
town was in a short time completely
invested ; the American army occupying
the right, and the French the left, forming
a semi-circle with each wing resting upon
the river. On the night of the sixth of
October the besieging army broke ground
within six hundred yards of the British
lines ; and the first parallel was completed
with little loss. On the ninth and tenth,
guns were mounted on the works, and the
batteries began to play, with visible effect,
on the lines of the enemy. Many of their
guns were soon silenced, and their works
damaged. By the eleventh, the enemy
scarcely returned a shot. The shells and
red-hot balls of the besiegers reached the
shipping in the harbor, and set the Charon
frigate of forty-four guns, and several
large transports on fire, which were en
tirely consumed. On the night of the
eleventh, the second parallel was begun
within three hundred yards of the British
lines. The working parties were not dis
covered until clay-light, when the trenches
were in a situation to cover the men.
But there were two redoubts in particu
lar, in front of the British lines and which
flanked the second parallel of the Ameri
cans, that gave great annoyance to the
latter, and it was deemed necessary to
carry them by storm. To prevent national
jealousy, however, and to keep alive the

106

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

spirit of emulation which animated the co
operating armies, the attack of one was
assigned to the American troops, and that
of the other to the French. Lafayette
commanded the American detachment, and
the Baron de Viominet the French.
Colonel Hamilton, who through this cam
paign commanded a battalion of light in
fantry, led the advanced corps of the
Americans to the assault, while Colonel
Laurens turned the redoubt and attacked

in his confidence of triumph had so recently
written to his superior, Sir Henry Clinton.
Having failed in his sortie, and knowing
that his position had become untenable,
the British general took the desperate res
olution of crossing over to Gloucester
Point in the night, and cutting his way
through the blockading force there — then,
mounting his men on whatever horses he
could seize, make a rapid march northward
and join Sir Henry Clinton! By this

CORNWALLIS'S SURRENDER.

in the rear, to prevent the retreat of the
garrison. Without giving time for the
abattis to be removed, and without firing
a gun, the Americans gallantly assaulted,
and instantly carried the works, with a
small loss of men on either side. The re
doubt attacked by the French being more
strongly garrisoned made greater resist
ance, and was overcome with a much heav
ier loss. The success of these movements
was a stunning blow to Cornwallis, who,

movement he would abandon his sick and
baggage ; but he would save himself the
disgrace of a surrender. Boats were se
cretly procured, and the first embarkation
reached the point safely and unperceived ;
but, at this juncture, a violent storm arose,
which drove the boats down the river.
The tempest continuing until day-light,
the enterprise was necessarily given up,
and the troops that had passed over gladly
re-crossed to the southern field.

GREAT, AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

107

In the mortification and anguish of his
soul, Cornwallis shed tears, and expressed
his preference for death rather than the
ignominy of a surrender. But there was
no resource — the handwriting on the wall
was against him — the fate of war must be
accepted. The siege had continued close
for more than two weeks, and, notwith
standing the losses in killed, wounded, and
missing, that had been sustained, the Brit
ish army showed a handsome force of be
tween seven and eight thousand trained
fighting men, of unquestioned bravery, but
who were soon to capitulate to the besieg
ing forces, numbering, in all, some sixteen
thousand men, less disciplined, perhaps,
but determined and indomitable.
Of Washington, the central character
and actor in this great drama, every
American heart engrossingly thinks.
Knowing that Sir Henry Clinton had
written to Cornwallis, bidding him to
strengthen his position at Yorktown, and
promising him the immediate aid of both
land and naval forces, Washington had,
seasonably and with shrewd forecast, writ
ten a letter to Lafayette, then in Virginia,
which he caused to be intercepted. In this
letter he remarked that he was pleased
with the probability that Earl Cornwallis
would fortify either Portsmouth or Old
Point Comfort, for, ivere he to fix upon
Yorktown, from its great capabilities of
defense, he might remain there snugly and
unharmed, until a superior British fleet
would relieve him with strong re-enforce
ments, or embark him altogether.
This decoy letter quieted the apprehen
sions of the British commander-in-chief as
to the danger of Cornwallis, and produced
those delays in the operations of Sir Henry,
which, as will have been seen, tended so
materially to the success of the allies and
the surrender of Yorktown. Thus it was
that Washington by his pen, laid the
train of success so well. Nor less so with
his sword. In the simultaneous attack
upon the redoubts, made by the combined
American and French army, Washington
was an intensely-excited spectator. He
had dismounted from his horse — the mag

nificent charger, named Nelson, — and put
him in the care of a servant, while the
general himself took his stand in the grand
battery with his two chief generals, Lin
coln and Knox, and their aids, and here
he exposed himself to every danger.
When all was over, at this critical junc
ture, — the redoubts being taken, and
Washington's intense anxiety so happily
relieved, — the general drew a long breath,
and looking at Knox with an expression
of extreme satisfaction, remarked, briefly,
"The work is done, and well done!"
Motioning to his faithful servant, who was
quickly in his presence, he said, " William,
bring me my horse," — mounting which, the
chieftain proceeded to make sure that the
success which had attended the first par
allel was followed up energetically until
no loop-hole was left, through which Corn
wallis might escape. No such loop-hole
was afforded, and Comwallis's doom was
sealed. It was a proud day for the war-worn
troops of America to -see so fine an army
not only within their grasp, but, to all in
tents and purposes, completely at their
disposal, — waiting only those last formali
ties which give solemn dignity to the de
crees already made by the sword, — and
they saw, in the coming event, the final
catastrophe of British rule in America, —
the close of the Revolutionary drama, —
the establishment of a free and independ
ent republic. As already remarked, Corn
wallis had hoped for succor to the last, but
the slaughter of his men became too seri
ous to be any longer endured, and finally
the loud beat of the chamade was heard in
the intervals of the explosions of cannon,
and the firing ceased. Cornwallis then
sent a flag of truce requesting a cessation
of hostilities for twenty-four hours, to ar
range the terms of capitulation. To this
Washington would not consent, fearing
that the arrival of the English fleet in the
meantime might alter the aspect of affairs,
and allowed him but two hours in which
to transmit his proposals. The full sur
render took place the next day, October 19,
1781, the articles of capitulation being

108

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

signed by Cornwallis at the house of a Mr.
Moore. At about 12 o'clock of that day, the
combined continental army was drawn up
in two lines more than a mile in length,
the Americans on the right side of the
road, and their French allies on the left.
Washington, mounted on a noble steed,
and attended by his staff, was in front of
the former; the Count de Rochambeau
and his suite, of the latter. The French
troops, in complete uniform, and well
equipped, made a brilliant appearance, and
had marched to the ground with a band of
music playing, which was a novelty in the
American service. The American troops,
but part in uniform, and all in garments
much the worse for wear, yet had a spirited
soldier-like air, and were not the worse in
the eyes of tlieir countrymen for bearing
the marks of hard service and great priva
tions. The concourse of spectators drawn
from all the neighboring country to witness
a scene so thrilling and momentous, was
almost equal in number to the military,
but silence and order prevailed unbroken.
The enthusiasm throughout the country,
on the surrender of Cornwallis, was un
bounded. "Cornwallis is taken!" was
the message which sped itself with the
wings of the wind to every city, town and
village, and was shouted by every mouth.
But the mortification of Cornwallis was
intense, and the British cabinet, on hear
ing the news, turned pale with despair.
Lords Germain, Walsingham, and Stor-
mount, proceeded to Lord North's house,
and there, at midnight, announced to him
the portentous dispatch. The haughty
premier was astounded and humbled. Iu
the words of Lord Germain, iu answer to
the inquiry how Lord North received the
news? — "As he would have received a ball
in his breast ; for he opened his arms, ex
claiming wildly as he paced up and down
the apartment, ' Oh God ! It is all over —
it is all over!'" King George III. was at
Kew, and the intelligence was forwarded
to him at that place. He exhibited no loss
of self-control, it is said, notwithstanding
the hopes which had been centered in Corn

wallis and his army, to give triumph to
the British arms.
It is well known that, during the month
of November, the accounts received by the
British government, of Lord Comwallis's
embarrassments, gave great anxiety to the
cabinet. Lord George Germain, in partic
ular, conscious that on the prosperous or
adverse result of Comwallis's movements
hinged the result of the whole American
contest, as well as his own political fate —
and probably the duration of the ministry
itself, — expressed to his friends the strong
est uneasiness on the subject. The meet
ing of parliament stood fixed for the 27th
of that month. On the 25th, the official
intelligence of the unconditional surrender
of the British forces of Yorktown, arrived
at Lord Germain's house. Lord Walsing
ham, who, previous to his father, Sir Wil
liam de Grey's elevation to the peerage,
had been under-secretary of state in that
department, and who was to second the
address in the house of lords, happened to
be there when the messenger brought the
news. Without communicating it to any
unofficial person, Lord George, for the
purpose of dispatch, immediately got with
him into a hackney-coach, and drove to
Lord Stormount's residence in Portland
Place. Having imparted the disastrous
information to him, they determined, after
a short consultation, to lay the intelligence
themselves in person before Lord North,
with what result has already been stated
on the authority of a writer in Blackwood's
Magazine. The next picture is that of a cabinet
council in terror. When the first agitation
had subsided, the four ministers discussed
the question, whether it might not be ex
pedient to prorogue the meeting of parlia
ment for a few days ; but as scarcely an
interval of forty-eight hours remained be
fore the appointed time of meeting, and as
many members of both houses had arrived
in London, or were on their way, the prop
osition was abandoned. It became, how
ever, indispensable to alter, and almost
remodel, the king's speech. This was
done without delay, and at the same time

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

109

Lord George, as secretary for the American
department, sent off a dispatch to the
king, then at Kew, acquainting him with
Comwallis's fate.
One who was intimate in the circle of
court actors and secrets at that time says :
— I dined that day at Lord George's, and
although the information which had
reached London in the course of the morn
ing from France, as well as from the offi
cial report, was of a nature not to admit of
long concealment, yet it had not been
communicated to me or any other individ
ual of the company when I got to Pall
Mall, between five and six o'clock. Lord
Walsingham, who also dined there, was
then the only person, except Lord George,
officially knowing to the fact. The party,
nine in number, sat down to the table. I
thought the master of the house appeared
serious, though he manifested no discom
posure. Before dinner was over, a letter
was brought from the king, by the messen
ger who had been dispatched to him with
the startling intelligence. Lord Walsing
ham simply indulged in the observation :
"The king writes just as he always does,
except that I perceive he has neglected to
mark the hour and minute of his writing
with his usual precision." This remark,
though calculated to awaken some interest,
excited no comment ; and while the ladies,
Lord George's three daughters, remained
in the room, all manifestation of curiosity
was repressed. But they had no sooner
withdrawn, than Lord George having com
municated the fact that information had
just arrived from Paris of the old Count
Maurepas, first minister of the French
cabinet, lying at the point of death, the
remark was made by one of the party —
" It would grieve me to finish my career,
however far advanced in years, were I first
minister of France, before I had witnessed
the termination of this great contest be
tween England and America."
"He has survived to see that event," at
once replied Lord George Germain, with
some agitation.
The conversation was continued, until,
on the more particular mention of the Vir

ginia campaign, the minister disclosed
the full bearing of the intelligence he had
received, saying —
" The army has surrendered, and you
may peruse the particulars of the capitula
tion in that paper."
The paper was taken from his pocket,
and read to the company. The next ques
tion was one of rather an obtrusive kind,
to learn what the king thought on the
subject. In reply to this, the minister's
remark did the highest credit to his maj
esty's firmness, fortitude and consistency.
The minister even allowed the king's bil
let to be read, and it was as follows : —
' I have received, with sentiments of the
deepest concern, the communication which
Lord George Germain has made to me, of
the unfortunate result of the operations to
Virginia. I particularly lament it, on
account of the consequences connected with
it and the difficulties which it may produce
in carrying on the public business, or in
repairing such a misfortune. But I trust
that neither Lord Germain, nor any other
member of the cabinet, will suppose that it
makes the smallest alteration in those
principles of my conduct, which have di
rected me in the past time, which will al
ways continue to animate me under every
event, in the prosecution of the present
contest.' The cabinet, strengthened by the royal
determination, now recovered courage ;
they met parliament at the appointed time,
and fought their battle there with unusual
vigor. Perhaps in all the annals of sena
torial struggle, there never was a crisis
which more powerfully displayed the
talents of the Commons. Burke, Fox, and
Pitt, were at once seen pouring down the
whole fiery torrent of declamation on the
government. But at all events, the success of the
siege of Yorktown, ft is generally under
stood, decided the revolutionary war.
" The infant Hercules," said Dr. Franklin,
" has now strangled the two serpents, that
attacked him in his cradle." All the world
agree that no expedition was ever better
planned or better executed. For the

110

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

" great glory and advantage " of Comwal
lis's subjection, Washington afterwards
acknowledged himself chiefly indebted to
the French alliance. And in the proceed
ings of congress upon the matter, it was
amongst other things : ' Resolved, that
congress cause to be erected at Yorktown
a marble column, adorned with emblems of
the alliance between the United States
and France, and inscribed with a succinct
narrative of the siege, and capitulation.'
Special thanks were also tendered by that
body's vote, to each commander engaged
in the siege ; and to Washington were
presented two stands of colors taken from
the enemy, and two pieces of field ordnance
to Counts Rochambeau and de Grasse.
The next day after the surrender was
the Sabbath, and Washington ordered
special divine service in each of the brig
ades of the American army. He also by
public proclamation congratulated the
allied armies on the auspicious victory,
awarding high praise to the officers and
troops, both French and American, for
their conduct during the siege, and speci
fying by name several of the generals and
other officers who had especially distin
guished themselves. All those of his army
who were under arrest were pardoned and
set free.
News of this glorious victory sped like
lightning over the land. Washington dis
patched at once one of his aids, Colonel
Tilghman, to congress, then sitting in
Philadelphia. The swift rider dashed on
a gallop into the city at midnight— the
clatter of his horse's hoofs the only sound
that broke the silence of the deserted
streets, as he pressed straight for the house
of McKean, then president of congress.
Thundering at the door as though he
would force an entrance, he roused the
sleeping president, saying, " Cornwallis is
taken ! " The watchmen caught the words,
and when they called " One o'clock," they
added, "and Cornwallis is taken!" As
they moved slowly on their nightly rounds,
windows were flung open and eager coun
tenances were everywhere scanning the
streets. A hum, like that of an awaken

ing hive, immediately pervaded the city.
The inhabitants went pouring into the
streets, while shout after shout rose on the
midnight air. The old bellman was roused
from his slumbers, and soon the iron
tongue of the bell at the state-house rang
out, as of old, "Proclaim liberty through
out all the land to all the inhabitants
thereof." The dawn was greeted with the
booming of cannon ; and salvos of artillery,
and shouts of joy, and tears of thanksgiving,

accompanied the glad news as it traveled
exultingly over the length and breadth of
the land. Every voice was loud in its
praise of General Washington, and of his
gallant ally, the Count de Rochambeau.
It is stated as an interesting fact in the
history of this great event and the charac
ter of the two chief commanders, that, on
the day after the surrender, Cornwallis
went in person to pay his respects to Gen
eral Washington and await his orders.
The captive chief was received with all the
courtesy due to a gallant and unfortunate
foe. The elegant manners, together with
the manly, frank, and soldierly bearing of
Cornwallis, soon made him a prime favor
ite at head-quarters, and he often formed
part of the suite of the commander-in-
chief in his rides to inspect the leveling of
the works previous to the retirement of the
combined American and French armies
from before Yorktown. At the grand din
ner given at the head-quarters to the offi
cers of the three armies, Washington filled
his glass, and, after his favorite toast,
whether in peace or war, of "All our

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

Ill

friends," gave " The British army," with
some complimentary remarks upon its
chief, his proud career in arms, and his
gallant defense of Yorktown. When it
came to Comwallis's turn, he prefaced his
toast by saying that the war was virtually
at an end, and the contending parties
would soon embrace as friends ; there
might be affairs of posts, but nothing on
a more enlarged scale, as it was scarcely

to be expected that the ministry would
send another army to America. Then
turning to Washington, his lordship con
tinued —
"And when the illustrious part that
your excellency has borne in this long and
arduous contest becomes matter of history,
fame will gather your brightest laurels
rather from the banks of the Delaware
i than from those of the Chesapeake."

VII.
ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON.— 1783.

Affecting Interviews and Parting Words between the Great Chieftain and His Comrades-in-Arms. —
Solemn Farewell Audience with Congress. — In Its Presence He Voluntarily Divests Himself of His
Supreme Authority, Returns His Victorious Sword, and Becomes a Private Citizen. — History of the
Election of a Military Leader. — America's Destiny in His Hands. — Appointment of George Wash
ington. — The Army at Cambridge, Mass. — He Immediately Takes Command. — Is Enthusiastically
Greeted. — Leads Its Fortunes Seven Years. — Record of His Generalship. — Ends the War in Tri
umph. — Scheme to Make Him King. — Indignantly Rebukes the Proposal. — Last Review of His
Troops. — His Strong Attachment for Them. — Intention to Leave Public Life. — Congress Informed of
this Fact. — Embarkation from New York. — Homage Paid Him Everywhere — Arrival at Annapo
lis. — Proceeds to the Halls of Congress. — Impressive Ceremonial There. — Rare Event in Human
History. i>» 
" Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the theater of action, and, bidding an affectionate farewell to this august body
under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my commission, and take my leave of all the employments of public life."— Washino-
ton'3 Retirement as Revolutionary Leader.

WASHINGTON
in regard
em, and

HAT momentous object for which the War of Independence was for
seven long years waged, under the supreme leadership of General
Washington, having been achieved by the unconditional acknowledg
ment of that independence on the part of Great Britain, a cessation
of hostilities was formally announced by congress to a rejoicing
people. Washington's military course having thus honorably and
successfully terminated, he, Cincinnatus-like, sheathed his sword,
and surrendered his high commission to that power which had in
vested him with its authority. It will, therefore, not only be appro
priate, but of peculiar interest, to link together, in one narrative, the
circumstances attending his appointment to the responsible office of
commander-in-chief of the revolutionary army, and that last great
act — the Return of his Commission — in the stupendous drama of
which he was the central figure.
To that sterling old patriot, John Adams, the credit of the wisdom
of selecting Washington as military chieftain principally belongs.
It was a question, on the decision of which hung the fate of the rev
olutionary cause ; and in all parts of the country, among the people
at large as well as in the more immediate circles of congress, by
whom the great question was finally to be determined, the discussion
as to who should be chosen as the nation's leader in the councils of
's sword, war and on the battle-field, was universal. Mr. Adams states that
to this election, there was in congress a southern party against a north-
a jealousy against a New England army under the command of a

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

113

New England general ; but whether this
jealousy was sincere, or whether it was
mere pride and ambition — the ambition of
furnishing a southern general to command
the northern army, — was a matter of
doubt. The intention, however, was very
visible that Colonel Washington was their
object. The military ability which had been dis
played, on different occasions, by Colonel
Washington, were well understood, and,
from the conspicuous positions in which
he had thus been placed, and the saga
cious judgment which was known to have
characterized him in important emergen
cies, he had, for a long time past, enjoyed
a fine reputation throughout the colonies,
as a gallant and successful officer. He was
only in a moderate sense a partisan, in
the difficulties and discussions which had
arisen between his own and the mother
country; but, from the very first, he ex
hibited sufficient repugnance to any atti
tude of vassalage, on the part of his coun
trymen, to show that he would be no will
ing subject of coercion, should the preten
sions of the British be attempted to be car
ried out by threats, or by recourse to arms.
When congress had assembled, Mr.
John Adams arose in his place, and in as
short a speech as the subject would admit
represented the state of the colonies, the
uncertainty in the minds of the people,
their great expectation and anxiety, the
distresses of the army, the danger of its
dissolution, the difficulty of collecting an
other ; and the probability that the Brit
ish army would take advantage of these
delays, march out of Boston, and spread
desolation as far as they could go. He
concluded with a motion, in form, that
congress would adopt the army at Cam
bridge, and appoint a general ; that though
this was not the proper time to nominate a
general, yet as there existed reasons for
believing this to be the greatest difficulty,
he had no hesitation to declare that there
was but one gentleman in his mind for
that important office, and that was a gen
tleman from Virginia — one of their own
number, and well known to them all,— a

gentleman whose skill and experience as an
officer, whose independent fortune, great
talents, and excellent general character,
would command the approbation of all
America, and unite the cordial exertions
of all the colonies better than any other
person in the Union.
Mr. Washington, who happened to sit
near the door, as soon as he heard this al
lusion to himself, with his usual modesty,
darted into the library room.
The subject came under debate, and
several gentlemen declared themselves
against the appointment of Mr. Washing
ton, not on account of any personal objec
tion against him, but because the army
were all from New England, had a general
of their own, appeared to be satisfied with
him, and had proved themselves able to
imprison the British army in Boston.
Mr. Pendleton, of Virginia, and Mr.
Sherman, of Connecticut, were very ex
plicit in declaring this opinion. Mr.
Cushing and others more faintly expressed
their opposition, and their fears of discon
tent in the army and in New England.
Mr. Paine expressed a great opinion of
General Ward, and a strong friendship
for him, having been his classmate at col
lege, or, at least, his contemporary ; but
gave no opinion on the question. The
subject was postponed to a future day. In
the meantime, pains were taken out of
doors to obtain a unanimity, and the voices
were generally so clearly in favor of Wash
ington, that the dissenting members were
persuaded to withdraw their opposition,
and Mr. Washington was nominated by
Mr. Thomas Johnson, of Maryland, unan
imously elected, and the army adopted.
His official commission was at once
drawn up and presented to him ; a copy of
which most interesting document is given
below : —
" In Congress. We the delegates of the
United Colonies of New Hampshire, Mas
sachusetts Bay, Rhode Island, Connecticut,
New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania,
New Castle, Kent, and Sussex on Dela
ware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina,
and South Carolina,

114

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

To George Washington, Esquire :
We, reposing special trust and confi
dence in your patriotism, conduct, and
fidelity, do by these presents constitute and
appoint you to be General and Com
mander-in-Chief of the army of the
United Colonies, and of all the forces
raised or to be raised by them, and of all
others who shall voluntarily offer their
services and join the said army for the de
fense of American liberty, and for repelling
every hostile invasion thereof. And you
are hereby invested with full power and
authority to, act as you shall think for the
good and welfare of the service.
And we do hereby strictly charge and
require all officers and soldiers under your
command to be obedient to your orders,
and diligent in the exercise of their several
duties. And we do also enjoin and require you
to be careful in executing the great trust
reposed in you, by causing strict discipline
and order to be observed in the army, and
that the soldiers are duly exercised and
provided with all convenient necessaries.
And you are to regulate your conduct in
every respect by the rules and discipline
of war, (as herewith given you,) and punc
tually to observe and follow such direc
tions, from time to time, as you shall re
ceive from this or a future Congress of the
said United Colonies, or a Committee of
Congress for that purpose appointed.
This commission to continue in force till
revoked by this or a future Congress.
By order of Congress.
John Hancock, President.
Dated, Philadelphia, June 19, 1775.
Attest, Charles Thomson, Secretary."
On the second day of July, 1775, Wash
ington arrived in Cambridge, Massachu
setts, accompanied by Major-General Lee,
his next in command, and other officers,
establishing his head-quarters at the man
sion subsequently occupied by Longfellow,
the elegant scholar and poet. At about
nine o'clock on the morning of the next
day, Washington, attended by a suitable
escort, proceeded from his head-quarters to
a great elm tree — one of the majestic na

tives of the forest, — near Harvard College,
and where the continental forces were
drawn up in military order. Under the
shadow of that wide-spreading tree, Wash
ington, moving forward a few paces, drew
his sword as commander-in-chief of the
American army, declaring that it should

THE WASHINGTON ELM, CAMBRIDGE, MASS.
never be sheathed until the liberties of his
country were established. The record of
his services is the history of the whole
war. Joining the army in July, 1775, he
compelled the British to evacuate Boston
in March, 1776; he then followed the
British to New York, fighting the battle
of Long Island on the twenty-seventh of
August, and that of White Plains on the
twenty-eighth of October. On the twenty-
fifth of December he made the memorable
passage of the Delaware, and soon gained
the victories of Trenton and Princeton.
The battle of Brandywine was fought on
the eleventh of September, 1777, and that
of Germantown, October fourth. Febru
ary twenty-eighth, 1778, witnessed his
" glorious and happy day," as he himself
termed it, at Monmouth. In 1779 and
1780 he conducted the military operations
in the vicinity of New York ; after which,
in 1781, he marched to Virginia to watch
the movements of Lord Cornwallis, whom
he forced to surrender at Yorktown, in
October, by which great achievement he
put an end to the active operations of the
revolutionary struggle, and secured peace
and independence to his country.
With the return of peace, and the
achievement of independent nationality,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

115

the wisdom and patriotism of Washington
were to be severely tested, and in a most
unexpected manner, in connection with the
form of government to be adopted by the
United States. The English government
was regarded by many of the strongest
American minds as, in most respects, a
model one ; and by many persons the En
glish form of a constitutional monarchy
was decided, especially by some of the
army officers, to be the most promising,
and thus far the most successful, experi
ment in government, and the one most

this scheme called a secret meeting, and
finally determined on the title of King,
and Washington was informed of the fact.
He spurned the gilded bribe of a king's
crown, and promptly and sternly rebuked
the abettors of the scheme in the following
letter addressed to their leader :
" Sir, — With a mixture of great sur
prise and astonishment, I have read with
attention the sentiments you have sub
mitted to my perusal. Be assured," sir,
no occurrence in the course of this war has
given me more painful sensations than

WASHINGTON'
likely to be adopted by America upon due
deliberation. Universal dissatisfaction was
felt with the proceedings and conduct of
congress as a governing power, and there
fore some agency superior to that, and of
controlling prerogative, was proposed, — a
head, like the English sovereign, with
proper safeguards against usurpation.
Circumstances, of course, indicated Wash
ington as that head, and the next ques
tion naturally arose — under what official
title should such a head rule ? The officers
around Newburgh who were associated in

S RESIGNATION.

your information of there being such ideas
existing in the army as you have expressed,
and which I must view with abhorrence
and reprehend with severity. For the
present, the communication of them will
rest in my own bosom, unless some further
agitation of the matter shall make a dis
closure necessary. I am much at a loss to
conceive what part of my conduct could
have given encouragement to an address
which to me seems big with the greatest
mischiefs that can befall my country. If
I am not deceived in the knowledge of

116

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

myself, you could not have found a person
to whom your schemes are more disagree
able. At the same time, in justice to my
own feelings, I must add, that no man
possesses a more serious wish to see ample
justice done to the army than I do ; and,
as far as my power and influence, in a con
stitutional way, extend, they shall be em
ployed to the utmost of my abilities to
effect it, should there be any occasion.
Let me conjure you, then, if you have any
regard for your country, concern for your
self or posterity, or respect for me, to
banish these thoughts from your mind, and
never communicate, as from yourself or
any one else, a sentiment of the like na
ture." In perfect keeping with the spirit in
which Washington treated the dazzling
offer thus so unexpectedly set before him,
was the simplicity of his conduct in bid
ding adieu to his comrades-in-arms, and
then presenting himself before congress,
there to deliver up his sword, and volunta
rily divest himself of the supreme com
mand ; — in the serene and thoughtful
phraseology of his own words, " to address
himself once more, and that for the last
time, to the armies of the United States,
however widely dispersed the individuals
who compose them may be, and to bid them
an affectionate and a long farewell."
For the last time, he assembled them at
Newburgh, when he rode out on the field,
and gave them one of those paternal ad
dresses which so eminently characterized
his. relationship with his army. To the
tune of "Roslin Castle," — the soldier's
dirge, — his brave comrades passed slowly
by their great leader, and filed away to their
respective homes. It was a thrilling scene. »
There were gray-headed soldiers, who had
grown old by hardships and exposures, and
too old to begin life anew ; tears coursed
freely the furrowed cheeks of these veter
ans. Among the thousands passing in
review before him were those, also, who
had done valorous service when the destiny
of the country hung tremblingly in the
balance. As Washington looked upon
them for the last time, he said, "I am

growing old in my country's service, and
losing my sight ; but I never doubted its
justice or gratitude." Even on the rudest
and roughest of the soldiery, the effect of
his parting language was irresistible.
On the fourth of December, 1783, by
Washington's request, his officers, in full
uniform, assembled in Fraunces's tavern,
New York, to take a final leave of their
commander-in-chief. On entering the
room, and finding himself surrounded by
his old companions-in-arms, who had
shared with him so many scenes of hard
ship, difficulty, and danger, his agitated
feelings overcame his usual self-command.
Every man arose with eyes turned towards
him. Filling a glass of wine, and lifting it
to his lips, he rested his benignant but sad
dened countenance upon them, and said, —
"With a heart full of love and grati
tude, I now take leave of you. I most de
voutly wish that your latter days may be
as prosperous as your former ones have
been honorable and glorious." Having
drunk, he added, " I cannot come to each
of you to take my leave, but shall be
obliged to you, if each of you will come
and take me by the hand." A profound
silence followed, as each officer gazed on
the countenance of their leader, while the
eyes of all were wet with tears. He then
expressed again his desire that each of
them should come and take him by the
hand. The first, being nearest to him,
was General Knox, who grasped his hand
in silence, and both embraced each other
without uttering a word. One after an
other followed, receiving and returning the
affectionate adieu of their commander,
after which he left the room in silence,
followed by his officers in procession, to
embark in the barge that was to convey
him to Paulus's Hook, now Jersey City.
As he was passing through the light in
fantry drawn up on either side to receive
him, an old soldier, who was by his side
on the terrible night of his march to
Trenton, stepped out from the ranks, and
reaching out his arms, exclaimed, "Farer
well, my dear general, farewell ! " Wash
ington seized his hand most heartily, when

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

117

the soldiers forgot all discipline, rushed
towards their chief, and bathed him with
their tears. The scene was like that of a
good patriarch taking leave of his children,
and going on a long journey, from whence
he might return no more.
Having entered the barge, he turned to
the weeping company upon the wharf, and
waving his hat, bade them a silent adieu.
They stood with heads uncovered, until
the barge was hidden from their view,
when, in silent and solemn procession, they
returned to the place where they had as
sembled. Congress was at this time in
session at Annapolis, Maryland, to which
place Washington now proceeded, greeted
along his whole route with enthusiastic
homage, for the purpose of formally resigri-
ing his commission. He arrived on the
nineteenth of December, 1783, and the
next day he informed congress of the pur
pose for which he had come, and requested
to know whether it would be their pleas
ure that he should offer his resignation in
writing, or at an audience. A committee
was appointed by congress, and it was de
cided that on Tuesday, December twenty-
third, the ceremonial should take place as
follows : —
The president and members are to be
seated and covered, and the secretary to
be standing by the side of the president ;
the arrival of the general to be announced
by the messenger to the secretary, who is
thereupon to introduce the general, at
tended by his aids, into the hall of con
gress ; the general, being conducted to a
chair by the secretary, is to be seated, with
an aid on each side standing, and the
secretary is to resume his place. After a
proper time for the arrangement of spec
tators, silence is to be ordered by the sec
retary, if necessary, and the president is to
address the general in the fallowing
words : " Sir,— The United States in con
gress assembled are prepared to receive your
communications." Whereupon the gen
eral is to arise and address congress ; after
which he is to deliver his commission and
a copy of his address to the president.
The general having resumed his place, the

president is to deliver the answer of con
gress, which the general is to receive
standing; the president having finished,
the secretary is to deliver the general a
copy ofthe answer, and the general is then
to take his leave. When the general rises
to make his address, and also when he
retires, he is to bow to congress, which
they are to return by uncovering without
bowing. When the hour arrived, the president,
General Mifflin, informed him that that
body was prepared to receive his commu
nications. With a native dignity, height
ened by the solemnity of the occasion, the
general rose. In a brief and appropriate
speech he offered his congratulations on
the termination of the war, and having
alluded to his object in appearing thus in
that presence, — that he might resign into
the hands of congress the trust committed
to him, and claim the indulgence of retir
ing from the public service, — he concluded
with those affecting words, which drew
tears from the eyes of all in that vast as
sembly :
" I consider it an indispensable duty to
close this last act of my official life, by
commending the interests of our dearest
country to the protection of Almighty
God, and those who have the superintend
ence of them, to his holy keeping. Having
now finished the work assigned me, I
retire from the theater of action, and,
bidding an affectionate farewell to this
august body, under whose orders I have so
long acted, I here offer my commission,
and take my leave of all the employments
of public life."
After advancing to the chair, and deliv
ering his commission to the president, he
returned to his place, and remained stand
ing, while General Mifflin replied, review
ing the great career thus brought to a
close, and saying, in conclusion :
" The glory of your virtues will not ter
minate with your military command; it
will continue to animate the remotest ages.
We join with you in commending the in
terests of our country to Almighty God,
beseeching Him to dispose the hearts and

118

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

minds of its citizens to improve the op
portunity afforded them of becoming
a happy and respectable nation. And
for you, we address to Him our warm
est prayers, that a life so beloved may

be fostered with all His care, that your
days may be as happy as they have been
illustrious, and that He will finally give
you that reward which this world cannot
bestow."

VIII.

APPOINTMENT OF THE FIRST MINISTER PLENIPOTEN
TIARY, FROM THE NEW REPUBLIC TO THE
ENGLISH COURT.— 1785.

-John Adams, America's Sturdiest Patriot, and the Foremost Enemy of British Tyranny, Fills this
High Office — Interview between Him and King George, His Late Sovereign. — Their Addresses,
Temper, Personal Bearing, and Humorous Conversation. — The Two Men Rightly Matched Against
Each Other. — Old Animosities Unhealed — Mutual Charges of False Dealing. — Settlement Demanded
by the United States. — What Adams's Mission Involved. — Dismemberment of the British Realm. —
Loss of the Fairest Possession. — Bitter Pill for the King. — His Obstinacy Forced to Yield. — Humilia
tion of the Proud Monarch. — All Europe Watches the Event. — Mr. Adams Presented at Court. — Pa
triot and King Face to Face. — Official Address by the Minister. — Reply of King George. — His Visi-
ible Agitation. — Adams's Presence of Mind. — Pays His Homage to the Queen — Her Majesty's Re
sponse. — Civilities by the Royal Family. — Results of this Embassy. — Pitiable Position of George the
Third. — Fatal Error of Great Britain.

"I must avow to your majeBty, I have no attachment but to my own country." — John Adams to Kino George.
" An honest man will have no other." — The Kino's Instant Rei'LY.

O deep-seated and festering were
the old animosities between Amer
ica and the mother country, that,
scarcely had the war of the revo
lution terminated, when the two
nations reciprocally charged each
other with violating the treaty of
•peace. The United States were
accused of having infringed those
articles which contained agree
ments respecting the payment of
AMiTy between England and America. debts, the confiscation of property,
¦and prosecution of individuals for the part taken by them during the war. On the
other hand, the English were charged with violating that article which stipulated
against the destruction or carrying away of any description of American property;
the king was also complained of, for still retaining possession of the posts on the
American side of the great lakes, thus influencing the Indian tribes to hostility;
and, above all other sources and causes of complaint, in the conduct of Great Britain,
was her rigorous and restrictive commercial system.
These growing misunderstandings between the two countries, discussed with such
angry vehemence on both sides, threatened such serious consequences should their adjust
ment be much longer delayed, that congress determined upon the important step of

120

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

appointing, after the manner of independ
ent nations, a Minister Plenipotentiary to
the court of Great Britain !
In February, 1785, John Adams was
duly accredited ambassador, to represent
the United States at that court.
That George the Third was as obstinate
a man as ever ruled a kingdom, no histo
rian has ever questioned. Having struck
at the rights and liberties of America, in
order to add to the riches of his coffers,
nothing could turn him from his determin

ation to rule, or to ruin and destroy. To
the suggestion that the king's jule over
the colonies might be slightly softened or
modified, Lord North despairingly replied :
"It is to no purpose the making objec
tions, for the king will have it so." But
in no more forcible phrase could the king's
arbitrary temper concerning his colonies
be shown, that in that which fell from his
own lips, in the presence of the new en
voy, namely, " I was the last man in the
kingdom, sir, to consent to the independ
ence of America.''
Of all the opponents of British misrule,
in the western world, John Adams was
the earliest, ablest, most intrepid and un
tiring. It was John Adams, who, in

1775, in the memorable continental con
gress, at Philadelphia, suggested George-
Washington as commander-in-chief of the-
army that was to wage war against Great
Britain — and, even before this crowning
act, had sent across the Atlantic, ringing
into the ears of the haughty monarch, the
epithets tyrant and usurper.
The kingly ceremony of acknowledging
the colonies independent took place, in con
formity with previous arrangements, on
the fifth of December, 1782, in the house
of lords. The scene was one which'
drew together an immense and won
dering crowd of spectators, conspicu
ous among whom was the celebrated
admiral Lord Howe, who had just re
turned from a successful relief of
Gibraltar, and who had now elbowed
himself exactly in front of the throne,
to listen, sadly, to his country's hu
miliation. The ladies of the nobility
occupied the lords' seats on the wool
sacks, so called, as an emblem of the-
power and wealth of old England,
because it had been mainly derived
from wool. The lords were standing-
here and there promiscuously, It
was a dark and foggy day, and the-
windows being elevated and con
structed in the antiquated style, with
leaden bars to contain the diamond-
cut panes of glass, augmented the
gloom. The walls were also hung
with dark tapestry, representing the de
feat of the great Spanish armada. The
celebrated American painters, West and
Copley, were in the throng, with some
American ladies, also a number of dejected-
looking American royalists. After a
tedious suspense of nearly two hours, the-
approach of the king was announced by a.
tremendous roar of artillery. He entered
by a small door on the left of the throne,.
and immediately seated himself in the chair
of state, in a graceful attitude, with his
right foot resting on a stool. He was
clothed in the magnificent robes of British
majesty. Evidently agitated, he drew
slowly from his pocket a scroll containing
his humbling speech. The commons were

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

121

summoned, and, after the bustle of their
entrance had subsided, the thrilling mo
ment arrived, when the speech was to be
read. After some general remarks, usual
on public occasions, he said :
" I lost no time in giving the ^necessary
orders to prohibit the further prosecution
of offensive war upon the continent of
North America. Adopting, as my inclin
ation will always lead me to do, with de
cision and effect, whatever I collect to be
the sense of my parliament and my people,
I have pointed all my views and measures,
in Europe, as in North America, to an
entire and cordial reconciliation with the
colonies. Finding it indispensable to the
attainment of this object, I did not hesi
tate to go to the full length of the power
vested in me, and therefore I now declare
them " — here he paused, in evident agita
tion, either embarrassed in reading his
speech, by the darkness of the room, or
affected by a very natural emotion, but,
recovering himself in a \ moment by a
Rtrong convulsive movement, he added —
"free and independent states. In thus
admitting their separation from the crown
of this kingdom, I have sacrificed every
consideration of my own, to the wishes and
opinions of my people. I make it my
humble and ardent prayer to Almighty
God, that Great Britain may not feel the
evils which might result from so great a
dismemberment of the empire, and that
America may be free from the calamities
which have formerly proved, in the mother
country, how essential monarchy is to the
enjoyment of constitutional liberty. Re
ligion, language, interests, and affection
may, and I hope will, yet prove a bond of
permanent union between the two coun
tries." It was universally remarked of King
George, that, though celebrated for read
ing his speeches in a distinct, composed,
and impressive manner, he was on this
occasion painfully lacking in his usual
self-possession ; he hesitated, choked, and
executed the high but humbling duties of
the occasion, in a manner which showed
that he was deeply mortified.

Mr. Adams was at Paris when he re
ceived information of his appointment, in
1785, to confront his late king and royal
master. In an account given by Mr.
Adams himself, of his movements at this
time, he says : At Versailles, the Count
de Vergennes said he had many felicita
tions to give me upon my appointment to
England. I answered that I did not
know but it merited compassion more than
felicitation. " Ay, why ? " " Because, as
you know, it is a species of degradation, in
the eyes of Europe, after having been ac
credited to the king of France, to be sent
to any other court."
"But permit me to say," replies the
count, "it is a great thing to be the first
ambassador from your country to the
country you sprang from. It is a mark."
One of the foreign ambassadors said to
me —
" You have been often in England."
" Never, but once in November and De
cember, 1783."
" You have relations in England, no
doubt." "None at all."
"None, how can that be? you are of
English extraction."
"Neither my father or mother, grand
father or grandmother, great grandfather
or great grandmother, nor any other rela
tion that I know of, or care a farthing for,
has been in England these one hundred
and fifty years ; so that you see I have not
one drop of blood in my veins but what is
American." " Ay, we have seen proof enough of
that." In the month of May, Mr. Adams trans
ferred himself and family to the other side
of the channel, prepared to undertake the
new duties to which he had been ap
pointed. The first thing to be done was
to go through the ceremony of presenta
tion to the sovereign ; to stand face to face
with the man whom he had for the first
forty years of his life habitually regarded
as his master, and who never ceased to
regard him, and the rest of his country
men, as no better than successful rebels

122

OUR FIRST -CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

against his legitimate authority. In his
dispatch to Mr. Jay, then American secre
tary of foreign affairs, Mr. Adams gave
the following very interesting account of
this meeting : —
At one o'clock on Wednesday, the first
of June, 1785, the master of ceremonies
called at my house, and went with me to the
secretary of state's office, in Cleveland Row,
where the Marquis of Carmarthen received
and introduced me to Mr. Frazier, his
under secretary, who had been, as his

attended by the master of ceremonies, the
room was very full of ministers of state,
bishops, and all other sorts of courtiers, as
well as the next room, which is the king's
bed-chamber. You may well suppose I
was the focus of all eyes. I was relieved,
however, from the embarrassment of it, by
the Swedish and Dutch ministers, who
came to me and entertained me with a very
agreeable conversation during the whole
time. Some other gentlemen, whom I
had seen before, came to make their com-

FIRST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. RECEPTION OF JOHN ADAMS.

lordship said, uninterruptedly in that office,
through all the changes in administration,
for thirty years. After a short conversa
tion, Lord Carmarthen invited me to go
with him in his coach to court. When we
arrived in the ante-chamber, the master of
ceremonies introduced him, and attended
me while the secretary of state went to
take the commands of the king. While I
stood in this place, where it seems all min
isters stand upon such occasions, always

pliments to me, until the Marquis of Car
marthen returned and desired me to go with
him to his majesty. I went with his
lordship through the levee room into the
king's closet. The door was shut, and I
was left with his majesty and the secretary
of state alone. I made the three rever
ences : one at the door, another about half
way, and another before the presence,
according to the usage established at this
and all the northern courts of Europe, and

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

123

then I addressed myself to his majesty in
the following Words :
"Sire: The United States have ap
pointed me minister plenipotentiary to
your majesty, and have directed me to
deliver to your majesty this letter, which
contains the evidence of it. It is in obe

dience to their express commands, that I
have the honor to assure your majesty of
their unanimous disposition and desire to
cultivate the most friendly and liberal in
tercourse between your majesty's subjects
and their citizens, and of their best wishes
for your majesty's health and happiness,
and for that of your family.
The appointment of a minister from the
United States to your majesty's court will
form an epoch in the history of England
and America. I think myself more fortu
nate than all my fellow-citizens, in having
the distinguished honor to be the first to
stand in your majesty's royal presence in
a diplomatic character, and I shall esteem
myself the happiest of men, if I can be
instrumental in recommending my country
more and more to your majesty's royal
benevolence, and of restoring an entire
esteem, confidence, and affection; or, in
better words, ' the old good nature and the
good old humor,' between people who,
though separated by an ocean, and under
different governments, have the same lan
guage, a similar religion, a kindred blood.
I beg your majesty's permission to add,

that, although I have sometimes before
been instructed by my country, it was
never in my whole life in a manner so
agreeable to myself."
The king listened to every word I said,
with dignity, it is true, but with apparent
emotion. Whether it was my visible agi
tation, for I felt more than I could ex
press, that touched him, I cannot say;
but he was much affected, and answered
me with more tremor than I had spokeD
with, and said —
" Sie : The circumstances of this audi
ence are so extraordinary, the language
you have now held is so extremely proper.
and the feelings you have discovered so
justly adapted to the occasion, that I not
only receive with pleasure the assurance
of the friendly disposition of the United
States, but I am glad the choice has fallen
upon you to be their minister. I wish you.
sir, to believe, that it may be understood
in America, that I have done nothing in
the late contest but what I thought myself
indispensably bound to do, by the duty
which I owed my people. I will be frank
with you. I was the last to conform to
the separation ; but the separation having
become inevitable, I have always said, as I
now say, that I would be the first to meet
the friendship of the United States as an
independent power. The moment I see
such sentiments and language as yours pre
vail, and a disposition to give this country
the preference, that moment I shall say, let
the circumstances of language, religion,
and blood, have their natural, full effect."
The king then asked me whether I came
last from France; upon my answering in the
affirmative, he put on an air of familiarity,
and, smiling, or rather laughing, said —
" There is an opinion among some people
that you are not the most attached of all
your countrymen to the manners of
France." "That opinion, sir, is not mistaken; 7
must avow to your majesty, I have no at'
tachment but to my own country."
The king replied as quick as lightning —
" An honest man will have no other."
The king then said a word or two to the

124

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

secretary of state, which, being between
them, I did not hear, and then turned
round and bowed to me, as is customary
with all kings and princes when they give
the signal to retire. I retreated, stepping
backwards, as is the etiquette, and making
my last reverence at the door of the chamber.
Mr. Adams was yet to pay his first
court of homage to the queen. He was
presented to her on the ninth of June, by
Lord Allesbury, her lord-chamberlain, —
having first been attended to his lordship
and introduced to him by the master of
the ceremonies. The queen was accompa
nied by her ladies-in-waiting, and Mr.
Adams made his compliments to her maj
esty in the following words :
"Madam, — Among the many circum
stances which have rendered my mission
to his majesty desirable to me, I have ever
considered it a principal one, that I should
have an opportunity of paying my court
to a great queen, whose royal virtues and
talents have ever been acknowledged and
admired in America, as well as in all the
nations of Europe, as an example to prin
cesses and the glory of her sex.
Permit me, madam, to recommend to
your majesty's royal goodness a rising em
pire and an infant virgin world.
Another Europe, madam, is rising in
America. To a philosophical mind, like
your majesty's, there cannot be a more
pleasing contemplation, than the prospect
of doubling the human species, and aug
menting, at the same time, their prosperity
and happiness. It will, in future ages, be
the glory of these kingdoms to have peo
pled that country, and to have sown there
those seeds of science, of liberty, of virtue,
and permit me, madam, to add, of piety,
which alone constitute the prosperity of na
tions and the happiness of the human race.
After venturing upon such high insinu
ations to your majesty, it seems to be de
scending too far, to ask, as I do, your
majesty's royal indulgence to a person who
is indeed unqualified for courts, and who
owes his elevation to this distinguished
honor of standing before your majesty, not
to any circumstances of illustrious birth,

fortune, or abilities, but merely to an
ardent devotion to his native country, and
some little industry and perseverance in
her service."
To this address of Mr. Adams, the
queen answered, in the accustomed royal
brevity, as follows :
" I thank you, sir, for your civilities to
me and my family, and am glad to see
you in this country."
The queen then asked Mr. Adams if he
had provided himself with a house, to
which question answer was made that he
had agreed for one that morning. She
then made her courtesy, and the envoy
made his reverence, retiring at once into
the drawing-room, where the king, queen,
princess royal, and the younger princess,
her sister, all spoke to the new minister
very courteously.
But, notwithstanding the memorable
historical bearings of this mission of the
great American statesman, as first ambas
sador of the new-born republic, to his late
august sovereign, — a mission which riveted
the attention of the civilized world, — and
although George the Third had submitted
with dignity to the painful necessity of such
a meeting, the embassy was attended with
no permanently favorable result either to
America or to Mr. Adams. Indeed, of the
many humiliations which befell the un
happy George, perhaps few were felt so
bitterly as this almost compulsory inter
view with the representative of a people,
once his subjects, afterwards rebels, and
now free. Well and truthfully has the
historian said, that, in the conduct of the
king, on this occasion, the obvious wisdom
of conciliating the young and rising nation
on the western side of the Atlantic was
forgotten, and the error of supercilious
neglect was preferred. Throughout the
whole political history of Great Britain
this marked fault may be traced in its
relations with foreign nations, but it never
showed itself in more striking colors than
during the first half century after the in
dependence of the United States. The
effects of the mistake then committed have
been perceptible ever since.

IX.

FIRST ORGANIZED REBELLION IN THE UNITED
STATES.— 1786.

Daniel Shays, at the Head of an Armed and Desperate Force, Boldly Defies the State and Federal
Laws in Massachusetts. — " Taxation and Tyranny" the Alleged Grievances. — Alarmipg Disaffection
Throughout all New England. — Bad Leaders and Furious Mobs. — Rout of the Insurgents, by General
Lincoln, in the Dead of Winter. — Patriotic Old Massachusetts in a Ferment. — Causes of Public Dis
content. — Total Exhaustion of Credit. — Prostration of Trade. — Ruinous Debts, Heavy Taxation. —
Weakness of the Government. — An Excited Populace. — Turbulence and Lawlessness. — All Authority
Spurned. — A Bloody Conflict Invited — Courts of Justice
Broken Up. — Indignation of Washington. — Heroism on
the Bench. — The National Forces Augmented. — Fears
of a General Civil War. — Unscrupulousness of Shays. —
Intention to Seize the Capital. — Governor Bowdoin's De
fenses. — General Lincoln in Command. — Active Move
ment of His Troops. — A Terrible Snow-Storm. — Hard
ships of Shays's Army. — Federal Bayonets Triumphant.

" Sire, I Bhall sit here as a judge, or die here as a generall "—Reply of
General Cobb, a Massachusetts Judge, to a Sumkons to Dissolve
iiia Coubt.

I NE of the most noteworthy facts in the history
of the early period — the first decade — of the
American Republic, is, that in the state of Mas
sachusetts, the state which had been foremost in
the war of independence against Great Britain,
occurred the first instance of armed and organ-
scene in shays's rebellion. ized rebellion against the situation and conduct
of public affairs consequent upon the changed character of the government and its
administrators. It will be necessary, however, not only in behalf of the consistency
of popular government, but as vindicating the patriotic old commonwealth in question
from any imputation of lawless proclivities, to narrate, first, some of the peculiar cir
cumstances which brought distress to a large class of citizens, and provoked political
discontent, finally culminating in bloody sedition.
For a considerable period after the people of the United States had secured peace,
through British acknowledgment of their independence, was the exhausting effect felt
by them, of their exertions in so hard-fought and prolonged a contest. The popular
enthusiasm, excited by a victorious termination of the struggle, began to subside, and
the sacrifices of the revolution soon became known and felt. The claims of those who
toiled, and fought, and suffered in the arduous contest, were strongly urged, and the
government had neither resources nor power to satisfy or to silence them. The wealth

126

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

of the country had been totally exhausted
during the revolution, and, worse than all,
the public credit had become so shaken
and prostrated as to be a mere by-word,
at home and abroad, no matter what might
be the pledges of security proffered. Taxes
could not be collected, because — even if for
no other reason, — there was no money to
represent the value of the little personal
property which had not been, and the land
which could not be, destroyed; and com
merce, though preparing to burst from its
thraldom, had not yet had time to restore
to the annual produce of the country its ex
changeable value. The states owed each a
heavy debt for local services rendered
during the revolution, for which it was
bound to provide, and each had its own
domestic government to support.
The causes of discontent which thus ex
isted after the restoration of peace, in
every part of the Union, were perhaps no
where more operative than in New En
gland, growing out of the following circum
stances : The great exertions which had
been put forth by those states in the course
of the war, had accumulated a mass of
debt, the taxes for the payment of which
were felt as peculiarly burdensome, be
cause the fisheries of this people had be
come so unproductive. This important
branch of industry, which, before the revo
lutionary war, had in some measure com
pensated for the want of those rich staples
that were possessed by the middle and
southern colonies, had been unavoidably
neglected during the struggle for inde
pendence ; and, as a consequence of that
independence, had not only been deprived
of the encouragements under which it had
flourished, but its produce was excluded
from markets which had formerly been
opened to it. The restlessness produced
by the uneasy situation of individuals, to
gether with lax notions concerning public
and private faith, and erroneous opinions,
tended to confound liberty with an exemp
tion from legal control.
This turbulent spirit was carried out
and encouraged, with great effect upon the
minds of the populace, by public conven

tions, which, after voting their own con
stitutionality, and assuming the name and
authority of the people, arrayed themselves
against the regular legislative power, and
declared in the most exciting language the
grievances by which they alleged them
selves to be oppressed.
Reckless and desperate, a body of mal
contents entered the legislative chamber
at Exeter, New Hampshire, and deliber
ately overpowered and made prisoners the
general assembly of the state ; the citizens,
however, rose and crushed the movement
in a few hours.
But the center of this spirit of lawless
violence throughout New England, culmin
ated in 1786, in the state of Massachu
setts, where, on account of the calamitous
interruption of the regular trades and oc
cupations, on land and sea, a vast number
of the male population, principally young
men, became impoverished, and were
thrown upon society. The general court,
or legislature, of Massachusetts, had found
it necessary to impose taxes which, perhaps,
in any case would have been ill-received,
but which, in the existing state of feeling
and social disorganization, led to general
resistance and open rebellion. . The dis
contented, led on by ambitious and un
principled leaders, provided themselves
with arms of every description ; they had
seen the country free itself from the tyr
anny of Britain by these means, and now
they were about to try the same against
what they considered the tyranny of their
own government. Things continued to go
on in this way for some time, when, the
number of the malcontents becoming so
large and formidable, the militia were
called out to protect the sittings of the
courts, which it was the object of the in
surgents to prevent; and so conciliatory
and considerate was the government, that
their grievances were made the subject of
repeated and anxious counsel, and as much
as possible redressed. Bills were passed
for diminishing legal costs, law charges
being at that time enormous ; and for al
lowing the payment of taxes and private
debts in specific articles instead of coin,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

127

of which latter there was scarce
ly any in circulation ; as well as
for applying certain revenues,
formerly devoted to- other pur- *2£
poses, to the payment of govern
mental dues. So far were con
cessions made ; still the agitation contin
ued, and the habeas corpus act was sus
pended for eight months. Nevertheless,
though every preparation was thus made to
secure protection to the government, full
pardon for past offenses was promised to
all, if they would cease from their illegal
agitations. Doubtless, but for the daring and des
peration of one man, Daniel Shays, order
would have been restored.
Great anxiety filled the minds of the
patriotic statesmen throughout the coun
try, at this state of anarchy ; and from
the bosom of Washington, in especial,
there went forth utterances of profound
indignation and alarm. "For God's sake
tell me," said he in a letter to Colonel
Humphreys, " what is the cause of all
these commotions ? do they proceed from
licentiousness, British influence dissemin
ated by the tories, or real grievances
which admit of redress ? if the latter, why
was redress delayed until the public mind
had become so much agitated ? if the

former, why
are not the
powers of T
government %~
triedatonce? #J\
it is as well W
to be with- '-
out as not to shays's forces in Massachusetts.
exercise them. Commotions of this sort,
like snowballs, gather strength as they
roll, if there is no opposition in the way to
divide and crumble them." Such was
Washington's horror of this Massachusetts
tumult. Colonel Humphreys, while acknowledg
ing his inability to give any adequate ex
planation of the cause and origin of the
difficulties, yet gave it as his opinion that
they were attributable to all the three
causes which Washmgton had suggested
— that, in Massachusetts particularly,
there were a few real grievances, and also
some wicked agents or emissaries who
made it their business to magnify every
existing evil, and to foment causeless jeal-

128

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ousies and commotions. Under the influ
ence of such examples, it was plain to see
that there had become prevalent among
many of the people a licentious spirit, a
leveling principle, a desire of change, and
a wish to annihilate all debts, both public
and private.
The force of this party throughout New
England was computed at twelve or fifteen
thousand men, chiefly of the young and
active part of the community, who were
more easily collected than kept together.
Many of these were desperate and unprin
cipled, opposed to all good government and
legal discipline, and consequently ready,
when any demagogue should light the
spark of violence, to commit overt acts of
treason and bring on a bloody civil war.
This state of things alarmed greatly the
friends of law and order, and made them
firm in the conviction that there needed to
be established, above all things, a govern

ment for the people of the United States,
which should have the power to protect
'-.hem in their lawful pursuits, and which
would be efficient in cases of internal
commotions, or foreign invasions, — a gov
ernment resting upon liberty, and regu
lated by laws firmly administered.
The mob spirit grew more and more
rampant in Massachusetts, and, in spite
of the vigilance which the authorities now
put forth, generally succeeded in its demon
strations of violence, and in thwarting the
plans of that faithful and energetic chief
magistrate, Governor Bowdoin. In one

instance, however, at least, their proceed
ings in this respect were summarily
brought to a stand. This was in the town
of Taunton, where Judge Cobb, formerly
an officer under Washington, and still one
of the state-militia generals, was holding
a court session at the time. On the ar
rival of the insurgents at the court-house,
General Cobb promptly confronted them,
and, after exhorting them to render that
obedience to the laws which is binding
on every citizen, emphatically declared to
them, " Sirs ! I shall sit here as a judge,
or die here as a general ! " Knowing him
to be a man who knew his rights and
would maintain them at any cost, the mob,
though more numerous than the force that
General Cobb could summon, concluded
that the safest course for them to pursue
was to disperse.
Ostensibly on account of the danger
which threatened the frontiers, but really,
it would seem, with a view to the sit
uation of affairs in Massachusetts,
congress had agreed to augment the
military establishment to a much
larger and more . effective standard,
and had detached the secretary of
war, General Knox, to the eastward,
with directions to concert measures
with the government of the state for
the safety of the public arsenals. So
unfavorable, indeed, was the aspect of
affairs, that fears were seriously en
tertained that the torch of civil dis
cord, about to be lighted up in Massa?
chusetts, would communicate its flame
to all New England, and perhaps spread
the conflagration throughout the Union.
A few of the agitators having, at length,
been seized and lodged in Boston jail, —
the details of which will be found more
particularly narrated on a subsequent page,
— the exasperation of their associates was
greatly increased, and in a short time they
organized themselves as an armed force,
under the command of Daniel Shays, Luke
Day, and Eli Parsons ; but some little
time elapsed before the state was fully
prepared to show its- military power,
though the riotous interference with the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

129

courts of justice was repeatedly enacted.
In the account of these proceedings given
by that excellent and most reliable histo
rian, Mr. Lossing, it is stated that, while
the legislature was in session, early in
November, there were indications that an
attempt would be made to interfere with
the sittings of the supreme court about to
be held in Middlesex county. General
Brooks, a gallant officer of the revolution,
in command of the militia of that district,
was ordered to have a strong force in
readiness to march to Cambridge if neces
sary. Among those summoned, and held
in readiness, were three regiments and
four artillery companies of Middlesex
county, and one company of infantry and
one of artillery, in Boston. This formida
ble display made the Middlesex malcon
tents invisible and silent at that time.
Brooks was a fine officer, and had showed
himself a gallant adherent of the com
mander-in-chief during the conspiracy or
mutiny which took place in Newburgh
camp at the close of the revolutionary war.
Washington requested him to keep his
officers within quarters, that they might
not attend the insurgent meeting, his reply
was —
"Sir, I have anticipated your wishes,
and my orders are given."
" Colonel Brooks, this is just what I ex
pected from you," was the reply of the
chieftain, as he took the gallant colonel by
the hand.
The legislature adjourned after a session
of six weeks. Their dispersion was the
signal for greater activity on the part of
the insurgents. They held several meet
ings in the western counties, and severely
censured the measures recently adopted by
the legi slature. They resolved, by acclam
ation, to resist the execution of the laws
of the state ; and everywhere, among un
principled men, the most lawless and
alarming spirit was manifested. The len
iency of the governor was called cowardice.
¦The acts of the legislature were denounced
as instruments of tyranny. The people
were excited by inflammatory appeals.
They were incited to acts of violence, and
9

the courts of justice were again interfered
with. Toward the close of November, the
sitting of the general court of sessions at
Worcester was prevented by an armed
mob, who, taught by demagogues, and be
lieving that they owed no other obedience
to government but in so far as they might
approve its measures, declared that they
had the right, if they chose, to dispense
with all laws which were obnoxious to
them, and that they intended to set the
state authorities at defiance. In Hamp
shire and Middlesex counties, similar bold
demonstrations were made. Governor
Bowdoin perceived that the time for ar
gument and persuasion was at an end, and
that the safety of the commonwealth, now
really in danger, must be secured by ener
getic measures. He accordingly issued a
general order for the major-generals
throughout the state to see that the mili
tia, under their respective commands, were
equipped, and ready to respond to any
sudden demand for their services. This
order inflamed the leaders of the malcon
tents and their deluded followers, and the
insurrection now began to assume the
alarming form of a rebellion. The leaders,
expecting severe punishment in the event
of failure, became desperate, and were
ready to employ desperate measures for
the accomplishment of their wicked
scheme. They also hoped to secure a suf
ficient number of adherents or defenders
to procure the governor's pardon in the
event of their failure. They were doomed
to be disappointed.
In December, a large number of the in
surgents assembled at Concord, expecting
to be joined by others from Bristol, Wor
cester, and Hampshire counties. Their
object was to prevent the sitting of the
court at Cambridge, the dictation of meas
ures to the governor, and the suspen
sion, for a time at least, of the usual proc
esses of law. It is evident, that, while
these objects were acknowledged, they in
tended, if possible, to seize the capital,
take possession of the archives, and pro
claim a provisional government. But the
project failed, and three of the leading

130

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

traitors of Middlesex soon found them
selves within the walls of a Boston jail.
The sheriff, in the execution of his war
rant for their arrest, was accompanied by
a number of influential gentlemen and a
company of Boston cavalry, who volun
teered their services.
Shays and his followers, desperate but
determined, — for success or utter ruin was
the alternative presented, — turned their
faces westward, and marched upon Spring
field for the purpose of interfering with
the sitting of the court appointed for the
twenty-sixth of December, and, if strong
enough, to seize the continental arsenal at
that place. They arrived there on the
twenty-fifth, took possession of the court
house, and presented to the judges a writ
ten declaration that the court should not
transact business. The powerless judges
were compelled to submit.
Finding that the lenient measures which
had thus far been taken by the legislature
to subdue the violence of the insurgents
only enlarged their demands, — that the
pardon proffered to those who would re
turn to their duty was rejected with scorn,
— that the conciliating efforts of govern
ment only increased their audacity, — and
that they were proceeding with more and
more energy to marshal their military
forces for an aggressive movement, — Gov
ernor Bowdoin, who had probably been
restrained by the temper of the house of
representatives from an earlier resort to
the final extremity, at length determined,
with the advice of council, on a vigorous
exertion of all the powers he possessed,
for the protection and defense of the com
monwealth. Upwards of four thousand
militia were ordered into service, and were
placed under the command of the veteran
General Lincoln, whose gallant military
reputation, and well-balanced judgment,
rendered him doubly capacitated for so
critical and important a trust.
It was in the depth of an unusually se
vere winter, and which caused bitter suf
fering, that the troops thus raised in the
eastern part of the state assembled near
Boston, and marched towards the scene of

action. Those from the western counties
met in arms under General Shepard, an
officer who had served with honor during
the war of the revolution, and took close
possession of the federal arsenal at Spring-

^%2^^B^

field. Before the arrival of Lincoln, a party
of the insurgents presented themselves
before the arsenal and demanded its sur
render. Attempting to carry out their
demand, General' Shepard, after warning
and entreating them to retire, fired upon
them. The first discharge was over their
heads ; they took no notice of it. The sec
ond was into the ranks ; a cry of " Mur
der ! " arose, and all fled in confusion,
leaving three men dead on the field and
one wounded. Urging his march with the
utmost celerity, Lincoln soon came up, and
pressing the insurgent army, endeavored
by a succession of rapid movements, in
which the ardor of his troops triumphed
over the extreme severity of the season, to
disperse or bring it to action. But the
insurgents fled to Pelham, where they
posted themselves upon two hills, rendered
almost inaccessible by the great fall of
snow. They used all their address to pro
duce a suspension of hostilities until an
accommodation might be negotiated with
the legislature, — believing, as they did,
that, if they could keep up their influence
until another choice of legislature and gov
ernor came around, matters might be
molded to their liking. Shays now of
fered to lay down his arms on condition of
general pardon, which Lincoln, however,
was not empowered to grant. At length,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

131

sorely pressed for food, a sudden retreat
was made to Petersham. Discovering
this, Lincoln set off at six in the evening,
and marching all night, forty miles,
through intense cold and a driving storm,

reached Petersham by daybreak, to the
astonishment of the rebels, who had not
the least idea of this movement, and ac
cordingly fled in dismay or were taken
prisoners.

FORMATION AND ADOPTION OF THE FEDERAL CONSTI
TUTION.— 1 78 T.

The United States no Longer a People Without a Government. — Establishment of the Republic on a
Permanent Foundation of Unity, Organic Law and National Polity. — Dignity, Learning, and Elo
quence of the Delegates. — Sublime Scene on Signing the Instrument. — Extraordinary Character of
the Whole Transaction. — State of Things After the War. — Financial Embarrassment. — Despondency
of the People. — Grave Crisis in Public Affairs. — A Grand Movement Initiated. — Plan of Government
to be Framed. — All the States in Convention. — Washington Chosen to Preside. — Statesmen and Sages
in Council. — The Old Compact Abrogated. — New Basis of Union Proposed. — Various Schemes Dis
cussed. — Jealousy of the Smaller States. — Angry Debates, Sectional Threats. — Bad Prospects of the
Convention. — Its Dissolution Imminent — Franklin's Impressive Appeal. — Compromise and Concilia
tion. — Final System Agreed Upon. — Patriotism Rules all Hearts. — Ratification by the States. — Na
tional Joy at the Decision.

" Should the states reject this excellent Constitution, the probability is that an opportunity will never again he offered to cancel another ia
peace— the next will he drawn in blood."— Remake op Washington on Signing the Constitution.

enrolling the constitution.

HOUGH the close of the
war of independence
resulted in the establish
ment of a free national
ity, it nevertheless
brought anxious solici
tude to every patriot's
mind, and this state of
apprehension and disqui
etude increased with each
succeeding year. The
state debts which had
been incurred in anticipation of prosperous times, operated severely, after a while, on
all classes in the community ; to meet the payment of these debts, at maturity, was
impossible, and every relief-act only added to the difficulty. This, and kindred
troubles, financial and governmental, impressed the people with the gloomy conviction
that the great work of independence, as contemplated in the revolutionary struggle,
was only half done. It was felt that, above all things, a definite and organic form
of government— reflecting the will of the people— should be fixed upon, to give energy
to national power, and success to individual and public enterprise. So portentous a
crisis as this formed another epoch for the display of the intellectual and political
attainments of American statesmen, and the ordeal was one through which they passed
with the highest honor, and with ever-enduring fame, at home and abroad. New men
appeared on the stage of legislative council and action, and it was found that the quan^

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

133

tity of talent and information necessary in
the ' formation period of a new republic
had greatly increased in the various states.
But, in especial, the great minds that
achieved the revolution beheld with deep
concern their country impoverished and
distracted at home, and of no considera
tion among the family of nations.
A change was now to be wrought, the
grandeur of which would be acknowledged
throughout all lands, and its importance
reach forward to the setting of the sun of
time. The same hall which had resounded
with words of patriotic defiance that shook
the throne of King George and proclaimed
to an astonished world the Declaration of
Independence, — that same hall in which
congress had continued to sit during the
greater part- of the momentous period in
tervening, — in the state house at Phila
delphia, was soon to witness the assem
bling of such a body of men as, in point of
intellectual talent, personal integrity, and
lofty purpose, had perhaps never before
been brought together. The curious stu
dent of this page in modern history has
sometimes plausibly but speciously attrib
uted to mere chance — instead of to that
Providence which rules in the affairs of
men — this timely and grand event. Thus,
General Washington, having contemplated
with great interest a plan for uniting the
Potomac and the Ohio rivers, and by this
means connecting the eastern and western
waters, made a journey of six hundred and
eighty miles on horseback, taking minute
notes of everything which could be subserv
ient to this project. His influence, and
the real importance pf the design, induced
the legislatures of Virginia and Maryland
to send commissioners to Alexandria to
deliberate on the subject. They met in
March, 1785, and having spent some time
at Mount Vernon, determined to recom
mend another commission, which might
establish a general tariff on imports. The
Virginia legislature not only agreed, but
invited the other states to send deputies
to meet at Annapolis. In September,
1786,. they had arrived from five only, and
with too limited powers. A number of

able statesmen, however, were thus assem
bled, who, feeling deeply the depressed
and distracted state of the country, became
sensible that something on a much greater
scale was necessary to raise her to pros
perity, and give her a due place among
the nations. They therefore drew up a
report and address to all the states,
strongly representing the inefficiency of
the present federal government, and earn
estly urging them to send delegates to
meet at Philadelphia in May, 1787. Con
gress responded to this proceeding in Feb
ruary, by the passage of resolutions rec
ommending the proposed measure, — but of
which, perhaps, they did not then contem
plate all the momentous results.
On the day appointed for the meeting
of the convention, May fourteenth, 1787,
only a small number of the delegates had
arrived in Philadelphia. The delibera
tions did not commence, therefore, until
May twenty-fifth, when there were pres
ent twenty-nine members, representing
nine states. Others soon after came in,
till the whole number amounted to fifty-
five. Never, perhaps, had any body of
men combined for so great a purpose — to
form a constitution which was to rule so
numerous a people, and probably during
so many generations. The members, con
sisting of the very ablest men in America,
were not unworthy of, nor unequal to, so
high a trust.
Towering above all these men of might,
in his world-wide fame and in the genius
of his personal ascendency, was Washing
ton, intrusted by the commonwealth of
Virginia with the work of cementing to
gether the sisterhood of states in one in
dissoluble bond of mutual interest, co-ope
ration, and renown. And there was Rufus
King, from Massachusetts, young in years,
but mature in wisdom and brilliant in ora
tory; Langdon, from New Hampshire,
strong in his understanding and readily
mastering the most intricate details ; El
bridge Gerry, of Massachusetts, exhibiting
the utmost zeal and fidelity in the per
formance of his official duties; Caleb
Strong, from the same state, plain in his

134

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

r

;

CONVENTION AT PHILADELPHIA, 1787.

appearance, but calm, firm, intelligent, and
well-balanced; Ellsworth, from Connecti
cut, elegant in his manners, and distin
guished for his energy of mind, clear
reasoning powers, and effective eloquence ;
Sherman, his colleague, a statesman and
jurist whose fame has extended far beyond
the western world ; Hamilton, from New
York, spare and fragile in person, but
keen, active, laborious, transcendent in
his abilities and of unsullied integrity;
Livingston, from New Jersey, of scholarly
tastes, uncompromisingly republican in his
politics, and fearless in the expression of
his opinions ; Franklin, from Pennsylvania,
one of the profoundest philosophers in the
world, and, though now rising of four
score years, capable of grasping and throw
ing light upon the most recondite ques
tions relating to the science of govern
ment; Robert Morris, from Pennsylvania,
the great financier, of whom it has been
said, and with much truth, that 'the
Americans owed, and still owe, as much
acknowledgment to the financial operations
of Robert Morris, as to the negotiations of

Benjamin Franklin, or even to the arms
of George Washington ; ' Gouverneur
Morris, from the same state, conspicuous
for his accomplishments in learning, his
fluent conversation, and sterling abilities
in debate; Clymer, distinguished among
the sons of Pennsylvania, as one of the
first to raise a defiant voice against the
arbitrary acts of the mother country;
Mifflin, another delegate from the land of
Penn, ardent almost beyond discretion, in
zeal for his country's rights and liberties;
Dickinson, from New Jersey, a patriot,
who, though the only member of the con
tinental congress opposed to the Declara
tion of Independence, on the ground of its
being premature, was nevertheless the only
member of that body who immediately
shouldered his musket and went forth to
face the enemy; Wythe, from Virginia,
wise, grave, deeply versed in the law, and
undaunted in the defense of liberty for the
the people; Madison, also from Virginia,
talented, thoughtful, penetrating, one of
the brightest ornaments of his state and
nation; Martin, from Maryland, a jurist

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

135

of vast attainments and commanding
powers; Davie, from North Carolina, of
splendid physique, one of the master-minds
of the country ; Rutledge, from South Car
olina, pronounced by Washington to be
the finest orator in the continental con
gress; Pinckney, from the same state,
a soldier and lawyer of unrivaled abili
ties; — and thus the record might go on,
until it embraced all the names of this
eminent assemblage of America's nrblest
patriots and most illustrious historic char
acters, "all, all, honorable men."
On proceeding with the organization of
the convention, George Washington was
nominated by Robert Morris to preside
over its deliberations, and was unanimously
elected. The standing rules were then
adopted, one of these being that nothing
spoken in the house be printed or other
wise published, or made known in any
manner, without special permission. And
in this connection, the following little epi
sode, which has come to light, will doubt
less be read as a refreshing reminiscence
of the " secret " doings among those grave
old worthies :
One of the members of the Georgia del
egation was Mr.  , a gentleman, the
zeal of whose legislative mind and efforts
sometimes quite ate up his attention to
mere extraneous matters. Like all the
rest of his associates in the assembly, he
had been furnished with a schedule of the
principal points of debate, or subjects of
consideration, which were to be brought
before the convention as constituting its
business, and, in accordance with the par
liamentary usage of secrecy, this pro
gramme of the convention's duties and
deliberations was with especial care to be
kept from disclosure during t1lQ neriod of
its sittings. It happened, however, that
one of the delegates unfortunately lost his
copy of this official schedule or orders of
the day. General Mifflin, one of the del
egates from Pennsylvania, by good chance
discovered the stray document, and, ex
plaining the circumstances to Washing
ton, placed it in the latter's hands, who,
in silence and gravity, deposited it • among

his own papers. At the close of that day's
proceedings, and just previously to the
convention's rising, Washington, as pre
siding officer, called the attention of the
assembly to the matter in question, in the
following characteristic remarks :
" Gentlemen, I am sorry to find that
some one member of this body has been so
neglectful of the secrets of this convention,
as to drop in the state house a copy of
their proceedings — which, by accident, was
picked up and delivered to me this morn
ing. I must entreat gentlemen to be
more careful, lest our transactions get into
the newspapers, and disturb the public
repose by premature speculations. I know
not whose paper it is, but there it is
(throwing it down on the table) ; let him
who owns it take it."
But to proceed with the historical
sketch of this most august body of modern
legislators. They had been appointed merely with a
view to the revision or improvement of the
old articles of confederation, which still
held them precariously together as a na
tion ; yet they had not deliberated long,
when they determined that the existing
compact or system of government must be
swept away. The question, however, as to
what should be substituted in its place, was
one of extreme difficulty. Mr. Randolph, of
Virginia, opened the great discussion by a
speech in which he laid bare the defects of
the confederation, and then submitted a
series of resolutions embodying the sub
stance of a plan of government — the same,
in character, as that contained in letters
written by Mr. Madison to Mr. Jefferson,
Mr. Randolph, and General Washington,
a few months previous.
The plan in question proposed the form
ation of a general government, consti
tuted as follows : The national legislature
to consist of two branches — the members
of the first branch to be elected by the
people of the several states, and the
members of the second branch to be elected
by the first branch, out of a proper number
nominated by the state legislatures; the
national legislature to have a negative on

136

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

all the state laws contravening the articles
of union, and to have power to legislate in
all cases where the states were incompe
tent ; the right of suffrage in the legisla
ture to be proportioned to the quota of
contribution, or to the number of free in
habitants ; a national executive to be
chosen by the national legislature ; a na
tional judiciary, to consist of one or more
supreme tribunals and inferior ones, the
judges to be chosen by the national legis
lature ; the executive, and a convenient
number of the national judiciary, to coin-

I'-HAXKLlN PLEADING FOR PACIFICATION.

pose a council of revision to examine every
act of the national legislature before it
should operate, and every act of a particu
lar legislature before a negative thereon
should be final ; provision to be made for
the admission of new states to the Union ;
a republican form of government to be
administered in each state ; provision to
be made for amendments to the articles of
union ; the legislative, executive, and judi
ciary powers, or officials, of the several
states, to be bound by oath to support the
articles of union.

A good degree of favor was shown to
Mr. Randolph's plan, but not sufficient to
prevent other projects, conspicuous among
these being one by Mr. Patterson, of New
Jersey, and another by Alexander Hamil
ton, from being brought forward and urged
by their respective friends, — all of these
being republican in their general features,
but differing in their details.
For some days, angry debates occurred
which, but for the timely and healing
ivisdom of Dr. Franklin, the Mentor of
the convention, would have ended in the
breaking up of the body. As soon
as there was an opening for him to
speak, the doctor rose, and in a most
impressive manner, said, among
other things :
" It is to be feared that the mem
bers of this convention are not in a
temper, at this moment, to approach
the subject on which we differ, in
a candid spirit. I would therefore
propose, Mr. President, that, without
proceeding further in this business
at this time, the convention shall
adjourn for three days, in order to let
the present ferment pass off, and to
afford time for a more full, free, and
dispassionate investigation of the
subject ; and I would earnestly rec
ommend to the members of this con
vention, that they spend the time of
this recess, not in associating with
their own party, and devising new
arguments to fortify themselves in
their old opinions, but that they mix
with members of opposite senti
ments, lend a patient ear to their reason
ings, and candidly allow them all the
weight to which they may be entitled;
and when we assemble again, I hope it will
be with a determination to form a consti
tution ; if not such an one as we can indi
vidually, and in all respects, approve, yet
the best which, under existing circum
stances, can be obtained." (Here the
countenance of Washington brightened,
and a cheering ray seemed to break in
upon the gloom of the assembly.) The
doctor continued:

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

137

"Before I sit down, Mr. President, I
will suggest another matter ; and I am
really surprised that it has not been pro
posed by some other member, at an earlier
period of our deliberations. I will sug
gest, Mr. President, the propriety of nom
inating and appointing, before we separate,
a chaplain to this convention, whose duty
it shall be uniformly to assemble with us,
and introduce the business of each day by
imploring the assistance of Heaven, and
its blessing upon our deliberations."
The doctor sat down, and never did a
countenance appear at once so dignified
and so delighted as that of Washington,
at the close of this address. The motion
for appointing a chaplain was instantly
seconded and carried. The convention
also chose a committee, by ballot, consist
ing of one from each state, to sit during the
recess, and then adjourned for three days.
The three days were spent in the
manner advised by Doctor Franklin. On
re-assembling, the chaplain appeared and
led the devotions of the assembly, and the
minutes of the last sitting were read. All
eyes were now turned to the venerable
doctor. He rose, and in a few words
stated, that during the recess he had list
ened attentively to all the arguments, pro
and con, which had been urged by both
sides of the house ; that he had himself
said much, and thought more, on the sub
ject; he saw difficulties and objections,
which might be urged by individual states,
against every scheme which had been pro
posed; and he was now, more than ever,
convinced that the constitution which they
were about to form, in order to be just and
equal, must be formed on the basis of
compromise and mutual concession. With
such views and feelings, he would now
move a reconsideration of the vote last
taken on the organization of the senate.
The motion was seconded, the vote carried,
the former vote rescinded, and by a suc
cessive motion and resolution, the senate
was organized on the present plan.
On the seventeenth of September, the
final debate closed, the last amendment was
adopted, and the result of the convention's

labors was the formation of a constitution
establishing a national government on the
following prescribed principles : That the
affairs of the people of the United States
were thenceforth to be administered, not
by a confederacy, or mere league of friend
ship between the sovereign states, but by
a government, distributed into the three
great departments — legislative, judicial,
and executive ; that the powers of govern
ment should be limited to concerns per
taining to the whole people, leaving the
internal administration of each state, in
time of peace, to its own constitution and
laws, provided that they should be repub
lican, and interfering with them as little
as possible in case of war ; that the legis
lative power of this government should be
divided between the two assemblies, one
representing directly the people of the
separate states, and the other their legisla
tures ; that the executive power of this
government should be vested in one person
chosen for four years, with certain quali
fications of age and nativity, and invested
with a qualified negative upon the enact
ment of the laws ; and that the judicial
power should consist of tribunals inferior
and supreme, to be instituted and organ
ized by congress, the judges removable
only by impeachment.
Thus, finally amended, the constitution
was signed by all the members present,
except by Messrs. Randolph and Mason, of
Virginia, and Gerry, of Massachusetts.
The scene is described as one of historic
solemnity, rising almost to the sublime.
When Washington, whose turn came first,
was about to sign the instrument ordained
to be henceforth — if ratified by the several
states — the palladium of his country's na
tional existence, and the formation of
which he had watched over with such
anxious solicitude, he rose from his seat,
and holding the pen in his hand, after a
short pause, pronounced these words :
" Should the states reject this excellent
Constitution, the probability is that an op
portunity will never again be offered to
cancel another in peace — the next will be
drawn in blood."

138

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

And when, following the example of
their illustrious leader, the other members
of the convention appended their signa
tures, Doctor Franklin, with his eye fixed
upon the presiding officer's seat, in the
rear of which was the picture of a halo or
sun, made the characteristic remark :
" I have often and often, in the course
of the session, and in the vicissitudes of
my hopes and fears as to its issue, looked
at that sun behind the president, without
being able to tell whether it was rising or
sinking; at length I have the happiness
to know it is a rising and not a setting
sun." The convention, however, which framed
the constitution, was not clothed with leg
islative power, nor was the congress of the
confederation competent to accept it or
reject the new form of government. It
was referred by them to the several states,

represented by conventions of the people ;
and it was provided in the instrument it
self, that it should become the supreme
law of the land, when adopted by nine
states. It was not till the summer of
1788 that the ratification of nine states
was obtained, beginning with Delaware,
some by large, and some by very small
majorities. The violence of the opposition
party was in some sections very great, re
sulting, in New York, in tumultuous riots.
Of the thirteen original states, Rhode
Island was the last to accept the constitu
tion, which she did in May, 1790.
The year of suspense, while the Ameri
can people were debating the great question
whether to accept or reject the constitu
tion offered them by Washington and his
associate compatriots, was, on the an
nouncement of the result, succeeded by a
national jubilee.

XI.

FIRST ELECTION AND INAUGURATION OF A PRESIDENT
OF THE UNITED STATES.— 1789.

Washington, " First in War, First in Peace, and First in the Hearts of his Countrymen," the Nation's
Spontaneous, Unanimous Choice — His Triumphal Progress from Home, and Solemn Induction into
Office — Jubilee throughout the Republic, over the August Event. — Auspicious Commencement of
the National Executive Government — Requirements of the Constitution — A Piesident to be Chosen.
— Four Years the Term of Service — All Eyes Fixed Upon Washington. — His Reluctance to Accept.
— Reasons Given for this Course. — Urgent Appeals to Him. — The Result of the Election— One
Voice and One Mind — He Bows to the People's Will. — Joy Produced by His Decision. — Departs at
Once from Mount Vernon. — Farewell Visits to His Mother.— Inauguration Appointed for March
Fourth. — Postponement to April Thirtieth. — Order of Ceremonies. — New Spectacle in the Western
World. — Distinguished Celebrities Present. — Washington's Elegant Appearance. — Dignity when
Taking the Oath. — Reverentially Kisses the Bible. — Curious Customs Initiated.

" Where shall the eye reet, weary of gazing on the great,
where find a glory that is not criminal, a pomp that is not con
temptible? Yes. there is a man, the first, the last, the best of
all, Ihe Cincinnatus of the West, whom envy itself does not
hate. The name of Washington is bequeathed to us to make
humanity blush that such a man is alone in history "—Loud
Btron.

ICCORDING to the terms of the new
federal constitution, which had now
been assented to and ratified by the
¦Washington's inaoguration bible. requisite number of states, a President
of the United States was required to be elected for a term of four years ; and, amidst
all the discordances of political opinion respecting the merits of the constitution itself,
there was but one sentiment throughout the country as to the man who should admin
ister the affairs of the government. All eyes were directed to Washington, and at an
early period his correspondents endeavored to prepare his mind to gratify the expecta
tions of the people. Mr. Johnson, a distinguished patriot of Maryland, wrote him,
"We can not do without you." Indeed, he alone was believed to fill so pre-eminent a
place in the public esteem, that he might be called to the head of the nation without
exciting envy ; and he alone possessed in so unlimited a degree the confidence of the
masses, that, under his auspices, the friends of the new political system might hope to
see it introduced with a degree of firmness which would enable it to resist the open
assaults and secret plots of its many enemies.
By almost all who were on terms of intimacy with Washington, fears were enter
tained that his earnest desire for private life and the improvement of his vast and long-
neglected plantations, would prevail over the wishes of the public, — an acquiescence
in which wishes was believed to be absolutely essential to the completion of that great
work, the Constitution, on which the grandeur and happiness of America was deemed to

140

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

depend. The struggle, on his part, be
tween inclination and duty, was long and
severe, as is evident by the letters which he
wrote on the subject, in response to the ap
peals and importunities constantly made by
his friends. Colonel Lee, then a distin
guished member of congress, communicat
ing to Washington the measures which that
body were adopting to introduce the govern
ment just ordained, thus alludes to the
presidency : " Without you, the govern
ment can have but little chance of success ;
and the people, of that happiness which
its prosperity must yield." So, also, Mr.
Gouverneur Morris, a patriot who had been
one of the most valuable members of con
gress during a great part of the war, and
who had performed a splendid part in the
general convention, wrote : " I have ever
thought, and have ever said that you must
be the president ; no other man can fill
that office." The great Hamilton likewise
urged him to accept the office, and thus
yield to the general call of the country in
relation to its new and untried govern
ment. "You will permit me to say,"
wrote Hamilton, " that it is indispensable
you should lend yourself to its first opera
tions. It is to little purpose to have in
troduced a system, if the weightiest influ
ence is not given to its firm establishment
at the outset." Such arguments and en
treaties as these poured in upon Washing
ton from all quarters of the broad land,
that he should consent to assume the pres
idential chair.
But the election had taken place, in
obedience to the fundamental law ; and at
length, the votes for the president and
vice-president of the United States were,
as prescribed in the constitution, opened
and counted in the senate. The result
showed, that neither the animosity of par
ties, nor the activity of the enemies of the
newly-formed government, could deprive
General Washington of a single vote in
the electoral college. By the voluntary
and spontaneous voice of a great people,
he was called to the chief magistracy of
the nation. The second number of votes
was given to Mr. John Adams, of Massa

chusetts. George Washington and John
Adams were therefore declared to be duly
elected president and vice-president of the
United States, to serve for four years from
the fourth of March, 1789.
At Mount Vernon, on the fourteenth of
April, 1789, the appointment of General
Washington as supreme executive of the
republic was officially announced to him.
This commission was performed by Mr.
Charles Thomson, secretary of the late
congress, who presented to him a certifi
cate signed by John Langdon, president
pro tempore of the senate, stating that he
was unanimously elected.
Accustomed to respect the wishes of his
fellow-citizens, Washington did not think
himself at liberty to decline an office con
ferred upon him by the unsought suffrage
of an entire people. His acceptance of it,
and the expressions of gratitude he in
dulged in for this fresh proof of the esteem
and confidence of his country, were min
gled with declarations of extreme diffidence
in himself. " I wish," he said, " that there
may not be reason for regretting the
choice, for, indeed, all I can promise is,
to accomplish that which can be done by
an honest zeal." In this spirit of devoted
self-sacrifice, and realizing that the ur
gency of public affairs must require the
immediate attendance of the president at
the seat of government, he hastened his
departure ; on the sixteenth of April,
therefore, — the second day after receiving
the certificate of his election, — he bade
adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life,
and to domestic felicity, and, in company
with Mr. Thomson and Colonel Hum
phreys, proceeded to New York, where
congress was then in session, to assume
the administration of the new government.
But, notwithstanding the weight of anxi
ety upon his mind concerning the public
business, he did not omit to pay a parting
visit to his venerable mother. Embracing
his mother, Washington bowed his head
upon her shoulder and wept, murmuring
at the same time something of a hope that
they should meet again. "No, George,"
she replied, " this is our last parting ; my

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

141

days to come are few. But go, fulfill your
high duties, and may God bless and keep
you." She was then afflicted with a

town, where the whole population turned
out to do him honor. And thus it was,
that, notwithstanding Washington wished

cancer, of which she died in her eighty-
second year.
Leaving Alexandria, he was accompa
nied by a throng of citizens to George-

to make a private journey, his desire could
not be gratified. The public feelings were
too strong to be suppressed. Crowds
flocked around him enthusiastically wher-

142

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ever he stopped ; and corps of militia, and
processions of citizens, attended him
through their respective states. At Phil
adelphia, he was received by a concourse
of the most distinguished personages of
the city and state, and followed by thou
sands of people to a grand banquet, pre
pared for the occasion, where addresses
and sentiments were interchanged, while
the air was filled with the shouts of popu
lar exultation, and with one universal
acclaim, invoking blessings upon him. As
he crossed the Schuylkill, a civic crown of
laurel was, unperceived by him, let down
upon his head by a. youth who was con
cealed in the arch of evergreen which dec
orated the bridge. At night, the whole
town was brilliantly illuminated, and all
classes and ages spontaneously united in
the happy festivities.
The next day, at Trenton, he was wel
comed in a manner exceedingly novel and
touching. In addition to the usual dem
onstrations of respect and attachment,
which were given by the discharge of
cannon, by military corps, and by private
persons of distinction, the gentler sex pre
pared, in their own taste, a most unique
tribute of their regard, indicative of the
grateful recollection in which they held
their deliverance twelve years before from
an insulting enemy. On the bridge ex
tending across the stream which passes
through the town, — the place where Wash
ington, at one time, made so gallant a sur
prise on the enemy of his country, and at
another, so important a stand, and a re
treat worth more than a victory, — a tri
umphal arch was erected, with evergreen
and floral adornments, and supported by
thirteen pillars similarly enwreathed. On
the front was inscribed, in large golden
letters : ' The Defender of the Moth
ers will be the Protector of the
Daughters.' Over this, in the center of
the arch, above the inscription, was a
dome or cupola of evergreens and flowers
encircling the dates of two memorable
events, one of these being the bold and
judicious stand made by the American
troops, by which the progress of the Brit

ish army was arrested on the evening pre
ceding the battle of Princeton ; the other
was the date of Washington's glorious
victory at Trenton, when nine hundred
Hessians were made prisoners, and the
horizon of American affairs was illumined
by a radiance which never again wholly
forsook it. On the summit of the arch a
large sun-flower, as always pointing to the
sun, was designed to express this motto, —
'To You Alone.' The ladies had ar
ranged themselves on the side of the
street, between the arch and the town,
with their daughters in front, to a very
considerable number, all dressed in white,
and decorated with floral wreaths and
chaplets. Six of these held baskets of
flowers in their hands, and, as soon as the
general had passed under the arch, the
beautiful choristers advanced, singing a .
sonnet composed for the occasion; as they
sung the last lines they strewed the flowers
before the general.
At Brunswick, he was joined by Gov
ernor William Livingston, of New Jersey,
who accompanied him to Elizabethtown
Point. On the road, the committee of
congress received and attended him with
much military parade to the point where
he was to embark for New York. The
embarkation took place in a magnificently-
decorated barge, manned and rowed by
thirteen branch pilots, attired in white.
There were also other barges, filled with
eminent dignitaries from all parts of the
land. Arriving at New York, the president
was received by the governor of the state,
and by an immense concourse of citizens,
headed by the military. Multitudes of his
old and faithful officers and fellow-patriots
pressed around him to offer their congrat
ulations, and to express the joy which
glowed in their bosoms at seeing the man
in whom all confided, at the head of the
nation's affairs.
Thus it appears that the president's first
arrival at the seat of government was a
national ovation which showed, by ita
spontaneousness, enthusiasm, and unanim
ity, that all hearts and voices were united

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

143

in his favor. It was an occasion which
excited the great heart of the people be
yond all powers of description ; the hand
of industry was suspended, and the various
pleasures of the capital were centered in a
single and universal enjoyment. Many
aged patriots were heard to say that they
should now die contented, having had a
sight of the Father of his Country.

PRESIDENTIAL MANSION, 1789.
The fourth of March was the day which
had been appointed for the new national
government to commence operations, but
so many impediments occurred that it was
not until the thirtieth of April that this
took place.
Vice-president Adams arrived in New
York, escorted by a troop of horse, on the
twenty-first of April, and, two days before
Washington's arrival, took his seat as the
constitutional presiding officer of the
senate. On doing this, he addressed that
body in a dignified speech adapted to the
occasion, and warmly eulogistic of the
new-born republic and its illustrious chief
magistrate. On Thursday, the thirtieth of April,
1789, the ceremony of Inaugurating the
First President of the United States took
place in New York, which at that time
was the federal capital. Long before the
hour arrived, the town swarmed with
people; every tavern and boarding-house
was full, and private residences teemed
with guests and lodgers. Many persons
are said to have slept in tents on 'the
Common.' The Hudson was studded with
boats bearing visitors, and long caravans
of carts began to arrive before daybreak,
from Westchester, Long Island, and the
Jerseys. The ceremony of the day was

ushered in by a salute fired from the bat
tery. This was about six o'clock in the
morning, and, even at this early hour, the
streets were fast filling up. At nine, the
church bells rang out a merry peal ; at ten
they summoned the worshipers to church,
each pastor devoting the occasion to im
ploring Heaven's blessing upon the nation
and the first president. General Wash
ington had now been in the city a week,
having arrived on the twenty-third. He
was living in a private house, the prop
erty of Mr. Osgood, on the corner of
Cherry street and Franklin square; but
his household arrangements had not yet
been perfected, as Mrs. Washington did
not arrive for some little time, remaining
at Mount Vernon until affairs were1 in a
state of readiness for her presence at the
new presidential mansion.
At eight o'clock, on this memorable
morning, the sky was overcast, and the
appearance was that of a gathering storm.
Everybody noticed, however, that the mo
ment the bells began to ring the sky
cleared, and by the close of divine service
the weather was serene and beautiful. At
noon, the procession that was to conduct
the president to Federal hall assembled
in due style opposite his residence in
Cherry street. There were the usual mil
itary companies — a troop of horse, one or
two companies of grenadiers, a company of
Highlanders, in kilts, — all the chief mu
nicipal officers, the congressional commit-

PIUSSIDENTIAL MAKSION, 1876.
tees, and the new cabinet, — multitudes of
distinguished citizens bringing up the
rear. By this assemblage the new presi
dent was escorted to Federal hall, which
stood at the head of Broad street, in Wall,

144

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

where the custom-house was subsequently
built. The old building had been put in
repair at a considerable expense, but it
was still so rickety that cautious persons
looked forward to the ceremony with un
easiness. The procession having arrived,
and the hall occupied according to the pro
gramme, nothing remained but to proceed
with the solemn formalities ; and, when it
is remembered that there was no precedent
in history for the inauguration of a repub
lican president, one can not but admire ihs
striking dignity which characterized the
whole occasion. At the door of the senate
chamber, to which the eyes of the whole
vast multitude were intensely directed, the
vice-president met General Washington,
and with consummate but unaffected ease
and grace of manner said —
" Sir, the senate and house of represent
atives of the United States are ready to
attend you to take the oath required by
the Constitution, which will be adminis
tered to you by the chancellor of the state
of New York."
" I am ready to proceed," was Washing
ton's reply, made with his accustomed
elegant dignity.
The vice-president now led the way to
the outside gallery ; the president fol
lowed, with as many of the high function
aries as could find room, and all were pres
ently gathered on the balcony fronting on
Wall street. Of the group, perhaps the
most striking person was Chancellor Liv
ingston, in a full suit of black, and, like
Washington, one of the finest-looking men
anywhere to be seen. Secretary Otis car
ried the Bible on a crimson cushion, and
near him were Generals Knox and St.
Clair, Roger Sherman, Hamilton, and
other noted persons of revolutionary fame.
At the proper moment, the chancellor ad
ministered the oath, with great delibera
tion and emphasis, to Washington, who,
bowing down, seized the book, kissed it,
and exclaimed, with closed eyes and much
emotion —
" I swear, so help me God!"
"It is done," the chancellor declared,
and, turning to the crowd exclaimed,

'' Long live George Washington, President
of the United States ! "
This last-named declaration, on the part
of the chancellor, was in imitation of mo
narchical custom. The error of this prac-<
tice was, however, soon exposed and
abandoned; but at this time, the crowd
thought of nothing but the exciting solem
nity of the scene, and many who demon
stratively waved their hats were too
overcome by emotion to join in the huzzas.
Of course, Washington was the observed
of all observers in that mighty crowd, and
his grandly-commanding figure made this
both natural and easy, and so too did the
construction of the balcony, conspicuously
fronting the edifice, where the remarkable
ceremony was performed. He was dressed
in a complete suit of dark brown broad
cloth, of American production, white silk
long stockings, silver shoe-buckles upon
his polished shoes, a steel-hilted dress
sword, and his hair dressed and powdered
according to the style then in vogue, and
gathered up in a bag. This attire, it may
be remarked, was Washington's personal
choice. On the occasion of his second in
auguration, however, Washington was
dressed precisely as Stuart has painted
him in Lord Lansdowne's full-length por
trait — in a full suit of the richest black
velvet, with diamond knee-buckles, and
square silver buckles set upon shoes ja
panned with the most scrupulous neatness,
black silk stockings, his shirt ruffled at the
breast and wrists, a light dress-sword; his
hair profusely powdered, fully dressed, so
as to project at the sides, and gathered be
hind in a silk bag, ornamented with a
large rose of black ribbon. He held his
cocked hat, which had a large black cock
ade on one side of it, in his hand, while
standing, but laid it on the table when he
sat down.
Washington, on taking the oath, as ad
ministered by Chancellor Livingston, is
said to have laid his hand upon that page
of the Bible containing the fiftieth chapter
of Genesis, opposite to which were two
illustrations of the text, one being a pic
ture of 'The Blessing of Zebulon,' and the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

145

other of ' The Prophecy of Issachar.' That
memorable volume, of such peculiar his
torical associations, now belongs to one of
the masonic lodges in New York. Upon
each of the two outside surfaces of the vol
ume, there is engraved in golden letters a
commemorative record of the interesting
circumstances attaching to it ; and on the
inside, beautifully written upon parch
ment, in ornamental style, surmounted by
an engraved portrait of Washington, is
the following statement :
' On this Sacred Volume, on the 30th day
of April, 1789, in the city of New York,
was administered to George Washington
the first President of the United States of
America, the oath to support the Constitu
tion of the United States. This important
ceremony was performed by the Most
Worshipful Grand Master of Free and
Accepted Masons of the state of New
York, the Honorable Robert R. Livings
ton, Chancellor of the state.'
The inaugural address delivered by
Washington, and which, like all the early
inaugurals, possessed the merit of brevity,
was pronounced in the senate chamber. It
was considered, in those days, a speech to
congress and not to the people ; and both
houses felt it incumbent on them — follow
ing the usage of monarchies, — to present
replies to the president, at his residence.
From the senate chamber, the president
was escorted to St. Paul's church, where
he heard an appropriate religious service,
conducted^ by Dr. Prevost; and thence
home to his house. In the evening the
whole city was one blaze of illumination,
all classes participating in this attractive

feature of the general jubilee. Many of
the illuminations were very beautiful —
none more so than those of the French and
Spanish ministers, who both lived in
Broadway, near the Bowling Green ; and
the whole scene was unique, animated, and
enchanting. General Washington him
self went ' down town,' that is to say,
toward the Battery, to see the spectacle, of
which ho expressed the warmest admira
tion ; returning about ten o'clock on foot,
the crowd being too dense for a carriage
to pass.
As the supreme head of the nation,
President Washington at once endeavored
to acquaint himself fully with the state of
public affairs, and for this purpose, he
'called upon those who had been the heads
of departments under the confederation, to
report to him the situation of their respec
tive concerns. He also, having consulted
with his friends, adopted a system for the
order of his own household, for the regu
lation of his hours of business, and of in
tercourse with those who, in a formal
manner, visited him as the chief magis
trate of the nation. But he . publicly an
nounced that neither visits of business nor
of ceremony would be expected on Sunday,
as he wished to reserve that day sacredly
to himself. One of the most important
and delicate of the president's duties was
to fill those departments which congress at
an early day had established to aid the
executive in the administration of the
government. His judgment and prudence
were consistently exhibited in this respect,
by his selecting such able men for his
cabinet.

10

XII.
GREATEST DEFEAT AND YICTORY OF AMERICAN ARMS
IN THE INDIAN WARS.— 1791.

Headlong Flight and Destruction of St. Clair's Army, in 1791, Before the Trained Warriors of "Lit
tle Turtle." — This Mortifying Disaster Retrieved by Wayne's Overwhelming Triumph in 1794. — Final
and Crushing Blow Dealt by Jackson, in 1814. — The Question of Power Between the Two Races For
ever settled in Favor of the Whites. — Old Feuds Between the Races. — Harmer's Expedition to the
North-west. — Powerless in Ambush Warfare. — Repeated and Bloody Reverses. — St. Clair put in Com
mand. — Warning Words of Washington. — Sudden Attack by the Miamis. — Terrible Slaughter ofthe
Whites. — Overthrow of the Whole Campaign. — Washington's Receptionof the News. — His Appall
ing Wrath. — Sketch of St. Clair's Conqueror. — His Fame at Home and Abroad. — General Wayne
Sent to the Field. — Unsuccessfully Proffers Peace. — Instantly Prepares for Battle. — Great Army of
Indian Warriors — Their Sagacious Choice of Position. — Desperate Fury of the Conflict. — Wayne'i
Prowess Irresistible. — Death Knell of the Savages. — Their Confederacy Shattered.

" Nothing but lamentable Bounds was heard,
Nor aufrht was seen but g-hastly views of death,
Infectious horror ran from face to face,
And pale despair."

LL historians agree in declaring that the
defeat of General St. Clair, in 1791, by
the Indians of the north-west territory,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

147

was the most signal and disastrous ever
sustained by the American army, in its
battles with the warriors of the forest.
On the other hand, this defeat — the
news of which fell like a thunderbolt upon
the then struggling and distracted govern
ment, — was retrieved by a most complete
and decisive victory, under General
Wayne, over these same tribes, collected
together in a vast and powerful horde, at
the rapids of the Maumee, in 1794 ; a vic
tory which, taken in connection with the
subsequent overwhelming triumph of Gen
eral Jackson, in his campaign against the
Creeks, gave the finishing stroke to the
power of the Indian race in North Amer
ica, — settling forever the long struggle
that had been carried on between the white
man and the red man, in favor of the
former, though the warlike propensities of
the savages occasionally broke out in sub
sequent years, as in 1811, under Tecum
seh; the Creek war, of 1814, under
Weatherford ; the terrible Seminole cam
paign ; the Cherokee contest ; the hostili
ties of the Sacs, Foxes, and Winnebagoes,
under Black Hawk ; the renowned Flor
ida war, of 1835, under Micanopy and Os
ceola; etc. These later wars tasked, to
the utmost, the military skill of such
trained soldiers as Jackson, Harrison,
Worth, Harney, Jessup, Clinch, Thomp
son, Dade, Atkinson, Gaines, Taylor. Red
Jacket, and Cornplanter, were prominent
chieftains in the wars of the Senecas.
In the month of September, 1790, Gen
eral Harmer was intrusted with the imports
ant duty of looking after the fierce tribes
on the Miami and Wabash, between whom
and the Kentuckians there had long waged
a relentless war. The general went for
ward with a body of three hundred and
twenty regulars, who, being re-enforced by
the militia of Pennsylvania and Kentucky,
formed a corps of one thousand four hun
dred and fifty-three men. The Indians,
on his approach, set fire to their villages ;
but this was nothing, unless they could be
brought to an engagement. Harmer,
however, instead of advancing himself,
with the main body, sent forward Colonel

Hardin, with two hundred and ten men,
of whom only thirty were regulars. They
were attacked ; the militia fled ; the others
were nearly cut off. The general then
sent forward Hardin, with three hundred
men, who speedily encountered another
large body. After a brave contest, in
which this party lost nearly half their
number, they retreated on the main body.
Thus disaster followed disaster, and the
nation became sore and mortified under
such repeated humiliations.
One of the last measures, therefore,
adopted by the United States congress,
the ensuing year, 1791, was to augment
the national military force, to a 'suitable
degree of power, and to place in the hands
of President Washington more ample
means for the protection of the frontier, as
the Indians on the north-west side of the
Ohio still continued their hostilities. A
new expedition against the belligerent
tribes had, in consequence, been projected ;
and General St. Clair, then governor of
the territory west of the Ohio, was ap
pointed commander of the forces to be em
ployed. Washington had been deeply
chagrined by the mortifying disasters of
General Harmer's expedition to the Wa
bash, resulting from Indian ambushes.
In taking leave, therefore, of his old mili
tary comrade, St. Clair, he wished him
success and honor, and added this solemn
warning :
" You have your instructions from the
secretary of war. I had a strict eye to
them, and will add but one word, — Be
ware of a surprise ! You know how the
Indians fight. I repeat ii; — Beware of a
surprise ! "
With these warning words sounding in
his ear, fresh with Washington's awful
emphasis, St. Clair departed.
On the fourth of November, while the
main body of St. Clair's army were en
camped in two lines on rising ground,
some fifteen miles south of the Miami vil
lages on one of the tributaries of the Wa
bash, and the militia upon a high flat on
the other side of the stream, they were
surprised and terribly attacked by an In-

148

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

dian force which lay concealed in the
woods. General St. Clair, who was suffer
ing severely from gout, was unable to
mount his horse, and had to be carried
about in a litter, from which he gave his
orders with discretion and the most perfect
coolness. The battle raged fearfully for
nearly three hours, and after nearly half
of his army had been slaughtered, St. Clair
beat a headlong retreat. Thus were all
the plans, hopes and labors of President
Washington, congress, and the cabinet, in
reference to the Indian campaign, utterly
and deplorably overthrown in a single
day ! This result is stated to have arisen
thus : On the third of November, St. Clair
formed his force into two lines ; the first,
under the command of General Butler,
composed the right wing, and lay with a
creek immediately in their front. The
left wing, commanded by Colonel Darke,
formed the second, and lay with an inter
val of about seventy yards between them
and the first line. The militia were ad
vanced beyond the creek, about a quarter
of a mile in front. About half an hour
before sunrise the next morning, just after
the troops had been dismissed from the
parade, an unexpected attack was made
upon the militia, who fled in the utmost
confusion, and rushing into camp through
the first line of regular troops, which had

been formed the instant the first gun was
discharged, threw them too into disorder.
Such was the panic, and so rapid and irreg
ular the flight, that the exertions of the
officers to recall the men to their senses
and to duty were quite unavailing.
It was soon perceived that the American
fire could produce, on a concealed enemy,
no considerable effect, and that the only
hope of victory was in the bayonet. At
the head of the second regiment, which
formed the left of the left wing, Darke
made an impetuous charge upon the
enemy, forced them from their ground
with some loss, and drove them about four
hundred yards. He was followed by that
whole wing ; but the want of a sufficient
number of riflemen to press this advan
tage, deprived him of its benefit, and, as
soon as he gave over the pursuit, the In
dians renewed the attack. In the mean
time, General Butler was mortally

WAYNE'S DEFEAT OF THE INDIANS.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

149

wounded, the left of the right wing was
broken, the artillerists almost to a man
killed, the guns seized, and the camp pen
etrated by the enemy. Orders were given
to again charge with the bayonet; this
was done with spirit and momentary suc
cess, the Indians being driven out of the
camp, and the artillery recovered.
To save the remnant of the army was
all that now remained to be done ; and,
about half-past nine in the morning, Gen
eral St. Clair ordered Colonel Darke, with
the second regiment, to charge a body of
Indians who intercepted their retreat, and
to gain the road. Major Clarke, with his
battalion, was directed to cover the rear.
These orders were executed, and then a
disorderly flight commenced. The pursuit
was kept up about four miles, when, fortu
nately for the surviving Americans, the
victorious savages, eager for plunder,
stopped at the camp of their vanquished
foes, to divide the spoils. The routed
troops continued their flight to Fort Jef
ferson — some thirty miles, — throwing
away their arms along the road. At this
place they met the detached regiment, and
leaving their wounded at Fort Jefferson,
the army continued its retreat to Fort
Washington, the site of the present city
of Cincinnati.
Poor St. Clair's defeat has been aptly
paralleled with that of Braddock. No
doubt, when he realized the terrible havoc
that had been made, he thought sadly of
Washington's parting words, " Beware of
a surprise ! " The manner in which the
news of this disaster affected Washington
is thus described by Mr. Rush : —
Towards the close of a winter's day, in
December, an ofiicer in uniform was seen
to dismount in front of the president's
house in Philadelphia, and, giving the
bridle to his servant, knock at the door of
|e mansion. Learning from the porter
pt the president was at dinner, he said
was on public business, having dis-
jjjtches which he could deliver only to the
»,:nmander~in"cn'ef' A servant was sent
Lf to the dining-room to give the informa-
|||m to Mr. Lear, the president's private

secretary, who left the table and went into
the hall, where the officer repeated what
he had said. Mr. Lear replied that, as
the president's secretin'}', ho would take
charge of the dispatches and deliver them
at the proper time. The officer made
answer that he had just arrived from the
western army, and his orders were explicit
to deliver them with all promptitude, and
to the president in person ; but that he
would wait his directions. Mr. Lear re
turned, and in a whisper imparted to the
president what had passed. General
Washington rose from the table and went
to the officer. He was back in a short
time, made a word of apology for his ab
sence, but no allusion to the cause of it.
He had company that day. Everything
went on as usual. Dinner over, the gen
tlemen passed to the drawing-room of Mrs.
Washington, which was open in the even
ing. The general spoke courteously to
every lady in the room, as was his custom.
His hours were early, and by ten o'clock
all the company had gone. Soon Mrs.
Washington left the room, and the general
and Mr. Lear remained. The chief now
paced the room in hurried strides, and
without speaking, for several minutes.
Then he sat down on a sofa by the fire,
telling Mr. Lear to sit down. He rose
again, and, as he walked backward and
forward, Mr. Lear saw a storm gathering.
In the agony of his emotion, he struck his
clenched hands with fearful force against
his forehead, and in a paroxysm of anguish
exclaimed —
"It's all over! St. Clair's defeated—
routed ; the officers nearly all killed — the
men by wholesale — that brave army cut to
pieces — the rout complete ! too shocking to
think of — and a surprise in the bargain ! "
He uttered all this with great vehe
mence. Then he paused, and walked
about the room several times, agitated, but
saying nothing. Near the door he stopped
short and stood still a few seconds ; then,
turning to the secretary, who stood amazed
at the spectacle of Washington in all his
terrors, the general, in his wrath, again
broke out, saying,

150

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

" Yes, sir, here, in this very room, on
this very spot, I took leave of him; I
wished him success and honor. 'You
have your instructions,' I said, 'from the
secretary of war; I had a strict eye to
them, and will add but one word — beware
of a surprise ! I repeat it — beware of a
surprise! You know how the Indians
fight us.' He went off with that as my
last solemn warning thrown into his ears.
And yet, to suffer that army to be cut to
pieces, hacked by a surprise — the very
thing I guarded him against ! O God !
0 God ! he's worse than a murderer !
How can he answer it to his country?
The blood of the slain is upon him — the
curse of widows and orphans — the curse of
heaven ! "
This torrent came out in tone appalling.
His very frame shook. " It was awful ! "

said Mr. Lear. More than once he threw
his hands up as he hurled imprecations
upon St. Clair. Mr. Lear remained speech
less — awed into breathless silence. Pres
ently the roused chief sat down on the
sofa once more. He seemed conscious of
his passion, and uncomfortable. He was
silent ; his wrath began to subside. He
at length said, in an altered voice,
" This must not go beyond this room."
Another pause followed — a longer one —
when he said, in a tone quite low,
" General St. Clair shall have justice.
I looked hastily through the dispatches —

saw the whole disaster, but not all the par
ticulars. I will hear him without preju
dice ; he shall have full justice ; yes, long,
faithful, and meritorious services have
their claims."
Washington was now perfectly calm.
Half an hour had gone by ; the storm of
indignation and passion was over, and no
sign of it was afterward seen in his con
duct or heard in his conversation. His
wrath on this occasion was perhaps never
before aroused to so great a pitch, except
when he confronted Lee, when the latter
was retreating at the battle of Monmouth.
St. Clair was succeeded by the brave
General Wayne, whose successes retrieved
the misfortunes of his predecessor, as the
following stirring record will show. It
will be interesting, however, to have some
account of the character and personal ap
pearance of Michikiniqua, or
"Little Turtle," the Missesago
chief, who conquered St. Clair,
for in no recorded battle did the
sons of the forest ever show
themselves better warriors, or
achieve more renown at home
and abroad.
Notwithstanding his name,
Little Turtle was at this time at
least six feet high, strong, mus
cular, and remarkably dignified
in his manners, though of a very
sour and morose countenance,
and apparently very crafty and
subtle. He was the son of a
Miami chief, and was forty-five
years of age when he led his warriors
against poor St. Clair. His warlike train
ing was of that stern and hardening kind
which was never omitted in his nation.
It was on the banks of the Miami, or
Maumee, in 1794, that General Anthony
Wayne, the successor of St. Clair in the
command of the American army in the
Miami country, dealt a retributive and
staggering blow to the power of the In
dians in that vast and magnificent region,
— a blow from which they never recovered.
Realizing the terrible shock which the
nation received by the defeat of St. Clair,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

151

the brave Wayne — " mad Anthony," as he
was commonly called, on account of his
reckless courage, — at once made the best
of his way to the theater of action, for it
was easy to foresee, what indeed immedi
ately ensued, that, under the encourage
ment of the successes against Harmer and
St. Clair, all the treaties would be dis

solved, and a general savage confederacy
formed against the United States.
On the eighth of August, 1794, Wayne
had reached the confluence of the Au
Glaize and the Miamis of the lakes, with
out opposition. The richest and most
extensive settlements of the western In
dians were here. Halting at this place,
a few days, the Americans threw up some
works of defense. A fort had also been
built on the St. Mary, twenty-four miles
in advance of Fort Recovery.
Unwilling to lose time, or to be in any
way outwitted, Wayne moved forward on
the fifteenth of August, and on the six
teenth met his messenger returning from
the Indians, and bearing word from them,
that, if the Americans would wait ten days
at Glaize, they, the Indians, would decide
for peace or war. Wayne's only notice of
this evasive message was to march straight
on, arriving, on the eighteenth, at the
rapids ; here they halted, and labored the
next day in erecting works for the protec
tion of their baggage. At eight, on the
morning of the twentieth, the American
army moved down the north bank of the

Maumee ; Wayne's legion was on the
right, its flank covered by the Maumee;
one brigade of mounted volunteers was on
the left, under Brigadier-General Todd;
and the other was in the rear, under Brig
adier-General Barbee. A selected battal
ion of mounted volunteers moved in front
of the legion, commanded by Major Price,
who was directed to keep sufficiently ad
vanced, so as to give timely notice for the
troops to form in case of action, it being
yet undetermined whether the Indians
would choose peace or war.
Wayne says, in his official dispatch,
that, after advancing about five miles,
Major Price's corps received so severe a
fire from the enemy, who were secreted in
the woods and high grass, as to compel
them to retreat. The legion was immedi
ately formed into two lines, principally in
a close thick wood, which extended for
miles on the left, and for a very consider
able distance in front ; the ground was
covered with old fallen timber, probably
occasioned by a tornado, which rendered it
impracticable for the cavalry to act with
effect, and afforded the enemy the most
favorable covert for their mode of warfare.
The savages were formed in three lines,
within supporting distance of each other,
and extending for nearly two miles at
right angles with the river. Wayne soon
discovered, from the weight of the fire and
the extent of their lines, that the enemy
were in full force in front, in possession
of their favorite ground, and endeavoring
to turn the American left flank. He there
fore gave orders for the second line to
advance and support the first, and directed
Major-General Scott to gain and turn the
right flank of the savages, with the whole
of the mounted volunteers, by a circuitous
route; at the same time, the front line was
ordered to advance and charge with trailed
arms, and rouse the Indians from their
coverts at the point of the bayonet, and
when up to deliver a close and well-directed
fire on their backs, followed by a brisk
charge, so as not to give them time to
load agdij.
All these orders were obeyed with ipirit

152

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

and promptitude ; but such was the im
petuosity of the cliarge by the first line of
infantry, that the Indians and Canadian
militia and volunteers were driven from
their coverts in so short a time, that,
although every possible exertion was used

LITTLE TURTLE.

by the officers of the second line of the
legion, and by Generals Scott, Todd, and
Barbee, of the mounted volunteers, to gain
their proper positions, only a part of each
could get up in season to participate in the
action, — the enemy being driven, in the
course of one hour, more than two miles,
through the thick woods, by less than one-
half their numbers. Thus did this power
ful horde of savages, who had assumed to
dictate terms and throw down the gauntlet
to the American nation, abandon them
selves to flight, and flee in terror and dis
may, before Wayne and his victorious
army. They were compelled to sue for
peace on the conqueror's own terms; their

confederacy was shattered into fragments;
their power was forever annihilated. On
the return of Wayne to Philadelphia, then
the nation's capital, there was a cessation
of all business, as on some great holiday;
the military turned out in legions to meet
him ; the bells rang out their merriest
peals, cannon boomed from every hill-top,
and the plaudits of the multitude attended
him at every step. General Harrison's
defeat of the Indians under Tecumseh, at
Tippecanoe, in 1811, Was another victory
of similar brilliancy and importance, de
serving of mention here.
It only remains to add to this chapter,
General Jackson's crowning achievement
in the work of grinding to powder the mil
itary prestige of the Indian race in North
America. The Creeks and Seminoles had
long disputed the intrusion of the white
race, and, though dreadfully cut to pieces
in the battles of Talluschatches, Talladega,
Emuckfaw, Enotochopco, and others, de
termined to make one more great and final
struggle in the field. Accordingly, with
consummate sagacity and skill, they se
lected a position at the great bend of the
Tallapoosa, called by them Tohopeka, and
by the whites Horseshoe Bend. Here,
strongly fortified, were collected together
the proudest, fiercest, most victorious war
riors, of all that race and region. On the
27th of March, 1814, Jackson advanced
and attacked them with tremendous en
ergy, the troops leaping over the walls of
the fort, and engaging in a hand-to-hand
combat with the savages, the latter fight
ing with characteristic fury and despera
tion. Of the nine hundred warriors, — the
flower of their tribes, — who defended the
fort, seven hundred and fifty were killed
or drowned ; for, seeing no chance of
escape, and scorning to surrender, they
fought with bloody energy until nearly all
were slain.

XIII.

WHITNEY'S EXTRAORDINARY COTTON-GIN INVEN
TION.— 1793.

Amazing Impetus Given to the Culture, Uses and Consumption pf Cotton. — Revolution in the In
dustrial Prospects and Political Power of the South. — How Cotton Became "King." — Its Relation to
the Great Themes and Events in American History. — Ingratitude to Whitney. — His Brilliant Change
of Fortune in Another Sphere. — Whitney's Obscure Circumstances. — His Early Mechanical Genius.
— Determined to Get an Education. — Goes to the South as a Teacher. — Change of Pursuits — Be
friended by General Greene's Widow. — Amateur Inventive Efforts. — Low State of Southern In
dustry. — Objection to Cotton-Raising. —
Mrs. Greene's Apt Suggestion — Whit
ney's Characteristic Resolve — Secret and
Persevering Toil. — Exciting Rumors as
to His Purpose. — Great Expectations En
tertained. — Triumphant Success. — En
thusiasm of the Cotton-Growers. — His
Machine Stolen from Him. — Infringe
ments upon His Patent. — Law-Suits, but
no Redress for Him. — His Pathetic Let
ter to Fulton. — He Invents a Valuable
Firearm. — Southern Strides in Wealth.

u What Peter the Great did to make Russia dominant,
Eli Whitney's invention ot the Colton-Gin hac more than
equaled in its relation to the progress and power of the
United States."— Lord Macaulay.

RESULTS OF THE COTTON-GIN.

EYOND all doubt or question, the
invention of the cotton-gin, just at
the close of the eighteenth century,
was an event which most wonder
fully accelerated the high career of
the United States, in an industrial point of view, and, indeed, revolutionized, by an
extraordinary impetus, the manufactures and commerce of the world. It may be re
garded, in a word, as the first key which was applied to the unlocking of those won
drous natural capabilities of the new-born republic, the continued development of
which has given her such a foremost place, in respect to material and political
power, among the nations of the earth. So direct is its identity with the facts and
causes which have led to the country's prodigious progress during the hundred years
of its national history, that he who would trace to their primary source — with even
ordinary philosophical acuteness of judgment — those momentous events, whether
material, political, military, or social, which have distinguished the greater part of
that century, may well pause longest and take his latitude at this point. Such, in
deed, is the great national consequence accorded by historians to this machine, that, of

154

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the thousands upon thousands of inven
tions and discoveries recorded in the
patent office at Washington, many of
them, of course, of almost incalculable
value, only some half a dozen, or less,
are comprised in the ' chronology of
important dates,' in the New American
Cyclopedia, — that marvelous portrayal of
man and civilization during the known
ages. First among the triumphs of Amer
ican ingenuity thus made conspicuously
historical, is the invention and introduc
tion of the cotton-gin, in 1793, which is
the subject of this article. That it should
have a place among the few of its kind
capable of coming within the plan and
scope of this volume, will be at once ap
parent. Before entering into the more elaborate
details pertaining to this remarkable ma
chine and its bearing upon American
industry and commerce, it may be useful
to give, in the first place, a sketch in brief
of the career of Eli Whitney, whose genius
gave to his country, and to mankind, this
great boon. At an early age, he gave in
dications of that mechanical and inventive
talent, for which he was afterwards so
greatly celebrated. His father was a
farmer in Westborough, Massachusetts, a
village where only the ordinary advantages
of a common-school education were availa
ble. But Mr. Whitney was desirous of
the benefits of a more complete course of
instruction, and at the age of twenty-three
entered the college in New Haven. He
received the honors of this institution in
1792, and soon after went to Georgia, in
the expectation of opening a private
school, and devoting himself to that profes
sion. In this expectation he was disap
pointed, for, on arriving at the place of his
destination, he was informed that another
tutor was already filling the station he ex
pected to occupy.
Having traveled from the north, to Sa
vannah, in company with Mrs. Greene, the
widow of the revolutionary general and
hero of that name, he received from that
lady a courteous invitation to make her
house his home, while engaged in his

course of studies preparatory to entering
the legal profession. This most favorable
offer, so timely in view of his shattered
health and scanty means, he gratefully
availed himself of.
It was on the occasion of a social gath
ering of some neighbors and others, one
afternoon, at the residence of Mrs. Greene,
— a party including several planters of
distinction, a few of whom had served as
officers under General Greene's command,
— that Whitney first resolved to rouse his
genius to its utmost accomplishment.
Among other remarks made by the gentle
men present, on the occasion referred to,
was one in regard to the depressed condi
tion of the agricultural interests of Geor
gia, namely, that since all the lands in
that region, not suitable for the cultivation
of rice, were eminently favorable for the
production of heavy cotton-crops, it was
exceedingly to be regretted that no means
existed of cleansing the green seed-cotton,
or of separating it from its seed, in a
manner sufficiently thorough to make it
profitable, — it being almost useless, in the
absence of such a method or contrivance,
to undertake to grow cotton-crops for sale,
because only a pound of this green seed-
cotton could be cleaned and made mer
chantable, per day, by a single laborer,
and the price obtainable for it, when thus
prepared, was but a few cents per pound.
In response to these suggestions, Mrs.
Greene, with true womanly perceptions,
and knowing Whitney's ingenious turn of
mind in the sphere of mechanics, naively
remarked, " Well, gentlemen, apply to my
young friend, Mr. Whitney, — he can make
anything;" and, suiting the action to the
word, she led them into the room where
her tambour or embroidery-frame was
kept, together with some other ingenious
contrivances, and exhibited them to the
company as evidences of Whitney's sin
gular skill. On being introduced to these
gentlemen, and entering into conversation
with them on the subject, Mr. Whitney
was obliged to inform them that he had
never seen cotton nor cotton-seed in his
life!

156

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

In a few months, he had advanced so
far and so successfully with his machine,
as to leave no doubt of his having achieved
a complete triumph. In acknowledgment
of Mrs. Greene's many and valued atten
tions to him during his labors, and her
steadfast interest in his fortunes, the grat
ifying privilege was accorded her, on a
day duly appointed, of exhibiting to an
invited assembly of guests, principally
planters, a model of the saw-gin that was
to produce such a mighty change. Their
astonishment was almost unbounded,
when, on examining the principle and
working of the instrument, they found
that more cotton could be separated from
the seed in one day by the labor of a single
hand, than could be done, in the usual
manner, in many months. Enthusiasm
over such a result, and in view of such a
prospect, was very natural.
The report of Mr. Whitney's invention
spread very rapidly throughout the South,
exciting intense interest, and the planters
in especial were eager to see a machine
that promised such incalculable benefits to
themselves and to the nation. For a time,
however, Whitney declined showing the
gin, as it was not entirely perfected, and
because it might be imitated by others,
and he be deprived in that way of his
right to a patent. But, so great was the
excitement to which the people had been
wrought up, and so tempting was the
chance which presented itself to the un
principled, to appropriate to themselves
the fruits of other men's toils, that the
building in which Whitney carried on his
labors was actually broken into, one night,
by a party of lawless individuals, and the
instrument secretly carried off. Thus it
was that several machines were constructed
on the basis of Whitney's invention, and
indeed varying but little from the original,
though it was artfully attempted to have
the deviation sufficiently obvious to escape
the penalties of imitation.
It may well be supposed that the vari
ous lawsuits growing out of the infringe
ments upon his rights, was an exhausting
draft upon Mr. Whitney's funds. But, in

addition to this drawback upon his enter
prise, there befell him the successive
calamities of prolonged sickness, the
destruction of his manufacturing estab
lishment by fire, and, worse than all, the
assertion on the part of certain unfriendly
persons, that the use of the machine ought
to be abandoned, because it greatly in
jured the fiber of the cotton. The testi
mony of some of the British manufacturers
was industriously circulated, to the effect
that the old roller-gin, which ground the
seed to impalpability, was preferable to
that which separated the seed from the
staple, at the sacrifice of its quality ! And
here it may be of interest to state, that, in
order to overcome the difficulty of separat
ing the seed from the wool by hand, a
rude hand-mill, or roller-gin, was at an
early period substituted, in some parts of
India and China, by which from forty to
sixty-five pounds could be cleaned in a
day. After this, the cotton was further
cleaned from dirt and knots by ' bowing.'
A large bow being placed in a heap of
cotton, the string was made to vibrate pow
erfully, thus dispersing and cleaning the
heap. These means, employed from re
mote times in eastern countries, were also
formerly used by American growers.
Much of the sea-island cotton is still sepa
rated from its seeds by rollers constructed
on a large scale, and worked by horses,
steam, or water. These rollers are of
wood, and revolve rapidly in contact with
each other ; as they do so, a sort of comb
with iron teeth acts on the cotton as it
passes between them, and detaches the
seeds, which fly off like sparks in all direc
tions. Particles of seeds which escape and
pass through with the cotton, are removed
by hand. The cotton is then whisked
about in a light wheel, and, when well
winnowed, it is conveyed to the packing
house, and forced into bags by means of
screws, until each bag contains the requi
site number of pounds. But short-stapled
cotton cannot be properly cleaned by this
process ; the seeds are so firmly attached
to the wool, that a more powerful machine
is needed, — and here the utilty of the saw-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

157

qin o.ver the roller-contrivance is manifest.
The cotton is put into a long and narrow
hopper, one side of which is formed by a
grating of strong parallel wires, one-eighth
of an inch apart. Close to the hopper is a
roller set with circular saws, an inch and a
half apart. These, as they revolve, pass
within the grating of the hopper to a cer
tain depth, and seize by their teeth on the
locks of cotton, dragging them through the
wires, which are not wide enough apart to
allow the seeds to pass also. The cotton
is afterwards swept from the saws by a
revolving cylindrical brush. Thus the
separation is effected in a cheap, easy, and
rapid manner. At first, Whitney used
bent wires or teeth, like those of the
common card, but much larger and
stronger, and these were placed in rows on
a revolving cylinder. The cotton was
separated from this cylinder by a frame of
parallel wires ; as the cylinder revolved,
the teeth extending through the wire
frame caught the cotton and drew it
through the grating, but the seeds being
too large to pass between the wires, were
of course separated from the fiber. These
teeth, however, being found too weak to
pull the cotton from the seed without be
coming bent or broken, Whitney substi
tuted a circular saw in their place. The
teeth of the saw being large, and shaped
like the beak of a bird, had more strength
and were equalty effective.
So serious an objection as that brought
by the British manufacturers, namely, that
the operation of this machine injured the
quality of the cotton, was a most disheart
ening one to Mr. Whitney and his part
ner, Mr. Miller, for, on its truth or falsity,
their fortune and fate depended. For a
time, the process of patent ginning was
quite at a stand ; and, indeed, little was
heard of it by the originators, except the
condolence of a few real friends, who ex
pressed their regret that so promising an
invention had entirely failed. Of the in
ventor's state of mind, as well as the con
dition of his purse, at this time, some idea
may be formed from a letter written by
Whitney, in the autumn of 1797, in which

he says: 'The extreme embarrassments
which have for a long time been accumu
lating upon me are now become so great
that it will be impossible for me to strug
gle against them many days longer. It
has required my utmost exertions to exist,

without making the least progress in our
business. I have labored hard against the
strong current of disappointment, which
has been threatening to carry us down the
cataract ; but I have labored with a shat
tered oar, and struggled in vain, unless
some speedy relief is obtained. Life is
but short, at best, and six or seven years
out of the midst of it is, to him who makes
it, an immense sacrifice. My most unre
mitted attention has been directed to our
business. I have sacrificed to it other
objects, from which, before this time, I
might certainly have gained twenty or
thirty thousand dollars. My whole pros
pects have been embarked in it, with the
expectation that I should, before this time,
have realized something from it.' Against
all opposition, the machine finally became
appreciated according to its merits, and,
though the country was flooded with imi
tations, — against the manufacturers of
which, it seemed almost impossible to
obtain any redress or protection in the
courts of law, — a large demand set in, and

158

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Whitney's golden visions appeared likely
to be realized.
At the suggestion made to them by
some of their business friends, Miller and
Whitney were induced, in view of the
public benefit that would accrue to the
cotton-growing states, by the general and
inexpensive introduction of the saw-gin, to
offer the exclusive disposal of the machine
in South Carolina to the legislature of
that state, which off er was finally accepted;
the sum paid to the inventors, for this
privilege, being fifty thousand dollars.
Though this sum was only one-half of that
which had originally been fixed upon by
the patentees, it seems to have given quite
a zest to Mr. Whitney's feelings and an
ticipations, for he wrote in relation to the
new arrangement : ' The use of the machine
here (in South Carolina) is amazingly ex
tensive, and the value of it beyond all
calculation. It may, without exaggera
tion, be said to have raised the value of
seven-eighths of all the three southern
states from fifty to one hundred per cent.
We get but a song for it in comparison
with the worth of the thing ; but it is se
curing something. It will enable Miller
and Whitney to pay all their debts, and
divide something between them. It es
tablishes a precedent that will be valuable
as respects our collections in other states,
and I think there is now a fair prospect
that I shall in the event realize property
enough to render me comfortable, and, in
some measure, independent.' It was not,
however, without much trouble and litiga
tion, that Whitney realized the fulfillment
of this contract.
But the expense involved in numerous
suits at law against the encroachers upon
his patent, was more than the profits
yielded by the sales, and these struggles
and expenditures, and constantly-recurring
discouragements, sent Mr. Miller to a pre
mature grave, at the close of 1803. In the
year 1812, Mr. Whitney applied to con
gress for a renewal of his patent, in the
hope of still receiving some substantial
benefit from his invention. But the
southern delegation generally — though

with some honorable exceptions — were op«
posed to it ; which was of course the more
unexpected, as well as wounding, in view
of the immense advantage of the machine
to that part of the United States. In
regard to this last-mentioned point, no tes
timony could be more weighty or emphatic
in the affirmative than that by Judge
Johnson, an eminent South Carolinian,
and, at the time of speaking, a judge of
the United States supreme court : — ' The
whole interior of the southern states (these
are the words of Judge Johnson, as judi
cially uttered) was languishing, and its
inhabitants emigrating for want of some
object to engage their attention, and em
ploy their industry, when the invention of
this machine at once opened views to them
which set the whole country in active
motion. From childhood to age, it has
presented to us a lucrative employment.
Individuals who were depressed with pov
erty, and sunk in idleness, have suddenly
risen to wealth and respectability. Our
debts have been paid off. Our capitals
have increased, and our lands trebled
themselves in value. We cannot express
the weight of the obligation which the
country owes to this invention. The ex
tent of it cannot now be seen. Some faint
presentiment may be formed from the re
flection that cotton is rapidly supplanting
wool, flax, silk, and even furs, in manufac
tures, and may one day profitably supply
the use of specie in our East India trade.
Our sister states also participate in the
benefits of this invention ; for, beside af
fording the raw material for their manu
facturers, the bulkiness and quantity of
the article afford a valuable employment
for their shipping.'
Such was the testimony borne by the
highest possible authority, in regard to
the wonderful value and effect of this in
vention. And yet, though full a dozen
years had elapsed since Whitney had
staked his all upon the machine, and was
even now pleading for redress against the
piracies committed upon his rights and
property, he was actually a poor man,
struggling against remorseless fate. Mr.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

159

Whitney, in a letter almost pathetic in its
rehearsal of his wrongs, addressed to
Robert Fulton, the inventor of the first
successful steamboat, remarks, that 'the
difficulties with which he had to contend
originated, principally, in the want of a
disposition in mankind to do justice. The
invention was new and distinct from every
other ; it stood alone. It was not inter
woven with anything before known ; and
it can seldom happen that an invention is
so strongly marked, and can be so clearly
and specifically identified ; and I have
always believed that I should have had no
difficulty in causing my rights to be re
spected, if it had been less valuable, and
been used only by a small portion of the
community. But the use of this machine
being immensely profitable to almost every
planter in the cotton districts, all were in
terested in trespassing upon the patent
right, and each kept the other in counte
nance. Demagogues made themselves
popular by misrepresentation and un
founded clamors, both against the right,
and the law made for its protection.
Hence there arose associations and combi
nations to oppose both. At one time, few
men in Georgia dared to come into court
and testify to the most simple facts within
their knowledge, relative to the use of the
machine. In one instance, I had great

difficulty in proving that the machine had
been used in Georgia, although, at the
same moment, there were three separate
sets of this machinery in motion within
fifty yards of the building in which the
court sat, and all so near that the rattling
of the wheels was distinctly heard on the
steps of the court-house.' Surely, few
men of genius have rendered so great ben
efits to their country, by means of an in
vention, who have been so heartlessly
treated and so poorly remunerated. . De
spairing of ever realizing an adequate
return, therefore, for his cotton-gin, Whit
ney applied his inventive skill to the im
proved manufacture of firearms, in which
he was very successful, and, having ob
tained valuable contracts from the govern
ment for his improved muskets, he
ultimately acquired a fortune, — a strange
but most deserved sequel to his hitherto
checkered career.
The progress and value of the cotton
production in the United States, under the
impetus given to it by Whitney's inven
tion, may be characterized as simply
prodigious ; and, in the mind of the philo
sophic statesman and student, the story of
the cotton-gin will" forever weave itself,
most intimately and wonderfully, with
those great themes and events which make
up the nation's history.

XIV.
THE FAMOUS WHISKEY INSURRECTION IN PENNSYL
VANIA.— 1794.

Violent Resistance to the United States Excise Laws. — Monster Meetings and Inflammatory Appeals
— Officials and Loyal Citizens Whipped, Branded, Tarred, and Feathered. — Intense Excitement in all
the States. — Washington Declares that the Union is in Peril and Heads an Army to Meet the Crisis.
— Precipitate Flight of the Armed Rebels. — Congressional Tax on Spirits. — Cry of " Tyranny ! " from
Distillers. — Western Pennsylvania in a Blaze. — Extent of her Whiskey Interests. — Ambitious Politi
cians at Work. — A Revolt Incited by Them. — Bradford the Chief Desperado. — Reign of Terror
Inaugurated. — Tax-Collectors Roughly Handled. — The Incendiary's Torch. — " Tom the Tinker's"
Ruffianism. — Fury ofthe Factionists — Firm Courage of Loyal Men. — Perplexity ofthe United States
Government. — Presidential Proclamation. — Law and Order to be Maintained. — Troops Summoned
into Service. — Prompt and Patriotic Response — The Olive Branch vs. the Sword. — Bradford Scorni
Conciliation. — Washington's Mind Made Up. — Prevents the Effusion of Blood.

" Here's to your fery goot health,
And t^mn ta whusky duty 1 " — Song of the Times.

f| *. HE year 1794 is distinguished in American history by a remark-
sj. able revolt among a portion of the inhabitants of Pennsylvania,
'' ^r^T^ and which is known as the Whiskey Insurrection. In
1791, congress had enacted laws laying excise duties upon
spirits distilled within the United States. This tax excited
5\ great and general opposition, but nowhere else was such vio

lence exhibited in resisting the execution of the law, as in the
western counties of Pennsylvania, where the crops of grain
were so over-abundant, that, in the absence of an adequate
market for its sale, an immense quantity of the cereal was
distilled into whiskey, — the far-famed " Monongahela," so
called from the name of the principal river of the region where
the manufacture was carried on. It was insisted upon, hy
these people, that an article produced so exclusively, by an
isolated community, as their sole and necessary dependence,
ought not to be taxed for the support of the federal government ; and this opinion
they adhered to — as the following pages will be found to show — with a tenacity
worthy of a better cause, notwithstanding the day of temperance societies had not
then dawned.
Public meetings were held in all the chief towns, at which the action of congress
was loudly denounced as oppression to be battled against to the very last extremity;

CAUSES OF THE WHISKEY IN
SUKBECTION IN PENN.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

161

declaring, too, that any
person who had accepted
or might accept an office
under government, in or
der to carry the law into
effect, should be regarded
as an enemy of his country,
to be treated with contempt
and total non-intercourse,
official and personal. The
federal government was
scoffed at, its coercive
authority disavowed; thus,
with the motto, "Liberty
and No Excise ! " the ball
of rebellion rolled on.
It was at this stage in
the progress of affairs, and
3 only one day preceding the
£ assembling of an import
s' ant meeting of malcon-
§ tents of Pittsburg, that
^ the tax collector for the
£ counties of Allegany and
| Washington made his ap-
« pearance. Aware of his
b business, a party of men,
armed and disguised, way-
him at a place on
Pigeon Creek, inWashing-
ton county, seized, tarred
and feathered him, cut off
his hair, and deprived him
of his horse, obliging him
to decamp on foot in that
ludicrous and painful con
dition. In attempting to
serve legal processes upon
theperpetrators of thisout-
rage, the marshal's deputy
was also seized, whipped,
tarred and feathered; and,
after having his money and
horse taken from him, the
ruffians blindfoldedandled
him into the depths of the
forest, where he was tied
and left to his fate. He
was fortunately discovered
in season, and rescued, by
some friends.

h laid
-

162

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

Not long after, a person of the name of
Roseberry underwent the humiliating pun
ishment of tarring and feathering, with
some attendant aggravations, for having
in conversation hazarded the very natural
and just, but unpalatable remark, that the
inhabitants of a county could not reasona
bly expect protection from a government
whose laws they so strenuously opposed.
So great, too, was the audacity of the per
petrators of these outrages, that an armed
banditti of them ventured to seize and
carry off two persons who were witnesses
against the rioters in the case of Wilson,
in order to prevent their giving testimony
in a court then sitting, or about to sit.
On the part of the executive, such open
defiance of the laws, and of the authority
of the government, was believed to imperi
ously require that the strength and effi
ciency of those laws should be tried, by
the governing power. Accordingly, Wash
ington issued his proclamation, emphati
cally condemning the lawless acts and pro
ceedings, warning all to return at once to
their allegiance, and assuring them that
the laws should be executed at any hazard.
Against the leaders in some of the out
rages which had been committed, bills of
indictment were found in a court of the
United States, upon which process was
directed to issue, and, at the same time,
process was also issued against a great
number of non-complying distillers.
This proclamation not producing the
desired effect, President Washington next
endeavored to prevent the necessity of
having recourse to active military meas
ures, by making it the interest of the dis
tillers to pay the duty. To this end, in
addition to the prosecutions instituted
against delinquents, the spirits distilled in
the counties opposing the law were ordered
to be seized on their way to market, by
the officers of the revenue, and the con
tractors for the army were directed to
purchase only the spirits on which the
duties had been paid. But, whatever were
the inclinations of the distillers — or some
of them, — the fear of an infuriated popu
lace prevented a compliance with these

orders; and the factionists continued to-'
take encouragement from the lenity of the
executive, in the expectation of ultimate
success. By violent threats they still
kept the marshal from serving his precepts,
committed numerous outrages upon the
friends of government, and perfected their
organization into military bands, to resist
any force that might be sent to subject
them to the laws. They styled their acts,
" mending the still."
It is not to be doubted that this inflamed
state of the public mind was greatly ag
gravated by the ambitious designs and
intemperate speeches of a few leading
men. Conspicuous among the friends of
the malcontents were Bradford, Marshall,
Smilie, Brackenridge, Husbands, Findley,
and Gallatin. The first-named, David
Bradford, was the chief agitator, and led
in person the desperate bands, in their
career of violence. He was an old settler
in Washington county, had accumulated a
large fortune, and, being bold and unscru
pulous in his politics, wielded a powerful
influence over a certain class. Those asso
ciated with him were men of decided abil
ity, being of Scotch or Irish birth, and
possessing their dominant characteristics
of nationality.
In the early part of 1794, the hostility
of the law-breakers seemed to become more
implacable and demonstrative. William
Richmond, who had given information
against some of the rioters, in the affair
of Wilson, had his barn burnt, with all its
valuable contents ; and the same thing
happened to Robert Shawan, a distiller,
who had been among the first to comply
with the law, and who had always spoken
favorably of it. These instances were
multiplied. The law-abiding inhabitants
were dogged and pursued by disorderly
persons, their houses and distilleries
broken into, property destroyed, conflagrar
tions kindled, machinery disabled, life
threatened. June being the month for receiving an
nual entries for stills, endeavors were used
to open offices in Westmoreland and
Washington, where it had hitherto been

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

163

found impracticable. With much pains
and difficulty, places were at last procured
for the purpose.
That in Westmoreland was repeatedly
attacked by armed men, in the night, who
frequently fired upon it ; but it was de
fended with so much determination and
perseverance, as to have been maintained
during the remainder of the month. That
in Washington, after repeated attempts,
was suppressed.
Charging himself with the service of the
processes officially intrusted to him, the
marshal repaired in person to the country
which was the scene of these disorders.
He continued unmolested in the perform
ance of this duty, until, being seen in
company with General John Neville, in
spector of the county and a zealous advo
cate of the tax, they were assaulted on the
road by a body of armed men, who fired,
'".it without doing any injury. Early the
next morning, a party attacked the house
of General Neville, the inspector, but he
defended himself bravely and successfully.
Apprehending, however, that the busi
ness would not terminate here, Neville
made application by letter to the judges,
generals of militia, and sheriff of the
county, for protection. A reply to his
application, from John Wilkins, Jr., and
John Gibson, magistrates and militia-offi
cers, informed him that the laws could not
be executed, so as to afford him the pro
tection to which he was entitled, owing to
the too general combination of the people
in that part of Pennsylvania to oppose the
revenue law ; adding, that they would take
every step in their power to bring the
rioters to justice, and would be glad to
receive information relative to the individ
uals concerned in the attack on his house,
that prosecutions might be commenced
against them — at the same time expressing
regret that, should the citizens of "the
county be ordered out, in support of the
civil authority, very few could be gotten
who were not of the party of the rioters. -
The day following, the insurgents re
assembled with a considerable augmenta
tion of numbers, amounting to at least

five hundred, and, on the seventeenth of
July, renewed their attack upon the house
of the inspector, who, in the interval, had
taken the precaution of calling to his aid
a small detachment from the garrison of
Fort Pitt, which, at the time of the attack,
consisted of eleven men, who had been
joined by Major Abraham Kirkpatrick, a
friend and connection of the inspector.
The leader of the insurgents was a despe
rado named John Holcroft, or " Tom the
Tinker," as he was familiarly called.
There being scarcely a prospect of ef
fectual defense against so large a number
as then appeared, and as the inspector had
everything to apprehend for his person, if
taken, it was judged advisable that he
should withdraw from the house to a place
of concealment; Major Kirkpatrick gen
erously agreeing to remain with the eleven,
intending, if practicable, to make a capit
ulation in favor of the property, or, if un
successful, to defend it as long as possible.
A parley took place, under cover of a
flag, which was sent by the insurgents to
the house, with a demand that the inspec
tor should come forth, renounce his office,
and stipulate never again to accept an
office under the same laws. To this it was
replied, that the inspector had left the
house upon their first approach, and that
the place to which he had retired was un
known. They then declared that they
must have whatever related to his office ;
to which, answer was made they might
send persons, not exceeding six, to search
the house, and take away whatever papers
they could find, pertaining to the office.
But, not satisfied with this, they insisted,
unconditionally, that the armed men who
were in the house for its defense, should
march out and ground their arms. Major
Kirkpatrick peremptorily refused, consid
ering it and representing it to them as a
proof of a design to destroy the property ;
and this refusal put an end to the parley.
Brisk firing now took place between the
insurgents and the party in the house,
lasting for about an hour, till the assail
ants, having set fire to the neighboring
and adjacent buildings, eight in number,

164

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the intenseness of the heat, and the danger
of an immediate communication of fire
to the house, obliged the brave Kirkpat
rick and his small party to come out and
surrender themselves.
Desirous of ascertaining their full
strength, and also to discover any secret
enemies that might remain unsuspected in
the midst of these treasonable movements,
Bradford and his comrades proceeded with
a high and unsparing hand. Monster
meetings of friends and sympathizers were

DAVID BRADFORD.

appointed, to determine the first question ;
and, to obtain satisfaction in regard to the
second, the mail between Pittsburg and
Philadelphia was stopped by armed men,
who cut it open, and took out the letters
which it contained. In some of tliese
letters, a direct disapprobation of the vio
lent measures which had been adopted
was openly avowed. Upon acquiring thus
the names of their opponents, messengers
were sent to Pittsburg, where the writers
of the offensive letters resided, demanding
the banishment of the offenders. A
prompt obedience to these demands was-
Unavoidable. Another plan was, for seiz
ing the United States military stores at
Pittsburg, and using them in carrying on
the revolt. In order to accomplish this, a
mammoth gathering of the anarchists was
appointed to be held on Braddock's field,
August first. This call was made in "the
form usual for militia musters, and all
were notified to come armed and equipped.
Seven thousand men answered to this call,
and Bradford, assuming the office of major-
general, reviewed the dense mass of troops.
The main purpose, however, of this assem
blage, namely, to march upon Pittsburg,

take possession of Fort Pitt and the
United States arsenal, and then form an
independent state, or sovereignty, com
posed of the counties west of the Alleghany
range, had been divulged to few, and,
upon farther consultation, it was found
that the desperation of some of the leaders
failed them at this point, and the project
was abandoned. But it was determined to
march to Pittsburg at any rate, — a march
that was attended by a wholesale intimi
dation of the disaffected, the robbing of
houses, and the burning of buildings. But
the greatest popular demonstration made
of the law-breakers' strength, was the
meeting at Parkinson's Ferry, where there
assembled representatives of the whole
vast region in insurrection, and, in the
mad enthusiasm of the hour, pledged them
selves to follow, sixteen thousand strong,
under the banner of Bradford, in resisting
and overturning the government. There
were at this meeting many able men, but
the attendant throng was of a far different
class. The president had now, for three years,
patiently awaited the effect of conciliatory
measures, but these had only continued to
render the opposition more desperate. He
therefore had only to choose between the
alternative of permitting the prostration
of the government, or to call out its force
in support of the laws. It was not in the
nature of Washington to allow the former.
The subject, in all its momentous con
sequences, was laid by President Wash
ington before the cabinet, for final action,
and General Mifflin, the governor of Penn
sylvania, was on this occasion called into
the council. Their unanimous desire was
to avoid, if possible, a resort to arms and
bloodshed, and they therefore advised that
commissioners should be sent to the insur
gents to warn them of their danger, and to
offer a pardon of past offenses, on condi
tion of future obedience to the laws. It
was also advised that a proclamation
should be issued, in conformity to the act
of congress, commanding the insurgents
to disperse by a given day. All agreed
that a crisis had arrived which was testing

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

165

the strength and practicability of republi
can institutions.
The president did not hesitate to do his
duty. He could no longer see the laws
prostrated, and the authority of the United
States defied, without exerting the means
of prevention. He resolved, therefore, to
issue the proclamation, which, by law, was
to precede the employment of force. This
proclamation, issued August seventh, con
tained a brief but distinct recapitulation
of the measures which had been adopted
by the government, as well as the pro
ceedings on the part of the insurgents, and
the preparatory steps which had been
taken to authorize the executive to employ
coercion — and which, though with the
deepest regret, he had determined to do,
in the interests of national preservation
and social order ; and commanding all
persons being in the position of insurgents,
and all others whom it might concern, on
or before the first day of the ensuing
month of September, to disperse and re
tire peaceably to their homes.
On the same day of this proclamation,
a requisition was made on the governors
of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland,
and Virginia, for their several quotas of
militia to compose an army of twelve or
fifteen thousand men, who were to be im
mediately organized and prepared to march
at a minute's warning.
While the necessary steps were being
taken to bring this force into the field, a
last attempt was made to render its em
ployment unnecessary. To this end, the
attorney-general of the United States, who
was also a citizen of Pennsylvania, to
gether with Judge Yates, of the superior
court, and Senator Ross of Pennsylvania,
who was particularly popular in the west
ern section, were deputed by the govern
ment to be the bearers of a general
amnesty for past offenses, on the sole con
dition of future obedience to the laws.
It having been deemed advisable that
the executive of the state in which the
insurrection was rampant should act in
concert with that of the United States, a
proclamation, similar in tone and spirit to

that of the president, was now issued by
Governor Mifflin, and commissioners were
appointed by him to unite with those of
the general government.
But Bradford, whose sway over his fol
lowers was well nigh despotic, inspiring
them with slavish terror, laughed at the
government proclamation and measures,
claimed that he could marshal an army
that would scatter the federal force to the
four winds, and, under the banner of
" Liberty and No Excise — No Asylum for
Cowards and Traitors ! " the insurgent
spirit waxed fiercer and more bold. At
tempts were made to embark the adjacent
counties of Virginia in their cause, and
their violence was extended to Morgan-
town, at which place an inspector resided,
who only saved himself by flight, and pro
tected his property by advertising, on his
own door, that he had resigned his office.
Similar excursions were made into the
eastern counties of Pennsylvania.
The great convention of malcontents at
Parkinson's Ferry had, under the advice
of Brackenridge, Marshall, Gallatin, and
some others, appointed a committee of
safety, of sixty members, who chose fifteen
of their body to confer with the commis
sioners of the United States, and of Penn
sylvania. This committee was to receive
proposals, but neither offer nor accept
terms of settlement.
In their report of the conference thus
held, the committee expressed themselves
in favor of accepting the accommodation
offered by the government. But, though
many of the insurgents, trembling at the
extent of the conflagration they had kin
dled, were now disposed to yield, a vast
number still continued, under Bradford's
fiery lead, to go on in their revolutionary
violence, and so the last door to reconcilia
tion was shut. Meanwhile, the president's
call for troops was being responded to in
overwhelming numbers, under the patriotic
lead of Governor Mifflin.
The president issued a second proclama
tion, September 25, describing in terms of
great energy the obstinate and perverse
spirit with which the government's lenient

166

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

propositions had been received, and de
claring his fixed determination, in virtue
of the high and imperative duty imposed
upon him by the constitution to " take care
that the laws be fait!) fully executed" to
reduce the refractory to obedience.
On every side, the signals of war were
now displayed ! The troops of New Jersey
and Pennsylvania were directed to ren
dezvous at Bedford, and those of Maryland
and Virginia at Cumberland, on the Poto
mac. The command of the expedition was
given to General Henry Lee, of Virginia;
and the governors of New Jersey and
Pennsylvania commanded, under him, the
militia of their respective states. The
president, in person, pushed on for Phila
delphia, through deep roads and a three
days' drenching rain, visiting, as com
mander-in-chief, each of the two grand
divisions into which he had divided the
forces. He had intended to continue to
lead the army solely himself ; but, ascer
taining that this would not be called for,
and feeling confident that the force em
ployed must break down all resistance, he
left General Hamilton, as his deputy,
giving directions to Lee to march each

division across the Alleghany mountains,
meet on the other side, and act against the
insurgents as circumstances might require.
But, as had been sagaciously foreseen, the

GEK. HENRY LEE.

greatness of the force prevented the effu
sion of blood. The rebellious hordes fled
before such a demonstration, the clemency
of the government was solicited, and sub
mission to every law freely promised.
Some of the more evil disposed were ar
rested and tried, but pardon was ultimately
extended to all. Bradford escaped to
Spanish territory. And thus, in the
words of Washington, was decided "the
contest, whether a small proportion of the
United States shall dictate to the whole
Union."

XV.
FOUNDING- AND ESTABLISHMENT OF THE NATIONAL
CAPITAL.— 1799.

IBitter Sectional Contest in Deciding the Location. — First "Compromise" in Congress between the
North and the South. — Final Kemoval of the Government and its Archives to Washington. — Official
Observance of the Event. — Magnificent Site and Plan of the City. — Splendor of its Public Build
ings. — Congress First Sits in Philadelphia. — Need of a Permanent Capitol. — National Dignity Involved.
— Violent Agitation of the Subject. — Philadelphia and New York Proposed. — They are Objected to by
the South. — Northern Disunion Threats. — Schemes of Conciliation. — How the Question was Settled.
— Sweetening Two Bitter Pills. — Jefferson's Graphic Account. — General Washington's Preference. —
His Site on the Potomac Adopted. — Some Rather Personal Anecdotes. — Work of Laying Out the City.
— Its Original Aspect and Condition. — Early Trials of the President's Wife. — Construction of the Cap
itol. — Its Corner-Stone Laid by Washington. — Congress in its New Halls. — Growth ofthe Metropolis.
—The New Corner-Stone of 1851.

" Where peeped the hut the palace towers ;
Where skimmed the bark the war-shin lowers ;
Joy gaily carols where was silence rude ;
And cultured thoucands throng the solitude.

,EXT in importance to the founding of a free and independent
nationality, and the inauguration of a supreme legislative and
executive government, was the act of establishing a permanent
capital, — one on a scale, and of a character, commensurate with
the dignity and prospects of the new republic. Indeed, from as early a period as June,
1783, when congress was virtually driven from its halls in Philadelphia by the mutiny
of a part of the Pennsylvania line, the necessity was very evident of some place being
fixed upon where the government of the Union might at least be secure from violence
and insult. As this remarkable and untoward circumstance was, perhaps, one of the
most notable in its bearing upon subsequent events, in this connection, it may be worth
while to recite some of its chief features. While the patriot army, encamped under
the eye of Washington, bore their hardships and privations without flinching, and, at
the close of the struggle, in 1783, returned quietly, though poor and unpaid, to their
homes, some of the newly-recruited soldiers of Pennsylvania, stationed at Lancaster,
suddenly mutinied and set off in a body for Philadelphia, to demand redress of fancied
grievances from the legislature of the state. Arriving at that city, they were joined
by a force from the barracks, and proceeded on the second of June with beat of drum
and fixed bayonets to the state house, where congress and the supreme executive council
of Pennsylvania were both holding their sessions. After placing sentinels at all the
•doors, they sent in a written message, threatening the president and the council of the
state to let loose an enraged soldiery upon them, if their demands were not acceded to
in twenty minutes. Although the resentments of this banditti were not directed par-

168

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

ticularly against congress, the government
of the Union was grossly insulted, and
those who administered it were blockaded
for several hours in the discharge of their
duties, by an armed band. Fearing lest
the authorities of Pennsylvania might not
be able to furnish adequate protection, it
adjourned to meet within a few days at
Princeton, — sending information, in the
meantime, to Washington, of this outbreak.
The latter immediately sent fifteen hun
dred men under General Howe to suppress
the mutiny; but before the detachment
could reach Philadelphia, the mutiny was
in a great degree subdued, and fortunately
without bloodshed.
When once the subject of definitely
fixing upon a location for the seat of gov
ernment was before congress and the
people, the question seemed to overshadow
all others. Being in session at Princeton,
under the circumstances above narrated, it
was resolved by congress that a building
for the national legislature be erected near
the Falls of the Delaware.
The commissioners to lay out a town on
the Delaware reported their proceedings
to congress, but no further steps were
taken to carry the resolution into effect.
Some were very strenuous for New York,
others proposed some convenient place on
the banks of the Susquehanna. To the
latter proposition, southern members,
among whom was Mr. Madison, were un
alterably opposed. All admitted the im
portance of the step to be taken, involving,
perhaps, the perpetuity of the government
itself. At length, a compact respecting the
temporary and permanent seat of govern
ment was entered into between the friends
of Philadelphia, and the Potomac, whereby
it was stipulated that congress should
hold its sessions in Philadelphia, for ten
years, during which time, buildings for
the accommodation of the government
should be erected at some place, to be se
lected, on the Potomac, and which latter
should become, on the expiration of the
ten years, the permanent capital of the
nation. This compromise having united

the representatives of Pennsylvania and
Delaware with the friends of the Potomac,,
in favor both of the temporary and perma
nent locality which had been mutually
agreed on between them, a majority was
thus finally secured in favor of the project,
and a bill which was brought into the
senate in conformity with this arrange
ment, passed both houses by small major
ities, though, according to Judge Marshall,
these majorities would have been larger,
if necessary. But, as the final compromise briefly re
corded above shows, the die was cast, at.
last, to mutual satisfaction. How this was
brought about, Jefferson's graphic, and,
it may be, highly-colored portraiture of the-
closing hour and result of the struggle will
give some idea : ' The eastern members-
particularly, who, with Smith from South
Carolina, were the principal gamblers in
these scenes, threatened secession and dis
solution. Hamilton was in despair. As-
I was going to the president's, one day, I
met him in the street. He walked me
backwards and forwards before the presi
dent's door for half an hour. He painted
pathetically the temper into which the-
legislature had been wrought ; the disgust
of those who were called the creditor-
states ; the danger of the secession of their
members, and the separation of the states.
He observed that the members of the ad
ministration ought to act in concert ; that
though this question was not of my de
partment, yet a common duty should make
it a common concern ; that the president
was the center on which all administration.
questions ultimately rested, and that all of
us should rally around him, and support,.
with joint efforts, measures approved by
him ; and that the question having been
lost by a small majority only, it was prob
able that an appeal from me to the judg
ment and discretion of some of my friends,
might effect a change in the vote, and the
machine of government, now suspended,
might be again set into motion. I told him
that I was really a stranger to the whole
subject ; that not having yet informed my
self of the system of finance adopted, I

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

169

knew not how far this was a necessary se
quence ; that undoubtedly, if its rejection
endangered a dissolution of our Union at
this incipient stage, I should deem that
the most unfortunate of all consequences,
to avert which all partial and temporary
evils should be yielded. I proposed to
him, however, to dine with me the next
day, and I would invite another friend or
two, bring them into conference together,
and I thought it impossible that reasona
ble men, consulting together coolly, could
fail, by some mutual sacrifices of opinion,
to form a compromise which was to save
the Union. The discussion took place. I
could take no part in it but an exhortatory
one, because I was a stranger to the cir
cumstances which should govern it. But
it was finally agreed, that whatever im
portance had been attached to the rejection
of this proposition, the preservation of the
Union and of concord among the states,
was more important, and that, therefore,
it would be better that the vote of rejec
tion should be rescinded, to effect which
some members should change their votes.
But it was observed that this pill would be
peculiarly bitter to the southern states,
and that some concomitant measure should
be adopted to sweeten it a little to them.
There had before been projects to fix the
seat of government either at Philadelphia,
or at Georgetown on the Potomac ; and it
was thought that, by giving it to Phila
delphia for ten years, and to Georgetown
permanently afterwards, this might, as an
anodyne, calm in some degree the ferment
which might be excited by the other meas
ure alone. So two of the Potomac mem
bers (White and Lee, but White with a
revulsion of stomach almost convulsive)
agreed to change their votes, and Hamilton
undertook to carry the other point. In
doing this, the influence he had established
over the eastern members, with the agency
of Robert Morris with those of the middle
states, effected his side of the engagement.'
Thus it was that the assumption-bill was
passed, and thus it was that the far more
important measure was enacted, which
provided —

" That a district of territory on the
river Potomac, at some place between the
mouths of the eastern branch and the
Connogocheague, be, and the same is
hereby, accepted, for the permanent seat
of the government of the United States."
In enduring honor of the father of his
country, the name given to the projected
city was Washington.
From the beginning, General Washing
ton advocated the site which was finally
fixed upon, and its establishment there
was due in a large measure to his counsels
and influence. It is related, though some
what questionable, that during the hot and
angry discussion on the subject, in con
gress, pending the determination of a
locality, a person who was in company
with Washington remarked, one day, —
"I know very well where the federal
city ought to be."
" Where then would you put it, sir ? "
was the serene inquiry of Washington.
" It ought to be located in Philadelphia,"
was the reply.
" Why are you sure it should be there ? "
"For the most satisfactory of all rea
sons," was the sinister answer ; " because
nearly the whole of my property hes there
and in the neighborhood."
In stern silence did Washington fasten
his eye upon the man who thus dared the
insolent insinuation that the president
favored the location of the capital in its
present site because it was near his Mount
Vernon estates ; and the offender soon
vanished out of sight.
Another little anecdote in this connec
tion will be here given, as showing that
" no sea is free from ripples." It was for
many years traditional in the federal capi
tal, that one man was found not awed by
the presence of the great founder of that
city. Wliile the president was procuring
the ground which was to be the seat of
government, he had but little difficulty in
obtaining the necessary releases, except in
one instance. Mr. James Byrnes was the
owner of a lot or tract which it was advis
able should be included in the plan. The
general had various conferences with Mr.

170

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

Byrnes, who was especially obstinate, and,
highly prizing, as he did, the tract in ques
tion, flatly resisted all the reasonings and
persuasions of the great man. Unused to
'opposition, Washington at last turned
upon him and said, as only he could say
it,— '
"Mr. James Byrnes! what would your
land have been worth if I had not placed
this city on the Potomac ? "
Byrnes was not at all crushed by this
peculiar flanking argument on the part of
the general ; but, undismayed, coolly
turned to him and said, —
" George Washington, what would you
have been worth if you had not married
the widow Custis ? "
It will not do to judge of the nation's
metropolis at that day by what it is now.
At that time it was desolate in the ex
treme, with its long unimproved avenues
and streets, its deep morasses, and its vast
area covered with trees instead of houses.
Mrs. Adams, the wife of President John
Adams, who first occupied the White
House, in writing to a friend regarding
the city and the presidential mansion at
that period, says : ' In the city are build
ings enough, if they were compact and
finished, to accommodate congress and
those attached to it, but as they are, I see
no great comfort in them. The river,
which runs up to Alexandria, is in full
view of my window, and I can see the
vessels as they pass and re-pass. The
house is upon a grand and superb scale,
requiring about thirty servants to attend
and keerj the apartments in proper order,
and perform the ordinary business of the
house and stables ; an establishment very
well proportioned to the president's salary.
The lighting the apartments, from the
kitchen to the parlors and chambers, is a
tax indeed; and the fires we are obliged
to keep, to secure us from daily agues, is
another very cheering comfort. To assist
us in this great castle, and render less at
tendance necessary, bells are wholly want
ing, not one being hung through the
whole house, and promises are all we can
obtain. This is so great an inconvenience

that I know not what to do, or how to do.
If they will put me up some bells, and let
me have wood enough to keep fires, I de
sign to be pleased. I could content my
self anywhere three months, but sur
rounded by forests, can you believe that
wood is not to be had, because people can
not be found to cut and cart it ? Briesler
entered into a contract with a man to
supply him with wood. A small part, a
few cords only, has he been able to get.
Most of that was expended to dry the walls
of the house before we came in, and yes
terday the man told him it was impossible
for him to procure it to be cut and carted.
He has had recourse to coals; but we can
not get grates made and set. We have
indeed come into a new country.' These
and kindred inconveniences were naturally
incident to the new order of things; they
were only temporary.
As has already appeared, it was reserved
to Washington's immediate successor in
the presidential office, to be the first occu
pant of the executive mansion. Neverthe
less, the superintending mind and hand of
Washington are broadly identified with
the conception not only of that elegant
building, but of the capitol and other gov
ernment structures. On the fifteenth day
of April, 1791, the Hon. Daniel Carroll
and Dr. David Stewart superintended the
fixing of the first corner-stone of the Dis
trict of Columbia, at Jones's Point, near
Alexandria ; it was laid with all the usual
masonic ceremonies, an address being also
delivered on the occasion by Rey. James
Muir. " May this stone," said the orator,
" long commemorate the goodness of God
in those uncommon events which have
given America a name among nations.
Under this stone maj' jealousy and selfish
ness be forever buried. From this stone
may a superstructure arise whose glory,
whose magnificence, whose stability, shall
astonish the world." The south-east
corner-stone of the capitol was laid by
President Washington, September eight
eenth, 1793, with appropriate services,
principal among which was the act of the
commissioners, in their official capacity,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

171

WASHINGTON, D. C„ IN 1876.

when they delivered to President Wash
ington, who deposited it in the stone, a
silver plate, inscribed as follows : —
"This south-east corner-stone of the
Capitol of the United States of America,
in the city of Washington, was laid on the
18th day of September, 1793, in the eight
eenth year of American Independence, in
the first year of the second term of the
presidency of George Washington, whose
virtues in the civil administration of his
country have been as conspicuous and
beneficial as his military valor and pru
dence have been useful in establishing her
hberties, and in the year of Masonry 5793,
by the President of the United States, in
concert with the Grand Lodge of Mary
land, several lodges under its jurisdiction,
and Lodge No. 22 from Alexandria, Vir
ginia." In the summer of 1800, the archives of
the government were removed from Phila
delphia to Washington, and, the ensuing
November, the north wing of the capitol
was ready for the first sitting of congress
in the new metropolis. John Cotton

Smith, a distinguished member of this con
gress from Connecticut, speaking of the
new city on his arrival there, says : ' I
can not sufficiently express my admiration
of its local position.'
It was at this session that formal recog
nition was made of the great national
event of the founding and establishment
of the national capital, by mutual congrat
ulatory addresses between the chief mag
istrate of the republic on the one part, and
the senate and house of representatives on
the other.
- A more beautiful site for a large city
could scarcely have been selected. On a
level plain some three miles in length, and
varying from a quarter to two miles wide,
and extending from the banks of the
Potomac to a range of hills bounding
the plain on the east, the new city was
laid out. The idea of General Washington
was that the capitol should be the center
of the city, and that avenues should radi
ate from it at equi-distant points. To
complete his plan, the metropolis should
have a million of inhabitants, instead of

172

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

its present very moderate fraction of that
number. Though not a seven-hilled city,
Washington has, as well as Rome, its Ca-
pitoline Hill, commanding views scarcely

NATIONAL CAPITOL IN 1876.
less striking than those of the Eternal
City. The general altitude of the city-
plot is forty feet above the river, but this
is diversified by irregular elevations, which
serve to give variety and commanding
sites for the public buildings. The plot is
slightly amphitheatrical, the president's
house on the west standing on one of
the sides, and the capitol on the other,
while the space between verges towards a
point near the river. The president's
house and the capitol stand centrally with
regard to the whole, though situated at
the distance of one mile from each other,
the former forty-four feet above the Poto
mac, and the latter seventy-two feet. All
the public buildings are on a scale of mag
nificence worthy of a great nation ; and
the munificence of congress in this respect,
as well as in regard to all that pertains to
the city, as the seat of government of the
United States, is evident on every side.
This is as it should be, and betokens the
destined splendor, in point of architecture,
avenues and parks, institutions of art,
science and education, of the federal cap
ital. Starting from the capitol, the streets
run from north to south and from east to
west, their width varying from ninety to
one hundred and ten feet. There are be
side twenty avenues, named after the

older states of the Union, which cross the
streets at various angles and connect the
most important points of the city, forming
at their intersection with the streets and
with each other numerous open
spaces. These grand avenues are
from one hundred and thirty to
one hundred and sixty feet uni
form width ; the principal of these
is called in honor of the state of
Pennsylvania, and extends from
Georgetown to the Anacostia, a
distance of four miles. It forms
the main avenue of communication
between the capitol and the presi
dent's house and the chief offices
of government. The capitol oom-
mands Maryland, Delaware, New
Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maine, and
Missouri avenues; the president's house,
Pennsylvania, New York, Vermont, and
Connecticut avenues. The effect of this
arrangement, taken in connection with
the natural advantages of the site, is
exceedingly fine — one of the finest in
the world, for a city. From the hill, in
especial, on which stands the capitol, the

SYMBOLIC STATUE OF AMERICA SCBMOUNTIHS
THE U. S. CAPITOL.
most noble view presents itself to the eye
of the beholder that the imagination can
conceive. On the fourth of July, 1851,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

173

the corner-stone of that magnificent ex
tension of the capitol which has rendered
it the most superb structure of its kind in
the world, was laid with splendid ceremo
nial, including a commemorative oration
by President Fillmore, assisted by Daniel
Webster, secretary of state. In the stone
was also deposited a record of the event,
with the following impressive statement
and invocation : —
"If, therefore, it shall be hereafter the
will of God that this structure shall fall
from its base, that its foundation be up
turned, and this deposit brought to the
eyes of men, be it then known that on
this day the union of the United States of
America stands firm, that their Constitu

tion still exists unimpaired and with all
its original usefulness and glory, growing
every day stronger and stronger in the
affections of the great body of the Amer
ican people, and attracting more and more
the admiration of the world. And all
here assembled, whether belonging to
public life or to private life, with hearts
devoutly thankful to Almighty God for
the preservation of the liberty and happi
ness of the country, unite in sincere and
fervent prayer that this deposit, and the
walls and arches, the domes and towers,
the columns and entablatures, now to
be erected over it, may endure forever !
God Save the United States op
America ! "

XVI.
DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON.— 1799.

His Sudden and Brief Illness, Last Hours, and Dying Words. — Fortitude and Serenity Through all
His Sufferings. — He Calmly Announces His Approaching Dissolution Without a Murmur. — The
Whole World Does Honor, by Eulogy and Lamentations, to His Exalted Worth and Immortal Fame.
— He Anticipated an Early Death. — His Invariably Good Health — Exposure in a, Snow-Storni. —
Takes a Fatal Cold. — Last Letter Written by His Hand. — Reads the Papers in the Evening. — Char
acteristic Eeply to His Wife. — Passes a Restless Night. — Alarming Condition the Next Day. — Medi
cal Treatment of no Avail. — Calls for His Two Wills, Burns One. — Affecting Scene at His Bedside.
^^^^^ —Last Words, '"Tis Well!"— Only One Day's Sickness.
— Acute Laryngitis His Disease. — Burial in the Old Family
Vault. — Tidings of His Death. — Tributes from Peoples and
Kings. — A Man Without a Parallel. — Last Page in His
Journal. — Re-entombment in 1837. — Appearance of Hil
Remains.

"Posterity will talk of Washinetnn with reverence, as the founder of agxeat
empire, when my name shall be lost in the vortex of revolution.'-NAPOLEOH Bo-
KAPARTE.

s§ ASHINGTON is dead ! " were the appalling words which, with the
fading out of the eighteenth century, brought home to every American heart the solemn
lesson of the flight of time, and that " all men are mortal." Totally unprepared as
was his idolizing country for such an event, — no intelligence of the slightest illness of
the great chieftain having preceded the bald announcement of his death and burial, —
the tidings moved the nation's heart to profound amazement and sorrow, and deep an
swered unto deep, in the universal wail of a bereaved and stricken republic. If a
nation's prayers could have prevailed, Washington — Columbia's most honored, venerated,
and renowned son, — would have been immortal on earth. But the ordinance of divine
wisdom is, that the great boon of immortality shall be attained by man only through
the portals of the grave, and to this decree the illustrious and the humble are alike sub
ject. Thus it was that Washington, the great Christian warrior and statesman — the
greatest of good men and the best of great men — paid the debt of nature when he had
scarcely reached the allotted period of three-score years and ten.
The last end of so illustrious a personage as Washington, is fraught with an interest
so profound and memorable, as never to lose its freshness and value to successive
generations. It appeared to be the will of heaven that, so soon as the circum
stances of his country enabled it to dispense with the services of the man who, above
all others, was its founder and leading head, he should be summoned away from
the scenes of earth. That he was one who was accustomed to consider the brevity of
life and the Tincertainty of human affairs, is evident from the tenor of his conduct
and conversation, and from occasional passages in his correspondence. Thus, to the
Hon. James M'Henry, secretary of war, he wrote, but a few months prior to his
decease : " My greatest anxiety is to have all these concerns in such a clsar and distinct

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

175

form, that no reproach may attach itself to
me when I have taken my departure for
the land of spirits." He had also been
making arrangements, just before the at
tack of illness which terminated in his
death; for the construction of an improved
family tomb, and in speaking of his plans
to a relative at his side, he remarked,
" This change, I shall make the first of all,
for I may require it before the rest." He
had also been heard to say, "I am of a
short-lived family, and cannot expect to
remain very long upon the earth."
' The month of December, 1799, found
him in the enjoyment of excellent health.
Indeed, Major Lewis, his nephew, writing
of him as he appeared to himself and a
friend at that time, says, " The clear and
healthy flush on his cheek and his
sprightly manner brought the remark from
both of us, that we had never seen the
general look so well." On the tenth of
December, he completed the draught of an
elaborate plan for the management of his
lands, laying down the rotation of the
crops for a succession of years in advance.
The morning of that day was clear and
calm, but the afternoon was lowering.
The next day, the eleventh, was bluster
ing and rainy ; and at night, as Washing
ton recorded in his diary, " there was a
large circle round the moon." The morn
ing of the twelfth was overcast. Wash
ington's last letter was written that
morning — it was to Hamilton, and princi
pally on the subject of a military academy.
The events of that day, and of the two
days following, are most minutely narrated
by an eye-witness — Mr. Tobias Lear,—
who was Washington's private secretary
as well as valued friend; and with Mr.
Lear's statement, are incorporated some
facts from the pen of Washington's favor
ite kinsman, Mr. Custis : —
On Thursday, December twelfth, the
general rode out to his farms about ten
o'clock, and did not return home till past
three. Soon after he went out, the weather
became very bad, rain, hail, snow falling
alternately, with a cold wind. When he
came in, I carried some letters to him to

frank, intending to send them to the post-
office in the evening. He franked the
letters, but said the weather was too bad
to send a servant to the office that even
ing. I observed to him, that I was afraid
he had got wet. He said, No, his great
coat had kept him dry. But his neck ap
peared to be wet, and the snow was
hanging upon his hair. He came to din
ner, which had been waiting for him,
without changing his dress. In the even
ing he appeared as well as usual.
A heavy fall of snow took place on
Friday, which prevented the general from
riding out as usual. He had taken cold,
undoubtedly from being so much exposed
the day before, and complained of a sore
throat. He, however, went out in the
afternoon into the ground between the
house and the river to mark some trees,
which were to be cut down in the improve
ment of that spot. As was usual with
him, he carried his own compass, noted
his observations, and marked the ground.
He had a hoarseness, which increased in
the evening, but he made light of it.
Between two and three o'clock, on Sat
urday morning, December fourteenth, he
awoke Mrs. Washington, and told her that
he was very unwell, and had had an ague.
She observed that he could scarcely speak,

and breathed with difficulty, and would
have got up to call a servant. But he
would not permit her, lest she should take
a cold. As soon as the day appeared, the

176

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

woman (Caroline) went into the room to
make a fire, and Mrs. Washington sent
her immediately to call me. I got up,
put on my clothes as quickly as possible,
and went to his chamber. Mrs. Washing
ton was then up, and related to me his
being ill as before stated. I found the
general breathing with difficulty, and
hardly able to utter a word intelligibly.
He desired Mr. Rawlins (one of the over
seers) might be sent for, to bleed him be
fore the doctor could arrive. I dispatched
a servant instantly for Rawlins, and an
other for Dr. Craik, and returned again to
the general's chamber, where I found him
in the same situation as I had left him.
A mixture of molasses, vinegar, and
butter, was prepared, to try its effects in
the throat; but he could not swallow a
drop. Whenever he attempted it, he ap
peared to be distressed, convulsed, and al
most suffocated. Rawlins came in soon
after sunrise, and prepared to bleed him.
When the arm was ready, the general, ob
serving that Rawlins appeared to be agi
tated, said, as well as he could speak,
" Don't be afraid." And when the incision
was made, he observed, " The orifice is not
large enough." However, the blood ran
pretty freely. Mrs. Washington, not
knowing whether bleeding was proper or
not in the general's situation, begged that
much might not be taken from him, lest it
should be injurious, and desired me to
stop it; but, when I was about to untie
the string, the general put up his hand to
prevent it, and, as soon as he could speak,
he said, "More, more." Mrs. Washing
ton being still very uneasy, lest too much
blood should be taken, it was stopped after
taking about half a pint. Finding that no
relief was obtained from bleeding, and
that nothing would go down the throat, I
proposed bathing it externally with sal
volatile, which was done, and in the opera
tion, which was with the hand, and in the
gentlest manner, he observed, " It is very
sore." A piece of flannel dipped in sal
volatile was put around his neck, and his
feet bathed in warm water, but without
affording any relief.

In the meantime, before Dr. Craik ar
rived, Mrs. Washington desired me to
send for Dr. Brown, of Port Tobacco
whom Dr. Craik had recommended to be
called, if any case should ever occur that
was seriously alarming. ,
Dr. Dick came about three o'clock, and
Dr. Brown arrived soon after. Upon Dr.
Dick's seeing the general, and consulting
a few minutes with Dr. Craik, he was bled
again. The blood came very slow, was
thick, and did not produce any symptoms
of fainting. Dr. Brown came into the
chamber soon after, and upon feeling the
general's pulse, the physicians went out
together. Dr. Craik returned soon after,
The general could now swallow a little.
Calomel and tartar emetic were adminis
tered, but without any effect.
The weather became severely cold,
while the group gathered nearer to the
couch of the sufferer. He spoke but little.
To the respectful and affectionate inquir
ies of an old family servant, as .she
smoothed down his pillow, how he felt
himself, he answered, " I am very ill."
To Mrs. Washington he said, " Go to my
desk, and in the private drawer you will
find two papers — bring them to me."
They were brought. Upon looking at
them he observed, " These are my wills —
preserve this one and burn the other;"
which was accordingly done.
In the course of the afternoon he ap
peared to be in great pain and distress,
from the difficulty of breathing, and fre
quently changed his posture in the bed.
On these occasions I lay upon the bed and
endeavored to raise him, and turn him
with as much ease as possible. He ap
peared penetrated with gratitude for my
attentions, and often said, " I am afraid I
shall fatigue you too much ;" and upon my
assuring him that I could feel nothing but
a wish to give him ease, he replied,
" Well, it is a debt we must pay to each
other, and I hope, when you want aid of
this kind, you will find it."
He asked when Mr. Lewis and Wash
ington Custis would return. (They were
then in New Kent.) I told him about the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

177

month.
The general's serv
ant, Christopher,
was in the room dur
ing the day ; and in the afternoon, the
general directed him to sit down, as he had
been standing almost the whole day. He
did so. About eight o'clock in the morn
ing, he had expressed a desire to get up.
His clothes were put on, and he was led to
a chair by the fire ; he found no relief
from that position, and lay down again
about ten o'clock. About five o'clock, Dr.
Craik came again into the room, and,
upon going to the bedside, the general said
to him,
" Doctor, I die hard, but I am not afraid
to go. I believed, from my first attack,
that I should not survive it. My breath
can not last long."
The doctor pressed his hand, but could
not utter a word. He retired from the
bedside, and sat by the fire absorbed in
grief. Between five and six o'clock, Dr.
Dick and Dr. Brown came into the room,
and with Dr. Craik went to the bed, when
Dr., Craik asked him if he could sit up in
the bed. He held out his hand, and I
12

sicians,
" I feel myself going;
I thank you for your
attentions ; but I pray you to take no more
trouble about me. Let me go off quietly.
I cannot last long."
About ten o'clock he made several at
tempts to speak to me before he could
effect it. At length he said,
"lam just going. Have me decently
buried; and do not let my body be put
into the vault in less than three days after
I am dead."
I bowed assent, for I could not speak.
He then looked at me again and said,
" Do you understand me ? "
"Yes," I replied.
"'Tis well," said he; the last words
which he ever uttered on earth.
With surprising self-possession he pre
pared to die — composing his form at full
length, and folding his arms on his bosom.
About ten minutes before he expired
(which was between ten and eleven o'clock
Saturday evening), his breathing became
easier. He lay quietly ; he withdrew his
hand from mine, and felt his own pulse.

178

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

I saw his countenance change. I spoke to
Dr. Craik, who sat by the fire. He came
to the bedside. The general's hand fell
from his wrist. I took it in mine, and
pressed it to my bosom. Dr. Craik put
his hands over his eyes, and he expired
without a struggle or a sigh, December
fourteenth, 1799, in the sixty-eighth year
of his age, after an illness of twenty-four
hours. While we were fixed in silent grief,
Mrs. Washington, who was sitting at the
foot of the bed, asked with a firm and
collected voice, " Is he gone ? " I could
not speak, but held up my hand as a signal
that he was no more. " 'Tis well," said
she, in the same voice, " all is now over ;
I shall soon follow him ; I have no more
trials to pass through."
The disease of which Washington died
was what is now technically called " acute
laryngitis," a disease of very rare occur
rence.

CrEOBOE WASHINGTON, AS COLONEL.
About twelve o'clock, the body was car
ried down stairs, and laid out in the large
drawing-room ; the burial taking place the
next Wednesday, December 18th, his
mortal remains being deposited in the
family vault at Mount Vernon. The
sudden tidings of his death fell like a do
mestic sorrow upon the hearts of the
people ; lamentations and solemn obsequies
filled the land, — and, throughout the whole
world, the event was heard with the deep
est emotion.
Nearly forty years after Washington's

death and burial, his remains, together
with those of his wife, were re-entombed
in order to their being placed in the
marble coffins which had been generously
offered for that purpose by a patriotic citi
zen of Philadelphia, to the legal represen
tatives of the departed chieftain. This
was in 1837. At the time of Washing
ton's interment, December 18, 1799, his
body was placed in a mahogany coffin lined
with lead, soldered at the joints, with a
cover of lead to be soldered on after the
body should be in the vault. The coffin
was put into a case, lined and covered
with black cloth.
On entering the tomb and examining
the coffin, on the occasion in question, it
was found that the lid had become dis
placed and broken, and the silver shield
which had originally surmounted the lid
had dropped down into the case. At the
request of Major Lewis, who was one of
the family group to witness the re-entomb
ment, the fractured part pf the lid was
turned over on the lower part, exposing to
view a head and breast of large dimen
sions, which appeared, by the dim light of
the candles, to have suffered but little
from the effects of time. The eye-sockets
were large and deep, and the breadth
across the temples, together with the fore
head, appeared of unusual size. There
was no appearance of grave-clothes; the
chest was broad, the color was dark, and
there was the appearance of dried flesh
and skin adhering closely to the bones.
The ancient family vault, in which
Washington's remains first reposed, was
situated under the shade of a small grove
of forest trees, a short distance from the
family mansion of Mount Vernon, and
near the brow of the precipitous bank of
the Potomac. Diminutive and unadorned,
this humble sepulchre stood in a most
romantic and picturesque spot, and, on ac
count of its prominent locality, could be
distinctly seen by travelers, as they passed
in steamboats up and down the river.
But the ashes of the father of his coun
try were in course of time removed from
that place, to a lot near the corner of a

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

179

beautiful enclosure, where the river is con
cealed from view. This site was selected
by Washington himself, in the later years
of his life, for a tomb.
It is scarcely necessary to cite the opin
ions held by the illustrious men of Amer
ica concerning Washington. Those opin
ions, held and shared by all, from the
highest to the humblest citizen, may all
be summed up in that grand apotheosis of
eulogy, namely, that he was "First in
War, First in Peace, First in the
Hearts of His Countrymen." It will
be of interest, however, in this place,
to glance at the estimate of Washing
ton held by some of the great historic
characters of the old world, — kings, queens,
nobles, and orators.
When Napoleon was about to embark
for Egypt, some American gentlemen who
happened to be at Toulon, being anxious
for an interview with the mighty Corsi-
can, obtained an introduction to him.
Scarcely were the customary salutations
exchanged, when he eagerly asked —
"How fares your countryman, the great
Washington ? "
" He was very well, general, when we
left America," replied the travelers.
"Ah, gentlemen," rejoined the man of
destiny, " Washington can never be other
wise than well. The measure of his fame

8E0EGE WASHINGTON, GENERAL TJ. a. A.
is full. Posterity will talk of him with
reverence as the founder of a great empire,
when my name shall be lost in the vortex
of revolutions."
Marie- Antoinette, queen of France, was

a great admirer of the heroism and per
sonal character of Washington, though
not in sympathy with his political princi
ples. Wishing to send to him a royal

PRESIDENT OJ THE UNITED STATES.

gift in token of her appreciation of his
great merits, she consulted Lafayette as to
the form of presentation, citing the terms
used on similar occasions, in addressing
kings and other monarchs. Lafayette
mildly objected to those terms, as being
not altogether suitable in the present case,
saying : " They, madam, were only kings.
Washington is the General of a free na
tion," — a sentiment to which the gentle-
mannered queen at once yielded a most
gracious assent, in deference to the ac
knowledged pre-eminence of Washington.
Lord Erskine, in writing to Washington
from London, said : " I have taken the
liberty to introduce your august and im
mortal name in a short sentence, which is
to be found in a book I send you. I have
a large acquaintance among the most val
uable and exalted classes of men ; but you
are the only human being for whom I have
ever felt an awful reverence. I sincerely
pray God to grant you a long and serene
evening to a life so gloriously devoted to
the universal happiness of the world."

180

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

In the year 1780, Frederick the Great,
king of Prussia, presented General Wash
ington with a picture of his majesty taken
to the life, and inscribed underneath with
the words —
" From the oldest general in Europe, to
the greatest general on earth."
Charles James Fox, the renowned Brit
ish premier, declared of Washington, in
the presence of parliament: "How infi-
nitfely wiser must appear the spirit and
principles manifested in his late addresses
to congress than the policy of modern Eu
ropean courts ! Illustrious man ! deriving
honor less from the splendor of his situa
tion than from the dignity of his mind;
before whom all borrowed greatness sinks
into insignificance, and all the potentates
of Europe — excepting the members of our
own royal family — become little and con
temptible. I can not, indeed, help admir
ing the wisdom and fortune of this great
man. A character, of virtues so happily
tempered by one another, and so wholly
unalloyed by any vices, is hardly to be
found on the pages of history. For him it
has been reserved to run the race of glory,
without experiencing the smallest inter
ruption to the brilliancy of his career."
When the news of Washington's death
reached France, Napoleon announced the
event to his army, and ordered black crape
to be suspended from all the flags and
standards in the French service for ten
days ; and, on the eighth of February,
1800, M. DeFontanes, by direction of Na
poleon, pronounced a funeral oration in
honor of Washington, in the presence of
Bonaparte and the great dignitaries of the
realm, in which oration the illustrious de
ceased was declared to be " a character
worthy the best days of antiquity."
Of Washington's personal appearance,
little further need be remarked than that
it comported entirely with the solid gran
deur of his character. In respect to phy
sique, no man could have been better
formed for command. A stature some
what exceeding six feet, a full but admir
ably-proportioned frame, calculated to
sustain fatigue, without that heaviness

which generally attends great muscular
strength and abates active exertion, dis
played bodily power of no mean standard.
A light gray eye and full, firm forehead,
Roman nose ; his mouth was peculiar of its

TOMB OF WASHINGTON.

class — the lips firm, and the under jaw
seeming to grasp the upper with force, as
if its muscles were in full action when he
sat still. It was Washington's habit to
fasten his eyes calmly and steadily upon
those who were ushered into his presence,
whether friend or foe, nor was it a slight
ordeal thus to meet his penetrating gaze.
His limbs were long, large, and sinewy,
and his frame was of equal breadth from
the shoulders to the hips ; his joints were
large, as were also his feet, and the great
size of his hand never failed to attract
attention. His gait and tread was that of
a practiced soldier ; his deportment inva
riably grave and reserved; his speech
sparing and deliberate. At home he wore
the usual dress of a citizen ; on state occar
sions, he dressed in a full suit of the rich
est black velvet, with diamond knee-
buckles, and square silver buckles set

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

181

upon shoes japanned with the most scru
pulous neatness, black silk stockings, his
shirt ruffled at the breast and wrists, a
light dress sword, his hair profusely pow
dered, fully dressed, so as to project at the
gides, and gathered behind in a silk bag,

ornamented with a large rose of black
ribbon. In the prime of life, Washington
stood six feet two inches, and weighed
nearly two hundred and twenty pounds ;
he measured precisely six feet when at
tired for the grave.

XVII.
PUNISHMENT AND COMPLETE DEGRADATION OF THE
BARBARY STATES BY THE YOUNG REPUBLIC— 1803.

Tribute Exacted of all the Nations of Christendom, by the Piratical Powers. — The Thunder of American
Cannon before their Cities — Ignominious Submission of Morocco, Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli. — Their
Audacious Corsairs Vanquished and Driven in Terror from the Seas. — A Boon to the Civilized
World. — Barbary a Nation of Freebooters. — All Commerce at their Mercy. — The United States
Unknown to Them. — Its Flag Descried on the Ocean. — Fresh Plunder Anticipated. — Seizure of
American Ships. — Retaliation by the Yankees — Tripoli's Flag Struck at Last. — Treaty between the
Belligerents — New Exactions by the Algerines. — Retribution in Store for Them — A United States
Frigate in the Pirate Haunts. — Grounding of the Philadelphia. — Her Triumphant Capture hy the
Enemy. — Their Boisterous Exultation.— Decatur Burns Her During the Night. — Fierce Rage of the
Turks — Bombardment of Tripoli. — How " Christian Dogs " were Viewed. — Peace Sued for by the
Despots. — Their Duplicity and Treachery. — America's "Tribute" is Powder and Balls.

M If you insist upon receiving powder as tribute, you must expect to receive balls with it!" — Commodore Decatur to the Baee art
Government.

XI. S. TRIBUTE TO
BARBARY.

ONSIDERING the peculiar weakness and insignificance of the
Barbary States, as a military power, it may well appear strange to the
reader of history, at the present day, that, almost to the opening of
the nineteenth century, nearly all the maritime nations of the earth
paid tribute to that power, in order to appease the insolence and ob
tain exemption from the ravages of their piratical cruisers. The gov
ernment of England or of France might, as has been truly remarked,
have stopped this system of piracy long before, by one peremptory word ;
but, as the corsairs committed their depredations chiefly in the Med
iterranean, those two countries had no special inducement to interfere. And there was
always some jealous calculation of advantage, — some pitiful project of turning them to
future account, — which prevented decisive action on the part of either nation. Then
the wars which followed the French Revolution kept Europe busy at home, and gave
the Barbary sailors the opportunity of pursuing their calling for a few years longer
with impunity. The English, with large fleets and naval stations in the Mediterranean,
had nothing to fear from them, and were, probably, not much displeased with the con
tributions levied upon the commerce of other nations. French merchantmen kept at
home. Spain, Sweden, Denmark, and Holland tried to outbid one another for the favor
of the bey, dey, and pacha, and were robbed and enslaved whenever it suited the inter
ests of their highnesses. The Portuguese prudently kept out oi reach, and protected
their coast by guarding the Straits of Gibraltar. It was a long time, comparatively,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

183

before their highnesses were made ac
quainted with the fact of there being a
sovereignty called the United States.
In course of time, the piratical cruisers
descried a new flag floating proudly from
the mast-head of heavy-freighted craft
plowing tlieir way gallantly through the
blue waters; but, though its appearance
was hailed with avaricious joy, as insuring
additional harvests of plunder, it was soon
to seal their doom, and scatter them, af
frighted and dismayed, from the high seas.
Few subjects had excited more irritation
among the people as well as the authori
ties of the government of the United
States, up to this period of their national
independence, than this lawless and out
rageous captivity of their fellow-citizens
in Algiers.
It may well be supposed, however, that
no such galling yoke could long be worn
or borne by a free people ; and it was not
long, therefore, before Washington recom
mended the construction of a naval arma
ment adequate to the protection of the
commerce of the United States against the
depredations committed by the dey's cor
sairs, and this proposal eventually received
the sanction of congress. The act pro
vided for four frigates of forty-four guns
each, and two of thirty-six guns each, and
in due time they were built, manned and
equipped, and put in commission, to vindi
cate the rights and liberties of the Amer
ican flag.
There was retribution in store for the
Barbary States, to be dealt out to them by
the youngest and most remote in the
family of nations !
The naval squadron intended for this
purpose consisted of the frigate President,
commanded by Commodore Dale, the
frigate Philadelphia, commanded by Cap
tain Barron, the frigate Essex, under
Captain Bainbridge, and the schooner En
terprise, Lieutenant Commandant Sterrett.
In obedience to instructions from Commo
dore Dale, Bainbridge appeared off the
cities of Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli; and
during the winter and spring of 1802,
cruised in different parts of the Mediterra

nean, and convoyed the United States
merchant vessels issuing from various
ports, out of that infested sea. After this
period of service, Commodore Dale was
succeeded in his command, first by Com

modore Richard V. Morris, and subse
quently by Commodore Preble. The
Essex, appearing unseaworthy, was sent
home. It should also be here mentioned,
that, on the sixth of August, 1801, the
Enterprise fell in with a Tripolitan ship of
war of equal force ; the action continued
three hours and a half, the corsair fight
ing with great obstinacy, and even des
peration, until she struck, having lost fifty
killed and wounded, while the Enterprise
had not a man injured. This was the
first Tripolitan ship-of-war, and indeed
the first armed vessel of any of the Bar
bary powers, which ever struck to the
American flag.
Not only did the United States now
determine to protect its maritime rights as
a commercial power, but it resolved to
pursue the matter aggressively, and
punish the insolence of the piratical bar
barians who thus assumed to dictate to
Christendom. Under Commodore Preble,
the squadron consisted of the frigate Phil
adelphia, of forty-four guns, commanded
by Bainbridge ; the frigate Constitution,
of forty-four guns, commanded by Preble ;
the brig Syren, of twelve guns, commanded
by Stewart; and the schooners Vixen,
Nautilus, Argus, and Enterprise, of twelve

184

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

to sixteen guns each, and commanded re
spectively by Lieutenants Smith, Somers,
Hull, and Decatur. Their orders were to
humble and punish the Barbary sover
eigns. While going up the Mediterranean, the
Philadelphia descried, on the coast of
Spain, near Cape de Gatte, a ship car
rying only her foresail, with a brig in
company. ;It being night, and the guns
of the craft being housed, it was not easy
to at once discover her true character.
After repeatedly hailing, she proved to be
a ship-of-war from Barbary, on which in
formation, Bainbridge ordered her boat to
be sent on board the Philadelphia, with
her papers ; the latter showed that she
was a cruiser belonging to the emperor of
Morocco, and called the Meshboha, com
manded by Ibrahim Lubarez, mounting
twenty-two guns, and carrying one hun
dred and twenty men.
By not making themselves known, on
board the Philadelphia, to the Moorish
officer who presented himself, the latter
made free to say that the Jsrig in company
was American, and had been with them
three or four days, was bound to some port
in Spain, and had been boarded by them,
but not detained. The small sail, how
ever, which the brig was under, induced
Bainbridge to suspect that she had been
captured ; he therefore sent his first lieu
tenant on board the pirate, to see if there
were any American prisoners.

Cx^sl^jtfyyoCs

Bainbridge instantly ordered all the
Moorish officers and crew on board the
Philadelphia. Owing to the high wind
and sea, the greater part of the night was
thus occupied in getting the prisoners on
board and manning the prize, by which
detention the brig was lost sight of, nor
was she discovered again until late in the
afternoon of the ensuing day, when she
was met coming round Cape de Gatte from
the eastward, standing close in shore for
Almira Bay ; but in consequence of light
winds, she was not re-captured until mid
night. The Moors confessed that they
came out for the sole purpose of cruising
for, and capturing, American vessels. On
the morning after the capture, the Moor
ish commander was requested to exhibit
the orders which authorized him to cap
ture American vessels, to which he replied,
that he had none. To the question, why

he had captured the brig, he answered,
that as there was some misunderstanding
between his master and the United States
consul, at Tangier, he was induced to
commit this act, in anticipation of the war,
which he thought was inevitable. Cap
tain Bainbridge observed to him, that if
such had been his intention previously to
sailing, he ought not, as an honorable
officer, to have availed himself of the pro
tection of the consul's passports, which,
from all appearances, were obtained with
the view of practicing a deception on the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

185

BURNING OF THE PHILADELPHIA.

United States cruisers. Captain Bain
bridge expressed an unwillingness to be
lieve him capable of acting, thus dishonor
ably, and therefore must presume that
this violation of national faith was com
mitted under the authority of the emperor.
The Moorish commander, still persisting
in his first denial, Captain Bainbridge
turned upon him, and sternly remarked —
" Then, sir, I must consider you a
pirate, and will be obliged to treat you as
such." Bainbridge now pulled out his watch,
showed Lubarez the hour, and stated in an
impressive tone, that he was about to visit
the quarter-deck for half an hour, and if
his authority for depredating on the com
merce of the United States was not forth
coming on his return, he would immedi
ately hang him to the main yard, as a
pirate and malefactor. At the appointed
time, Captain Bainbridge returned to the
cabin with watch in hand, and his deter
mined purpose manifest in every look and
movement. Startled at the course which
things seemed to be taking, the Moor has
tily proceeded to unbutton several waist
coats, and, from the inside pocket of the
fifth, drew out the secret document, the
nature of which confirmed the American
commander's suspicions. Lubarez was a

man of education, great dignity, and had
for many years represented the emperor of
Morocco, as minister at the courts of
France and Spain. His capture was most
timely. The attention of Commodore Preble
was first directed toward Morocco, and
anchoring at Tangier with a part of his
squadron, in October, 1803, he humbled
the emperor by proposing such terms, and
insisting on their acceptance, as placed the
relations of the United States with that
power on a greatly-improved footing.
Most of the armament was now to be
concentrated before Tripoli. On arriving
off that port, the Philadelphia, Captain
Bainbridge, was sent into the harbor to
reconnoiter. While in eager pursuit of a
small vessel, he unfortunately advanced so
far that the' frigate grounded on a ledge of
rocks, in plain sight of the enemy, and all
attempts to remove her were absolutely
in vain. The sea around her was imme
diately covered with Tripolitan gunboats,
and Bainbridge was compelled to surren
der, the ship being a perfect wreck, and
exposed to the constant fire of the gun
boats for more than five hours. Immedi
ate possession was taken of the frigate,
she being entered at every point, and an
indiscriminate plunder ensuing.

186

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Lieutenant Stephen Decatur, a gallant
officer of the besieging squadron, early
proposed a plan for re-capturing or de
stroying the Philadelphia, and, accord
ingly, Commodore Preble directed him to
proceed in the ketch Intrepid, carrying
four guns and seventy-five men, under the
escort of the Syren, Captain Stewart, in
the prosecution of his plan.
The Philadelphia lay within half gun
shot of the governor's palace, and several
cruisers and gun-boats surrounded her with
jealous vigilance. The Intrepid entered
the harbor alone, about eight o'clock in
the evening, and in a short time succeeded
in getting near the Philadelphia, without
having awakened suspicions of any hostile
design being under way. The Intrepid
was a vessel which had been captured from
the Tripoli tans, and, assuming on this oc
casion her former national appearance,
was permitted to warp alongside, under
the alleged pretense that she had lost all
her anchors. The moment the vessel
came in contact, Decatur and his followers
leaped on board, and soon overwhelmed a
crew that was paralyzed with consterna
tion. Twenty of the Tripolitans were
killed. All the surrounding batteries
being opened upon the Philadelphia, she
was immediately set on fire, and not aban
doned until thoroughly wrapped in flames ;

O^* ^$5JT

when, a favoring breeze springing up, the
Intrepid extricated herself from her prey,
and sailed triumphantly out of the harbor

amid the light of the conflagration. Not
the slightest loss of life occurred on the
side of the Americans to shade the splen
dor of the enterprise. One seaman re
ceived a severe wound, under peculiar
circumstances. It appears that as soon as
the Intrepid was warped alongside the
Philadelphia, Decatur sprang on board
quickly followed by the other officers and
men. Instantly, the brave commander,
with his gallant comrades, rushed, sword
in hand, on the enemy, who were crowded
together on the forecastle, and killed or
drove into the sea the whole gang. In the
first desperate struggle, Decatur was dis
armed and fell, momentarily overpowered
in the sanguinary melee. A saber was
already lifted to strike the fatal blow,
when this heroic seaman, observing the
perilous situation of his officer, reached
forward, and received the blow of the
saber on his arm.
It is recorded that nothing could exceed
the rage of the sovereign, at the loss of
his valuable prize. Barbarian-like, he
ordered the prison to be immediately sur
rounded by guards, and interrupted all
intercourse between the officers and men.
They were also conducted under a strong
guard to the castle, and confined in a
cold and damp apartment, with only
one opening at the top, which was grated
with iron ; light and air came through
this aperture solely. Thus they were
entombed during the remainder of. their
captivity. Determined now to try the effect of a
bombardment, Preble brought together all
his forces before Tripoli, in July, 1804.
The enemy having sent some gun-boats
and galleys without the reef at the mouth
of the harbor, two divisions of American
gun-boats were formed for the purpose of
attacking them, while the large vessels
assailed the batteries and town. Early in
August, the American squadron ap
proached within gun-shot of the town, and
opened a tremendous fire of shot and
shells, which was as promptly returned by
the Tripolitan batteries and shipping. At
the same time, the two divisions of gun-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

187

BOMBARDMENT OF TRIPOLI.

boats, the first under the command of
Captain Richard Somers, the second under
Captain Stephen Decatur, who had been
promoted as a reward for his late achieve
ment, advanced against those of the
enemy. The squadron was about two
hours under the enemy's batteries, gener
ally within pistol-shot, ranging by them in
deliberate succession, alternately silencing
their fires, and launching its thunders into
the very palace of royalty, while a yet
more animated battle was raging in an
other quarter. What the Turks them
selves thought of these demonstrations
may be judged from the fact that the gov
ernor, affecting at first to despise his
assailants and their attack, was soon glad
to run in dismay to a bomb-proof apart
ment in his castle. The sons of the
prophet said, in their rage : —
"The English, French and Spanish
consuls, have told us that they are a young
nation, and got their independence by
means of France ; that they had a small
navy and their officers were inexperienced,
and that they were merely a nation of
merchants, and that, by taking their ships
and men, we should get great ransoms.

Instead of this, their Preble pays us a
coin of shot, shells, and hard blows; and
sent a Decatur, in a dark night, with a
band of Christian dogs fierce and cruel
as the tiger, who killed our brothers and
burnt our ships before our eyes."
Preble now planned to send a fire-ship
into the enemy's harbor. The Intrepid
was fitted out for this service, filled with
combustible and explosive materials. The
brave Captain Somers was appointed to
conduct her, under suitable convoy, to the
mouth of the harbor ; choice was also made
of two of the fleetest boats in the squad
ron, manned with picked crews, to bring
them out. At eight o'clock in the even
ing she stood into the harbor with a mod
erate breeze. Several shots were fired at
her from the batteries. She had nearly
gained her place of destination when she
exploded, without having made any of the
signals previously concerted to show that
all was well. Night hung over the dread
ful catastrophe, and left the whole squad
ron a prey to the most painful anxiety.
The convoy hovered about the harbor until
sunrise, when no remains could be discov
ered either of the Intrepid or her boats.

188

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Doubt was now turned into fatal certainty,
— she had prematurely blown up ! This
event was deeply deplored in the United
States, and, in memory of the heroic dead,
there has been erected a beautiful Doric
monument in the capitol grounds at
Washington. Soon after these events, Commodore
Barron succeeded Preble in command, and
it being understood that re-enforcements
and another attack were near at hand, the
Turkish ruler came to terms, and desired
to make peace.
True to their characteristic duplicity
and treachery, the Algerine authorities, on
the breaking-out of war between England
and the United States, took advantage of
the presumed disabilities of the latter, re
sumed their system of piracies and extorting
tribute-money and presents. Two squad
rons were duly fitted out by the American
government, and were commanded by
Commodores Decatur and Bainbridge.
Appearing before Algiers, Decatur sent
the model of a treaty to the governor, de
manding instant agreement. The Turk
thought it hard to have to relinquish his
tribute-money and presents of every sort,
and intimated that he would at least like
to receive a supply of powder. " If," re

plied Decatur, " you insist upon receiving
powder as tribute, you must expect to re
ceive balls with it ! " The governor turned
pale at this stern language, and was glad
enough to yield to the terms dictated by
the intrepid negotiator.
Thus, before the authorities of Barbary
had received any intimation of the restor
ation of peace between Britain and Amer
ica, the American squadron appeared
before their capitals ; had captured several
of their vessels ; compelled the governor of
Algiers to submit to the indignity of sign
ing, on Decatur's quarter-deck, a humiliat
ing treaty; obliged Tunis to refund the
amount of American property which they
permitted the English cruisers to take out
of their harbor ; and exacted of Tripoli an
apology for the insult offered to the United
States consul, and again to hoist the re
public's flag over the consul's house,
accompanied by a salute of twenty-four
guns. The submission of these powers
was complete. They bound themselves to
make indemnity for past extortions; to
surrender every prisoner without ransom ;
and to renounce all claim for tribute from
the American government, as well as their
barbarous practice of piracy and reducing
prisoners to slavery.

XVIII.
FATAL DUEL BETWEEN MR. BURR AND GENERAL
ALEXANDER HAMILTON.— 1804.

Fall of Hamilton at FirstFire.— His Death in Thirty Hours. — Profound Sensation and Solemn Obse
quies in all Parts of the Land. — Mourned as one of the Founders of the Republic. — Indictment of the
Assassin for the Crime of Murder. — Hamilton's Brilliant Public Life. — Washington's Right-hand Man.
— Champion of the Federalists. — Burr's Career in the Revolution. — His Notorious Debauchery. — Fi
nally Dismissed by Washington. — Becomes Vice-President in 1800. — Deadly Personal Hatreds. —
Criticisms on Burr by His Opponents. — Challenge Sent to Hamilton. — Pacific Explanations Spurned.
— Forced to Meet Burr. — Makes His Will in Anticipation. — Sjngs at » Banquet the Day Before. —
Arrival of the Fatal Hour. — Hamilton's Mortal Wound. — What He Said of the Event. — Conversation
Before Dying. — Partakes of the Communion. — His Testimony Against Dueling. — Heartless Conduct
of Burr. — A Fugitive and an Outlaw.

Qxsar to Antony:

"Let the old ruffian know
I have many other ways to die; meantime,
Laugh at his challenge."— Ant. & Clko., Act. 4, 80. 1.

Y far the most exciting personal transac
tion that occurred among the first genera
tion of American statesmen and politi
cians, was the duel fought in July, 1804,
between Colonel Aaron Burr, at that time
vice-president of the United States, and
General Alexander Hamilton, formerly
secretary of the treasury, during the ad
ministration of Washington ; and in which
duel Hamilton fell mortally wounded, his
country being thus deprived of its most
brilliant ornament.
Of transcendent abilities and unsullied
official integrity, it may be said of the
victim in this murderous tragedy, that no
one labored rnore efficiently than he, in the
organization of the present federal govern
ment. At the age of nineteen he entered
the revolutionary army, and in 1777 was
appointed aid-de-camp of General Wash
ington, with the rank of lieutenant-colonel.
In this capacity he served during the re
mainder of the war, and at the siege of Yorktown led in person the detachment
that carried by assault one of the British outworks. When his military services
were no longer required, he commenced the study of the law, entered into ita prac-

MONUMENT TO ALEXANDER HAMILTON.

190

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

tice in New York, and soon rose to dis
tinction. In 1782, he was chosen a
member of congress ; in 1787, a member of
the convention that framed the federal
constitution. Of this work, as profound as
any, and more generally intelligible than
most, that have been written on the science
of government, the larger portion pro
ceeded from the pen of Hamilton. In
political life, he was one of the strongest
champions of the party which had Wash
ington at its head. In 1789, he was placed
in the cabinet, as secretary of the treasury,
and while in this position rendered the
most efficient service to his country, by
the establishment of an admirable system
of national finance. During the insurrec
tion in Pennsylvania, when the people of
the western counties took up arms against
the general government, Hamilton was
placed at the head of the government force
destined to act against them ; the disturb
ances being quelled without bloodshed, he
resigned his post. His last appearance in
military character was again by the side

Aaron Burr was one year the senior of
Hamilton, in point of age. His father was
the Rev. Aaron Burr, the learned and de
vout president of Princeton college, and

of Washington, in 1798, as second in com
mand of the army, which was to be called
into service in case of hostilities with
France.

his mother the daughter of that eminent
divine, Jonathan Edwards. Before Burr
had reached his third year, however, he
was an orphan. When twelve years of
age he entered college, graduating at six
teen with the highest reputation. In
1775, while a student of law, he joined the
American army under Washington, and
such was his ardor in his country's cause,
that he joined Arnold as a volunteer in
the expedition against Quebec. After his
arrival there he was appointed aid-de-camp
to Montgomery, and was by the side of
that brave officer when he fell. Subse
quently, in 1776, he was received by
Washington as one of his military family,
but was soon cast off by that stern moral
ist in consequence of his debauchery.
This act of Washington, Burr never for
gave. His unquestioned military talents,
however, secured for him the high position
of lieutenant-colonel in 1777, which he re
tained until 1779, when he was obliged to
relinquish it on account of ill-health. De
voting himself to law, he early became one
of the greatest lawyers in New York, of
which state he was made attorney^general
in 1789. From 1791 to 1797, he was a
United States senator. In 1800, he was a

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

191

candidate for the presidency, and received
the same number of votes as Thomas Jef
ferson; the choice thus went to congress,
which, on the thirty-sixth ballot, elected
Jefferson president and Burr vice-presi
dent. In his personal appearance, Burr
is described as having been, in the prime
of his manhood, a small but well-formed,
fair-complexioned, fascinating man; his
face was handsome, by some described as
Btriking, and eyes jet-black and uncom
monly brilliant and piercing. In public
he had an air of eminent authority, but in
the drawing-room his manner was singu
larly graceful, gentle, and winning. He
was a wit, a beau, a good scholar, a pol
ished gentleman, an unscrupulous lawyer
and politician, and a libertine in morals.
But whoever would read, in all its varied
detail, the life of this wonderful man,
must consult the biographies of him by
Parton and Davis.
The animosity between Burr and Ham
ilton, as the leaders, respectively, of the
two great political parties, was very bitter.
The history of this quarrel, in its immedi
ate bearing upon the fatal rencontre in
which it finally culminated, is somewhat
differently characterized by various biogra
phers, and perhaps not always impartially.
Reviewing the matter from the date of
Washington's death, the fact is brought to
notice, .that such was the number of seced
ers from the federal party after that un
looked-for event, that their opponents re
solved to adopt the bold policy of running
two presidential candidates, in order thus
to secure at least the election of a vice-
president, and in this way, although a
choice by the electoral colleges was not
effected, the two candidates of the demo
cratic party were brought before the house
of representatives with claims apparently
equal. In the vote of this body by states,
it soon appeared that the federal members
had it in their power to determine which
of the two, Jefferson or Burr, should be
president. Many violent federal parti
sans were inclined to throw a brand of
discord into the republican party, by con
ferring the dignity on Burr ; and he is

accused of intriguing with them for the
purpose. It is believed that Burr, from this time
forth, became Hamilton's mortal foe, and
watched for an occasion to get rid of such
a rival. In the careful account given by
Hildreth, of the subsequent progress of
this feud, — a portion of which is here cited,
— he mentions, primarily, the two well-
known letters written by Dr. Cooper, a
zealous partisan, in one of which it is
alleged that Hamilton had spoken of Burr
as a dangerous man, who ought not to be
trusted with the reins of government. In
the other letter, after repeating the above
statement, Cooper added that he could de
tail a still more despicable opinion which
General Hamilton had expressed of Mr.
Burr. Upon this latter passage, the historian
asserts, Burr seized as the means of forcing
Hamilton into a duel. For his agent and
assistant therein he selected William P.
Van Ness, a young lawyer, one of his most
attached partisans, and not less dark, de
signing, cool, and implacable than himself.
Van Ness was sent to Hamilton with a
copy of Cooper's printed letter, and a note
from Burr, insisting upon a prompt and
unqualified acknowledgment or denial of
the use of any expressions which would
warrant Cooper's assertions.
Hamilton expressed a perfect readiness to
avow or disavow any specific opinion which
he might be charged with having uttered ;
but added that he never would consent to be
interrogated generally as to whether he had
ever said anything in the course of fifteen
years of political competition to justify in
ferences which others might have drawn,
thus exposing his candor and sincerity to
injurious imputations on the part of all
who might have misapprehended him.
"More than this," said Hamilton in the
conclusion of his letter to Burr, " can not
fitly be expected of me ; especially, it can
not be reasonably expected that I shall
enter into any explanations upon a basis
so vague as that you have adopted. I
trust, on more reflection, you will see the
matter in the same light. If not, I can

192

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

only regret the circumstance, and must
abide the consequences."
Burr's curt, rude, and offensive reply
began with intimating that Hamilton's
letter was greatly deficient in that sincer
ity and delicacy which he professed so
much to value. The epithet in question,
in the common understanding of it, im
plied dishonor. It having been affixed to
Burr's name upon Hamilton's authority,
he was bound to say whether he had au
thorized it, either directly, or by uttering
expressions or opinions derogatory to
Burr's honor.
It was apparent from this letter, and it
was subsequently distinctly stated by Van
Ness, that what Burr required was a gen
eral disavowal on the part of Hamilton, of
any intention, in any conversation he
might ever have held, to convey impres
sions derogatory to the honor of Burr.
Desirous to deprive Burr of any possible
excuse for persisting in his murderous
designs, Hamilton caused a paper to be
transmitted to him, through Pendleton, a
brother lawyer, who acted as his friend in
this matter, to the effect that, if properly
addressed — for Burr's second letter was
considered too insulting to admit of a reply
— he should be willing to state that the
conversation alluded to by Dr. Cooper, so
far as he could recall it, was wholly in re
lation to politics, and did not touch upon
Burr's private character ; nor should he
hesitate to make an equally prompt avowal
or disavowal as to any other particular and
specific conversation concerning which he
might be questioned.
But as Burr's only object was to find a
pretext for a challenge, — since he never
could have expected the general disavowal
he demanded, this offer was pronounced
unsatisfactory and evasive ; and again, a
second time, disavowing in the same breath
the charge made against him of predeter
mined hostility, Burr requested Van Ness
to deliver a challenge.
The eleventh of July, at seven in the
morning, was the time mutually agreed
upon for the duel ; the place, Weehawken,
New Jersey, opposite the city of New York ;

the weapons to be pistols, and the distance
ten paces. In the meantime, Hamilton and
Burr met once more at the convivial board,
namely, at the annual banquet of the Soci
ety of the Cincinnati, of which Hamilton
was president and Burr a member. It is
related that on this occasion Hamilton was
cheerful, and at times merry. He was
urged, as the feast wore away, to sing the
only song he ever sang or knew, the
famous old ballad of "The Drum." It
was thought afterward, that he was more
reluctant than usual to comply with the
company's request ; but after some delay,
he said, " Well, you shall have it," and
sang it in bis best manner, greatly to the
delight of the old soldiers by whom he
was surrounded. Burr, on the contrary,
was reserved, and mingled little with the
company, and held no intercourse what
ever with the president. He was never a
fluent man, and was generally, in the soci
ety of men, more a listener than a talker.
On this occasion, his silence was, there
fore, the less remarked ; yet it was re
marked. It was observed, too, that he
paid no attention to Hamilton's conversa
tion, nor, indeed, looked toward him, until
he struck up his song, when Burr turned
toward him, and, leaning upon the table,
looked at the singer until the song was
done. The fatal morning came. Colonel Burr
arrived first on the ground, as had been
previously agreed. He deliberately took
off his coat, surveyed the ground, and
then cleared away the bushes, limbs of
trees, etc. When General Hamilton ar
rived, the parties exchanged salutations,
and the seconds proceeded to make their
arrangements. They measured the dis
tance, full ten paces, and cast lots for the
choice of position, as also to determine by
whom the word should be given, both of
which fell to the seconds of Hamilton.
They then proceeded to load the pistols in
each other's presence, after which the
parties took their stations.
The gentleman who was to give the
word now explained to the parties the
rules which were to govern them in firing,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

193

SCENE OF THE BUKH AND HAMILTON DUEL, WEEHAWKEN.

which were as follows : ' The parties being
placed at their stations, the second who
gives the word shall ask them whether
they are ready; being answered in the
affirmative, he shall say Present; after
this, the parties shall present and fire
¦when they please. If one fires before
the other, the opposite second shall say,
One, two, three, fire ; — and he shall then
fire, or lose his fire.' He then asked if
they were prepared; being answered in
¦ the affirmative, he gave the word Present,
« had been agreed on, and both parties
presented and fired in succession. The
fire of Burr took effect; Hamilton sprang
upon his toes with a convulsive movement,
13

reeled a little toward the heights, at which
moment he involuntarily discharged his
pistol, and then fell headlong upon his face,
and remained motionless upon the ground.
His ball rustled among the branches, seven
feet above the head of his antagonist, and
four feet wide of him. Burr heard it,
looked up, and saw where it had severed a
twig. Looking at Hamilton, he beheld
him falling, and advanced towards him
with a manner and gesture that appeared
to be expressive of regret, but without
speaking turned about and withdrew,
being urged from the field by his friend.
No further communication took place be
tween the principals, and the barge that

194

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

carried Colonel Burr immediately left the
Jersey shore for New York.
Hamilton was at once borne away ten
derly in the arms of Pendleton, and his
necessities ministered to by Dr. Hosack.
He had, at this moment, just strength
enough to say, "This is a mortal wound,
doctor ; " when he sank away, and became
to all appearance lifeless. "My vision is
indistinct," were his first words. Soon
after recovering his sight, he happened to
cast his eye upon the case of pistols, and
observing the one he had used lying on
the outside, he said :
" Take care of that pistol ; it is undis
charged, and still cocked; it may go off
and do harm ; — Pendleton knows (attempt
ing to turn his head towards him) that I
did not intend to fire at him."
" Yes, I have already made Dr. Hosack
acquainted with your determination as to
that," replied Pendleton.
On approaching the shore, he said, " Let
Mrs. Hamilton be immediately sent for ;
let the event be gradually broken to her ;
but give her hopes." His friend, Mr.
Bayard, stood on the wharf in great agita
tion, and, on seeing Hamilton lying in the
bottom of the boat, he threw up his arms
and burst into a flood of tears and lamen
tation. Hamilton alone appeared tranquil
and composed. On being put to bed, a
consultation of physicians was held, who
united in the opinion that there was no
chance of his recovery. General Key, the
French consul, also had the goodness to
invite the surgeons of the French frigates
then in New York harbor, as they had had
much experience in gun-shot wounds, to
render their assistance. They immedi
ately came, but their opinion was unani
mous as to the hopelessness of the case.
The ball had struck the second or third
false rib, and fractured it about the middle ;
it then passed through the liver and
the diaphragm, and as far as was sub
sequently ascertained, lodged in the first
or second lumbar vertebra, the latter being
considerably splintered, so that the spic-
ulse were perceptible to the touch of the
finger.

The news of Hamilton's fall, and prob
ably speedy death, by a duel with the vice-
president of the United States, paralyzed
the whole nation, as the shocking intelli
gence sped itself over the country. In
New York, especially, bulletins, hourly
changed, kept the city in agitation. All
the circumstances of the catastrophe were
told, and re-told, at every corner. The
thrilling scenes that were passing at the
bedside of the dying man, the consultation
of the physicians, the arrival of the stricken
family, Mrs. Hamilton's overwhelming
sorrow, the resignation and calm dignity
of the illustrious sufferer, his broken slum
bers during the night, the piteous specta
cle of the seven children entering together
the awful apartment, — all these produced
an impression on the public that can only
be imagined.
At General Hamilton's request, Bishop
Moore and Rev. Dr. Mason visited him at
his bedside. To the former he said : " My
dear sir, you perceive my unfortunate sit
uation, and no doubt have been made
acquainted with the circumstances which
led to it. It is my desire to receive the
communion at your hands. I hope you
will not conceive there is any impropriety
in my request. It has for some time past
been the wish of my heart, and it was my
intention to take an early opportunity of
uniting myself to the church by the recep
tion of that holy ordinance." Bishop
Moore observed to him, that he must be
very sensible of the delicate and trying
situation in which, as a minister, he was
then placed; that however desirous he
might be to afford consolation to a fellow
mortal in distress, still it was his duty aa
an ambassador of the gospel, to hold up the
law of God as paramount to all other law,
and that, therefore, he must unequivocally
condemn the practice which had brought
him to his present unhappy condition.
Hamilton acknowledged the propriety of
these sentiments, and added, "I have no
ill-will against Colonel Burr. I met him
with a fixed determination to do him no
harm. I forgive all that happened.
After some other religious conversation

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

195

incident to the occasion, he received the
sacrament with great devotion, expressing
strong confidence in divine mercy. In his
interview with Dr. Mason, he exhibited
the same spiritual conviction, and repeated
the emphatic testimony he had given to
Bishop Moore, against the barbarous
custom of dueling.
The next day, Thursday, at eleven
o'clock, being about thirty hours after
receiving the fatal wound, Hamilton em
braced his wife for the last time, then
calmly composed himself to die, and ex
pired without a shudder or a groan, in the
prime of his manhood, being forty-seven
years of age.
The death of this most illustrious states
man was universally deplored, as a na
tional calamity second only to the death of
Washington himself; and, indeed, on ac
count of the tragical circumstances under
which the great patriot was brought to
his end, the excitement produced through
out the country was, if possible, more
startling and profound than that which
followed the announcement of Washing
ton's decease. In the city of New York,
the most imposing funeral ceremony ever
witnessed in America revealed the unex
ampled grief that burdened the public
mind. All business was suspended, the
bells tolled in solemn requiem, public meet
ings of the various societies were held, the
ships in the harbor hoisted their flags at
half-mast, and sorrow was depicted on
every countenance.
The indignation against Burr knew no
bounds. His fixed determination to bring
Hamilton within range of his pistol, feel
ing "sure of being able to kill him,"
caused his act to be branded as willful
murder, and an indictment was duly found
against him ; but in a few days he fled, an
outlaw and an outcast, and thus eluded
justice. Burr's execrable heartlessness
may be judged of, by the note written by
him to Mr. Allston, his son-in-law, in which

he said : " General Hamilton died yester
day. The malignant federalists or tories,
and the embittered Clintonians, unite in
endeavoring to excite public sympathy in
his favor and indignation against his an
tagonist. Thousands of absurd falsehoods
are circulated with industry. The most
illiberal means aro practiced in order to
produce excitement, and for the moment
with effect."
One week before the time fixed upon for
the duel, Hamilton prepared a letter to his
wife, to be handed to her in case of his
death. In this affecting epistle, he assures
her that he had striven by all honorable
means to avoid the meeting, and expects
to fall in it; he entreats her forgiveness
for the calamity his death would bring
upon her, and conjures her to meet the
blow in calm submission to providence.
Hamilton's widow, a woman of rare
excellence and dignity, survived him some
fifty years. Once only did she see her
husband's murderer, the circumstances of
this occasion being related as follows : In
the year 1822, she was traveling from
New York to Albany, on one of the
boats plying the Hudson. The com
pany had been summoned to dinner.
When Mrs. Hamilton had almost reached
her seat in the dining-salobn, on rais
ing her eyes she perceived Aaron Burr
standing directly opposite to her, with
only the narrow width of the table between
them. The shock was too much' for her
system, — she uttered a loud scream, fell,
and was carried in a fainting state from
the apartment. As soon as she recovered,
she insisted on being set on shore at the
first landing-place, refusing to journey
further in the same vessel with Burr. It
is said, that, after the removal of Mrs.
Hamilton from the dining saloon, Burr
deliberately sat down and ate a hearty
dinner with the utmost composure. This
story, however, wears an air of improba
bility.

XIX.
TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE AT MID-DAT.— 1806.

The Darkness of Night Falls upon the Earth.— Stars and Planets in Full Radiance — Magnificent Spec
tacle of the Glittering Corona around the Moon and the Brilliant Rosy Protuberances Flaming from
the Sun.— Splendor of the Returning Night.— Similar Eclipse in 1869. — Millions of Faces Turned
Upward— The Phenomenon Viewed with Curiosity, Wonder, and Absorbed Delight.— Remarkably
Fine Weather. — Serene and Cloudless Heavens. — Business Pursuits Abandoned. — The Moon Crossing
the Sun. — Distinctness of the Lunar Orb. — Grand, Dark, Majestic, Mighty. — Total Obscurity Some
Five Minutes. — Appearance of Nature. — Sensations Produced in the Mind. — Involuntary Exclama
tions. — Effect on Birds and Animals. — Triumphs of Astronomical Science. — Exquisitely-Constructed
Instruments. — Revelations ofthe Spectroscope. — Great Thermometrical Changes. — Spots on the Sun
Examined. — Openings in the Moon. — Peculiar Color of that Body. — Its Dark and Dismal Shadows.—
Search for New Stars. — Meteors 'mid Earth and Moon. — Climax of the Impressive Scene.

"The Run's rim dips ; the stars rush out I
With one stride cornea tlie dark 1 " — Colbkidqe.

, IMPLE and well known though the fact may be, according to the ex
planations of astronomical science, that a solar eclipse is caused by the
intervention of the moon between the sun and the earth during the
daytime, and that the effect of such interposition is to obstruct the
sun's rays — the light being turned into darkness while the phenome
non lasts — a total solar eclipse is, without doubt, the most sublime and awe-inspiring
spectacle upon which the eye of man is permitted to gaze. By far the most remarkable
exhibition of this kind, was that which occurred June 16, 1806, when the sun in the
northern states was totally eclipsed nearly five minutes, about half an hour before noon,
the width of the moon's shadow being about one hundred and fifty miles, or about
seventy-five on each side of the central line. Since 1806, only one total eclipse of the
sun occurred in the Atlantic States, namely in South Carolina and Georgia, November
30, 1834; but the eclipse of June 16, 1806, is regarded by astronomers as the most
memorable ever known in the United States, — that of August 7, 1869, being the next
fn grandeur and interest.
The accounts given by Chancellor De Witt, of New York, Dr. Bowditch, of Massa
chusetts, and others, of the phenomenon of 1806, show that its approach was most anx
iously watched, and, as it was to be seen all over Europe and North America, the gaze
of the people of both hemispheres was, on that day, simultaneously directed toward the
great luminary and center of the physical system. Some of the most remarkable observ
ations made by Dr. Bowditch, of Salem, Mass., will here be given.
Fortunately for the interests of science, the day was one of remarkably fine weather,
scarcely a cloud being visible in any part of the heavens. An assistant was seated

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

197

near the doctor, who counted the seconds
from the chronometer, thus enabling Dr.
Bowditch to mark down with a pencil the
time when the first impression was made
on the sun's limb, without taking his eye
from the telescope till four or five seconds
had elapsed, and the eclipse had sensibly
increased. As the eclipse advanced, there
did not appear to be so great a diminution
of the light as was generally expected, and
it was not until the sun was nearly cov
ered, that the darkness was very sensible.
At thirty-seven minutes and thirty seconds
past eleven o'olock, the sun's surface was
wholly covered. The last ray of light from
the sun's limb disappeared instantaneously.
The whole of the moon was then seen sur
rounded by a luminous appearance of con
siderable extent, such as had generally
been noticed in total eclipses of the sun.
This luminosity, with a twilight bright
ness round the horizon, prevented the
darkness from being any greater than it
was, during the time that the sun's sur
face remained wholly covered. The de
gree of light can be estimated, on such an
occasion, by the number of stars visible to
the naked eye ; those noticed at this time
were Capella, Aldebaran, Sirius, Procyon,
the three bright stars in the belt of Orion,

TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE IN 1806.
and the star a in its shoulder. Venus
and Mars were also visible. A candle had
been provided to assist in reading off the
seconds from the chronometer, but, though
it was not found necessary in the garden
where these observations were made, it
would have been in the house adjoining.

As the time drew near for witnessing the
end of the total darkness, there was no
ticed a visible increase of light in the at'
mosphere for about two seconds before any
part of the sun's limb was visible in the
telescope ; but at thirty-two minutes and
eighteen seconds past eleven o'clock — the
time noted as that of the end of total
darkness, — the light burst forth with
great splendor. After this, the light ap
peared to increase much faster than it
had decreased, and in a short time it
was as light as in a common cloudy day,
the degree of light continually increas
ing, of course, as the eclipse drew to a
close. The impressions made by such an exhi
bition, upon different minds, are not the
least interesting points, in a narrative like
this. Mr. Cooper, the novelist, though
but a youth at the time of the eclipse, was
so enthusiastic an observer of the specta
cle, that, twenty-five years after the event,
he wrote a minute account of what he
saw and how he felt during the wonderful
occurrence. Mr. Cooper states that, as he
and the other spectators in his company
first discerned, through their glasses, the
oval form of the moon darkening the
sun's light, an exclamation of delight, al
most triumphant, burst involuntarily from
the lips of all. Gradually, and at first
quite imperceptibly to the sight, that dark
and mysterious sphere gained upon the
orb of light. As yet (continues Mr.
Cooper), there was no change perceptible
in the sunlight falling upon lake and
mountain ; the familiar scene wore its
usual smiling aspect, bright and glowing
as on other days of June. The people,
however, were now crowding into the
streets, — their usual labors were abandoned
— forgotten for the moment, — and all faces
were turned upward. Gradually a fifth,
and even a fourth, of the sun's disc be
came obscured, and still the unguarded
eye could not endure the flood of light.
The noonday heat, however, began to
lessen, and something of the coolness of
early morning returned to the valley.
Soon, a somber, yellowish, unnatural color-

198

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ing was shed over the country. A great
change had taken place. The trees on the
distant heights had lost their verdure and
their airy character, and were taking the
outline of dark pictures graven upon an
unfamiliar sky.
The startling effect of such an abnormal
transition in nature, upon animals and

fowls, and even upon human beings, has
sometimes been described in such a
manner as to excite well-grounded suspi
cions of exaggeration, in the minds of
those persons to whom has been denied
the opportunity of personal observation.
But Mr. Cooper states that "all living
creatures seemed thrown into a state of
agitation. The birds were fluttering "to
and fro, in great excitement; they seemed
to mistrust that this was not the gradual
approach of evening, and were undecided
in their movements. Even the dogs be
came uneasy, and drew closer to their mas
ters. The eager, joyous look of interest
and curiosity, which earlier in the morning
had appeared in almost every countenance,
was now changed to an expression of won
der, or anxiety, or thoughtfulness, accord
ing to the individual character. Every
house now gave up its tenants. As the
light failed more and more with every pass
ing second, the children came flocking
about their mothers in terror. The women
themselves v/ere looking about uneasily for
their husbands. The men were very gen
erally silent and grave. Many a laborer
left his employment to be near his wife
and children, as the dimness and darkness

increased. It was one of those entirely un
clouded days, less rare in America than in
Europe. The steadily-waning light, the
gradual approach of darkness, became the
more impressive as we observed this abso
lutely transparent state of the heavens. The
birds, which a quarter of an hour earlier
had been fluttering about in great agita
tion, seemed now to be convinced that
night was at hand. Swallows were dimly
seen dropping into the chimneys, the
martins returned to their little boxes, the
pigeons flew home to their dove-cots, and
through the open door of a small barn we
saw the fowls going to roost. The usual
flood of sunlight had now become so much
weakened, that we could look upward long,
and steadily, without the least pain. The
sun appeared like a young moon of three
or four days old, though of course with a
larger and more brilliant crescent. One
after another, the stars came into view,
more rapidly than in the evening twilight,
until perhaps fifty stars appeared to us, in
a broad dark zone of the heavens, crown
ing the pines on the western mountain.
This wonderful vision of the stars, during
the noontide hours of day, filled the spirit
with singular sensations. Suddenly, one
of my brothers shouted aloud, "The
moon ! " Quicker than thought, my eye
turned eastward again, and there floated
the moon, distinctly apparent, to a degree
that was almost fearful. The spherical
form, the character, the dignity, the sub
stance of the planet,,.were clearly revealed,
as I have never beheld them before, or
since. It looked grand, dark, majestic,
and mighty. Darkness like that of early
night now fell upon the village. A few
cows, believing that night had overtaken
them, were coming homeward from the
wild open pastures ; the dew was falling
perceptibly, and the thermometer must
have fallen many degrees from the great
heat of the morning. The lake, the hills,
and the buildings of the little town, were
swallowed up in the darkness. All labor
had ceased. The plaintive note ef the
whippowil vas distinctly heard. A bat
came flitting about- our heads. Many stars

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

199

were now visible. At twelve minutes past
eleven, the moon stood revealed in its
greatest distinctness — a vast black orb, so
nearly obscuring the sun that the face of
the great luminary was entirely and abso
lutely darkened, though a corona of rays
of light appeared beyond. The gloom of
night was upon us. A breathless intensity
of interest was felt by all. A group of
silent, dusky forms stood near me; one
emotion appeared to govern all. Three
minutes of darkness, all but absolute,
elapsed. They appeared strangely length
ened by the intensity of feeling, and the
flood of overpowering thought which filled
the mind." Mr. Cooper concludes this
record of his pleasing recollections, by
stating some of the appearances accompa
nying the restoration of light, and the
joyous manifestations on the part of those
who witnessed it.
The calculations made and recorded by
Bowditch, show that the beginning of the
eclipse was at six minutes and twenty-four
seconds past ten o'clock ; the beginning of
total darkness was at twenty-five minutes
and twenty-six seconds past eleven, and
it ended at thirty minutes and fourteen
seconds past eleven; the eclipse ended
at fifty minutes and forty-two seconds
past twelve ; duration of the eclipse, two
hours, forty-four minutes, eighteen sec
onds ; duration of the total darkness, four
minutes and forty-eight seconds. In the
engraved representation of this magnifi
cent and solemn spectacle, the luminous
ring round the moon is exactly as it ap
peared in the middle of the eclipse. The
edge of the moon was strongly illumin
ated, exhibiting the brilliancy of polished
silver. But, though the eclipse of 1806 was, at
least in the duration of its totality, mem
orable above all precedent, to American
observers, the total eclipse of August sev
enth, 1869, was destined to be more im
portant in a scientific point of ipew, and to
fill a more prominent place in history, on
account of the great progress in astronomi
cal knowledge and the corresponding im
provement in all the instruments of tele

scopic observation, characterizing the lapse
of more than three-score years.
Beginning in the Pacific ocean, just east
of Yeddo, the capital of Japan, at sunrise
there, the shadow's central point first
struck the earth in the Altair mountain
range in Russian Asia, one hundred and
sixty-five and a half degrees west from
Washington, then passing in a northward
curve still, entered United States territory
in Alaska, near Prince William's sound,
at the hour of noon. Thence it rapidly
traversed British Columbia, hit the center
of Montana's northern line, struck the
Mississippi river near Sioux City, Iowa,
passed through Illinois just north of
Springfield, shaded segments of Indiana,
Kentucky, Virginia, Tennessee, and North
Carolina, and ended its totality in mid-
ocean. The course of the eclipse was in
the form of an ellipse, and the extreme
limits of the obscuration embraced nearly
one-half the earth's circumference ; while
the central circular patch of darkness was
about one hundred and fifty-six miles in
diameter. Never were more extensive preparations
made by governments and men of science,
to have thorough observations of a solar

TOTAL ECLIPSE IN 1869.

eclipse, than at this time, and ne^ver was
the weather more propitious for such an
event to be noted, in all its phenomena.
At Springfield, Illinois, one of the most
available spots for observation, Professor
Peirce, of Harvard College, was in attend
ance. When the total obscuration took
place, the heavens and earth presented a

200

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

scene of awful sublimity. A brilliant
amber-colored corona appeared around the
sun and moon, shooting rays of light out
ward in all directions, when the whole hori
zon was illuminated with light of the same
color. The planets Mercury and Venus, and
a number of fixed stars, were distinctly visi
ble, but no planetary orbs between Mercury
and the sun were discovered. A brilliant
rose-colored flame, or protuberance, was
noticed on the western limb of the sun dur
ing the period of total obscuration. The
phenomenon, known as Bailey's beads, was
also distinctly witnessed. According to
Prof. Peirce, the last-named appearance is
occasioned by the refraction of light, and
the corona, or halo, at the time of totality,
by the sun's atmosphere.
Des Moines, Iowa, afforded another most
favorable locality for the presence of
astronomers, a slight haze only interfering
to prevent satisfactory search for the plan
ets supposed to exist inside the orbit of
Mercury. Professor Safford's observations
showed that the first contact occurred at
three o'clock, forty-three minutes, forty-
three seconds ; the commencement of the
total obscurity was at four o'clock, forty-
five minutes, thirty seconds, and its end
was at four o'clock, forty-eight minutes,
twenty-two seconds ; the last contact was
at five o'clock, forty-five minutes, eleven
seconds. The points of time thus noted by Pro
fessor Safford, were from six to twenty-
two seconds later than calculated, according
to Washington ; E. P. Himenas and Pro
fessor Hillyard observing it. A discrep
ancy was also noticed between the calcu
lation and observation of the corona. It
was nearly rhomboidal in form, and very
distinct and extended, at some points half
a degree beyond the edge of the sun's
disc. The rose-colored protuberances ap
peared to the number of five or six, the
greatest being on the sun's south-western
quarter. Professor Harkness's observa
tions of the protuberances, in the spectro
scope, showed a different spectra for each.
But a single band was thrown by the cor
ona. Professor Eastman's observations of .

the thermometer showed a fall of thirteen
degrees in the temperature, during the
progress of the eclipse. Venus and Mer
cury could be plainly seen, and the dark
ness exceeded that of the night. But the
most interesting feature in the aspect of
the sun was the protuberances or beads.
The largest one was semi-circular in shape,
with a finger extending about one-eighth
part of the sun's diameter, directly down
ward as one looked. Another right limb
was shaped much like two horns of an ante
lope. The greatest length of the corona
was in the direction of the elliptic. Valu
able observations were also made here by
Professors Peters, Fraser, Rogers, Norton,
and Lane.
Professors Hough and Murray made
some valuable observations at Mattoon,
Illinois, one of their instruments being pro
vided with means for accurately measuring
the diversions of the protuberances on. the
sun or corona. When the sun became
totally obscured, the darkness was equal to
that of a moonlight night, and the temper
ature was forty-two degrees cooler than one
hour before. Six spots were visible on the
surface of the sun before the eclipse, two
of which were very prominent, and the
others much less. The cusps on the moon
had a ragged and blurred appearance, and,
near ihem, Bailey's beads were seen by all
observers, extending through an arc of
fifty degrees. The moment the eclipse
became total, the flame-like protuberances
were seen with wonderful distinctness, one
very large on the lower limb of the sun,
and three nearly as large on the upper
limbs, while at least seven or eight of
them in all were visible. The one on the
right hand, or lower limb, had somewhat
the appearance of a full-rigged ship with
sails set. In its part nearest the moon
were two or three jet black spots. To the
naked eye, it seemed as though there were
openings in the moon, two on the east side
and one on the south-west side. Just after
the total obscurity, through the openings,
the lurid glow of the sun was plainly visi
ble. The corona was not, as generally
described, a halo of light surrounding the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

201

moon, but appeared in the shape of five
forked prongs on the upper circumference
of the moon. These points presented a
radiant appearance. The generally-re
ceived theory regarding this corona — that
it is the atmosphere of the sun — did not
seem to be sustained by the observations
made at this point. Although search was
made, no planetary bodies were observed
between Mercury and the sun. During the
totality phase, Mercury, Venus, Regulus,
Mars, Saturn, Denebata, and other stars,
appeared in full view. The temperature
in the shade, at the beginning of the
eclipse, was seventy-seven degrees ; during
the totality, forty-five degrees ; and at the
end of the eclipse, it had risen to seventy
degrees. At three o'clock and forty min
utes, in the sun, en the grass, the ther
mometer was at one hundred degrees. At
a few minutes after four, it rose to one
hundred and two degrees, while during the
totality it fell to sixty, but subsequently
rose to eighty.
Dr. B. A. Gould and Professor Coffin
had charge of the observations made at
Burlington, Iowa, hy direction of the
United States government, with whom
were also associated Professors Morton,
Mayer, Hines, Watson, Merriman, Van
Keck, Johnson, and others, either as ob
servers or visitors. Two points were paid
special attention to at this place, namely,
a search for those planets which Leverrier
supposed to exist between the sun and
Mercury, and the character of the corona.
For this purpose, a telescope of peculiar
construction was employed, being of the
least magnifying power combined with the
greatest intensity of light possible. The
attempts at measuring the corona were
necessarily vague, but its height above the
edge of the moon was computed at full six
teen minutes, — some four hundred and
forty thousand miles, — while the stream
ers, or longer projections of its light,
extended some thirty minutes beyond the
surface, the whole diameter of the sun
being thirty-two minutes. The color of
the moon during the total obscuration was
observed, and decided to be not jet black,

as represented by some, but a dark slate
color. The corona was an exquisitely pure
white, which, as it faded into the dark
background of the sky, became gray. It
was visible one minute and twenty-six
seconds before totality, and one minute
after, and was extremely variable in sym
metry of form. Three sketches • were
taken in less than three minutes of the
duration, in which the corona showed
marked change of outline. The protuber
ances commonly called rosy, by observers
at other places, here looked white to the
naked eye, with an opera-glass slightly ro
seate, and with the telescope red. At the
moment of totality, the planets were visi
ble, ranged in perfect brilliancy ; Mercury,
ruddy as Mars, and Arcturus and Regulus,
fixed stars of the first magnitude, were
plain to the unassisted eye. The right
protuberance on the sun's lower limb had
a cellular or honey-combed appearance, not
like a flame.
In the search made at Burlington for
intra-mercurial planets, the light was shut
off of the corona by means of occulting
circles, and the region was carefully stud
ied. Search was made for the star Pi Le-
onis, a fixed star of five and eight-tenths
magnitude, fifty minutes distance from the
sun, and it was actually seen, yet so faint,
that, if it had not been known to be there,
it could not have been discovered. If
there were any star of the fifth or sixth
magnitude there, it would have been
observed ; but no such star could be
detected. Great preparations were made at Shel
byville, Kentucky, for a complete observ
ance of the phenomenon. One of the
most interesting discoveries made here, by
Professor Winlock, at the spectroscope,
was that of eleven bright lines in the
spectrum of the protuberances of the sun,
instead of the smaller number hitherto
determined. He also observed a shower
of meteors between the earth and moon.
The beautiful protuberances appeared as
red flames, and were seen by the naked
eye. Bailey's beads, as well as the dark
and dismal shadows of the moon, sailing

202

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

away through the air, were noted. Mr.
Searle, whose specialty it was to search
for intra-mercurial planets, did not succeed
in finding any, reporting nothing fainter
than Regulus near the sun. Some mo
ments before the total phase, the usual
phenomena of distraction among the birds
of the air and the cattle occurred. Six
minutes before totality, a deathly ashen
hue overspread the countenances of all,

ECLIPSE, AS SEEN IN BRAZIL.
and for a while the faint-hearted were
almost terrified. The general phenomena
at all the places where the eclipse was
complete, or nearly so, were the vacilla
tion of the wind, the deep, strange shadow,
the yellowish pink atmosphere in the west,
the flickering and wavy appearance of the
sun's rays when the eclipse was at its
height, the chilly feeling, the disturbance
among the birds and fowls, and the sight
of certain planets with the naked eye.
At" Newbern, North Carolina, the ther
mometer fell ten and one-half degrees,
during the time from first contact to total
obscuration. The sky was intensely blue,
at totality, and studded with glittering
stars, while the north-west glowed with a
deep crimson orange hue. Around the
black body of the moon glowed a ring of
molten silver, whence radiated the corona,
an immense halo; and, just as the last
rays of the sun disappeared, this halo,
with prominent projections like a huge
star, burst out all around the disc of the
moon, forming a most impressive climax
to the whole phenomenon ; directly at the
bottom, glowed with intense brilliancy a

rose-colored projection, visible to the naked
eye ; a few seconds more, and another
glittered at the extreme right — and then
another, and, successively, six or more
pale ruby brilliants burned with dazzling
effulgence in their silver setting; a second
or two more, and the silvering on the right
melted into golden beads; another, and
the glorious sunlight flashed forth. The
corona disappeared. The northern sky
was radiant with a new day-break at six
o'clock in the afternoon, the dark shadow
of the moon swept southward, and the
chilly gloominess rolled away into the
southern sky. The small amount of light
that fell upon the trees and buildings, just
before and after the total obscuration,
lighted them up with a brilliancy most
peculiar; the light was more diffusive
than moonlight, and the shadows were
more distinctly marked and visible. It
was a pale golden light ; the edges of the
distant woods were more apparent than in
the full sunlight, each tree seeming to
stand out by itself, — the nearest approach
to such a light being that known as the
calcium, the latter, however, being white
instead of pale golden. At the instant of
complete obscuration, when the corona
flashed around the dark disc of the moon,
there also flashed into view the larger stars
and planets. Venus, twice an evening
star in one day, hung half-way down from
the zenith ; near the sun glistened a star
of the first magnitude, Regulus; while
overhead the intense blue sky was full of
them. Much scientific interest centered around
the expedition sent by government to the
new and distant territory of Alaska. This
expedition left Sitka, July 15th, in an
open boat, for the Chilkah river, but, in
consequence of bad weather, it was eleven
days in reaching the positions selected-
only twenty miles from the central path of
totality. It was found impracticable to
carry the instruments and provisions over
Iron Mountain range, for the determina
tion of the latitude and longitude and the
magnetic variation obtained, before the
date of the ecripse. The seventh of

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

203

August was the cloudiest day experienced,
but breaks in tha clouds enabled the party
to watch different phases, and the begin
ning of totality was accurately noted. In
stantly after obscuration, rose-colored
flames were visible to the unassisted eye,
and their extent, position, elevation, and
approximity, measured on the south-east
and south-west parts of the sun's limb.
The corona was visible over a part of the
limb only. The end of the eclipse was not
seen, but the whole picture was magnifi
cent. The phenomena of coming darkness
and growing light were very marked along
the course of the valley. The Hon. W.
H. Seward, and his accompanying tourists,
visited Professor Davidson's camp, and
watched with intense interest and solemn
delight the phases of the eclipse, particu
larly the rose-colored flames and corona.
A party at the mouth of the river had the
best view of the totality ; the clouds broke,
and a large clear space enabled them to see
the flames and corona, in their marvelo'TS
beauty, also the planet Mercury, and stars
of the fourth magnitude. At Sitka, the
eclipse was watched through broken
clouds. The Indians were fearfully
alarmed, and hid themselves in their
houses, or took to the bushes.
As usual, on the occurrence of such a

wonderful sight, some strange incidents
transpired. In his account of the observa
tions made by Professor Watson, at Mount
Pleasant, Iowa, Professor Tyler narrates
the case of a good man who went round
the town for days beforehand, and de
nounced the impiety of the scientific pro
ceedings going on — that the astronomers
were profanely attempting to pry into
God's secrets, and that he had veiled his
sun in order to baffle them. The cloudy
weather which continued up to the last
day seemed to give some support to his
declarations ; but, notwithstanding his
assertion that God would keep his rain
a-going, and prevent the use of their irre
ligious telescopes, the day cleared off with
the utmost splendor. Another local
prophet announced that the eclipse was a
judgment upon the world for its abomina
tions, and that the path of its shadow over
the earth would be marked by utter blight.
But these deluded prophets of evil were,
indeed, rare exceptions ; millions of man
kind watched, with reverential and de
lighted satisfaction, the obedience of the
two great luminaries to the eternal laws
which govern their existence ; and Science,
the hand-maid and interpreter of Nature,
gave new assurance of her sublime and
beneficent mission.

CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF AARON BURR.— 1806.

Lawless Scheme of Conquest and Dominion at the South-west. — A New Empire Contemplated,
with Burr as Sovereign. — Seizure of His Flotilla and Dispersion of His Men when Ready
to Embark, by the Federal Forces. — Capture and Arraignment of Burr for High Trea
son. — Reckless Character of Burr. — His Unscrupulous Ambitions. — Enlists Blennerhassett in
His Plans. — Their Expedition Arranged — Mexico the Ultimate Point. — Discovery ofthe
Whole Plot. — Its Complete Frustration. — Burr Flees in Disguise. — Scene at His Arrest-
Attempt to Escape. — The Iron-hearted Man in Tears. — His Social Fascination. — Preparations
for the Trial. — Its Legal and Forensic In
terest — Acquittal on Technical Grounds.—
Shunned as a Man of Infamy. — Devotion of
His Daughter Theodosia. — Lifelong and Un
alterable Love. — Her Mysterious Fate.—
Burr's Anguish and Agony. — A Moral
Wreck and Warning.

" HiB country's curse, his children 'a shame,
Outcast of virtue, peace, aud fume."

BUKK'S FLIGHT.

S events proved, it remained for Aaron Burr to add one more
political crime to his corrupt career as a public man, and one
more dark chapter to his country's history. Staggering under the weight of ob
loquy and disgrace brought down upon him by his cold-blooded disposal of Alex
ander Hamilton, on the fatal plains of Weehawken, he still sought some means of
triumphing over his enemies and attaining distinction and power. Strong and
resolute in the operations of his ever-active mind, his ambition was equally restless
and far-reaching. Abandoned by his once-admiring political associates, he became an
exile, in one of the then far-off western states, his brain teeming with schemes of
wealth, conquest, and dominion.
In the autumn of 1806, President Jefferson learned that mysterious proceedings
were going on along the Ohio : boats preparing, stores of provisions collecting, and
a number of suspicious characters in movement. A confidential agent sent by the
government authorities to the spot, warned the president that Burr was the prime
mover; and General Wilkinson, who commanded near New Orleans, intimated that
propositions of a daring and dangerous import had been transmitted to him by
that personage. The ostensible pretext was, the forming of a large agricultural
settlement on the banks of the Washita in Louisiana, a tributary of the Mississippi;
but the various preparations, the engagement for six months only, the purchase
and building of boats, the provision of muskets and bayonets, pointed to something
of a very different character— either the formation of the western territory into a
separate government, or an expedition against Mexico, sought to be justified by a

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

205

boundary difference that had arisen with
Spain. In fact, the erection of a new
empire, with Burr at its head.
Burr's chief associate in the plans which
he had thus formed was Harman Blenner-
hassett, and the story of their acquain
tance, friendship and confederation,
borders strongly on the romantic. Blen
nerhassett was one of the Irish patriots
who were compelled to flee from Ireland
after their attempt to liberate themselves
from the thralldom of England, and was
the classmate and friend of the celebrated
Thomas Addis Emmett. He was pos
sessed of a large amount of property, the
greater part of which he was fortunate
enough to render available in money
before his departure. Disgusted with the
corruption of courts, and glad to escape
the turmoil of politics, he sought retire
ment in the western wilderness, on a beau
tiful island in the Ohio, then on the
borders of civilization. Here he built a
princely mansion, and embellished it in a
most costly manner. Situated on the
borders of Virginia, Kentucky and Ohio,
he had access to very refined society, with
which it was his custom constantly to
intermingle and exchange civilities. His
hospitality was unbounded ; and, dealt out
as it was by his own chivalric courtesy
and the grace of his beautiful wife, his
island became the general resort for all
the country around, and it is even yet cel
ebrated for the splendid revelries and
entertainments of which it was once the
scene. Blennerhassett was a fine sample of a
polished Irish gentleman, and rendered
himself a very affectionate object of regard,
by the amenity of his manners and his
disposition. His lady was a woman of
rare beauty and accomplishments, which
were heightened by a pure and unimpeach
able character. She reigned the queen of
this beautiful kingdom of taste and refine
ment which Blennerhassett had created on
the Ohio ; and, according to contemporary
accounts, she deported herself with an ele
gance and dignity that might have become
a throne. She was also a woman of high

spirit and ambition, and when Burr, aware
of her commanding influence over her hus
band, confidentially intrusted her with his
plans, she was fired with the boldness and
intrepidity of his enterprise, and immedi
ately determined to engage her husband as
an associate. Blennerhassett, being a
man of ductile temper, was easily induced
by the dazzling representations of prospec
tive glory and honor which were set before
him, to become a participator with Burr.
He was, moreover, a liberalist of the
French school, of which fact Aaron Burr
was well aware ; and it would seem that
the gorgeous picture which Burr held up
to him, of Mexico redeemed from tyranny
by their united efforts, inspired his whole
nature, as he entered with enthusiasm into
what he was led to regard an honorable
and humane undertaking.
When once pledged to Burr, under the
mastering genius of his wife, the exiled
patriot actively engaged in enlisting men,
building boats, and preparing the essen
tials of his expedition. Many of the most
respectable citizens of the neighboring
country, being influenced by the flattering
promises held out, were induced to con
tribute funds, and connect themselves with
the affair. The entertainments on the
island were, with the progress of events,
broken up, and its shores echoed only to
the muffled oar of the conspirators, as they
crossed from the adjacent banks, or to the
tramp of bold adventurers, as they congre
gated on the beach to resolve and discuss
their plans.
Though somewhat anticipating the
thread of the narrative, it may here be
stated, as illustrating the character of a
truly brave woman and devoted wife, that
a large number of flat-boats had been built
on the Muskingum, and sent over to fhe
island, an<J everything was ripe for a
movement, when the plot became known
to the public authorities. Blennerhassett
was very speedily deserted by his follow
ers ; and Buell, who commanded the gov
ernment militia, went over with a small
detachment to arrest Burr's great accom
plice. He had hardly set his foot on the

206

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

island, before he was met by Mrs. Blen
nerhassett, whose spirit seemed to rise with
the increasing desperation of her fortunes.
She had seen the party coming, and,
snatching up a pair of her husband's pis
tols, she ran from the house to meet them.
Just as the militia-major stepped out of
the boat, she seized him by the shoulder,
and, thrusting him back, presented two
formidable pistols full in his face, cocked
and primed, saying in the most positive
tdne, —
" One step farther, and I will send you
into eternity; it is easier for me to do than
to say it ! "
Her splendid figure, drawn up to its
full height, her eye fixed with a strong
and determined gaze, her hands clenching
firmly , the weapons which she held at
arm's length, — these told the militia-
major, in language not to be mistaken, the
terms on which he might advance. It is
no disparagement of his military or manly
qualities to say, that the old soldier quailed
before the courageous woman and her trag
ical determination, and was forced to turn
without his victim.
The frustration of Burr's scheme was
largely due to the revelations made by
General Wilkinson, in whom Burr had
confided so far as to' communicate quite
fully the character and mode of the
proposed expedition. The tenor of this
communication was, that he, Burr, had ob
tained funds, and had actually commenced
the enterprise, detachments from different
points and under different pretenses being
ready to rendezvous on the Ohio by the
first of November, to meet on the Missis
sippi, — Wilkinson to be second in com
mand to Burr only, and to dictate the
rank and promotion of the officers. Burr
was to proceed westward with his daugh
ter, whose husband would follow in Octo
ber, with a company of choice spirits.
Wilkinson was also asked to send an intel
ligent and confidential friend to confer
with Burr,— bringing a list of all persons
known to the general, west of the moun
tains, likely to prove useful, — together
with four or five commissions of Wilkin

son's officers, to be borrowed upon some
pretense, and duly to be returned. To
this was added the assurance, that already
had orders been given to the contractor
to forward six months' provisions to points
Wilkinson should name — this not to be
used until the last moment, and then
under proper injunctions. Burr stated his
plan of operations to be as follows: To
move down rapidly from the Falls on the
fifteenth of November, with the first five
hundred or one thousand men in light
boats, to be at Natchez between the fifth
and fifteenth of December, there to meet
Wilkinson and determine as to the expe
diency of seizing on or passing by Baton
Rouge ; that the people of the country to
which the movement was directed were
ready to extend a cordial welcome, their
agents then with Burr declaring that, if
he would protect their religion and not
subject them to a foreign power, in three
weeks all would be settled. In concluding
his letter to Wilkinson, Burr in glowing
rhapsody said :
" The gods invite to glory and fortune!
It remains to be seen whether we deserve
the boon. The bearer of this goes express
to you ; he will hand a formal letter of
introduction to you from Burr. He is a
man of inviolable honor and perfect dis
cretion, formed to execute rather than to
project, capable of relating facts with fidel
ity and incapable of relating them other
wise ; he is thoroughly informed of the
plans and intentions of Burr, and will dis
close to you as far as you inquire, and no
farther. He has imbibed a reverence for
your character, and may be embarrassed
in your presence ; put him at ease and he
will satisfy you."
It appeared to be Burr's plan, to make
Blennerhassett's island, in the Ohio river,
the place of rendezvous ; there to fit out
boats furnished with armed men, and send
them down the river.
Burr had counted too confidently upon
Wilkinson's becoming an accessory and
participant. The latter instantly resolved,
after reading the cipher-letter, to avail
himself of the reference it made to the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

207

bearer, Mr. Swartwout, and, in the course
of some days, drew from him the following
disclosure : — That he had been dispatched
by Colonel Burr from Philadelphia; had
passed through the states of Ohio and
Kentucky, and proceeded from Louisville
for St. Louis, expecting there to find Wil
kinson; but discovering that Wilkinson
had descended the river, he procured a
skiff, hired hands, and followed the gen
eral down the Mississippi to Fort Adams,
and from thence set out for Natchitoches,
in company with Captains Spark and
Hooke, under the pretense of a disposition
to take part in the campaign against the
Spaniards, then pending. That Colonel
Burr, with the support of a powerful asso
ciation extending from New York to New
Orleans, was levying an armed body of
seven thousand men from the western
states and territories, with a view to carry
an expedition against the provinces of
, Mexico, and that five hundred men, under
the command of Colonel Swartwout and
a Colonel or Major Tyler, were to de
scend the Alleghany, for whose accom
modation light-boats had been built and
were ready.
In reply to Wilkinson's inquiry, as to
what course was to be pursued, answer
was made that the territory would be revo
lutionized, where the people were ready to
join them ; that there would be some seiz
ing, probably, at New Orleans ; that they
^expected to be ready to march or embark
about the first of February, intending to
1 land at Vera Cruz, and to march from
thence to Mexico. General Wilkinson now
remarked, " There are several millions of
dollars in the bank of this place ; " to
which reply was made, " We know it full
well." On the general's further observing
that he presumed they certainly did not
mean to violate private property, Burr's
agent said that they meant to borrow, and
would return it; that they must equip
themselves in New Orleans, that they
expected naval protection from Great Brit-
am; that the captains and officers of the
American navy were so disgusted with the
government, that they were ready to join ;

that similar disgusts prevailed throughout
the western country, where the people
were zealous in favor of the enterprise,
and that pilot-boat built schooners had
been contracted for along the southern
coast for their service.
Though determined to deceive him, if
possible, General Wilkinson avers — not
withstanding the charge which has been
brought against him of at one time favor
ing and subsequently turning his back
upon Burr's scheme — rthat he replied that
he could never dishonor his commission ;
that he also duped the agent by expressing
admiration of the plan, and by observing,
that, although he could not join the expe
dition, the engagements which the Span
iards had prepared for him at the front
might prevent his opposing it. Yet, as
soon as General Wilkinson had fully
deciphered the letter, he declared his inten
tion to oppose the lawless enterprise with
all the force at his command, and immedi
ately informed President Jefferson. With
the exception of the attack on the frigate
Chesapeake, Commodore Barron, by the
British frigate Leopard, and the embargo
and non-intercourse measures against
England, few occurrences caused greater
anxiety to the president, during his eight
years' official term, than this of Burr.
Government spies had for some .time
been on Burr's track, and, in view of his
supposed design to attempt a separation of
the western states from the federal union,
the governor of Ohio was authorized by
the legislature to proceed in such a manner
as he deemed best to check and break up
the movement. Accordingly, by the
middle of December, ten boats with stores
were arrested on the Muskingum, and in a
short time after, four more were seized by
the troops at Marietta. Blennerhassett,
Tyler, and about forty others, left the
island on the night of December tenth,
and sailed down the river, barely escaping
arrest by the military authorities of Ohio.
On the sixteenth, this party united with
one commanded by Davis Floyd, at the
Falls, and, ten days after, the whole force
joined Burr at the mouth of the Cumber-

208

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

BURR AND HIS DELUDED FOLLOWERS.
land ; on the twenty-ninth, the adventur
ers passed Fort Massac.
In the meantime, the United States
government had not been inactive. Pres
ident Jefferson's proclamation cautioned
all citizens against joining the enterprise,
and orders were issued to the United
States troops, then stationed along the
Ohio and Mississippi, to capture the boats
and make prisoners all on board of them,
including, of course, the chief conspirator.
Ample precaution had likewise been taken
by General Wilkinson, for the protection
and defense of New Orleans. On the
fourth of January, Burr was at Fort Pick
ering, Chickasaw Bluffs ; and soon after at
Bayou Pierre. But as he approached
New Orleans, he found such a state of
things in respect to public sentiment and
military equipment, as to completely baffle
his plans. He accordingly proceeded to
the Tombigbee, on his way to Florida,

having landed with a single companion on
the banks of the Mississippi, in the middle
of January.
Close pursuit was made of Burr by
Lieutenant Edmund P. Gaines, at the
head of a file of mounted soldiers, and in a
short time they encountered the object of
their search, with his traveling companion.
Gaines rode forward, and accosting one of
the strangers, whom he suspected to be
the leader-in-chief, remarked —
" I presume, sir, that I have the honor
of addressing Colonel Burr."
"I am a traveler," answered Burr, "and
in a strange land, and do not recognize
your right to ask such a question." V
" I arrest you" responded Gaines, " at
the instance of the United States."
" By what authority do you arrest me,
a stranger, on the highway, on my own
private business ? "
"I am an ofiicer of the United States
army, and hold in my hand the proclama
tion of the president, as well as that of the
governor of the Mississippi territory,
directing your arrest."
" But you are a young man, and perhaps
not aware of the responsibility of thus
arresting a traveler."
" I am perfectly aware of my duties, in
the premises, and shall endeavor to per
form them."
Burr now broke out in a stream of vehe
ment denunciation of the proclamations,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

209

and warning Gaines that, in carrying out
their illegal requisitions, he would be in
curring the most serious liabilities. His
manner was firm, his tone imperious, his
words keen and forcible ; but the resolute
young ofiicer told him his mind was made
up, — the prisoner must accompany him to
his quarters, where he would be treated
with all the respect due the ex-vice-
president of the United States, so long as
he made no attempt to escape. He was
then conducted to Fort Stoddart, and
thence was conveyed on horseback, in
charge of Captain Perkins, to Richmond,
Virginia, to be tried by the United States
on a charge of high treason, before Chief-
Justice Marshall, of the supreme federal
court. Strange and rapid were Burr's vicissi
tudes. From being vice-president of the
republic, the idol of a powerful and domi
nant party, he had become the slayer of
America's greatest statesman, and then a
bold and disowned adventurer. Defeated
and pursued, he was indeed a hopeless
fugitive. When he fled from the authori
ties in the Mississippi territory, he dis
guised himself in a boatman's dress ; his
pantaloons were of coarse, copperas-dyed
cloth, with a roundabout of inferior drab ;
his hat, a flapping, wide-brim beaver, had,
in times long past, been white, but now
gave evidence of having encountered much
rough weather. He finally found himself
a prisoner, on his way to be arraigned be
fore a jury of his country, for high crimes
and misdemeanors. Yet his fascinating
power over men's minds was not yet
extinguished. On being placed under
guard, to be conveyed to Richmond, it was
thought necessary by the directing officer,
to take every man composing the squad
aside, and obtain the most solemn pledges
that, upon the whole route, they would
hold no interviews with Burr, nor suffer
him to escape alive. His power of fasci
nating and making strong impressions
upon the human mind, and attaching men
to him by association, could allow of no
familiarity. A characteristic incident occurred on
14

the route to Richmond. On reaching the
confines of South Carolina, Captain Per
kins watched Burr more closely than ever ;
for, in this state lived the son-in-law of
Burr, Colonel Allston, a gentleman of
talents, wealth and influence, and after'
wards governor of the state. Upon enter-
ing the frontiers of Georgia, Perkins
endeavored to convey his prisoner in
by-roads, to avoid the 'towns, lest he should
be rescued. The plan was attended with
difficulty ; they were often lost — the march
impeded — the highway again resumed.
Before entering the town of Chester, in
South Carolina, the party halted. Two
men were placed before Burr, two on
either side, and two behind, and, in this
manner, they passed near a tavern on the
street, where many persons were standing,
and music and dancing were heard in the
house. Burr conceived it a favorable
opportunity for escape, and, suddenly dis
mounting, exclaimed —
"I am Aaron Burr, under military
arrest, and claim protection of the civil
authorities ! "
Perkins leaped from his horse, with
several of his men, and ordered him
instantly to re-mount.
" I will not!" replied Burr.
Not wishing to shoot him, Perkins
threw down his pistols, and, being a man
of prodigious strength, and the prisoner
rather small, seized him around the waist
and placed him in his saddle, as though he
was a child. One of the guards now
caught the reins of the bridle, slipped
them over the horse's head, and led him
rapidly on. The astonished citizens had
seen a party enter their village with a
prisoner ; had heard him appeal to them
for protection ; had witnessed the feat of
Perkins ; and the party vanished, before
they had time to recover from their confu
sion — for, when Burr dismounted, the
guards cocked their pistols, and the people
ran within the piazza to escape from
danger. Far off in the outskirts of the
village, the party again halted. Burr
was intensely agitated ; the hitherto iron-
hearted man was in tears I It was the

210

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

first time any one had ever seen Aaron
Burr unmanned.
On trial, at last, the whole United
States waited the result with profoundest
interest. It was one of the most memora
ble otate occasions, in the history of human
governments. Upon the bench sat the
venerated Marshall, calm, dignified,
learned. For the prosecution, there ap
peared District Attorney Hay and the
renowned William Wirt. For the defend
ant, Luther Martin, Edmund Randolph,
John Wickham, Benjamin Botts, and,
rivaling all the rest, Burr himself. On
the jury were such men as John Randolph
and Littleton W. Tazewell. Among the
spectators were Commodore Truxton, Gen
erals Eaton and Jackson, Washington
Irving, Winfield Scott, William B. Giles,
John Taylor. Burr was of course the cen
tral figure in this master scene. After a
trial lasting three or four weeks in mid
summer, during which the legal exertions
and forensic talent and power displayed on
both sides were indeed prodigious, the
jury returned a verdict, "that Aaron Burr
is not proved to be guilty, under the
indictment, by any evidence submitted to
us ; we, therefore, find him not guilty."
The prosecution failed and broke down in
its legal proofs, and consequently the
indictments against the other conspirators
were never pursued.
Blennerhassett found himself stripped
of his possessions, because of what he had
embarked in this calamitous expedition.
He went to England, in quest of an ap
pointment to office, and to Ireland, to look
after some reversionary claims, but unsuc
cessfully in both cases, and, bankrupt and
broken-hearted, he removed to the isle of
Guernsey, and there died in 1831. Mrs.
Blennerhassett died, a few years after, in
New York, in the most abject poverty,
and was buried by some Irish females.
Burr, without friends or fortune, became
an exile in Europe, where he lived in ex
treme penury, and everywhere shunned as
a felon and outlaw. He was peremptorily
ordered by the government of England to
quit that realm, being regarded as a spy,

and, on going to France, was there kept
under the closest police surveillance. Re
turning after some years of this kind of
life, to his native land, he resumed the
profession of the law, but the ban of soci
ety rested upon him, and he was, as he
himself expressed it, severed from the rest
of mankind.
Yet there was one in the wide world
who never ceased to pour upon Aaron
Burr the richest treasures of woman's
adoring love. This was his daughter
Theodosia, the beautiful and accomplished
wife of Governor Allston, of South Caro
lina. As has been truly said, by one ofthe
many eulogists of this marvelous woman,
her love for her father partook of the purity
of abetter world,— akin, indeed, to the affec
tion which a celestial spirit might be sup
posed to entertain for a parent cast down
from heaven, for sharing in the sin of the
' Son of the Morning.' Thus it was, that,
when in the midst of his deepest obloquy,
and when the whole world, as it were,
looked upon him, abhorrently, as a de
praved monster, the loving and beloved
Theodosia could write :

"I witness your extraordinary fortitude
with new wonder at every new misfortune.
Often, after reflecting upon this subject,
you appear to me so superior, so elevated

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

211

above all other men; I contemplate you
with such a strange mixture of humility,
admiration, reverence, love and pride, that
very little superstition would be necessary to
make me worship you as a superior being ;
such enthusiasm does your character excite
in me. When I afterward revert to my
self, how insignificant do my best qualities
appear. My vanity would be greater, if I
had not been placed so near you ; and yet
my pride is our relationship. I had rather
not hve than not be the daughter of such a
man." Never had the worthiest and most vir
tuous of fathers so touching a tribute of
love 'and reverence from ^ child, as this
from the beautiful and gifted Theodosia,
to a parent whose very name was regarded
by men as the synonym of dishonor and
pollution. His love for her, too, was con
stant and unbounded, — a mutual, fervent,
enthusiastic love, between the two, that
almost passes belief, and which no descrip
tion could adequately characterize. Yet
it was the destiny of this man to have
torn and swept from him the last and only
tie that kept him in sympathy with his
kind. Returning from his exile in Europe,
to the land where he was still regarded as

little else than a fiend in human shape, his
heart was buoyed with the expectation of
soon clasping to his arms her in whom his
earthly all-in-all centered. Alas ! he was
yet to drain the cup of its nether dregs.
Hastening to meet her father on his ar
rival at New York, Theodosia took passage
from Charleston, on the 30th of December,
in 1812, in the small pilot schooner Patriot,
just from a privateering cruise. But,
though a fine sailer, with the best of offi
cers, the vessel was never seen, nor heard
from, after leaving port. Whether the
vessel took fire and was thus destroyed
with all on board, or foundered in the gale
which occurred soon after she left Charles
ton, or was taken by the pirates then
infesting the high seas, is unknown to this
day. It was a blow which brought inde
scribable dismay and agony to Burr.
Utterly bereft and alone, shunned as a
murderer, and despised as a plotter against
his country, his wretched existence was
prolonged to past four-score years, when
he went down in loneliness to the grave,
"unwept, unhonored, and unsung." Of
his accomplished and affectionate daughter,
all tongues and pens have unitedly spoken
as " Theodosia the beloved."

i XXI.
FULTON'S TBIUMPHANT APPLICATION OF STEAM TO
NAVIGATION— 1807.

First Steam-boat Voyage on American Waters Under His Direction. — Astonishment Produced by the
Exhibition. — Great Era in National Development. — The World at Large Indebted to American
Ingenuity and Enterprise for this Mighty Revolutionary Agent in Human Progress and Power.—
The Whole Scale of Civilization Enlarged. — Fulton's Early Mechanisms. — His Inventive Projects
Abroad. — Steam Propulsion the End Sought. — Various Experiments and Trials. — Livingston's
Valued Co-operation. — Studying the Principle Involved. — Its Discovery at Last. — Legislative En
couragement Asked. — Public Ridicule of the Scheme. — Construction of a Steamboat. — The " Queer-
Looking Craft." — Incidents at the Launch. — Undaunted Confidence of Fulton. — Sailing ofthe
"New-Fangled Craft." — Demonstrations Along the Route. — Complete Success of the Trip. — First
Passage-Money. — That Bottle of Wine. — Opposition Lines, and Racing. — First Steam-boat at the
West. — Amazing Subsequent Increase. — Fulton's Checkered Fortunes.

" It ia to tlie undaunted perseverance end exertions of the American Fulton that ia due tho everlasting honor of having produced thia
revolution, both in naval architecture and navigation."— J dry Repokt of thk Exhibition op all Nations. London, 1851.

HljTEAM, in its application to the purposes of navigation,
was first successfully employed by Robert Fulton, a na
tive of Little Britain, Pennsylvania. His peculiar genius
manifested itself at an early age, in an irrepressible taste
foi producing drawings and various mechanisms. At the
age of twenty-one he was intimate with Franklin. He
had previously painted portraits and landscapes in Phila
delphia, and derived considerable profit from the occupa
tion. He subsequently sailed for England, with the view
of seeking Mr. West's aid in the prosecution of his art.
That great painter took him into his family, at once. In
1793, Mr. Fulton was actively engaged in a project to im-
FLBST STEAM-BOAT ON THE -IT -,. T^ , ,1 j j.- T. 1. J „„„
hudson. prove inland navigation. Even at that time he had con
ceived the idea of propelling vessels by steam. In 1804 he had acquired much
valuable information upon the subject, and written it down, as well as much concern
ing his own life, and sent many manuscripts from Paris to this country, but the
vessel was wrecked and, most of the papers destroyed. About this period, the sub
ject of canals seems to have been the principal object of his attention, although not
exclusively. In 1806, Mr. Fulton left Europe for New York, and on his arrival
in this country, he immediately commenced his arduous exertions in the cause of
practical science. The fertility of his mind in this direction may be understood,
when it is stated that, in 1794, he had been engaged by the Duke of Bridgewater in

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

213

canal projects, had adopted and patented
the system of inclined planes as a substi
tute for locks, and had written a treatise
on canals. He also invented a mill for
sawing marble, patented several methods
of spinning flax and making ropes, and
constructed a torpedo to be used in war,
for the destruction of an enemy's vessels.
At what time Mr. Fulton's mind was
first directed to steam navigation, is not
definitely known ; but even in 1793, he
had matured a plan in which he reposed
great confidence. No one, previously to
Mr. Fulton, had constructed a steam-boat

ftch&AA $£jk

&^C

in any other way, or with any other result,
than as an unsuccessful experiment ; and
although many have disputed his right to
the honor of the discovery, none have done
so with any semblance of justice. Miller's
experiments, which simply proved the
practicability of the principle of propelling
vessels by steam, were made in 1787, in
Scotland; but Fulton's boat, which began
to navigate the Hudson in 1807, was cer
tainly the first practical demonstration of
this application of steam, being five years
prior to the success of Henry Bell on the
Clyde, and nearly ten years preceding the
first attempts on the Thames river, under

Brunei's direction. The incompleteness of
Fitch's plan is matter of history, though
his inventive ingenuity was very great.
Among those of Fulton's own country
men who had previously made unsuccessful
attempts to render the force of steam sub
servient to practical and useful purposes,
was Chancellor Livingston, of New York.
As early as 1798, he believed that he had
accomplished his object, and represented
to the legislature of the state of New York,
that he possessed a mode of applying the
steam engine so as to propel a boat on
new and advantageous principles ; but he
was deterred from carrying it into effect,
by the uncertainty and hazard of a very
expensive experiment, unless he could be
assured of an exclusive advantage from it,
should it be found successful.
The legislature in March, 1798, passed
an act vesting Mr. Livingston with the
exclusive right and privilege of navigating
all kinds of boats which might be propelled
by the force of fire or steam, on all the
waters within the territory or jurisdiction
of the state of New York, for a term of
twenty years from the passing of the act,
— upon condition that he should within a
twelvemonth build such a boat, the mean
of whose progress should not be less than
four miles an hour.
The bill was introduced into the house
of assembly by Dr. Mitchell, upon which
occasion the wags and the lawyers united
their powers in opposition to the bill in
such a manner that the good doctor had
to encounter all their jokes, and parry all
their blows.
According to Mr. Livingston's own
account of these most interesting circum
stances, it appears that, when residing aa
minister plenipotentiary of the United
States in France, he there met with Mr.
Fulton, and they formed that friendship
and connection with each other, to which
a similarity of pursuits naturally gives
birth. He communicated to Mr. Fulton
his views of the importance of steam-boats
to their common country ; informed him of
what had been attempted in America, and
of his resolution to resume the pursuit on,

214

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

his return; and advised him to turn his
attention to the subject. It was agreed
between them to embark in the enterprise,
and immediately to make such experi
ments as would enable them to determine
how far, in spite of former failures, the
object was attainable. The principal
direction of these experiments was left to
Mr. Fulton.
On the arrival at New York of Mr.
Fulton, which was not till 1806, they im
mediately engaged in building a boat of —
as was then thought — very considerable
dimensions, for navigating the Hudson.
This boat, named the Clermont, was of
one hundred and sixty tons burden, one
hundred and thirty feet long, eighteen
feet wide, and seven feet deep. The
diameter of the paddle-wheels was fifteen
feet, the boards four feet long and dipping
two feet in the water. She was a queer-
looking craft, and, while on the stocks,
excited much attention and no small
amount of ridicule. When she was
launched, and the steam engine placed in
her, that also was looked upon as being of
a piece with the boat built to float it. A
few had seen one at work raising the Man
hattan water into the reservoir back of
the almshouse; but, to the people at large,
the whole thing was a hidden mystery.
Curiosity was greatly excited. Nor will
the reader be at all surprised at the state
ment made by an eye-witness and narrator
of these events, that, when it was an
nounced in the New York papers that the
boat would start from Cortlandt street at
six and a half o'clock on Friday morning,
the fourth of August, and take passengers
to Albany, there was a broad smile on
every face, as the inquiry was made, if
any one would be fool enough to go ?
One friend was heard to accost another in
the street with —
" John, will thee risk thy life in such a
concern ? I tell thee she is the most fear
ful wild fowl living, and thy father ought
to restrain thee ! "
When Friday morning came, the
wharves, piers, house-tops, and every
' coigne de vantage' from which a sight

could be obtained, was filled with specta
tors. There were twelve berths, and
every one was taken through to Albany.
The fare was seven dollars. All the
machinery was uncovered and exposed to
view. The periphery of the balance-
wheels, of cast iron, some four or more
inches square, ran just clear of the water.
There were no outside guards, the balance-
wheels being supported by their respective
shafts, which projected over the sides of
the boat. The forward part was covered
by a deck, which afforded shelter to the
hands. The after-part was fitted up, in a
rough manner, for passengers. The en
trance into the cabin was from the stern,
in front of the steersman, who worked a
tiller, as in an ordinary sloop. Black
smoke issued from the chimney; steam
issued from every ill-fitted valve and crev
ice of the engine. Fulton himself was
there. His remarkably clear and sharp
voice was heard above the hum of the mul
titude and the noise of the engine; his
step was confident and decided ; he heeded
not the fearfulness, doubts, or sarcasm of
those by whom he was surrounded. The
whole scene combined had in it an individ
uality, as well as an interest, which comes
but once and is remembered forever.
Everything being ready, the engine was
set in motion, and the boat moved steadily
but slowly from the wharf : as she turned
up the river, and was fairly under way,
there arose such a huzza as ten thousand
throats never gave before. The passen
gers returned the cheer, but Fulton stood
upon the deck, his eyes flashing with an un
usual brilliancy as he surveyed the crowd.
He felt that the magic wand of success
was waving over him, and he was silent.
As the boat sailed or steamed by West
Point, the whole garrison was out, and
cheered most lustily. At Newburg, it
seemed as if all Orange county was col
lected there; the whole side-hill city
seemed animated with life. Every sail
boat and water-craft was out. The ferry
boat from Fishkill was filled with ladies,
but Fulton was engaged in seeing a pas
senger landed, and did not observe the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

215

boat until she bore up nearly alongside ;
the flapping of a sail arrested his atten
tion, and, as he turned, the waving of so
many handkerchiefs, and the smiles of so

In a letter to his friend and patron, Mr.
Barlow, Fulton says of this Clermont trial
trip : " My steam-boat voyage to Albany
and back has turned out rather more

many bright and happy faces, struck him
with surprise, and, raising his hat, he ex
claimed, "That is the finest sight we have
seen yet."

favorable than I had calculated. The dis
tance to Albany is one hundred and fifty
miles. I ran up in thirty-two hours and
down in thirty. The latter is just five

216

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

miles an hour. I had a light breeze
against me the whole way, going and com
ing, so that no use was made of my sails,
and this voyage has been performed whol
ly by the power of the steam engine. I
overtook many sloops and schooners beat
ing to the windward, and passed them as
if they had been at anchor." Such was
the modest description of this greatest of
modern inventions.
Of peculiar interest and entertainment
is the following narrative connected with
this historic voyage, from the graphic pen
of one who was a personal actor in the
Bcene described: —
I chanced to be at Albany on business
when Fulton arrived there in his unheard-
of craft, which everybody felt so much
anxiety to see. Being ready to leave, and
hearing that this craft was going to
return to New York, I repaired on board
and inquired for Mr. Fulton. I was
referred to the cabin, and there found a
plain, gentlemanly man, wholly alone, and
engaged in writing.
" Mr. Fulton, I presume."
"Yes, sir."
" Do you return to New York, with this
boat ? "
" We shall try to get back, sir."
" Can I have a passage down ? "
"You can take your chance with us,
sir." I inquired the amount to be paid, and,
after a moment's hesitation, a sum, I
think six dollars, was named. The amount,
in coin, I laid in his open hand, and, with
his eye fixed upon it, he remained so long
motionless, that I supposed it might be a
miscount, and said to him, " Is that right,
sir ? " This question roused him as from
a kind of reverie, and, as he looked up, the
big tear was brimming in his eye, and his
voice faltered as he said —
" Excuse me, sir ; but memory was
busy as I contemplated this, the first
pecuniary reward I have ever received for
all my exertions in adapting steam to
navigation. I should gladly commemorate
the occasion over a bottle of wine with
you, but really I am too poor even for

that, just now; yet I trust we may meet
again, when this will not be the case."
Some four years after this (continues
the writer of this agreeable reminiscence),
when the Clermont had been greatly im
proved and her name changed to the North
River, and when two other boats, viz., the
Car of Neptune and the Paragon had been
built, making Mr. Fulton's fleet consist of
three boats regularly plying between New
York and Albany, I took passage upon one
of these for the latter city. The cabin in
that day was below ; and, as I walked its
length to and fro, I saw I was very closely
observed by one I supposed a stranger.
Soon, however, I recalled the features of
Mr. Fulton ; but, without disclosing this,
I continued my walk. At length, in pass
ing his seat, our eyes met, when he sprang
to his feet, and, eagerly seizing my hand,
exclaimed —
" I knew it must be you, for your feat
ures have never escaped me ; and, although
I am still far from rich, yet I may venture
that bottle now ! "
It was ordered ; and during its discus
sion Mr. Fulton ran rapidly, but vividly,
over his experiences of the world's cold
ness and sneers, and of the hopes, fears,
disappointments, and difSculties, that were
scattered through his whole career of dis
covery, up to the very point of his final,
crowning triumph, at which he so fully felt
he had arrived at last. And in reviewing
all these matters, he said —
" I have again and again recalled the
occasion, and the incident, of our first
interview at Albany; and never have I
done so without renewing in my mind the
vivid emotion it originally caused. That
seemed, and does still seem, to me, the
turning point in my destiny — the dividing
line between light and darkness, in my
career upon earth; for it was the first
actual recognition of my usefulness to my
fellow-men." Even at this early period in the employ
ment of so dangerous and slightly under
stood a motive power as steam, the rivalry
and diversion of racing was indulged in.
It was in the month of September, 1809,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

217

that the exciting and criminal scene of a
steam-boat race was first enacted. A com
pany from Albany had been formed for
the purpose of competing with Fulton.
The first vessel of this opposition line was
advertised to leave Albany at the same
time as Fulton's. Parties ran high in the
hotels of Albany. The partisans of Fulton
were enrolled under Professor Kemp, of
Columbia College ; those of the opposition
under Jacob Stout. The victory was long
in suspense ; and it was not until after the
thirtieth hour of a hard struggle that the
result was proclaimed by Dr. Kemp, on
the taffrail of Fulton's vessel, and holding
out, in derision, a coil of rope to Captain
Stout, for the purpose, as he remarked in
so doing, of "towing him into port."
When the age, high standing, and sedate
character of these two gentlemen are con
sidered, it is not surprising that, in course
of time, women at the West learned to
devote thoir bacon to feeding the furnace
fires of rival steam-boats.
The complete success attending steam
navigation on the Hudson and the neigh
boring waters, previous to the year 1809,
turned the attention of the principal pro
jectors to the idea of its application on the
western waters ; and in the month of
April of that year, Mr. Roosevelt, of New
York, pursuant to an agreement with
Chancellor Livingston and Mr. Fulton,
visited those rivers, with the purpose of
forming an opinion whether they admitted
of steam navigation or not. Mr. Roosevelt
surveyed tho rivers from Pittsburg to
New Orleans, and, as his report was favor
able, it was decided to build a boat at the
former place. This was done under his
direction, and in the year 1811 the first
boat was launched on the waters of the
Ohio. It was called the New Orleans.
Late at night, on the fourth day after
quitting Pittsburg, they arrived in safety
at Louisville, having been seventy hours
descending a distance of somewhat more
than seven hundred miles. The novel
appearance of the vessel, and the fearful
rapidity — as it was then regarded — with
which it made its passage, excited a mix

ture of terror and surprise among many of
the settlers on the banks, whom the rumor
of such an invention had never reached.
Mr. Livingston's former associate in his
experiments with applying steam to this
purpose was Mr. John Stevens, of New
Jersey, who persevered independently of
Fulton and his patron, in various attempts
to construct steam-boats. In this enter
prise he was aided by his son, and his
prospects of success had becomo so flatter
ing, that he refused to renew his partner
ship with Livingston, and resolved to trust
to his own exertions. Fulton's boat, how
ever, was first ready, and thus secured the
grant of the exclusive privilege of the state
of New York. The Stevenses were but a
few days later in moving a boat with the
required velocity. Being shut out of the
waters of the state of New York, by the
priority of Livingston and Fulton, Stevens
conceived the bold design of conveying his
boat to the Delaware by sea ; and this
boat, which was so near reaping the honor
of first success, was the first to navigate
the ocean by steam. One of the most
efficient advocates of the new mode of nav
igation by steam was DeWitt Clinton.
From the date of Fulton's triumph in
1807, steam navigation became a fixed fact
in the United States, and went on extend
ing with astonishing rapidity. Nor could
a different result have been rationally
expected in such a country as America.
In person, Mr. Fulton was about six
feet high, slerlder form, but finely propor
tioned. Nature had made him a gentle
man, and bestowed upon him ease and
gracefulness. A modest confidence in his
own worth and talents, gave him an unem
barrassed deportment in all his social
intercourse. He expressed himself with
energy, fluency, and correctness, and, as he
owed more to his own experience and
reflections than to books, his sentiments
were often interesting from their original
ity. But what was most conspicuous in
his character, was his calm constancy, hia
industry, and that indefatigable patience
and perseverance, which always enabled
him to overcome difficulties.

XXII.
EXTENSIVE AND CALAMITOUS EARTHQUAKE AT THE
WEST.— 1811.

Its Convulsive Force Felt all Over the Valley of the Mississippi and to the Atlantic Coast. — The Earth
Suddenly Bursts Open and a Vast Region of Country is Sunk and Lost. — Awful Chasms and
Upheavals. — Ruin and Desolation Brought Upon the Inhabitants. — Humboldt's Interesting Opin
ion of the Western Earthquake. — Its Central Point of Violence. — Terrible Consternation Produced.
— The Ground Swellings and Crackings. — Great Agitation of the Waters. — Houses Buried, Boats
Wrecked. — Giant Forests Crushed. — Purple Tinge of the Atmosphere. — Thunder, Lightning, Flood,
Etc. — A Mighty Struggle. — Hills and Islands Disappear. — Burial Grounds Engulfed. — Nature's
Secrets Unbosomed. — Lakes Drained, New Ones Formed. — Present Aspect of the Country.—
Account of the More Recent Earthquakes in California, their Characteristics and Destructiveness.
— Most Serious in San Francisco.— Lives and Property Lost. — Women and Children Panic-Struck.
— Direction of the Shocks. — Indications of their Approach — Effect in the Harbor and Bay.

" Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions ; and the teeming earth
Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd
By the imprisoning of unruly winds
Within her womb ; which, for enlargement striving,
Shuke tho old beldame Earth, and topple down
Steeples and mosR-grown towers."

AETEB THE EABTHQUAKE.

ARTHQUAKES in the United States
have been of comparatively rare occur
rence, so far as any extensive destruction
; of life and property has been involved,
By far the most important of these, prior
to the disastrous California earthquakes in
1865 and 1868, was that which took place
at New Madrid, in Missouri, below St.
Louis, on the Mississippi, in 1811, and
which is always spoken of, in that section,
as " the great earthquake." Over a region
of country three hundred miles in length,
from the mouth of the Ohio to that of the
St. Francis, the ground rose and sank in
great undulations, and lakes were formed,
and again drained. Humboldt remarks
that it presents one of the few examples of
an incessant quaking of the ground for
successive months far from any volcano.
The central point of violence in this
remarkable earthquake was thought to be
near the Little Prairie, twenty-five or
thirty miles below New Madrid; the vibra-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

219

tions from which were felt all over the
valley of the Ohio, as high up as Pitts-
hurg. The first shock was felt on the
night of Deoember sixteenth, 1811, and
was repeated at intervals, with decreasing
severity, into February following. New
Madrid, having suffered more than any
other town on the Mississippi from its
effects, was considered as situated near
the focus from whence the undulations
proceeded. The water of the river, which the day
before was tolerably clear, being rather
low, changed to a reddish hue, and became
thick with mud thrown up from its bottom,
while the surface, lashed vehemently by
the convulsion of the earth beneath, was
covered with foam, which, gathering into
masses the size of a barrel, floated along
on the trembling surface. The earth on
the shores opened in wide fissures, and,
closing again, threw the water, sand and
mud, in huge jets, higher than the tops of
the trees. The atmosphere was filled with
a thick vapor or gas, to which the light
imparted a purple tinge, altogether differ
ent in appearance from the autumnal haze
of an Indian summer, or that of smoke.
From the temporary check to the current,
by the heaving up of the bottom, the sink
ing of the banks and sand-bars into the bed
of the stream, the river rose in a few min
utes five or six feet ; and, impatient of the
restraint, again rushed forward with
redoubled impetuosity, hurrying along the
boats, now set loose by the panic-stricken
boatmen, as in less danger on the water
than at the shore, where the banks threat
ened every moment to destroy them by the
falling earth, or carry them down in the
vortices of the sinking masses. Many
boats were overwhelmed in this manner,
and their crews perished with them.
Numerous boats were wrecked on the
snags and old trees thrown up from the
bottom of the Mississippi, where they had
quietly rested for ages, while others were
sunk or stranded on the sand-bars and
islands. At New Madrid, several boats
were carried by the reflux of the current
into a small stream that puts into the

river just above the town, and left on the
ground by the returning water a very con
siderable distance from the Mississippi.
It is an interesting coincidence, that, at
this precise period, the first steam-boat
voyage ever made in western waters, added
the novelty of its occurrence to the con
vulsions of nature in this region. The '
name of the steam-boat in question was the
New Orleans, commanded by Mr. Roose
velt. On arriving about five miles above
the Yellow Banks, near New Madrid, they
moored opposite to a vein of coal on the
Indiana side, the coal having been pur
chased some time previously for the steam
er's use. They found a large quantity
already quarried to their hand and con
veyed to the shore by depredators, who,
however, had not means to carry it off;
and with this they commenced loading.
While thus engaged, the voyagers were
accosted in great alarm by the squatters in
the neighborhood, who inquired if they had
not heard strange noises on the river and
in the woods in the course of the preceding
day, and perceived the shores shake —
insisting that they had repeatedly heard
the earth tremble. Hitherto, however,
nothing remarkable had been perceived,
and the following day they continued
their monotonous voyage in those vast sol
itudes. The weather was oppressively
hot ; the air misty, still and dull ; and
though the sun was visible, like an
immense and glowing ball of copper, his
rays hardly shed more than a mournful
twilight on the surface of the water.
Evening drew nigh, and with it some
indications of what was passing around
them became evident, for they ever and
anon heard a rushing sound and violent
splash, and finally saw large portions of
the shore tearing away from the land and
lapsing into the watery abyss. An eye
witness says : " It was a startling scene
— one could have heard a pin drop on
deck. The crew spoke but little; they
noticed, too, that the comet, for some time
visible in the heavens, had suddenly dis
appeared, and every one on board was
thunderstruck."

220

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

SCENE OF THE GKEAT EARTHQUAKE IN THE WEST.

The second day after leaving the Yellow
Banks, the sun rose over the forests, the
same dim ball of fire, and the air was thick,
heavy, and oppressive, as before. The
portentous signs of this terrible natural
convulsion increased. Alarmed and con
fused, the pilot affirmed he was lost — as
he found the channel everywhere altered ;
and where he had hitherto known deep
water, there lay numberless trees with
their roots upward. The trees that still
remained were seen waving and nodding
on the banks, without a wind. The
adventurers had of course no choice but to
continue tlieir route as best they could,
but towards evening they were at a loss
for a place of shelter. They had usually
brought to, under the shore, but at all
points they saw the high banks disappear
ing, overwhelming many an unfortunate
craft, from which the owners had landed,
in the hope of effecting their escape. A
large island in mid-channel, which had
been selected by the pilot as the better
alternative, was sought for in vain, having
totally disappeared, and thousands of
acres constituting the surrounding coun
try, were found to have been swallowed
up, with their gigantic growth of forest
and cane.

Thus, in doubt and terror, they pro
ceeded hour after hour, until dark, when
they found a small island, and rounded to,
mooring at the foot of it. Here they lay,
keeping watch on deck, during the long
night, listening to the sound of the waters
which roared and whirled wildly around
them — hearing, also, from time to time,
the rushing earth slide from the shore,
and the commotion of the falling mass as
it became engulfed in the river. The
lady of the party was frequently awakened
from her restless slumber, by the jar of
the furniture and loose articles in the
cabin, as in the course of the night the
shock of the pass'ng earthquake was com
municated to the bows of the vessel. The
morning dawned and showed they were
near the mouth of the Ohio. The shores
and channel were now equally unrecogniz
able — everything seemed changed. About
noon that day they reached New Madrid.
Here the inhabitants were in the greatest
consternation and distress. Part of the
population had fled for their lives to the
higher grounds ; others prayed to be taken.
on board the steamer, as the earth was
opening in fissures on every side, and their
houses hourly falling around them. Pro
ceeding thence they found the Mississippi,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

221

at all times a fearful stream, unusually
swollen, turbid, and full of trees, and after
many days of extreme danger, finally
reached Natchez.
After shaking the valley of the Mis
sissippi to its center, the earthquake
vibrated along the courses of the rivers
and valleys, and, passing the primitive
mountain barriers, died away along the
shores of the Atlantic ocean. In the
region of its greatest force, and pending
the tremendous elemental strife which
finally ensued, the current of the Missis
sippi was driven back from its source with
appalling velocity for several hours, in con
sequence of an elevation of its bed. But
the noble river was not thus to be stayed
in its course. Its accumulated waters
came booming on, and, overtopping the
barrier thus suddenly raised, carried every
thing before them with resistless power.
Boats, then floating, on its surface, shot
down the declivity like an arrow from a
bow, amid roaring billows and the wildest
disorder. A few days' action of its power
ful current sufficed to wear away every
vestige of the barrier thus strangely inter
posed, and its waters moved on in their
wonted channel to the ocean, seemingly
rejoicing in their triumph over the oppos
ing elements and forces.
The day that succeeded this night of
dread brought no solace in its dawn.
Shock followed shock ; a dense black cloud
of vapor overshadowed the land, through
which no struggling sunbeam found its
way to cheer the desponding heart of man.
The appearances that presented themselves
after the subsidence of the principal com
motion were indeed staggering to the
beholder. Hills had disappeared, and
lakes were found in their stead ; numerous
lakes became elevated ground, over the
surface of which vast heaps of sand were
scattered in every direction; while in
many places the earth for miles was sunk
below the general level of the surrounding
country, without being covered with water,
leaving an impression in miniature of a
catastrophe much more important in its
effects, which had, perhaps, preceded it

ages before. One of the lakes thus formed
is sixty or seventy miles in length, and
from three to twenty miles in breadth ; it
is also in some places very shallow, and in
others from fifty to one hundred feet deep,
which latter is much more than the depth
of the Mississippi river in that quarter.
In sailing over its surface, one is struck
with astonishment at beholding the gigan
tic trees of the forest standing partially
exposed amid the waste of waters, branch
less and leafless, like gaunt, mysterious
monsters. But this wonder is still further
increased on casting the eye on the dark-
blue profound, to witness cane-brakes cov
ering its bottom, over which a mammoth
species of tortoise is occasionally seen drag
ging its slow length along, while countless
millions of fish are sporting through the
aquatic thickets, — the whole constituting
one of the most remarkable features in
American scenery and topography.
The lost hills or islands before men
tioned are of various extent ; some twenty
or thirty miles in circumference, others
not so large, and some are even diminutive
in size, but of great altitude ; occasionally
furnished with fountains of living water,
and all well timbered. The low grounds
are in the form of basins, connected by
openings or hollows ; these, not being as
deep as the bottom of their reservoirs, it
happens that, when an inundation takes
place, either from the Mississippi river or
streams issuing from the surrounding
highlands, they are filled to overflowing —
and, when the waters recede below a level
with these points of communication, they
become stagnant pools, passing off by the
process of infiltration, which is very slow,
in a thick, black, tenacious loam, or by
evaporation equally gradual, in a country
covered by forests and impenetrable
jungle. At New Madrid and its vicinity,
the earth broke into innumerable fissures ;
the church-yard, with its dead, was torn
from the bank and embosomed in the
turbid stream; and in many places, the
gaping earth unfolded its secrets, — the
bones of the gigantic mastodon and ich
thyosaurus, hidden within its bosom for

222

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ages, being brought to the surface. Even
at the present day, frequent slight shocks
of earthquake are there felt, and it is
asserted that, in the vast swamp at the
back of the town, strange sounds may at
times be heard, as of some mighty cauldron
seething and bubbling in the bowels of the
earth. Flint, the geographer, who visited the
country seven years after the event, says
that, at the time of his visit, a district
west of New Madrid still remained cov
ered with water, and that the neighboring
forest presented a scene of great confusion.
He also saw hundreds of deep chasms re
maining in the alluvial soil, which were
produced, according to the inhabitants, by
the bursting of the earth, which rose in
great undulations, and discharged prodig
ious volumes of water, sand, and coaly
matter, thrown up to a great height. As
the shocks lasted throughout a period of
three months, the country people remarked
that, in particular districts, there were
certain prevailing directions in which the
fissures opened, and they accordingly
felled the tallest trees, making them fall
at right angles to the direction of the
chasms. By stationing themselves on
these, the inhabitants often escaped being
swallowed up when the earth opened
beneath them.
During the visit of Sir Charles Lyell to
this region, in 1846, Mr. Bringier, the
well-known engineer, related to him that
he was on horseback near New Madrid, in
1811, when some of the severest shocks
were experienced, and that, as the waves
advanced, he saw the trees bend down, and
often, the instant afterward, when in the
act of recovering their position, meet the
boughs of other trees similarly inclined, so
as to become interlocked, being prevented
from righting themselves again. The
transit of the wave through the woods was
marked by the crashing noise of countless
branches, first heard on one side and then
on the other. At the same time, powerful
jets of water, mixed with sand, loam and
bituminous shale, were cast up with such
impetuosity, that both horse and rider

might have perished, had the swelling and
upheaving ground happened to burst im
mediately beneath them. Some of the
shocks were perpendicular, while others,
much more desolating, were horizontal, or
moved along like great waves ; and where
the principal fountains of mud and water
were thrown up, circular cavities, called
sink-holes, were formed.
Hearing that some of these cavities still
existed near the town, Professor Lyell
went to see one of them, three-quarters of
a mile to the westward. There he found
a nearly circular hollow, ten yards wide,
and five feet deep, with a smaller one near
it, and, scattered about the surrounding
level ground, were fragments of black
bituminous shale, with much white sand.
Within a distance of a few hundred yards,
were five more of these " sand-bursts," or
"sand-blows," as they are sometimes
termed, and, about a mile farther west,
there is still pointed out "the sink-hole
where the negro was drowned." It is a
striking object, interrupting the regularity
of a flat plain, the sides very steep, and
twenty-eight feet deep from the top to the
water's edge.
In the interesting account of this region
and of the event in question, furnished by
Professor Lyell, in his book of travels, he
relates the reminiscences of a citizen of
New Madrid, who witnessed the earth
quake when a child. He described the
camping out of the people in the night
when the first shocks occurred, and how
some were wounded by the falling of chim
neys, and the bodies of others drawn out
of the ruins ; and confirmed the published
statements of the inhabitants having
availed themselves of fallen trees to avoid
being engulfed in open fissures, — a singu
lar mode of escape, which, curiously
enough, had been adopted spontaneously
in different and widely-distant places, at
the same time, even little children throw
ing themselves thus on the felled trunks.
Lyell was then invited to go and see sev
eral fissures still open, which had been
caused by the undulatory movement of the
ground, some of them jagged, others even

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

223

and straight. Two of them were traced
continuously for more than half a mile,
and a few were found to be parallel ; but,
on the whole, they varied greatly in direc
tion, some being ten and others forty-five
degrees west of north. They might easily
have been mistaken for artificial trenches,
though formerly as deep as wells ; the
action of rains, frost, and occasional inun
dations, and, above all, the leaves of the
forest blown into them in countless num
bers, have done much to fill them up.
In that part of the forest which borders
what. is called the " sunk country," all the
trees of a date prior to 1811, although
standing erect and entire, are dead. They
are most noticeable objects, are chiefly
oaks and walnuts, with trunks several feet
in diameter, and many of them more than
two hundred years old. They are sup
posed to have been killed by the loosening
of the roots during the repeated undula
tions which passed through the soil for
three months in succession. The higher
level plain, where these dead monarchs of
the forest stand, terminates abruptly

newer than 1812. The " sunk country "
extends along the course of the White
Water and its tributaries for a distance of
between seventy and eighty miles north
and south, and thirty miles east and west.
It is not, however, confined to the region
west of the Mississippi ; for several exten
sive forest tracts in Tennessee were sub
merged during the shocks of 1811-12,
and have ever since formed lakes and
swamps. The earthquakes in California, especially
those which occurred in 1865 and 1868,
and both in the month of October, were
the most disastrous in respect to the value
of property destroyed, that of October 21,
1868, being particularly so. At San
Francisco, the motion was east and west,
and several buildings on Pine, Battery,
and Sansome streets were thrown down,
and a considerable number badly damaged.
The ground settled, which threw the build
ings out of line. The principal damage
was confined to the lower portion of the
city, below Montgomery street, and among
old buildings on the made ground. The

EARTHQUAKE SCENE IN SAN FKANOISCO.

toward the bayou St. John, and the sudden
descent of eight or ten feet throughout an
area four or five miles long, and fifty or
sixty broad, was one of the strange results
of the earthquake. At the lower level are
seen cypresses and cotton-wood, and other
trees which delight in wet ground, all

custom-house, a brick building erected on
pile ground, which was badly shattered in
the earthquake of 1865, had now to be
abandoned as unsafe. Business in the
lower part of the city was suspended, the
streets were thronged with people, and
great excitement prevailed. The parapets,

224

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

walls and chimneys of a number of houses
fell, causing loss of life and many accidents.
At one place, the ground opened several
inches wide and about forty or fifty feet
long ; and in other places, the ground
opened, and water forced itself above the
surface. The water in the bay was per
fectly smooth at the time of the occurrence,
and no perceptible disturbance took place
there ; the shock was felt aboard the ship
ping in the harbor, as if the vessels had
struck upon the rocks. The morning was
moderately warm, and a dense fog covered
the city. Not the slightest breeze was
perceptible. The first indication of the
approach of the earthquake was a slight
rumbling sound, as of something rolling
along the sidewalk, coming apparently
from the direction of the ocean. The
stock commenced in the form of slow, hor
izontal movements, while the movements
of the great earthquake of 1865 were per
pendicular. The effect on buildings, too,
of the earthquake of 1868, was widely dif
ferent from that of 1865. In the latter,
glass was broken and shivered into atoms
in all the lower parts of the city, by the
perpendicular oscillations, wliile compara
tively few walls were shaken down or badly
shattered. The earthquake of 1868 broke
very little glass, but the damage by the
falling of cornices, awnings, and walls,
was immense. Mantel ornaments and
shelved crockery were everywhere thrown

down and broken ; top-heavy articles of
furniture tumbled over ; tanks and dishes
containing water or other liquids slopped
their contents ; clocks stopped running;
door -bells rang ; tall structures, like
steeples and towers, were seen to sway,
and the motion of the earth under the
feet was unpleasantly plain to walkers;
horses started and snorted, exhibiting
every sign of fear, and in some cases dash
ing off furiously with their riders; dogs
crouched, trembling and whining; and
fowls flew to the trees, uttering notes of
alarm. The panic among women and
children was, for a time, excessive, and
their cries and tears were very moving.
At Oakland, the shock was very severe,
throwing down chimneys, and greatly
damaging buildings ; in several localities,
the ground opened, and a strong sulphu
rous smell was noticed after the shock.
The court-house at San Leandro was
demolished and one life lost. At San
Jose, several buildings were injured. The
large brick court-house at Redwood City
was completely wrecked. The shock was
light at Marysville and Sonora, and severe
at Grass Valley. It was also felt, with a
good deal of severity, in Stockton, Sonoma,
San Lorenzo, Alvarado, San Mateo, Peta
luma, Vallejo, and Sacramento; in the
latter place, flag-staffs and trees vibrated
ten feet, and the water in the river rose
and fell a foot and a half.

XXIII.
CAPTURE OF THE BRITISH FRIGATE GUERRIERE BY
THE U. S. FRIGATE CONSTITUTION.— 1812.

Captain Dacres's Insolent Challenge to the American Navy. — Captain Hull's Eager Acceptance. — His
Unrivaled Tactics and Maneuvers. — A Short, Terrific, Decisive Contest. — Yankee Valor on the
Ocean a Fixed Fact, Sternly Respected. — The Constitution Becomes the Favorite Ship of the
Nation, and is Popularly Called " Old Ironsides." — Cruise of the Constitution. — Hull, the " Sea
King," in Command. — A Sail ! The Enemy's Squadron ! — Chased Three Days by Tliem. — Rowing
and Warping in a Calm. — Most Wonderful Escape on Record. — Another Frigate in Sight, the Guer
riere. — Her Signals of Defiance. — Yankee Eagerness for Ac
tion. — The Two Frigates Afoul. — Yard-arm to Yard-arm
Encounter. — Fire of the Constitution Reserved. — Final and
Deadly Broadsides. — Fearless Conduct of her Crew. — British
Colors Hauled Down. — Sinking of the Shattered Wreck. —
Armament and Power of the Ships. — An almost Equal
Match. — Anecdotes of the Two Commanders. — Honors to the
Brave Victors. — Future Annals of the Constitution. — Her
Varied and Noble Career.

" Never before, in the history of the world, did Qn English frigate strike to an American,
under equal circumBtancea."— London Times.

ROUDEST among the triumphs of the American flag will for
ever be associated the career of that noble old frigate, the Constitution,
— re-christened, by popular acclaim, " Old Ironsides," for her grand
and victorious resistance to British domination on the ocean, in succes
sive and hotly-contested battles. The greatest of these triumphs came, too, at a
time when the public heart heaved with despondency; and the sensibilities of a
whole nation, deeply wounded by the ill-success of their arms on the frontier, were
suddenly thrilled with joy at the announcement of an action brilliant beyond all
precedent in its results, in the annals of naval warfare. The American heart beat
high and warm, as the news of this proud achievement winged itself over the sea and
over the land, and from the western to the eastern hemisphere. It may here be
stated, as an interesting naval item, that the first commander of this pet frigate was
Commodore Samuel Nicholson, brother of Commodore James Nicholson, of revolu
tionary note.
Previous to the final declaration of war against Great Britain, in June, 1812,
preparation had been made by the United States government to send to sea, imme
diately on that event, all the frigates and armed vessels that could be put in readi
ness, to protect American commerce, and meet the enemy on the ocean. When,
15

226

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

however, these little squadrons left their
ports to contend with the haughty mistress
of the seas, every American breast was
filled with anxiety. Indeed, the British
naval commanders had boasted that they
would drive the little striped bunting ofthe
upstart states, in affright and dismay,
from every part of the broad ocean. How
the Constitution saved herself, on first
sighting the British lion, is a narrative
uniting the romantic and miraculous.
It was on the twenty-first of June, that
a squadron, consisting of the President,
the United States, the Congress, the
Hornet, and Argus, under the com
mand of Commodore Rodgers, sailed from
New York on a cruise in quest of British
merchantmen, then on their way from
Jamaica to England. Subsequently, tlie
frigate Constitution, Captain Isaac Hull,
received orders to join the squadron of
Rodgers, and, for that purpose, sailed from
the Chesapeake on the twelfth of July.
On the seventeenth, being off Egg Harbor,
four ships, apparently men-of-war, were
discovered from the mast-head to the
northward, approaching rapidly with a fine
breeze, while it was nearly calm about the
Constitution. In the belief that it was the
American squadron, waiting her arrival,
every effort was made to come up with
them. At four in the afternoon, another
ship was seen to the north-east, standing
for the Constitution, with all sails set. At
ten in the evening, being then within six
or eight miles of the strange sail, the pri
vate signal was made by the Constitution ;
which not being answered, it was con
cluded that they were the enemy's vessels.
And now commenced what may justly
be termed the most remarkable series of
naval tactics and maneuvers ever known,
— the most wonderful chase recorded in
nautical history, — resulting in the success
ful, and almost miraculous, escape of the
American frigate from a whole squadron
of British vessels, commanded by Captain
Broke, in close pursuit for nearly three
days and nights.
The position of the Constitution seemed
hopeless indeed, when she fouud that one

of the enemy's frigates was within about
five or six miles, and a line-of-battle ship,
a frigate, a brig, and schooner, some ten or
twelve miles directly astern, all in chase
of her, with a fine breeze, and coming up
fast, — while, unfortunately, the wind had
entirely left the Constitution, so that the
ship would not steer, but fell round off
with her head towards the two ships under
her lee. The boats were instantly hoisted
out, and sent ahead, to tow the ship's head
round, and to endeavor to get her farther
from the enemy, being now within five
miles of three heavy frigates. The boats
of the enemy were got out and sent ahead
to tow, by which, with the light air that
remained with them, they came up very
fast. Finding the enemy gaining on him,
and but little chance of escaping, Hull
ordered two guns to be ran out at the cabin
windows for stern guns on the gun-deck,
and hoisted one of the twenty-four pound
ers off the gun-deck, and ran that, with
the forecastle gun, an eigh teen-pounder,
out at the ports on the quarter-deck, and
cleared the ship for action, being deter
mined they should not capture her, with
out encountering a resistance worthy of
Americans. At about seven o'clock, on the morning
of the eighteenth, the nearest ship ap
proached within gunshot and directly
astern, seeing which, Hull ordered one of
the stern guns to be fired, to see if her
masts could be reached and disabled, but
the shot fell a little short. At eight, four
of the enemy's ships were nearly within
gunshot, some of them having six or eight
boats ahead towing, with all their oars and
sweeps out, to row them up to the Consti
tution, which they were fast doing. It
thus appeared that the noble frigate must
be taken — that escape was impossible, —
four heavy ships being already so near, and
coming up fast, witli not the least Iwpe of
a breeze to give the Constitution a chance
of getting off by outsailing them.
In this situation, and finding himself in
only twenty-four fathoms of water, Hull,
adopting the advice of Lieutenant Morris,
determined to try and warp the ship ahead,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

227

by carrying out anchors and warping her
up to them. Three or four hundred fath
oms of rope were instantly got up, and two
anchors made ready and sent ahead, by
which means the ship began to distance
the enemy's squadron ; but the latter soon
saw this movement, and adopted the same
plan, under very advantageous circum
stances, as all the boats from the British
ships furthermost off, were sent to tow and
warp up those nearest to the Constitution,
by which means they again came up,
almost within gun-shot reach.
From nine to twelve, Hull employed all
hands in warping the ship ahead, and in
starting some of the water in the main
hold to lighten her, which, with the help
of a slight breeze, enabled the Constitution
to rather gain upon the enemy. About
two, in the afternoon, all the boats from
the line-of-battle ship and from some of
the frigates were sent to the foremost frig
ate, to endeavor to tow her along more
rapidly, but, a light air springing up, the
Constitution held way with her pursuer,
notwithstanding the latter had eight or ten
boats ahead, and all her sails furled to tow
her to windward. The wind continued
light until eleven at night, and Hull's
boats were kept ahead, towing and warp
ing to keep out of the reach of the enemy,
three of the frigates being now very near ;
at eleven, however, a fresh breeze blew
from the southward, when the boats came
alongside and were hoisted up, the ship
having too much way to keep them ahead.
On the nineteenth, the enemy stood six
sail in sight, still in chase, with all can
vas spread, and very near. The wind,
however, continued to increase, gradually,
during the whole day, and Hull gained six
or eight miles upon Broke, notwithstand
ing the latter pressed on with every inch
of sail he could fling to the breeze. The
hopes of the Americans were now un
bounded in their buoyancy, and these
hopes were succeeded by unspeakable
exultation, when it was discovered, at day
light on the morning of the twentieth,
that only three of the British vessels could
be seen from the mast-head, the nearest of

which was about twelve miles off, directly
astern. All hands wore now set at work
wetting the Constitution's sails, from the
royals down, by means of the engine and
fire-buckets, and it was soon found that
the enemy was left far in the rear. At a
quarter-past eight, the British, finding that
they were fast dropping astern, gave over
chase, and hauled their wind to the north
ward. The Constitution, being separated
from the rest of the American squadron,
made immediately for Boston, where she
arrived in safety, and remained a few days.
During the whole of this most remark
able, as well as exciting and wearisome
chase, the gallant crew of the Constitution
remained steadfastly and cheerfully at
their stations, without murmur or confu
sion, and not only they and their officers,
but the noble ship herself, gained a high
reputation for masterly movement and
behavior. Even the officers of the British
squadron expressed their admiration of the
consummate nautical knowledge and pro
fessional adroitness displayed by Captain
Hull, in maneuvering his ship and effecting
his escape.
But it was soon to be proved that Hull
was no less a sea-warrior than a brilliant
strategical navigator. On the second day

CAPTAIN HULL.

of August, Hull again put to sea, pursuing
an easterly course. He passed near the
coast as far down as the bay of Fundy,
then ran off Halifax and Cape Sable ; but,
not seeing any vessels for some days, Hull
steered toward Newfoundland, passed the

228

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

isle of Sables, and took a station off the
gulf of St. Lawrence, to intercept the
Canada trade. While cruising here, he
captured two merchant-vessels. On the
fifteenth, he chased a convoy of five sail,
captured one of them, and prevented the
prize-ship of an American privateer from
being re-taken. Having received informa
tion that the British squadron was off the
Grand Banks, and not far distant, he
changed his cruising-ground, and pro
ceeded southward.
On the nineteenth of August, 1812, at
two o'clock in the afternoon, the Constitu
tion being in latitude forty-one degrees
and forty-two minutes north, and fifty-five
degrees and thirty-three minutes west
longitude, off the coast of Massachusetts,
a ship was discovered from the mast-head
of the Constitution. Captain Hull in
stantly made all sail in chase, and soon
gained on her. At three o'clock, it could
plainly be perceived that she was a man-
of-war, on the starboard tack, under easy
sail, close-hauled to the wind ; and by half-
past three the stranger was ascertained to
be a British frigate, — the Guerriere, Cap
tain James A. Dacres. This vessel had
hoisted at her mast-head, a flag with her
assumed name, the Warrior, in large char
acters, and on another were inscribed the
words, ' Not the Little Belt,' — the latter
being a British sloop-of-war that had been
badly handled in an engagement with the
United States ship President. The Guer
riere had looked into several ports in quest
of American frigates, and given a chal
lenge to all vessels of her class. On the
heaving in sight, therefore, of the Consti
tution, the British commander assembled
his crew, pointed to them the object of
their wishes, assured them of an easy vic
tory, and was answered by three hearty
cheers. So, too, the announcement by
Captain Hull, that the ship in sight was a
British man-of-war, and probably of about
the same force as the Constitution, was
received with lively exultation by the
brave American crew.
Eager fo^- battle and hopeful of victory,
Hull ordered the light sails to be taken in,

the courses to be hauled up, and the ship
to be cleared for action. The enemy now
backed her main-top-sail, and waited for
the Constitution to come down; and as
soon as the latter was ready for action, she
bore down, intending to bring to im
mediate engagement the British frigate
which had been from the very first, the
object of such eager attention by the
Americans, on account of her fine ap
pearance and peculiar movements, and
leading to the supposition that she was
a craft of more than ordinary import
ance in the estimation of the enemy,
— a supposition that did not fail to be
realized. The very fact that she bore on one
of her flags the words just quoted, in
dicated that the feeling engendered by
that event was a terribly sore one to
the British, and that, if it were a pos
sible thing, the wound was to be healed,
at the first opportunity, by some sig
nal act of retribution.
On the Constitution coming within gun
shot, the Guerriere fired a broadside, then
filled away, wore, and gave a broadside on
the other tack ; this firing, howeveT, pro
duced no effect, as the shot fell short. The
British frigate maneuvered, and wore sev
eral times, for about three-quarters of an
hour, in order to obtain a raking position,
but, not succeeding in this, she bore up
under her top-sails and jib, with the wind
on the quarter. It is related that, during
this time, the Constitution not having
fired a single broadside, the impatience of
her officers and men to engage was so
excessive, that nothing but the most rigid
discipline could restrain them. Hull,
however, was preparing, with the utmost
calmness and deliberation, to decide the
contest according to a method of his own.
Making sail so as to bring the Constitu
tion directly up with her antagonist, and,
at five minutes before six in the afternoon,
being alongside within half pistol shot,
Hull ordered a brisk firing to be com
menced from all the Constitution's guns,
which were double-shotted with round and
grape shot; and so well-directed and so

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

2ii9

warmly kept up was the American fire,
that, in fifteen minutes, the mizzen-mast
of the Guerriere went by the board, and
her main-yard in her slings. Her hull
was much injured, and her rigging and
sails completely torn into shreds. The
fire was kept up, in the same spirited
manner, for fifteen minutes longer, by the
Constitution. She had now taken a posi
tion for raking, on the bows of the Guer
riere, when the latter could only bring her
bow guns to bear on the Constitution ; the
grape-shot and small-arms of the latter
ship completely swept the decks of the
British frigate, and she was an utter
wreck. Thirty minutes after the commencement
of the contest, by the Constitution, the
main-mast and fore-mast of the Guerriere
went by the board, taking with them every
spar except the bowsprit. Seeing her con
dition, Captain Hull ordered the firing to
cease ; and Captain Dacres then struck his
colors, which had been fastened to the
stump of the mizzen-mast.
Setting her fore and main sails, the Con
stitution now hauled to the eastward, to
repair damages. All her braces, a great part
of her standing and running rigging, and
some of her spars, were shot away. At
seven in the evening, she stood under the
lee of the prize, and sent a boat on board,
which returned in a short time with Captain
Dacres, commander of the ill-fated frigate.
In the action, the Constitution lost seven
killed, and seven wounded ; the Guerriere,
fifteen killed, and sixty-two wounded, —
the latter including several oflicers, and
there were twenty-four missing. Among
the killed, on board of the Constitution,
was Lieutenant Bush; and among the
wounded, First Lieutenant Morris and
Master Alwyn. The circumstances were
as follows: As soon as the two vessels
fell afoul of each other, the cabin of
the Constitution was observed to take
fire, from the close explosion of the
forward guns of the enemy, who obtained
a small, though but momentary, advantage
horn his position; the ready attention,
however, of Lieutenant Hoffman, who

commanded in the cabin, soon repaired
this accident, and a gun of the enemy's,
that threatened further injury, was effect
ually disabled. But, in a moment, affairs
took a more tragical turn, for, the vessels
having come close together, both parties
prepared to board. The English turned
all hands up from below, and mustered for
ward, with that object, while Lieutenant
Morris, Master Alwyn, and Lieutenant
Bush, sprang upon the taffrail of the Con
stitution, with a similar intention. The
position of the two frigates was already
giving employment to the sharpshooters of
either side, and incessant volleys of mus
ketry rattled in the tumult all around.
Morris was shot through the body, but
maintained his post, the bullet fortunately
missing the vitals. Alwyn was wounded
in the shoulder. Bush, just as he was
making the spring, was pierced by a ball
in the head, and tumbled headlong, in the
speedy agonies of death.
On the Guerriere's striking her flag, and
being in a sinking condition, Captain Hull
immediately sent his boats to bring the
wounded and prisoners on board the Con
stitution. At about two o'clock in the
afternoon, a sail was discovered off the lar
board beam, standing to the south. The
Constitution was instantly cleared for
action ; but at three, the vessel stood
away. At daybreak, information was
received from the lieutenant on board the
prize, that the Guerriere was an unman
ageable wreck, with four feet of water in
the hold, and in a sinking condition. As
soon, therefore, as all the crew were
removed from on board of her, she was
abandoned, and her shattered hulk set fire
to and blown up. During the whole
period of combat, the total loss on board
the Constitution amounted to seven killed
and seven wounded, and, as soon as she
had rove new rigging, applied the neces
sary stoppers, and bent a few sails, she
was ready, as has been seen, to engage
another frigate. Captain Hull, in his
tribute to his crew, says : " They all
fought with great bravery; from the
smallest boy in the ship to the oldest

230

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ACTION BETWEEN THE FRIGATES CONSTITUTION AND GUERRrERE.

seaman, not a look of fear was seen. They
all went into action giving three cheers,
and requesting to be laid close alongside
the enemy." In the very heat of the
engagement, one of the crew of the Con
stitution, perceiving that the flag at the
foretop-mast head had been shot away,
went up with it, and lashed it so securely

as to render its removal impossible, unless
the mast went with it.
The total casualties, from first to last,
on board the Guerriere, in killed and
wounded, numbered nearly eighty, com
prising about one-third of her entire crew,
and, according to the statement of Captain
Dacres, in his defense before the court

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

231

which tried him for the loss of his ship,
she had, besides being dismasted, received
no less than thirty shot as low as five
sheets of copper beneath the bends.
In respect to armament and force, tho
Guerriere rated thirty-eight guns, and car
ried forty-nine, one of which was a light
boat-carronade. Her gun-deck metal was
eighteen-pounders, and her carronades, like
those of the Constitution, thirty-twos.
The Guerriere was a French-built ship,
and nearly as long as her adversary,
though the latter was somewhat larger and
heavier. The Constitution rated forty-
four guns, and mounted fifty-five. On an
actual weight, however, of the shot of both
ships, it was found that the Constitution's
twenty-fours were only three pounds heav
ier than the Guerriere's eighteens, and
there was nearly the same difference in
favor of the latter's thirty-twos. The
great inferiority of the Guerriere was in
her men, as she mustered but two hundred
and sixty-three souls at quarters, in conse
quence of the absence of some of the offi
cers and men who had charge of prizes.
Captain Dacres had also some ten or a
dozen Americans in his force, who refused
to fight, and, much to his credit, he per
mitted them to go below. The Constitu
tion's complement of men was four hundred
and fifty, all newly shipped.
The character and peculiarities of this
victory have been justly described, by
Cooper, as consisting in a fine display of
seamanship in the approach, extraordinary
efficiency in the attack, and great readiness
in repairing damages, all of which denote a
disciplined man-of-war. Nor did Captain
Dacres lose any professional honor by his
defeat. He had handled his ship in a
manner to win the applause of his enemies,
and only submitted when further resist
ance would have been as culpable as, in
fact, it was impossible. Less can be said in
favor of the efficiency of the Guerriere's
batteries, which were not equal to the mode
of fighting introduced by her antagonist,
and which, indeed, was the commencement
of a new era in combats between single
ships. Never was any firing so dreadful.

The news of this brilliant and unexam
pled victory — tho first, in fact, of any
importance, as yet obtained by the United
States in the present contest, — was
received with rapturous applause by the
American people, especially in view of the
victory having been achieved on the water,
an element upon which scarcely any Euro
pean nation dared to cope with Brit
ish prowess. The event was therefore as
mortifying to the pride of England as can
possibly be imagined ; for, in the long
period of thirty years up to this date, it
was Britain's boast that she had not lost a
single frigate in anything like an equal
conflict. By the English journals, the
American navy was contemptuously spoken
of as " a few fir-built frigates, manned by
a handful of dastards and outlaws ! " But
the generosity and heroism of Captain
Hull and his crew extorted praise even
from the vanquished. Captain Dacres, iD
his official letter, confesses their conduct
to have been " that of a brave enemy — the
greatest care being taken to prevent our
men losing the slightest article, and the
greatest attention being paid to the
wounded." This victory of Hull, on the
ocean, went far to wipe out the stain upon
American arms produced by General Wil
liam Hull's unfortunate campaign in
Canada. The victory of the Constitution
over the Guerriere was soon followed by
the capture of the Frolic by the United
States sloop-of-war Wasp, under Lieuten
ant Biddle ; the capture of the Macedo
nian, a large frigate, by Commodore
Decatur, of the frigate United States ; and
the capture of the frigate Java, on the
twenty-ninth of December, by Commodore
Bainbridge, who had succeeded Hull in
command of the Constitution.
An amusing anecdote is related of
Dacres, showing the effect of circum
stances upon the gallant captain's temper.
A short time previous to her capture by
the Constitution, the Guerriere had fallen
in with, and taken, a French prize, France
and England being then at war. Among
the passengers transferred on this occasion
to the deck of the Guerriere, was a French

232

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

gentleman charged with dispatches to the
American government, and who, on pre
senting himself to the British commander,
was dispossessed of his books* and papers,
and peremptorily ordered to go below.
Overwhelmed with this sudden and fatal
termination of his mission, the gentleman
passed several days in great distress of
mind, aggravated not a little by the
haughty bearing of Dacres. Once or
twice, addressing him with his blandest
manner and best English, he said —
" Captain Dacre, I tank you, sare, for
my government deespatch and my law
books." " Go below ! you frog-eating, sallow-
faced wretch," was the only reply of the
proud Briton.
Ere long, however, a sail was descried
on the edge of the distant horizon. Her
gradually-increasing size gave token that
she approached, and, as she neared to
view, the tapering spars and the graceful
trim of Yankeedom were seen. Dacres,
with glass in hand, had observed her from
.9, mere speck, and as soon as he was satis
fied that she was American, gave vent to
the wildest expressions of joy. He paced
the deck with exulting step — swore he
would 'take that craft in fifteen minutes,' —
and, to crown his anticipated triumph,
directed that a hogshead of molasses be
hoisted upon deck, 'to treat the 
Yankees.' Strange as it may appear, this
order was actually obeyed ; and, at almost
the first shot, the Constitution struck the
hogshead, and, its contents spreading over
the deck, conduced somewhat, no doubt, to
the Guerriere's disadvantage in the action.
The Frenchman, who was meanwhile a
silent though not an uninterested observer
of what was passing before him, again
put on his most winning smiles, and
remarked —
" Captain Dacre, sare, wid your permis
sion I stay upon deck, and see de fight."
" Go to the  ," responded the rough
old salt — now busied in preparations for a
bold and brilliant achievement.
The little Frenchman was soon snugly
ensconced among the rigging, and the two

vessels continued gradually and silently to
approach each other. The Constitution
having finally got within reach of the
enemy's long-guns, the scene that followed
is thus described by the lively " deespatch"
bearer : — " Captain Dacre, he sail dis way,
and den he sail dat way, and again he go
— boom ! De Yankee man, he say nothing
— but still keep comin'. Again, Captain
Dacre sail dis way, and den he sail dat
way, and again he go — boom ! Enfin, de
Yankee man go pop, pop, pop, — pop, pop,
pop ! I say to Captain Dacre, ' Sare, wid
your permission I go below — 'tis too hot
here!"' He went below ; and the action con
tinued. When the firing ceased, the sleep
less little Frenchman, peeping up the
hatchway, espied one officer-like man, and
Captain Dacres handing his sword. The
truth flashed upon him in an instant. He
rushed upon deck; and finding himself
again at liberty, he capered about like one
'possessed.' Finally advancing to the
now mute and fallen Dacres, he said, with
an air which utterly defies description :
" You tell me, sare, you take dis ship in.
fifteen minutes; by gar, he take you!
Now, sare," he added, with a low and
bitter emphasis, " I tank you for my gov
ernment deespatch, and law books."
As has already been stated, the crew of
the Constitution became somewhat impa
tient at Hull's cool delay to commence
action, after receiving the Guerriere's first
fire. Even Morris, on seeing his favorite
coxswain carried by a shot, looked rather
hard at 'the old man,' as Hull, though
young in years, was familiarly called, and
then walked up to him, saying, by way of
hint, in a low tone, " The ship is ready for
action, sir, and the men are getting impa
tient." Hull never turned, but, keeping
his eye steadily on the enemy, simply
replied, "Are — you — all ready, Mr.
Morris ? " " All ready," said the lieuten
ant. "Don't fire a gun till I give the
orders, Mr. Morris," was the rejoinder.
Presently, up went a midshipman from the
main deck, and, touching his cap, said to
' the old man,' " First division all ready,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

233

gjr; — the second lieutenant reports the
enemy's shot have hurt his men, and he
can with difficulty restrain them from
returning their fire." " Tell them to wait
for orders," was Hull's reply again, with
out deigning to turn his head. At length,
however, when the Constitution had actu
ally become enveloped in the enemy's
smoke, and even the old gun-boat men
began to stare wonderingly, up jumped the
great-hearted Hull in the air, slapped his
hand on his thigh with a report like a
pistol, and roared out in a voice that
reached the gunners in tlie magazines, —
"Now, Mr. Morris, give it to them, —
now give it to them, — fore and aft, — round
and grape, — give it to 'em, sir, — give it to
'em!" These words were scarcely uttered,
before a whole broadside glanced at half
pistol shot — the old ship trembling from
her keel to her trucks, like an aspen,
with the roar and crash of her own guns,
— then, instantly shooting ahead and
doubling across the enemy's bows, another

broadside was poured into her, with
three deafening cheers. It was terrible.
The continual boom and flash of the
batteries seemed like a thunder-storm in
the tropics.
The Constitution arrived in Boston
harbor, the last of August. Never did any
event spread such universal joy over the
whole country, and such astonishment
throughout Europe, as this complete and
magnificent victory. The gallant Hull,
as well as his equally-gallant officers and
crew, were received with enthusiastic dem
onstrations of gratitude, wherever they
appeared. He was presented with the
freedom of all the cities, on his route to the
seat of government, and with elegant serv
ices of silver-plate, also the thanks of leg
islative and other bodies ; several officers
were promoted ; and congress voted fifty
thousand dollars to the crew, as a recom
pense for the loss of the prize.
At home and abroad, the valor of the
American sailor was acknowledged to be
a fixed fact.

XXIV.
AMERICA AND ENGLAND MATCHED AGAINST EACH
OTHER IN SQUADRON COMBAT.— 1813.

Lake Erie the Scene of the Encounter. — Sixteen Vessels Engaged.— The British, under Captain Bar
clay, one of Lord Nelson's Veteran Oflicers, and with a Superior Force, are Thoroughly Beaten by
the Americans, under Commodore Oliver H. Perry. — Every British Vessel Captured. — General Harrison
Completes the Victorious Work on Land. — Building of the Fleet on the Lake. — Great Difficulties to be
Overcome. — Commodore Perry the Master Spirit. — Completion and Sailing of the Fleet. — Challenge
to the Enemy. — Line of Battle Formed. — Perry's Blue Union-Jack. — Its Motto, "Don't Give Up the
Ship ! " — Wild Enthusiasm of his Men. — Flagship Lawrence in the Van. — Meets the Whole Opposing
Fleet. — Badly Crippled in a Tw o Hours' Fight. — Huzzas of the Enemy. — The Day Supposed to be
Theirs. — Indomitable Resolution of Perry. — He Puts Off in an Open Boat. — Reaches the Niagara wfth
His Flag. — Again Battles with the Foe. — Severe and Deadly Conflict. — American Prowess Invincible.
— Barclay Strikes His Colors. — Perry only Twenty-seven Years Old.

* We have met the enemy, and they are oure."— Perrt's Memorable Dispatch Announcing His Viotokt.

IOREIGN nations, who still smiled incredulously at the pre-
1§ tensions of the United States in carrying on an ocean war-
||ll fare with the proud " mistress of the seas," — as England
was everywhere acknowledged to be, — were now to receive,
in addition to the splendid victory of the United States
1"^ "*- frigate Constitution over the Guerriere, fresh and decisive
peebt's flao on lake ebie. proof of the naval supremacy of the youthful republic, in the
magnificent triumph achieved by Commodore Oliver H. Perry, on the waters of Lake
Erie. Here, for the first time in the history of the western world, the flag of a
British squadron was struck, humiliatingly, to the Americans. Great Britain had
already been signally defeated in single naval combats, during the present contest;
she was now beaten in squadron, — every one of her ships striking their colors to
the stars and stripes.
The unexpected and disgraceful surrender of the northern army under General
Hull, to the British, rendered a superior force on Lake Erie necessary for the de
fense of the American territory bordering on the lake, as well as for offensive opera
tions in Canada. Under these circumstances Oliver H. Perry, a brave and accom
plished young officer, who had the command of a gunboat flotilla for the defense
of New York, was designated to the command on Lake Erie. But, at this time, the
United States possessed no naval force on the lake ; the only vessels belonging to
the government were captured at Detroit. The southern or American lake shore,
being principally a sand beach formed by the sediment driven by the northerly

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENT3.

235

winds, afforded but few harbors, and those
encumbered with bars at their entrance.
At Presque Isle, ninety miles west of Buf
falo, a peninsula extending a considerable
distance into the lake encircles a harbor, on
the borders of which was the port of Erie.
At this place, Commodore Perry was
directed to locate, and superintend a naval
establishment, the object of which was to
create a superior force on the lake. The
difficulties of building a navy in the wil
derness can only be conceived by those
who have experienced them. There was
nothing at this spot out of which it could
be built, but the timber of the forest.
Ship-builders, sailors, naval stores, guns,
and ammunition, were all to be transported
by land, in wagons, and over bad roads, a
distance of four hundred miles, either from
Albany by the way of Buffalo, or from
Philadelphia by the way of Pittsburg.
But under all these embarrassments, by
the first of August, 1813, Commodore
Perry had provided a flotilla, consisting of
the ships Lawrence and Niagara, of twenty
guns each, and seven smaller vessels, to
wit, one of four guns, one of three, two of
two, and three of one.
While the ships were building, the
enemy frequently appeared off the harbor
and threatened their destruction ; but the
shallowness of the water on the bar, there
being but five feet, prevented their ap
proach. The same cause, which insured
the safety of the vessels while building,
seemed likely to prevent their being of
any service when completed. The two
largest drew several feet more water than
there was on the bar. The inventive
genius of Perry, however, soon surmounted
this difficulty. He placed large scows on
each side of these two, filled them so that
they sank to the water-edge, then attached
them to the ships by strong pieces of
timber, and pumped out the water. The
scows, in this way, buoyed up the ships,
enabling them to pass the bar in safety.
This operation was performed in the very
eyes of the enemy.
Having gotten his fleet in readiness,
Commodore Perry proceeded to the head

of the lake and anchored its Pafrin Bay,
opposite to and distant thirty miles from
Maiden, where the British fleet lay under
the guns of the fort. He remained at
anchor here several days, watching the
British fleet, and waiting a chance to
offer battle.
On the morning of the tenth of Septem
ber, 1813, the enemy was discovered bear
ing down upon the American force, which
immediately got under weigh, and stood
out to meet him. Perry had nine vessels,
consisting of the Lawrence, his flag-ship,
of twenty guns; the Niagara, Captain
Elliott, of twenty ; the Caledonian, Lieu
tenant Turner, of three; the schooner
Ariel, of four ; the Scorpion, of two ; the
Somers, of two guns and two swivels ; the
sloop Trippe, and schooners Tigress and
Porcupine, of one gun each.
The force of the British consisted of the
Detroit, flag-ship of Commodore Barclay,
and carrying nineteen guns and two how
itzers ; the Queen Charlotte, Captain
Einnis, of seventeen guns ; the schooner
Lady Prevost, Lieutenant Buchan, of
thirteen guns and two howitzers ; the brig
Hunter, of ten guns ; the sloop Little
Belt, of three guns; and the schooner
Chippewa, of one gun and two swivels.
Thus, the belligerents stood, in respect to
force and power, as follows : The Ameri
cans had nine vessels, carrying fifty-four
guns and two swivels ; the British, six
vessels, carrying sixty-three guns, four
howitzers, and two swivels.
Commodore Perry got under way with
a light breeze at the south-west. Sum
moning his commanding officers by signal
to the deck of the Lawrence, he gave them
in a few words their last instructions pre
paratory to the approaching battle, and,
unfolding his union-jack, a blue flag upon
which was inscribed in white letters the
motto of the American navy, "Don't
give up the ship ! " The sight of this
flag, bearing upon it the dying words of
the brave Captain Lawrence, brought the
most enthusiastic cheers from the crew.
As the officers were about taking their
leave, Perry declared that it was his

236

OUR EIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

intention to bring the enemy to close quar
ters from the first, and that he could not
advise them better than in the words of
Lord Nelson — "If you lay your enemy
close alongside, you can not be out of your
place." As soon, therefore, as the ap
proach of the enemy warranted the display
of the signal, every vessel was under sail,
beating out against a light head-wind, and
with the boats ahead towing. The object.
was, to beat to the windward of the
islands which now interposed between the
two approaching squadrons, and, thus gain
ing the weather-gauge, to bear down with
that important advantage upon the foe.
The wind, however, was light and baffling ;
and Perry's patience was so severely tried
by the incessant tacking, that, seeing time
lost, and but little progress made, he
called out to his sailing-master, —
" Taylor, you wear ship and run to the
leeward of the islands."
"Then we'll have to engage the enemy
from the leeward," exclaimed Taylor.
"I don't care — to windward or to lee
ward, they shall fight to-day," was Perry's
instant response.

He now formed the line of battle, the
wind suddenly shifting to the south-east,
thus bearing the squadron clear of the
islands, and enabling it to keep the
weather-gauge. But the moderateness of
the breeze caused the hostile squadrons to
approach each other but slowly, thus pro

longing the solemn interval of suspense
and anxiety which precedes a battle. The
order and regularity of naval discipline
heightened the dreadful quiet of this
impressive prelude. No noise, no bustle,
prevailed to distract the mind — except, at
intervals, the shrill pipings of the boat
swain's whistle, or a murmuring whisper
among the men, who stood in groups
around their guns, with lighted matches,
narrowly watching the movements of the
foe, and sometimes stealing a glance at the
countenances of their commanders. In
this manner, the opposing fleets gradually
neared each other in awful silence. Even
the sick felt a thrill of the pervading deep
emotion, and, with fancied renewal of
strength, offered their feeble services in
the coming conflict. To one of these poor
fellows, who had crawled up on deck, to
have a hand in the fight, the sailing-master
said: " Go below, Mays, you are too weak to
be here."
"I can do something, sir," replied the
brave old tar.
" What can you do ? "
" I can sound the pump, sir, and let a
strong man go to the guns."
It was even so. He sat down by the
pump, and sent the strong man to the
guns ; and when the fight was ended,
there he was found, with a ball in his
heart. He was from Newport ; his name,
Wilson Mays ; his monument and epitaph,
the grateful memory of a whole nation.
As they were coming nearer and nearer
the British fleet (says Dr. Tomes, in his
admirable delineation of this battle), and
by twelve o'clock would certainly be in
the midst of action, the noonday-grog was
served in advance, and the bread-bags
freely emptied. In a moment after, how
ever, every man was again at quarters.
Perry now went round the deck, from gun
to gun, stopping at each, carefully exam
ining its condition, and passing a cheerful
word with the "captain." Recognizing
some of the old tars who had served on
board the Constitution, he said, "Well,
boys! are you ready?" "All ready,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

237

your honor ! " was the prompt reply, as
they touched their tarpaulins, or the hand
kerchiefs in which some of them had
wrapped their heads, that they might be as
unencumbered as possible for the fight.
"But I need not say anything to you,"
rejoined their commander — "you know
how to beat these fellows" — and he passed
on. His face now beamed with a smile of
friendly interest as he recognized some of
his fellow-townsmen, exclaiming, " Ah,
here are the Newport boys ! They will do
their duty, I warrant."
At fifteen minutes after eleven, a bugle
was sounded on board the enemy's head
most ship, the Detroit, loud cheers burst
from all their crews, and a tremendous fire
opened upon the Lawrence, from the
British long-guns, and which, from the
shortness of the Lawrence's, the latter was
obliged to sustain for some forty minutes,
without being able to return a shot.
Losing no time in waiting for the other
ships, Commodore Perry kept on his course
in such gallant and determined style, that
the enemy supposed he meant immediately
to board. At about twelve o'clock, having
gained a more favorable position, the Law
rence opened her fire, but the long-guns of
the British still gave them greatly the
advantage, and the Lawrence was exceed
ingly cut up, without being able to do
much of any damage in return. Their
shot pierced her side in all directions, even
killing the men in the berth-deck and
steerage, where they had been carried to
be dressed. One shot had nearly produced
a fatal explosion; passing through the
light room, it knocked the snuff of the
candle into the magazine — but which was
fortunately seen by the gunner, who had
the presence of mind immediately to seize
and extinguish it. It appeared to be the
enemy's plan at all events to destroy the
commander's ship ; their heaviest fire was
directed against the Lawrence, and blazed
incessantly from all their largest vessels.
Finding the peculiar and imminent
hazard of his situation, Perry made all
sail, and directed the other vessels to
follow, for the purpose of closing with the

enemy. The tremendous fire, however,
to which he was exposed, soon cut away
every brace and bowline of the Lawrence,
and she became unmanageable. The other
vessels were unable to get up ; and in this
disastrous situation, therefore, she still
continued to sustain the main force of the
enemy's fire, within canister distance,
though, during a considerable part of this
terrible ordeal, not more than two or three
of her guns could be brought to bear with
any material effect upon her antagonist.
Throughout all this scene of ghastly
horror, however, the utmost order and reg
ularity prevailed, without the least sign of
trepidation or faintheartedness ; as fast as
the men at the guns were wounded, they
were quietly carried below, and others
stepped manfully into their places ; the
dead remained where they fell, until after
the action.
At this juncture, the enemy believed
the battle to be won. The Lawrence was
reduced to a mere wreck ; her deck was
streaming with blood, and covered with
the mangled limbs and bodies of the slain,
nearly the whole of her crew were either
killed or wounded; her guns, too, were
dismounted, — the commodore and his offi
cers personally working the last that was
capable of service, assisted by the few
hands yet remaining capable of duty.
According to the account given by Dr.
Parsons, the surgeon of the Lawrence, the
muscular material was reduced to its abso
lute minimum. "When the battle had
raged an hour and a half," says Dr. Par
sons, " I heard a call for me at the small
skylight, and, stepping toward it, I saw it
was the commodore, whose countenance
was calm and placid as if on ordinary
duty. ' Doctor,' said he, ' send me one of
your men,' — meaning one of the six that
were to assist me ; which was done in
stantly. In five minutes the call was
repeated and obeyed; and at the seventh
call, I told him he had them all. He
asked if any could pull a rope, when two
or three of the wounded crawled upon deck
to lend a feeble hand in pulling at the last
guns." So close and desperate was this

238

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

conflict ; so brave and courageous
the hearts of those who fought for
the honor and rights of America.
It was two o'clock, and Captain
Elliott, of the Niagara, was
enabled by the aid of a fresh
breeze to bring his ship into
close action in gallant style.
Finding, now, that no resistance
or hostility on the part of the
Lawrence could be profitably per
sisted in, Perry suddenly formed
the determination to shift his flag
to Elliott's ship ; and, leaving his
own vessel in charge of her
lieutenant, the brave and gallant
Yarnall, he hauled down his
union-jack, and, taking it under
his arm, ordered a boat to put
him on board the Niagara. He
passed the line of the enemy,
exposed to a perfect shower of
their musketry, still standing in
the boat, — waving his sword and
gallantly cheering his men, — a
marked and. pointed object from
three of the enemy's ships, until
he was forcibly pulled down by
his own men. He arrived safe,
and tumultuous huzzas rent the
air as he again unfurled and
hoisted aloft his union-jack, with
its inspiring motto, 'Don't give
up the ship ! ' gaily kissing the
breeze. On seeing their noble
commander step upon the deck of
the Niagara, the crew of the
Lawrence — the few that yet
remained — sent up three lusty
cheers. The question with which
Elliott first saluted Perry was—
" How is the day going ? "
" Badly ! " was the brief reply;
"and do you see those infernal
gun-boats— they have lost us the
victory ! "
"No!" exclaimed Elliott; "do
you take command of this ship,
and I will bring up the boats.'
Elliott at once put off, to bring
up the schooners which had been

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

239

kept back by the lightness of the wind.
At this moment, the flag of the Lawrence
was hauled down. Lieutenant Yarnall,
upon whom the command of the vessel
devolved after the commodore left her,
refused for some time to leave the deck,
though more than once wounded; and
Lieutenant Brooks and Midshipman Saul
were both killed. As the surgeon was
stooping, in the act of dressing or examin
ing a wound, a ball passed through the
ship a few inches from his head, which,
had it been erect, must have been taken
off. The principal force of the enemy's fire
had now been sustained uninterruptedly
by the Lawrence, and, as she was rendered
totally incapable of defense, any further
show of resistance would have been a use
less sacrifice of the remnant of her brave
and mangled crew. The enemy were at
the same time so crippled, that they were
unable to take possession of her, and cir
cumstances soon enabled her crew again
to raise the American flag.
Commodore Perry now gave the signal
to all the vessels for close action. The
small vessels, under the direction of Elli
ott, got out their sweeps, and made all
sail. On an inspection of the Niagara,
and finding her but little injured, Perry
determined upon the bold and desperate
expedient of breaking the enemy's line ;
he accordingly bore up and passed the
head of the two ships and brig, giving
them a raking fire from his starboard
guns, and also a raking fire upon a large
schooner and sloop, from his larboard
quarter, at half pistol shot.
Having brought the whole squadron
into action, Perry luffed up and laid his
ship alongside of the British commodore,
Barclay, of the Lady Prevost. Approach
ing within half pistol shot, Perry's fire
was so destructive that the enemy's men
were compelled to run below. At this
moment the wind freshened, and the Cal
edonia came up and opened her fire upon
the British; and several others of the
squadron were enabled soon after to do
the same, — the small vessels having now
got up within good grape-and-canister

distance on the other quarter, inclosed
their enemy between them and the Niag
ara, and in this position kept up a most
deadly fire on both quarters of the British.
For a time, the combat raged with inde
scribable violenoe and fury. The result of
a campaign — the command of a sea — tins
glory and renown of two rival nations
matched for the first time in squadron, —
these were the issues at stake which in
spirited the combatants. The contest was
not long doubtful. The Queen Charlotte
having lost her captain and all her princi
pal officers, by some mischance ran foul of
her colleague, the Detroit. By this acci
dent, the greater part of their guns were
rendered useless, and the two ships were
now in turn compelled to sustain an inces
sant fire from the Niagara and the other
vessels of the American squadron. The
flag of Captain Barclay soon struck ; and
the Queen Charlotte, the Lady Prevost,
the Hunter, and the Chippewa, surren
dered in immediate succession. The
Little Belt attempted to escape, but was
pursued by two gun-boats, and captured.
Thus, after a contest of three hours, was a
naval victory achieved by the Americans,
in which every vessel of the enemy was
captured. If anything could enhance its
brilliancy it was the modest and laconic
manner in which, Cresar-like, it was
announced by the gallant victor —
"we have met the enemy, and they
ARE OURS ! "
The carnage in this action was very
great in proportion to the numbers en
gaged. The Americans had twenty-seven
killed, and ninety-six wounded. The loss
of the British was -about two hundred in
killed and wounded, many of these being
officers; and the prisoners, amounting to
six hundred, exceeded the whole number
of Americans. Commodore Barclay, a
gallant sailor, one of whose arms had been
shot off at the battle of Trafalgar, under
Lord Nelson, was severely wounded in the
hip, and lost the use of his remaining arm.
Perry was but twenty-seven years old, and
had scarcely recovered from an attack of
the lake-fever, when he thus ' met tbe

240

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

enemy,' — a circumstance that heightens
the estimate to be put upon his indomita
ble perseverance and bravery on this occa
sion. To his adroit transfer of his com
mand to the Niagara, passing through the
thickest of the battle in an open boat, may
fairly be attributed his brilliant fortune
on that eventful day. His success raised
him to the very pinnacle of professional
renown, and the naval supremacy of the
United States upon the lakes was tri
umphantly secured.
This important and decisive battle was
fought midway of the lake, between the
two hostile armies, who lay on the oppo
site shores, waiting in anxious expectation
of its result, — the allied British and Indian
forces, to the amount of nearly five thou
sand, under Proctor and Tecumseh, being
ready, in case of a successful issue, to
renew their ravages on the American
borders. The fruits of this victory, there
fore, were such as to cause unbounded
demonstrations of joy in the United States.
All party-feelings were for the time for
gotten ; and the glorious occurrence was
celebrated by illuminations and festivities,
from one end of the continent to the other.
During this same year, our gallant navy
was victorious in the capture of the sloop-
of-war Peacock, by Captain James Law
rence ; and in the capture of the brig
Boxer, by the Enterprise, commanded by
Lieutenant Barrows. The British, how
ever, on the first of June, rejoiced in the
capture of the Chesapeake by the frigate
Shannon, off Boston harbor, and, on the
fourteenth of August, in the capture of the
Argus, Captain Allen, by the Pelican.
The British were also victorious on land,
at the battles of Mackinaw, Queenstown,
Frenchtown, and some other points ; but
lost the battles' of York, Fort Meigs, and
the Thames. The proposed invasion of
Canada, under the direction of Generals
Dearborn, Wilkinson, Hampton, Lewis,
and Izard, proved a failure. Such a vic
tory, therefore, as that of Perry, was well
calculated to fill the nation with joy.
The struggle being ended, and Perry
acquainting himself with the condition

and wants of the several vessels and theh
crews, at last visited the shattered remains
of the Lawrence. The deck was slip
pery with blood and brains, and strewed
with the bodies of officers and men, and
the ship resounded everywhere with the
groans of the wounded. Those of the
crew who were spared and able to walk or
limp, approached the gallant captain with
tears in their eyes, and with outstretched
arms of welcome ; but the salutation was
a silent one on both sides, — so overcome
with emotion were the hearts of these
brave men, that not a word could find
utterance. The principal loss in the
whole action was on board the Lawrence,
so indomitable was Perry's resolution not
to be conquered. In memory of this he
roic service to his country, there was
erected in 1860, at Cleveland, Ohio, near
the scene of his great battle, a marble
statue by Walcutt.
Two days after the battle, two Indian
chiefs who had been selected for their
skill as marksmen, and stationed in the
tops of the Detroit for the purpose of pick
ing off the American officers, were found
snugly stowed away in the hold of that
ship. These savages, who had been ac
customed to vessels of no greater magni
tude than what they could sling upon their
backs, when the action became warm,
were so panic-struck at the terrors of the
scene and at the strange perils surround
ing them, that, looking at each other in
amazement, they vociferated their signifi
cant ' Quonth ! ' and precipitately de
scended to the hold. In their British
uniforms, hanging in bags upon their fam
ished bodies, they were now brought be
fore Commodore Perry, fed, and discharged,
— no further parole being necessary to
prevent their ever engaging again in a
similar contest:
The slain of the crews of both squadrons
were committed to the lake immediately
after the action ; and, the next day, the
funeral obsequies of the American and
British officers who had fallen, were per
formed at an opening on the margin of
the bay, in an appropriate and affecting

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

241

manner. The crews of both fleets united
in the ceremony. The autumnal stillness
of the weather — the procession of boats —
the music — the slow and regular motion
of the oars, striking in exact time with the
notes of the solemn dirge — the mournful
waving of the flags — the sound of the
minute-guns from all the ships — the wild
and solitary aspect of the place ; — all these
gave to this funeral ceremonial a most
impressive influence, in striking contrast
with the terrible conflict of the preceding
day. Two American and three British
officers were interred side by side of each
other, in this lonely place of sepulture, on
the margin of the lake, a few paces from
the beach.
In his official dispatch, Perry speaks in
the highest terms of the co-operation,
bravery and judgment, of his associate,
Captain Elliott. Nevertheless, there is
universal agreement with the assertion
made by Mackenzie, the appreciating biog
rapher of this heroic commander, that the
battle of Erie was won not merely by the
genius and inspiration, but eminently by
the exertions, of one man, — a young man
of twenty-seven, who had never beheld a
naval engagement. He had dashed boldly
into action with the Lawrence, trusting
that the rear of his line would soon be
able to close up to his support. Sustained,
however, only by the Caledonia, the Ariel,
and the Scorpion, he resisted for two hours
or more the whole of the British squadron.
Overcome at last, Perry made a new ar
rangement of his remaining resources, and
.'natched from the enemy, with desperate

obstinacy, a victory which that enemy had
already claimed with exulting cheers for
his own. This he accomplished by an
evolution unsurpassed for genius and hard
ihood, bearing down with dauntless assur
ance upon the whole of the opposing fleet,
and dashing with his fresh and uninjured
vessel through the enemy's line, to their
dismay and complete discomfiture. And

this victory on the lake was so much the
more important from its enabling General
Harrison to recover from the British in
vaders the American territory which they
had occupied, and to pursue them into
Canada, where, on the fifth of October,
they were totally routed in the battle of
the Thames. Nearly all the British force
was either captured or slain, and their
famous Indian ally, Tecumseh, here ended
his life.

16

xxv.
CONQUEST AND BURNING OF WASHINGTON, BY THE
BRITISH.— 1814.

Precipitate Flight of the President of the United States, and His Cabinet. — The Capitals of Europe
Protected from Fire and Devastation by Their Conquerors. — Contrast of British Warfare in America.
— The Capitol, Presidential Mansion, etc., Sacked and Fired. — National Indignation Aroused by These
Barbarities. — Veterans from Europe's Battle-Fields Execute these Deeds. — Orders to "Lay Waste"
the American Coast. — Operations at the South. — Washington the Prize in View. — Inefficiency of its
Defense. — Winder and Barney in Command. — The Idea of an Attack Scouted. — Onward March of
the Invaders. — Fearful Excitement in the City. — High Officials in Camp. — The Armies at Bladens
burg. — Winder Defeated, Barney Taken — Ross's Progress Unopposed — Complete Master of the
City. — A Rush for the Spoils. — British Soldiers in the White
ggf:: House. — They Eat the President's Dinner. — Cockburn's
^fe Bold Infamy. — Retreat of the Vandal Foe. — Their March
fei Upon Baltimore — Ross Shot Dead in the Fight

;S|g||^ M I will make a cow-pasture of these Yankee Capitol grounda."— Genebai Boss.

A CLOUD ON THE NATIONAL
ESCUTCHEON.

.B.DLY any event connected with the second war with
reat Britain aroused so universal a spirit of indignation
on the part of the people of the United States — so united
a sentiment of hostility — against their ancient enemy, as
the capture and burning of Washington city, the federal
capital, August twenty-fourth, 1814.
The commencement of this year was distinguished by military and political occur
rences of transcendent importance, such as the entry of the allied armies into Pans,
the forced abdication of Napoleon, his exile to Elba, and the establishment of general
peace on the continent. But these momentous transactions, which filled the European
world with almost boundless exultation, produced in America a very different impres
sion. The fact of pacification having been, at last, definitely accomplished throughout
Europe, offered to the British a large disposable force, both naval and military,— that
which had been so successfully instrumental in overthrowing the greatest power and
most masterly warrior in the world. With this force, England resolved on giving to
the war in America a character of new and increased activity and extent ; and the
royal authorities accordingly promulgated it as their determined purpose to lay waste
the whole American coast, from Maine to Georgia.
In pursuance of this sanguinary programme of operations, Admiral Sir Alexander
Cockburn was intrusted with the British naval armament, and the army was put m
command of Major-General Ross, a brave leader in the Peninsula wars, under Welling
ton, the conqueror of Napoleon.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

243

About the middle of August, an English
squadron of between fifty and sixty sail
arrived in the Chesapeake, with troops
destined to strike the first decisive blow,
namely, an attack on Washington, the
metropolis of the United States. Of the
American forces, General Winder, as the '
successor of General Van Ness, aided by
General Walter Brown and John E. How
ard, was in command of the army, and
Commodore Barney of the flotilla. The
enemy divided his force into three parts.
One division was sent up the Potomac,
under Captain Gordon, for the purpose of
bombarding Fort Warburton, and opening
the way to the city of Washington ; and
another, under Sir Peter Parker, was
dispatched to threaten Baltimore.
The main body ascended the Patuxent,
apparently with the intention of destroy
ing Commodore Barney's flotilla, which
had taken refuge at the head of that river,
but with the real intention, as it was soon
discovered, of attacking Washington. In
the prosecution of this plan, the expedition
proceeded to Benedict, the head of frigate
navigation. This place, on the west bank
of the Patuxent, was reached on the nine
teenth of August ; and, on the next day,
the debarkation of the land forces under
General Ross, to the number of six thou
sand, was completed. On the twenty-first,
pursuing the course of the river, the troops
moved to Nottingham, and on the twenty-
second arrived at Upper Marlborough ; a
flotilla, consisting of launches and barges,
under Cockburn's command, ascending the
river and keeping pace with them. The
day following, the flotilla of Commodore
Barney, in obedience to orders to that
effect, was blown up by men left for that
Purpose, the commodore having already
joined General Winder with his seamen
and marines.
At this time, when the invading army
was within twenty miles of the capital,
Winder was at the head of only three
thousand men, one-half of whom were mili
tia entirely untried. The Baltimore mili
tia, those from Annapolis, and the Vir
ginia detachment, had not yet arrived.

His camp was at the Woodyard, twelve
miles from Washington. It was still
doubtful whether the British intended an
attack upon Fort Warburton, which could
offer but little resistance to their land
forces, although it could be formidable to
their ships, or intended to march directly
on Washington. The secretary of war,
General Armstrong, himself an old soldier,
scouted the idea of an attack on the capi
tal, saying, energetically —
" Have they artillery ? No. Have they
cavalry ? No. Then don't tell an old sol
dier that any regular army will or can come,
We are more frightened than hurt, oi
likely to be. What do they want, what
can they get, in this sheep-walk? (as he
ironically termed the ' city of magnificent
distances.') If they want to do anything,
they must go to Baltimore, not come to
this barren wilderness ! "
But the secretary's military judgment
was found to be at fault, as events soon
showed. Alarmed at the threatening
aspect of affairs, President Madison con
vened a special cabinet-council, to devise
measures for meeting the extraordinary
emergency. The District of Columbia,
with parts of the adjacent states, was con
stituted a distinct military department,
and a proclamation was issued for the
assembling of congress at a speedy day.
But, in anticipation of such movements as
these, the British army again set out, on
the afternoon of the twenty-second, and,
after skirmishing with the Americans,
halted for the night. General Winder
now retreated to a place called the Old
Fields, which covered Bladensburg, the
bridges on the east branch of the Potomac,
and Fort Warburton. Colonel Monroe,
the secretary of state, and subsequently
president of the United States, had been
with the commanding general for several
days, assisting him with his counsel, and
actively engaged in reconnoitering the
enemy. Late in the evening of the
twenty-second, President Madison, the
secretaries of war and navy, and the attor
ney-general, joined General Winder ; here
they slept that night, and remained on the

244

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ground until the evening of the twenty-
third, when, in view of the possibility of
an immediate attack, it was concluded to
abandon that position, and retire to the
eastern branch bridge.
On the morning of the twenty-third,
General Winder's army had been duly
mustered and reviewed by the president.
It then consisted of four hundred horse,
under the command of Colonel Tilghman ;
four hundred regular troops, under Colonel
Scott; six hundred marines and flotilla
men, under Commodore Barney ; and Cap
tain Miller, with five pieces of heavy
ordnance, and eighteen hundred militia ;
— forming an aggregate of three thousand
two hundred men, with seventeen pieces
of artillery. The general staff consisted
of the president of the United States, as
commander-in-chief, the secretaries of
state, war, and navy, the attorney-general,

and General Winder. At Bladensburg,
General Stansbury had arrived from Bal
timore, with his brigade of drafted militia ;
also, the fifth regiment, consisting of the
elite of the Baltimore city brigade, under
Colonel Sterrett, a battalion of riflemen
under Major Pinckney, and Myers's and
Magruder's companies of artillery, with
six field-pieces.
The invading army at Upper Marlbor
ough, on the twenty-third, did not exceed
four thousand five hundred effective men,
without cavalry, wagons, or means of
transportation, and with but three pieces
of light artillery, drawn by men. The
force remained at Upper Marlborough

until the afternoon of the twenty-third
when they commenced their march towards
Washington, by the way of Bladens
burg. Colonel Scott and Major Peter
with light detachments, were sent out to
meet and harass the enemy, and General
Stansbury was ordered to proceed with the
troops under his command, on the route
direct to Upper Marlborough. Colonel
Scott, with his detachment, met the Brit
ish about six miles in advance of the main
body, and, after some skirmishing,
retreated. The American army at Old
Fields, were placed in a favorable attitude
of defense ; they remained in their position
until evening, when, apprehending the
approach of the enemy, they were ordered
to march to Washington. The British
encamped that evening three miles in
front of the position which the American
troops had left. The retreat of the latter
towards the city was precipitate and dis
orderly, the enemy being supposed to be
in close pursuit. i
General Winder, on the morning of the
twenty-fourth, had established his head
quarters, with the main body, at the east
ern branch bridge. His force here amounted
to three thousand five hundred men ; Gen
eral Stansbury was four miles in front at
Bladensburg, with twenty-five hundred;
Colonel Minor, with seven hundred in
the city of Washington, — endeavoring to
get across to the arsenal; and General
Young's brigade of five hundred, twelve
miles below, on the left bank of the
Potomac. Various reports were brought to head
quarters, of the movements and intentions
of the British. The president and heads
cf departments assembled at General
Winder's in the morning. The secretary
of state, upon hearing a rumor that the
British were marching upon the capital by
the way of Bladensburg, proceeded to join
General Stansbu^, to aid him in forming
a line of battle. That commander, on the
approach of the enemy, retired from his
position in advance of Bladensburg, and
occupied the ground west of the village, on
the right bank of the eastern branch,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

245

Here it was at last resolved to meet the
enemy, and fight the battle that was to
decide the fate of the metropolis.
The best arrangements that time would
permit were made. About five hundred
yards from the bridge, the artillery from
Baltimore, consisting of six six-pounders,
under the command of Captains Myers and
Magruder, were posted behind a kind of
breastwork; and Major Pinckney's rifle
men were placed in ambush to the right and
left, so as to annoy the enemy when
attempting to cross the stream, and at the
same time, in conjunction with Captain
Doughty's company, to support the artil
lery. The fifth Baltimore regiment was
drawn up about fifty yards in the rear,
but afterwards removed much further.
The other parts of the brigade were also
so disposed as to support the artillery, and
annoy the enemy in his approach. Shortly
after this disposition - was made, Lieuten
ant-Colonel Beall arrived with about five
hundred men from Annapolis, and was
posted higher up in a wood on the right of
the road. General Winder having, by
this time, brought up his main body, had
formed it in the rear of Stansbury's brig
ade, and in a line with Beall's detachment,
and the heavy artillery under Commodore
Barney posted to the right on an eminence
near the road. This line had scarcely
been formed, when the engagement com
menced. This was about twelve o'clock, the
movement being as follows :
On the hill which overhangs the stream,
a column of the British made its appear
ance, and moved down towards the bridge,
throwing rockets, and apparently deter
mined to force the passage. He now made
an attempt to throw a strong body of
infantry across the stream, but a few well-
directed shot from the artillery compelled
him to shelter himself behind some houses.
After a considerable pause, a large column
of the British rapidly advanced in the face
of the battery^ which, although managed
by skillful and courageous officers, was un
able to repress them ; and they continued
to push forward, until they formed a con
siderable body on the Washington road.

These troops had not advanced far,
when the company under Captain Doughty,
having discharged their pieces, fled, in
spite of the efforts of their commander and
of Major Pinckney to rally tliem. Had
they known their power, however, they
would have stood their ground ; for it is
stated, on the best historical authority,
that when General Ross, leading on his
troops, reconnoitered the militia stationed
on the rising ground, he was alarmed at
tlieir formidable appearance. But he had
gone too far to retreat ; the order was
given to move forward. His alarm was of
short continuance. A few congreve rock
ets put the Maryland militia to flight ; the
riflemen followed ; the artillery, after firing
not more than twice, rapidly retreated ;
then the Baltimore regiment, on which
some hopes were placed, fled also.
The British now moved on slowly, until
they were checked by the marines under
Barney. Finding it impossible to force
the position of the marines and sailors in
front, detachments filed by the right and
left and passed up ravines. At the head
of one was stationed the Annapolis regi
ment, which, as has already been men
tioned, fled at the first fire. At the head
of the other ravine were placed some reg
ulars and militia ; they also showed their
instinct of self-preservation, by getting
out of harm's way as soon as possible.
The sailors and marines, thus deserted,
and in danger of being surrounded, retired,
their guns and wounded companions
falling into the hands of the enemy.
Owing to the vigorous fire of the marines,
the British lost a large number of men, —
nearly a thousand, in killed, wounded, and
missing ; the loss of the Americans was a
little rising of two hundred. At the time
Commodore Barney ordered a retreat, the
British were in his rear, and he was made
prisoner. As he lay wounded by the side
of the fence, he beckoned to a British
soldier, and directed him to call an offi
cer. General Ross himself immediately
rode up, and, on being informed of Bar
ney's rank and situation, caused him to be
treated with that gallantry which his char-

246

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

acter merited, ordered his wounds to be
dressed, and paroled him. Barney offered
his watch, as a gift to the soldier who had
so obligingly served him, but the English
man replied —
" I can help a brave man without pay."
Much has been said, by critics and his
torians, concerning the course pursued by
the chief magistrate of the nation, during

PRESIDENT MADISON.
these occurrences around and within the
metropolis. Before the American troops
broke (says Ingersoll), while showers of
rockets were flying where the president
stood, he was requested by General
Winder to retire out of their reach, and
with his cabinet he withdrew by inglori
ous but not ignominious retreat ; although
everything demonstrated that a field of
battle was not Madison's theater of action.
Wilkinson's account imputes to General
Armstrong, secretary of war, the assertion
that the ' little man ' — meaning Mr. Mad
ison — said to the veteran whom he would
not allow to fight, "Come, General Arm
strong, come, Colonel Monroe, let us go,
and leave it to the commanding general ;"
words which may well have been used,
without involving any imputation of cow
ardice against the utterer. It is extremely
uncommon for conspicuous men, sur
rounded as the president was, to betray
apprehension, even if they feel it. Arm
strong, when the troops fled, gave vent to
his mortification in strong terms, addressed
to the president, of disgust at so base and
cowardly a flight, and no doubt the presi

dent, amazed and confounded by the trep
idation of the troops, retired, as Colonel
Monroe his secretary of state did, dis
heartened ; General Armstrong indignant;
and Mr. Rush, the youngest and only
hoping one of the administration, ashamed;
soon followed by General Winder, demor
alized by the whole of the front line van
ishing in wild disorder from the conflict.
During the day, Mr. Madison frequently
dispatched notes, penciled on horseback,
to his wife, to keep her informed of its
vicissitudes. More than Winder feared
and Armstrong predicted of inexperienced
troops was realized in the twinkling of an
eye. The victory was won, fully and com
pletely, by the British ; and it required
only to realize in fact, what was now being
carried out in spirit, the threat of the
commanding invader, " I will make a cow-
pasture of these Yankee capitol grounds I"
Among those who exhibited conspicuous
bravery, as participants in these scenes,
were Hugh McCulloch and John P. Ken
nedy, so prominent in national affairs in
after years.
By the issue of this battle, General Ross
obtained possession of the bridge over the
eastern branch of the Potomac. After
halting his army for a short time for
refreshment, he, with Admiral Cockburn,
rode slowly into the wilderness city, almost
every male inhabitant of which was then
absent, either in arms, or in distant hiding-
places, — some keeping close in their dwell
ings. Many passed the night in huts and
cornfields around the town. The first
considerable dwelling the enemy was to
pass had been Mr. Gallatin's residence,
the house of Mr. Sewall, some hundred
yards east of the capitol. From behind
the side wall of that house, as is supposed,
at all events from or near to it, a solitary
musket, fired by some excited and perhaps
intoxicated person, believed to be a well-
known Irish barber, aimed at General
Ross, killed the bay mare he rode. In
Ross's official report, no mention is made
of this affair ; but his naval companion,
Admiral Cockburn, not only introduces it
in his account, but exaggerates and falsi-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

247

fles the incident into what he character
izes as "many similar acts of universal
wanton enormity ; " absurdly calling it a
heavy fire from the capitol, which was
more than twice gun-shot distant! The
house from which this shot came was at
once burned by the soldiery, and all its
inmates slain. Other houses also shared
the same fate, one of these being General
Washington's house, the unprovoked de
struction of which General Ross much
regretted, on being informed of its owner
ship. Having arrived on capitol hill, General
Ross offered terms of capitulation, which
were, that the city might be ransomed
for a sum of money nearly equal to the
value of the public and private property
it contained, ana1 that, on receiving it, the
troops should retire to their ships unmo
lested. But there being, at the time,
neither civil nor military authorities at
Washington, by whom the propositions
could be received, the work of vandalism
commenced, — Cockburn being the soul of
these outrages. It became, at last, a per
fect Cossack rush for spoils.

To the third brigade, that which was
least fatigued by fighting, was assigned
the task of destroying. According to the
English narrator, who was also the perpe
trator of these proceedings, it was a ' sub
lime ' scene. The sun set, says this jocund
barbarian, before the different regiments
were in a condition to move in the dark.
Before they quitted their ground, the
work of destruction had begun in the city.
The blazing of houses, ships and stores,
the reports of exploding magazines, and
the crash of falling roofs, informed them,
as they proceeded, of what was going for
ward. Nothing (says a British writer)
can be conceived finer than the sight
which met them as they drew near the
town : The sky was brilliantly illuminated
by the different conflagrations ; and a
dark, red light was thrown upon the road,
sufficient to permit each man to view dis
tinctly his comrade's face. The scene was
striking and sublime, as the burning of
St. Sebastian's. The first and second
brigades advanced into the plain, halted,
and in close column bivouacked for the
night. Towards morning, a violent storm

CAPTURE AND BURNING OF WASHINGTON BY THE BRITISH, IN 1814.

248

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

of rain, accompanied with thunder and
lightning, came on, — whose flashes seemed
to vie in brilliancy with the flames which
burst from the roofs of burning houses,
while the thunder drowned the noise of
crumbling walls, and was only interrupted
by the occasional roar of cannon, and of
large depots of gun-powder, as they ex
ploded one by one.
The description thus coldly penned by
one of the actors in this barbarous drama,
only falls short of the terrible truth. In
the American metropolis, then in the fif
teenth year, only, of its existence, the
British found about nine hundred houses,
scattered in groups over a surface of three
miles; and two splendid buildings, namely,
the capitol, as yet unfinished, and the
president's house, these being among the
finest specimens of architecture in the
new world. But, beautiful though they
were, the torch of the incendiary soon laid
them in ruins. The great bridge across
the Potomac was also wantonly burnt.
The blaze produced by these wholesale
acts of destruction was seen even in Balti
more, forty miles distant. All that was
combustible about the capitol and the pres
idential mansion, including therein all the
furniture and articles of taste or value, and
the valuable libraries of the senate and
house of representatives, was reduced to
ashes; and the walls of these stately
buildings, blackened with smoke and in
melancholy demolition, remained, for a
time, the monuments of British barbarity.
Gales and Seaton's valuable printing
establishment was also destroyed. All
the public buildings, with the exception of
the patent>office, shared the same fate at
the hands of the enemy, who also took
particular pains to mutilate the beautiful
monument erected in honor of the naval
heroes who fell at Tripoli.
It is related, that when the detachment
.sent out to destroy the president's house
entered his dining-parlor, they found a
dinner-table spread, and covers laid for
forty guests. Several kinds of wine, in
handsome cut-glass decanters, were cooling
on the side-board; dishen and plates,

knives, forks, and spoons, were arranged
for immediate use. In short, everything
was ready for the entertainment of a cere
monious party. Such were the arrange
ments in the dining-room, while in the
kitchen were others answerable to them in
every respect. Spits, loaded with savory
joints, turned before the fire ; pots, sauce
pans, and other culinary utensils, stood
near by ; and all the other requisites for
an elegant and substantial repast were
exactly in a state which indicated that
they had lately and precipitately been
abandoned. These preparations were be
held by a party of hungry British soldiers,
with no indifferent eye. An elegant din
ner, even though considerably over-dressed,
was a luxury to which few of them, at least
for some time back, had been accustomed,
and which, after the dangers and fatigues
of the day, appeared peculiarly inviting.
They sat down to it, therefore, not indeed
in the most orderly manner, but with
countenances which would scarcely have
belied a party of aldermen at a civic feast ;
and, having satisfied their appetites with
fewer complaints than would have proba
bly escaped their rival gourmands afore
said, and partaken pretty freely of the
presidential wines, they finished with the
incendiar3''s torch, and with such a carni
val of violence and plunder as would dis
grace even the Thugs of India.
Mrs. Madison states that General Ross
sent a message, offering her an escort to
whatever place of safety she might choose.
"I make no war," Ross pretentiously
remarked, " on letters or ladies, and I have
heard so much in praise of Mrs. Madison,
that I would rather protect than burn a
house which sheltered so excellent a lady.
She, however, had seasonably absented
herself, taking with her such valuables, in
the shape of plate, portraits, and ward
robe, as she could hastily collect and have
placed in a wagon. One of the articles
which Mrs. Madison insisted on saving,
before leaving, was a large picture of Gen
eral Washington by Stuart ; it was, how
ever, screwed to the wall, and the frame
had therefore to be broken and the canvas

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

249

detached therefrom, Mrs. Madison stand
ing near by, with a carving knife in her
hand, ready with her assistance. She
succeeded, with the aid of Mr. Jacob
Barker, in her purpose, and escaped to a
tavern some sixteen miles from the city,
Mr. Madison joining her, secretly, in the
evening. Ross remained in his camp
during the night. Cockburn, it is said,
passed the same time, in beastly degra
dation, at a brothel.
The British having accomplished the
object of their visit, passed through Bla
densburg, on the route to Benedict. They
left their dead unburied; such of their
wounded as could ride, were placed on
horseback, others in carts and wagons,
and a considerable number were left
behind. The wounded British prisoners
were intrusted to the humanity of Com
modore Barney, who provided everything
for their comfort; and such as recovered
were exchanged, and returned to the Brit
ish. The retreat of the invaders, though
unmolested, was precipitate, and conducted
under evident apprehension of an attack.
They took Alexandria on the thirtieth of
August. On the twelfth of September
they marched upon Baltimore, but were
repulsed, General Ross losing his life in
the preliminary engagement. It was amid
the excitement of this movement on the
part of the foe, especially their bombard
ment of Fort McHenry, that Francis Key,
who was on the spot at the time, composed
that popular song, "The Star Spangled
Banner."

On account of Washington being the
seat of government of the American repub
lic, its capture occasioned great eclat on
the part of the British, and much chagrin
and indignation throughout the United
States — indeed, the whole civilized world
exclaimed against the act, as a violation of
the rules of modern warfare. The capitals
of most of the European kingdoms had
lately been in the power of an enemy ; but
in no instance had the conqueror been
guilty of similar conduct. In this case,
too, the outrages were committed while a
treaty of peace was actually pending ! The
success of the Americans in the battles of
Chippewa and Bridgewater, had, doubtless,
greatly exasperated the haughty Britons,
and led them to this act.
So overwhelming was the effect upon
the people of the United States, of the
wanton burning and plunder of their cap
ital, that party spirit instantly vanished,
and with it the dissensions which had
almost paralyzed the government. A
nation of freemen was seen to rise in its
strength. Multitudes who had at first
opposed the war on the ground of its impol
icy, or who had condemned the invasion of
Canada, now viewed Great Britain only as
a powerful nation, precipitating her armies
on the country, with the simple intention
of sating her vengeance by desolating its
fairest portions. The whole country was in
motion ; every town was a camp ; all consid
erations were merged into one, paramount
above all others, namely, the defense of
the country against a barbarous foe.

XXVI.
McDONOUGH'S NAVAL VICTORY ON LAKE CHAM
PLAIN.— 1814.

The Projected British Invasion of the Northern States, by Land and Water, Frustrated by an Over-
whelming Blow on Tlieir Favorite Element. — Most Unexpected and Mortifying Result to the Enemy's
Pride. — Not One of the Seventeen British Ensigns Visible Two Hours After the Opening of the
Action by Downie. — McDonough's Laconic Message. — British Advance on New York. — Grand
Scheme of Conquest. — Picked Men Employed. — Great Land and Naval Force. — Their Fleet on Lake
Champlain. — Downie, a Brave Officer, Commands. — Flushed Confidence of Victory. — Pleasure Par
ties to " See the Fight." — Pluck of Commodore McDonough. — His Prayer on the Eve of Battle.—
Strange and Beautiful Omen. — Its Inspiriting Effect on the Men. — McDonough Sights the First Gun.
— The Flagships in Close Grapple. — Their Aspect like a Sheet of Fire. — Tremendous Cannonade.—
The Two Fleets in Full Action. — Desperate Situation of Both. — McDonough's Extraordinary Resort.
— Downie Completely Circumvented. — At the Mercy of the Americans. — No English Flag on the
Lakes.

The Almighty has been pleased to grant ub a signal victory on Lake Champlain."— Commodore McDonough to thb Secretary
w thb Navy.

BEATLY to the joy of the Amer-
" ' icans, and deeply to the chagrin
of their boastful enemy, the pro-
^^B jected invasion of the northern
part of the United-States, planned with such
apparent sagacity and with the most prodi
gal outlay of resources by the British gov
ernment, for the fall campaign of 1814, met
with the most signal defeat. This scheme
of conquest, so grandly organized and con
fidently counted upon, covered nothing less
than the subjugation of the state of New
York and the several states of New
England, by a combined movement of the
English land and naval forces. The Ameri
cans, confiding in the bravery of those with
whom they had intrusted the honor of their
flag on the ocean — Stewart, Perry, McDon-
jack's offering to his country. ougb, Chauncey, Allen, Warrington, Henley,
Woolsey, Blakeley, Cassin, and others, — did not shrink from the threatened conflict.
The important post of Plattsburg, on Lake Champlain, being, for the time, in a
comparatively defenseless state, the British determined to initiate their movement

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

251

by an attack upon that place by land, and,
at the same time, to attempt the destruc
tion of the American flotilla concentrated
on the lake.
Accordingly, on the third of September,
Sir George Prevost, the governor-general
of Canada, at the head of some fourteen
thousand men — most of them veterans
who had served under Wellington in his
recent victorious campaigns against Napo
leon — entered the territories of the United
States. On the sixth they arrived at
Plattsburg. It is situated near the lake,
on the northern bank of the small river
Saranac. On their approach, the Ameri
can troops, who were posted on the oppo
site bank, tore up the planks of the
bridges, with which they formed slight
breastworks, and prepared to dispute the
passage of the stream. The British
employed themselves for several days in
erecting batteries, while the American
forces were daily augmented by the
arrival of volunteers and militia. Early
in the morning of the eleventh, the Brit
ish squadron, commanded by Commodore
Downie, appeared off the harbor of Platts
burg, where that of the United States,
commanded by Commodore McDonough,
lay at anchor prepared for battle. Downie,
an officer of high distinction, coveted this
combat upon Britain's favorite element,
not doubting for a moment that he should
cover himself with glory, by the speedy
capture or annihilation of the Yankee fleet.
He little knew the pluck of McDonough,
— a striking illustration of whose charac
ter may here be related :
In 1806, McDonough was lieutenant of
a United States vessel, the Siren, then
cruising in the Mediterranean, under
the command of Captain Smith. One
forenoon, during the absence of Captain
Smith on shore, a merchant brig, under
the colors of the United States, came into
port, and anchored ahead and close to the
Siren. Soon after, a boat was sent from
a British frigate then lying in the harbor,
and the crew boarded this merchantman.
After remaining alongside a little while,
the boat returned, with one more man than

she went with! This circumstance
attracted the notice of McDonough, who
sent Lieutenant Page on board the brig,
to know the particulars of the affair. Page
returned with information that the man
had been impressed by the boat that came
from the British frigate, although he had
a protection as an American citizen.
McDonough's blood was up ! In a twink
ling, he ordered the Siren's gig to be

COMMODORE MCDONOUGH.

manned, and putting h.mself in her, went
in pursuit of the boat, determined to
rescue his countryman. He overtook her
alongside the British frigate, just as the
man at the bow was raising his boat-hook
to reach the ship, and took out the Amer
ican by force, — although the British boat
had eight oars, and his only four, — and
carried him on board the Siren. When
the report of this affair was borne to the
captain of the British frigate, he put off,
in a rage, for the Siren, determined to
know how McDonough had dared to take
a man from one of his majesty's boats.
Politely greeting him, McDonough reso
lutely said —
" The man is an American seaman, and
under the protection of the flag of the
United States, and it is my duty to protect
him." " By  ! I don't care for your Amer
ican flag ! If you don't give up the man,
I'll bring my frigate alongside, and blow
you to the devil ! '* replied the Britisher.
" That you may do ; but, as long as my
vessel swims, I shall keep the man,"
calmly responded McDonough.

252

OUR EIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

" You are a very young man, and will
repent of this indiscretion. If I had been
in the boat, you would not dared to have
taken the man, I'm  if you would ! "
" I would have taken the man, or lost
my life," said McDonough.
"What, sir! would you attempt to stop
me, if I were now to undertake to impress
men from that brig ? " inquired the Brit
ish captain, scornfully.
" I would ; and, if you wish to be con
vinced, you have only to make a com
mencement." Enraged at this, the Englishman
returned to his ship, and shortly after
wards was seen making in the direction of
the American merchantman. McDonough
thereupon ordered his boat manned and
armed, and got in her himself, all in read
iness for pursuit. The Englishman, seeing
the turn things were likely to take, and
deeming discretion to be the better part of
valor, contented himself with taking a cir
cuit round the American brig, and return
ing again to the frigate. Thus the affair
ended. It was with this cool, intrepid, and res
olute master of himself and of the situa
tion, that Downie, flushed with expectations
of a speedy and easy victory, was soon to
deal, and by whom, as the sequel showed,
he was doomed to overwhelming defeat, on
the waters of that vast lake where his
squadron now floated in proud defiance.
Indeed, such was the assurance of ability
in the mind of Downie, to scatter the
Americans to the four winds, that a Brit
ish barge, filled with amateur spectators,
accompanied the other vessels, which
misled McDonough to suppose that there
were thirteen barges in force, when in
reality there were but twelve, — the thir
teenth being filled with idlers, who came
not to bear the brunt of battle, but to
enjoy the excursion, and witness and share
the expected victory.
On Sunday morning, September 11,
1814, it being the fifth day of the siege,
the motives which induced the British
general to delay, hitherto, his final assault
upon the American works, became appar

ent. Relying on his ability to carry them,
however they might be strengthened and
fortified, he had awaited the arrival of the
British fleet, in the belief that, with its
co-operation, an easy conquest could be
made not only of the American army, but
also of the American fleet. On this day,
therefore, the British fleet, consisting of
the frigate Confiance, carrying thirty-nine
guns, twenty-seven of which were twenty-
four pounders ; the brig Linnet, of sixteen
guns ; the sloops Chub and Einch, each
carrying eleven guns ; and a large number
of galleys, each carrying one or two guns ;
was seen coming round Cumberland, where
the American fleet lay at anchor.
The American fleet comprised the ship
Saratoga, carrying twenty-six guns, eight
of which were long twenty-four pounders ;
the brig Eagle, of twenty guns; the
schooner Ticonderoga, of seventeen guns;
the sloop Preble, seven guns; and ten
galleys, six carrying two guns each, and
the remainder one gun apiece.
Besides the advantage which the enemy
possessed in being able to choose their
position, their force was much superior.
The number of guns, all told, in the Brit
ish fleet, amounted to ninety-five, and of
men, to upwards of a thousand ; while the
Americans had only eighty-six guns, and
eight hundred and twenty men. One of
the American vessels had been built with
almost incredible dispatch ; eighteen days
before, the trees of which it was con-'
structed were actually growing on the
shores of the lake.
The American vessels were moored in
line, with five gun-boats or galleys on each
flank. At eight o'clock, the look-out boat
announced the approach of the British,
and at nine, immediately on getting round
Cumberland Head, Downie anchored in
line abreast of the American force, at
about three hundred yards distance, and
gave tokens of battle. The youthful
McDonough awaited all these movements
with perfect calmness and order. Indeed,
true to his manly character and to his
trained habits of observing the Sabbath
and trusting to divine help in human

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

253

affairs, he knelt down in the presence of
his men, and solemnly offered up the fol
lowing prayer of the Episcopal service
appointed to be read before a fight at sea
against an enemy : ' 0 most powerful and
glorious Lord God, the Lord of hosts, that
rulest and commandest all things ; Thou
sittest in the throne judging right, and
therefore we make our address to thy
Divine Majesty in this our necessity, that
thou wouldest take the cause into thine
own hand, and judge between us and our
enemies. Stir up thy strength, 0 Lord,
and come and help us ; for thou givest not
alway the battle to the strong, but canst
save by many or by few. 0 let not our
sins now cry against us for vengeance ;
but hear us thy poor servants begging
mercy and imploring help, and that thou
wouldest be a defense unto us against the
face of the enemy. Make it appear that
thou art our Saviour and mighty Deliv
erer, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.' The offering up of this invocation
to the God of battles, on the eve of that
terrible conflict, was a most unusual occur
rence, eminently worthy the just cause in
whose behalf McDonough was about to
strike so decisive a blow. It is also related
that, at the very moment of McDonough's
ordering his vessels cleared and prepared
foraction — amoment when modern seamen,
like old Romans, are extremely alive to
signs, which the superstition natural to
sensitive and imaginative persons converts
into auspicious or ill-boding occurrences,
— a cheerful indication animated the Sara
toga, such as Cajsar or Napoleon would
have proclaimed to his soldiers with
delight, and they would have hailed with
enthusiasm. A cock flew upon a gun-
slide, clapped his wings, and crowed, — a
signal of defiance and victory which broke
the silence of anxious expectation preced
ing the battle, being received with exult
ant cheers by the seamen.
In the line of battle, the Confiance,
Downie's own vessel, was opposed to the
Saratoga, commanded by McDonough;
the Linnet to the Eagle; the British
galleys and one of their sloops to the

Ticonderoga, the Preble, and the left divi
sion of the American galleys ; their other
sloop was opposed to the galleys on the
right. To complete his arrangements for
the action, McDonough directed two of
his galleys to keep in shore of the Eagle,
and a little to windward of her, to sustain
the head of the line ; one or two more to
lie opposite to the interval between the
Eagle and the Saratoga ; a few opposite
to the interval between the Saratoga and
Ticonderoga; and two or three opposite
the interval between the Ticonderoga
and the Preble. The rear of the line
appears not to have been covered according
to this plan.
In this position, the weather being per
fectly clear and calm, and the bay smooth,
the whole force on both sides became
engaged in the work of blood; and at the
same moment, as if the firing from the
first gun from the Confiance had been the
signal, the land conflict commenced
between the Americans, under General
Macomb, and the British, under Sir George
Prevost. The latter opened a heavy fir.)
of shot, shells, and rockets, upon the Amer
ican lines, and this was continued with
little interruption until sunset, and
returned with spirit and effect. At six
o'clock, the firing on the part of the Brit
ish ceased, every battery having been
silenced by the American artillery. At
the commencement of the bombarding,
and while the ships were engaged, three
desperate efforts were made by the British
to pass the Saranac, for the purpose ot
carrying the American works by storm, or
assault. With this view, scaling ladders,
fascines, and every implement necessary
for the purpose, were prepared. One
attempt was made to cross at the village
bridge, one at the upper bridge, and one
at the ford way, three miles above the
works. At each point, they were met at
the bank by the American troops and
repulsed. But the fate of the day's conflict, in
which the two great competitors for mili
tary superiority were now so earnestly
engaged on the land and on the sea,

254

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

MCDONOUGH'S VICTORY ON LAKE CHAMPLAIJT.

depended chiefly on the result of the naval
encounter, and this latter mainly on the
result of the sanguinary battle between
the two largest ships — the Confiance and
the Saratoga, under the direction, respec
tively, of Downie and McDonough, the
commanders of the fleets.
As the British came nearer, the brig
Eagle, at the head of the American line,
opened fire suddenly with a broadside from
her four long-guns, but with little effect,
on account of the distance. McDonough,
however, — according to Cooper's narrative,
— did not give the order to commence,
although the enemy's galleys now opened,
for it was apparent that the Eagle's fire
was useless. As soon, however, as it was
seen that her shot told, McDonough him
self, sighted a long twenty-four, and the
gun was fired. This shot is said to have
struck the Confiance near the outer hawse-
hole, and to have passed the length of her
deck, killing and wounding several men
and carrying away the wheel. It was a
signal for all the American long-guns to
open, and it was soon seen that the Amer

ican commanding ship was causing her
special antagonist, the Confiance, to suffer
heavily. Still the enemy advanced' stead
ily, and in the most gallant manner, con
fident if he could get the desired position
with his vessels, that the great weight of
the Confiance would at once decide the
fortunes of the day. But he had miscal
culated his own powers of endurance, and
not improbably those of annoyance pos
sessed by the enemy on the other side,
under the gallant McDonough. The
anchors of the Confiance were hanging by
the stoppers, in readiness to let go, and
the larboard bower was soon cut away, as
well as a spare anchor in the larboard
forechains. In short, after bearing the
fire of the American vessels as long as
possible, and the wind beginning to baffle,
Downie found himself reduced to the
necessity of anchoring while still at the
distance of about a quarter of a mile from
the American line. The helm was put
a-port, the ship shot into the wind, and a
kedge was let go, while the vessel took a
sheer, and brought up with her starboard

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

255

bower. In doing the latter, however, the
kedge was fouled and became of no use.
In coming to, her halyards were let run,
and she hauled up her courses. At this
time, the Linnet and Chubb were still
standing in, farther to windward, and the
former, as her guns bore, fired a broadside
at the Saratoga. The Linnet soon after
anchored, somewhat nearer the Confiance,
getting a very favorable position forward
of the Eagle's beam. The Chubb kept
under way, intending, if possible, to rake
the American line. The Finch got
abreast of the Ticonderoga, under her
sweeps, supported by the gun-boats. All
the English vessels came to in very hand
some style, nor did the Confiance fire a
single gun until secured. As soon as
Downie had performed this duty, in a
seaman-like manner, his ship appeared a
sheet of fire, discharging all her guns at
nearly the same instant, pointed princi
pally at the Saratoga. The effect of this
broadside thrown from sixteen long
twenty-fours, double-shotted, in perfectly
smooth water, with guns leveled to
point-blank range, and coolly sighted,
was terrible upon the ship that received
it, killing or wounding one-fifth of
her men, including her only lieutenant,
Gambles But, notwithstanding the greater weight
of the enemy's battery seemed to be inclin
ing the scale of victory in his favor, he
suffered prodigiously. The chances, too,
against the Saratoga, were accidentally
increased by the commander of the Eagle,
who, being unable to bring his guns to
bear as he wished, cut his cable, and,
anchoring between the Saratoga and
Ticonderoga, exposed the former vessel to
a galling fire from the British brig Linnet.
The cannonade from all the vessels was
now incessant and destructive, dismount
ing guns, disabling crews and masts, and
on both sides extremely devastating ; every
gun on the side of the Saratoga facing the
enemy, was rendered useless, nor was the
situation of the English such as to inspire
them with any flattering prospect of escap
ing annihilation.

Things had so culminated that, in respect
to each of the combatants, the fortunes of
the contest now depended upon the execu
tion of one of the most difficult naval ma
neuvers, that of winding the vessel round,
and bringing a new broadside to bear !
This feat the Confiance essayed in vain.
The invincible commander and crew of the
Saratoga saw, at once, that the only
chance now left was a resort to some
extraordinary expedient to meet the immi
nent emergency. Three times McDonough
had been prostrated, by falling spars,
senseless on the deck of his ship — fought
almost to the water's edge, and incapable
of further effort. It was at this critical
moment, that an old seaman, named Brum,
suggested the contrivance, by means of an
anchor, — a stern anchor being put on, and
the bower cable cut, — to turn the ship
round, so as to bring into action the side
remaining uninjured. Under this arrange
ment, the gallant ship rounded to, and
presented a fresh broadside to the enemy.
This was attended with such destructive
effect, that the Confiance was obliged to
surrender in a few minutes.
No sooner had the Confiance surrendered,
than the whole broadside of the Saratoga
was brought to bear upon the Linnet,
which struck its flag fifteen minutes after
wards. The sloop which was opposed to
the Eagle, had struck some time before, and
drifted down the line. The sloop that was
with their galleys had also struck. Three
of their galleys were also sunk, and the
others pulled off. McDonough's galleys
were about obeying with alacrity the signal
to pursue them, when report was made of
all of them being in a sinking state ; it
consequently became necessary to annul
the signal to the galleys, and order their
men to the pumps. McDonough states
that he could only look at the enemy's
vessels going off in a shattered condition,
for there was not a mast in either squadron
that could stand to make sail on, for any
purpose whatsoever. The lower rigging,
being nearly shot away, was hanging down
as loosely and uselessly as though it had
just been placed over the mast-heads.

256

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

The Saratoga received fifty-five round
shot in her hull, and the Confiance one
hundred and five. The action lasted with
out any cessation, on a smooth sea, at
close quarters, two hours and twenty min
utes. In the American squadron, fifty-two
were killed, and fifty-eight wounded. In
the British, eighty-four were killed, and
one hundred and ten wounded. Among
the slain was Downie, the British com
mandant. This engagement was in full
view of both armies, and of throngs of
spectators collected on the heights, border
ing on the bay, to witness the momentous
scene. It was viewed by the inhabitants
with trembling anxiety, as success on the
part of the British would have opened to

them an easy passage into the heart of the
country. When, therefore, the flag of the
Confiance was struck, the shores resounded
with the deafening acclamations of the
troops and citizens. The British, when
they saw their fleet succumbing, were
terror-stricken. Not one of the numerous
British ensigns so gaily streaming at eight
o'clock was visible soon after ten. British
offensive operations in that vast region
were now stopped. McDonough received
the grateful applause of his countrymen ;
congress conferred its highest commemor
ative honors ; and the legislature of Ver
mont presented him with a magnificent
estate on Cumberland Head, overlooking
the very scene of his splendid victory.

XXVII.
GENERAL JACKSON'S TERRIBLE ROUT AND SLAUGHTER
OP THE BRITISH ARMY AT NEW ORLEANS.— 1815.

His Consummate Generalship in the Order and Conduct of this Campaign.— The War with England
Terminated by a Sudden and Splendid Victory to the American Arms. — Jackson is Hailed as One
of the Greatest of Modern Warriors, and as the Deliverer and Second Savior of His Country. —
National Military Prestige Gained by this Decisive Battle — British Invasion of Louisiana. — Prepar
ations to Eesist Them. — Jackson Hastens to New Orleans. — His Presence Inspires Confidence. —
Martial Law Proclaimed. — Progress of the British Forces. — They Rendezvous at Ship Island. —
Pirates and Indians for Allies. — Capture of the United States Flotilla. — Arrival of Veterans from
England. — Desperate Attempts at Storming. — Both Armies Face Each Other. — The Day of Action,
January Eighth. — General Pakenham Leads the Charge. — His Motto, " Booty and Beauty." — Fire
and Death Open Upon Them. — They are Mown Down Like Grass. — Pakenham Falls at the Onset.
— Panic and Precipitate Retreat. — America's Motto, " Victory or Death." — The Result at Home and
Abroad. — Startling and Impressive Effect.

" The redcoats will find out whom they have to deal with. I wiU smash them, so help me God I"— Gekekal Jackson, on assomino
the defense or New Okluanb.

AMERICAN DEFENSES AT NEW ORLEANS.

T is a fact fruitful of the most suggestive reflections.
that, had the facilities of communication by steam
and electricity been enjoyed in 1815, as they are at
the present time, the battle of New Orleans, and
the blood which flowed so freely on that memorable
occasion, would have been spared ; for, only two
weeks previous to the sanguinary conflict, namely, on the 24th
of December, 1814, the treaty of peace between the United
States and Great Britain was signed at Ghent, by the ap
pointed commissioners, — a most joyous event to all, but the
tidings of which did not, unfortunately, reach the contending
armies in Louisiana, until several weeks after the battle took
place. Nevertheless, perhaps no other battle in American
annals, up to that period, had given such prestige to the valor
of American arms, nor can any estimate be made of the

258

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

immense consequences of that victory to
General Jackson and his country. Mr.
Bancroft, the historian, says that the
heroes of antiquity would have contem
plated with awe the unmatched hardihood
of Jackson's character.
The circumstances which led to a battle
so creditable in its result to the genius
and bravery of the American army were
as follows : On the twenty-fifth of August,
1814, a British army landed at Pensacola,
and took forcible possession of the place,
being aided by the Spaniards in all their
proceedings ; they collected all the Indians
that would resort to their standard; and
Colonel Nichols, the chief British com
mander, even sent an officer to the notori
ous piratical establishment at Barataria
to enlist the chief, Lafitte, and his follow
ers, in their cause, the most liberal and
tempting inducements being held out.
These people, however, showed a decided
preference for the American cause, and,
deceiving the English by delay, conveyed
intelligence of their designs to the gov
ernor of New Orleans, and frankly offered
their services to defend the country. Dis
appointed in securing their aid, the expe
dition proceeded to the attack of Fort
Bowyer, on Mobile point, commanded by
Major Lawrence. The result, however,
was a loss to the besiegers of more than
two hundred men ; the commodore's ship
was so disabled that they set fire to her,
and she blew up, and the remaining three
vessels, shattered and filled with wounded
men, returned to Pensacola. While the
British were thus sheltered in this place,
busily occupied in bringing over the Indi
ans to join them, General Jackson, — who,
after the peace with the Creeks had become
active commander at the south, — formed
an expedition of about four thousand men,
to dislodge them. He summoned the
town, was refused entrance by the Spanish
governor, and his flag of truce was fired
upon; the British soldiers being also in
the forts, where their flag had been
hoisted, in conjunction with the Spanish,
the day before the American forces
appeared. Preparations were immediately

made to carry the place; one battery
having been taken by storm, with slight
loss on either side, the governor surren
dered, the English having previously
retired on board their ships. The forts
below, which commanded the passage,
were blown up, and this enabled the
English fleet to put to sea.
Returning to Mobile, General Jackson
learned that preparations were making by
the British for the invasion of Louisiana,
and with especial reference to an attack
on New Orleans.
He accordingly hastened to New Orleans,
which he found in great alarm and confu
sion. He at once put in operation the
most rigorous measures of defense. The
militia of Louisiana and Mississippi were
ordered out en masse, and large detach
ments from Tennessee and Kentucky.
From a previous correspondence with Gov
ernor Claiborne, General Jackson had been
informed that the city corps had, for the
most part, refused obedience to the orders
which had been given them to turn out;
that they had been encouraged in their dis
obedience by the state legislature, then in
session in the city ; and that, although
there were many faithful citizens in the
place, there were many others who were
more devoted to the interests of Spain, and
others still whose hostility to the English
was less observable than their dislike to
American government.
Under these circumstances, and finding
that the statements relative to the disaf
fection of the populace were fully confirmed,
Jackson, on consultation with the gover
nor, in conjunction with Judge Hall, and
many influential persons of the city, on
the sixteenth of December, issued an
order, declaring the city and environs of
New Orleans to be under strict martial
law. Nor were the military modes and plans
adopted by General Jackson, outside of
the city proper, wanting in efficiency.
Fort St. Philip, which guarded the passage
of the river at the detour la Plaquemine,
was strengthened and placed under the
command of Major Overton, an able and

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

259

skillful engineer. A site was also selected
for works of defense, four miles below the
city, where its destinies were ultimately to
be determined. The right rested on the
river, and the left was flanked by an
impenetrable cypress swamp, which ex
tended eastward to Lake Pontchartrain,
and westward to within a mile of the river.
Between the swamp and the river was a
large ditch or artificial bayou which had
been made for agricultural objects, but
which now served an important military
purpose. On the northern bank of this
ditch, the entrenchments were thrown up,
and large quantities of cotton-bales so
arranged, that the troops could be
effectually protected from the fire of the
British. Each flank was secured by an
advance bastion, and the latter protected
by batteries in the rear. These works
were well mounted with artillery. Oppo
site this position, on the west bank of the
river, on a rising ground, General Morgan,
with the city and drafted militia, was sta
tioned; and Commodore Patterson, with
the crews of the Caroline and Louisiana,
and the guns of the latter, formed another,
near General Morgan's ; both of which
entirely enfiladed the approach of an
enemy against the principal works. A
detachment was stationed above the town,
to guard the pass of the bayou St. John,
if an attempt should he made from that
quarter. On the twenty-second of December, the
enemy proceeded from their rendezvous on
Ship island, with all their boats and small
craft capable of navigating the lake to the
bayou Bienvenue, and having surprised
and captured the videttes at the mouth of
the bayou, the first division accomplished
their landing unobserved. Major-General
Villery, of the New Orleans militia, Hying
«n the bayou, to whom the important
Bervice of making the first attack, and
giving notice of the enemy's approach was
intrusted, found them on his own planta
tion, nine miles below the city, without
any previous knowledge of their approach.
The morning of New Year's day, 1815,
was very dark and foggy amid the swamps

and bogs of New Orleans, and the day was
somewhat advanced before the Americans
discerned how near the enemy had ap
proached to them, or the novel use which
had been made of their molasses and sugar
hogsheads. In the course of the day,
under cover of tliese batteries, three
unsuccessful attempts were made to storm
the American works. By four in the
afternoon, all the enemy's batteries were
silenced, and the next night found them
in their former position.
On the fourth of January, General
Adair arrived, with four thousand Ken
tucky militia, principally without arms.
The muskets and munitions of war, des
tined for the supply of this corps, were
provided at Pittsburg, but did not leave
that place until the twenty-fifth of Decem
ber, and arrived at New Orleans not until
several days after the decisive battle of
January eighth. On the sixth, the enemy
received their last re-enforcement of three
thousand men from England, under Major-
General Lambert. But before the final
assault on the American lines, the British
general deemed it necessary to dislodge
General Morgan and Commodore Patter
son, from their positions on the right
bank. These posts so effectually enfiladed
the approach to General Jackson's works,
that the army advancing to the assault,
must be exposed to the most imminent
hazard. To accomplish this object, boats
were to be transported across the island
from lake Borgne fo the Mississippi ; for
this purpose the British had been labori
ously employed in deepening and widening
the canal or bayou Bienvenue, on which
they first disembarked. On the seventh,
they succeeded in opening the embank
ment on the river, and completing a com
munication from the lake to the Missis
sippi. 'In pushing the boats through, it
was found, at some places, that the canal
was not of sufficient width, and at others
the banks fell in and choked the passage,
thus occasioning great delay ; at length,
however, they succeeded in hauling through
a sufficient number to transport five hun
dred troops to the right bank.

260

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

On the left bank, where General Jack
son in person commanded, everything was
in readiness to meet the assault when it
should be made. The redoubt on the
levee was defended by a company under
Lieutenant Ross. The regular troops
occupied that part of the entrenchment
next to the river. General Carroll's divi
sion was in the center, supported by Gen
eral Adair's Kentucky troops ; while the
extreme left, extending for a considerable
distance into the swamp, was protected by
the brigade of General Coffee. How soon
the onset should take place, was uncertain ;
at what moment rested with the enemy, —
with the Americans, to be in readiness for

pace with the zeal and preparation of the
enemy. He seldom slept; he was always
at his post, performing the duties of both
general and soldier. His sentinels were
doubled, and extended as far as possible in
the direction of the British camp ; while a
considerable portion of the troops were
constantly at the line, with arms in their
hands, ready to act, when the first alarm
should be given. For eight days did the
two armies remain thus upon the same
field, in battle array and in view of each
other, without anything decisive on either
side being effected. Twice, since their
landing, had the British columns essayed
to effect by storm the execution of their

(U^^O^oe^P &*-^<?£uZ-*>^s

resistance. There were many circum
stances, however, favoring the belief that
the hour of contest was fast approaching ;
the unusual bustle, — the efforts of the
enemy to carry their boats into the river,
— the fascines and scaling-ladders that
were preparing; all these circumstances
indicated the hour of attack to be near at
hand. General Jackson was not only
unmoved by these appearances, but, accord
ing to General Eaton's statements, he
anxiously desired a contest, which, he
believed, would give a triumph to his
arms, and terminate the hardships of his
soldiers. Unremitting in exertion, and
constantly vigilant, his precaution kept

plans, and twice had failed and retired
from the contest.
The eighth of January, 1815, at length
arrived. The day dawned ; and the sig
nals, intended to produce concert in the
enemy's movements, were descried. On
the left, near the swamp, a sky-rocket was
perceived rising in the air; and presently
another ascended from the right, next the
river. They were intended to announce
that all was prepared and ready, to proceed
and carry by storm a defense which again
and again had foiled their utmost efforts.
Instantly the charge was made, and with
such rapidity, that the American soldiers
at the outposts with difficulty fled in.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

261

The British batteries, which had been
demolished on the first of the month, had
been re-established during the preceding
night, and heavy pieces of cannon mounted,
to aid in their intended operations. These
now opened, and showers of bombs and
balls were poured upon our line, while the
air was lighted with their congreve rock
ets. The two divisions, commanded by
Sir Edward Pakenham in person, and
supported by Generals Keane and Gibbs,
pressed forward ; the right against the
center of General Carroll's command, —
the left against our redoubt on the levee.
A thick fog, that obscured the morning,
•enabled them to approach within a short
distance of our entrenchment, before they
were discovered. They were now perceived
advancing, with firm, quick, and steady
pace, in column, with a front of sixty or
.seventy deep. The American troops, who
had for some time been in readiness, and
"waiting their appearance, gave three deaf-
-ening cheers, and instantly the whole line
was lighted with the blaze of their fire.
A burst of artillery and small-arms, pour
ing with destructive aim upon them,
mowed down their front, and arrested their
advance. It was a perfect sheet of fire
and death !
The havoc and horror before them — the
terrible carnage which swept down their
advancing ranks, — became at last too
great to be withstood, and already were
1 the British troops seen wavering in their
determination, and receding from the con
flict. At this moment, Sir Edward Paken
ham, the distinguished commander-in-chief
of the British forces, hastening to the
front, endeavored to encourage and inspire
them with renewed zeal. His example,
however, was of short continuance, for,
"when near the crest of the glacis, he
received a ball in the knee ; 'still continu
ing to lead on his men, another shot soon
jnerced his body, and he was carried in
mortal agony from the field, in the arms of
lis aid-de-camp. Nearly at the same time,
Major-General Gibbs, the second British
officer in command, received a mortal
"wound when within a few vards of the

lines, and was removed. The third in
command also, Major-General Keane,
while at the head of his troops near the
glacis, was terribly wounded, and at once
borne away.
At this moment, General Lambert, —
who had arrived from England but two
days before, and found himself now the
only surviving general, — was advancing at
a small distance in the rear, with the
reserve, and met the columns precipitately
retreating, broken and confused. His
efforts to stop them were unavailing, —
onward they continued in their headlong
retreat, until they reached a ditch, at the
distance of four hundred yards, where a
momentary safety being found, the pant
ing and fear-stricken fugitives were ral
lied, and halted.
The field before them, over which they
had so confidently advanced, was strewed
with the dead and dying. Imminent
danger faced them ; yet, urged and en
couraged by their officers, who feared
their own disgrace involved in the failure,
they again moved to the charge. They
were already near enough to deploy, and
were endeavoring to do so ; but the same
constant and unremitted resistance that
caused their first retreat, continued yet
unabated. Our batteries had never ceased
their fire; their constant discharges of
grape and canister, and the fatal aim of
our musketry, mowed down the front of
the columns as fast as they could be
formed. Satisfied nothing could be done,
and that certain destruction awaited all
further attempts, they forsook the contest
and the field in disorder, leaving it almost
entirely covered with the dead and
wounded. It was in vain their officers
endeavored to animate them to further
resistance, and equally vain to attempt
coercion. The panic produced by the
dreadful repulse they had experienced, —
the sight of the field on which they had
acted, covered with the ghastly bodies of
their countrymen, — and the bitter fact
that, with their most zealous exertions,
they had been unable to obtain the
slightest advantage;' all these circum-

262

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

stances were well calculated to make even
the most submissive soldier oppose the
KOT/'lifilii!"

authority that would have controlled him.
The decided advantage of the Americans

gave to the conduct of the enemy more of
the character of madness than of valor.
As has already been stated, the
fall of General Pakenham and
the two next in command de
volved the leadership upon
Lambert, the only general offi
cer left upon the field, and to
I whom had been consigned the
charge of the reserve ; and
though, meeting the discom
fited troops in their flight, he
endeavored to restore the for
tune of the day, the effort was-
tj fruitless to the last degree.
E On the ninth, General Lam-
p bert determined to relinquish
I altogether so desperate and
E hopeless an enterprise, and
* immediately commenced the
I necessary preparations, though
| with the utmost secrecy. It
p was not until the night of the-
| eighteenth, however, that the
I British camp was entirely
IF evacuated.
I The loss of the British in
o3 this fatal expedition was im-
$ mense, the narrow field of strife-
« between the opposing combat
s' ants being strewed with dead.
g So dreadful a carnage, consid-
p ering the length of time and
K the numbers engaged, has sel-
° dom been recorded. Two thou-
h sand, at the lowest estimate,
£ pressed the earth, besides such
of the wounded as were not
able to escape. The loss of the-
Americans did not exceed seven
killed, and six wounded. Mili
tary annals do not furnish a
more extraordinary instance of
disparity in the slain, between
the victors and vanquished.
The entire British force en
gaged in this attempted reduc
tion of New Orleans, amounted
to twelve thousand men; the-
Americans numbered some six thousand,.
chiefly militia.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

263

Pakenham, the distinguished leader of
the British forces, was a brother-in-law of
the great Duke of Wellington, had long
been in high repute for military skill and
personal bravery, and on this occasion
numbered among his troops those who had
won laurels of victory on the battle-fields
of Europe. But, that he felt convinced of
the magnitude and hazard of his present
undertaking, as distinguished from all
previous ones, is evident. When an officer
leads his troops on a forlorn attempt, he
not unfrequently places before them allure
ments stronger than either authority or
duty. According to General Eaton's his
torical statements, a positive charge is
made against General Pakenham, in this
respect, — inducements having been held
out by him, than 'which nothing more
inviting could be offered to an infuriated
soldiery. By this gallant but misguided
general, there was promised to his soldiers
— to excite their cupidity — the wealth of
the city, as a recompense for their gal
lantry and desperation; while, with brutal
licentiousness, they were to revel in lawless
indulgence, and triumph, uncontrolled,
over female innocence. The history of
Europe, since civilized warfare began, may
be challenged to afford an instance of such
gross and wanton outrage. The facts and
circumstances which were developed at the
time, left no doubt on the minds of the
American officers, but that 'Booty and
Beauty,' was the British watchword of the
day. The information was obtained from
prisoners, and confirmed by the books of
two of their orderly sergeants taken in
battle. Jackson was well aware, from the first,
of the bold and reckless character of the
enemy he had to deal with. With patri
otic indignation he declared: "The red
coats will find out whom they have to deal
with. 1 will sma-sh them, so help me
God 1 " And the spirit with which he led

his men forward may be easily judged of
from his emphatic exclamation — " Remem
ber, our watchword is ' Victory or Death 1 '
We will enjoy our liberty, or perish in the
last ditch ! " Never before did a general*
bring upon his troops such a spell of
enthusiastic devotion to himself, and to
the demands of the hour. So, too, in the
flush of triumph, he did not forget mercy
and magnanimity. " General Jackson,"
says Blackwood's Magazine, of London,
" behaved with humanity and generosity
to all his prisoners, which did him as great
honor as his conduct in the defense. We
do not hesitate to call him a great man."
Such was the encomium bestowed upon
him by the pen of an enemy, — one of
the most influential organs of British
opinion. At this time, the person of General
Jackson is described as being neither
robust nor elegant. He was six feet and
one inch high, remarkably straight and
spare, and weighing about one hundred
and forty-five pounds. His physique
appeared to disqualify him for hardship ;
yet, accustomed to it from early life, few
were capable of enduring fatigue to the
same extent, or with less injury. His
dark blue eyes, with brows arched and
slightly projecting, possessed a marked
expression; but when from any cause
excited, they sparkled with peculiar luster
and penetration. In his manners he was
pleasing — in his address commanding.
His countenance, marked with firmness
and decision, yet beamed with a strength
and intelligence that struck at first sight.
In his deportment, he was easy, affable,
familiar, and accessible to all.
The annunciation of the triumphant
defense of New Orleans was hailed, in
every section of the country, with accla
mations of delight, and won for Jackson
the title of " the conqueror of the con
querors of Napoleon."

XXVIII.
THE EVER-MEMORABLE SEPTEMBER GALE.— 1815.

Its Violence and Destructiveness Without a Parallel Since the Settlement of the Country.— Terror
Excited by Its Sudden and Tumultuous Force. — Unprecedented Phenomena of Tempest, Deluge and
Flood. — One Hour of Indescribable Havoc on the Land and Sea.— Premonitory Indications— Heavy
North-east Hains. — Sudden and Violent Changes of Wind. — Its Rapidity and Force Indescribable.—
Demolition of Hundreds of Buildings. — Orchards and Forests Instantly Uprooted. — Raging and
Foaming of the Sea. — Its Spray Drives Like a Snow-storm over the Land. — Tremendous Rise in the
Tides. — Irresistible Impetuosity of the Flood. — Several Feet of Water in the Streets. — Innumerable
Fragments Fill the Air. — Flight for Safety to the Fields. — The Whole Coast Swarms with Wrecks.
— Perils, Escapes, Fatalities. — Peculiar Meteorological Facts. — Bright Skies in the Midst of the Tem
pest. — Suffocating Current of Hot Air. — Sea Fowls in the Depths of the Interior. — Effect Upon
Lauds, Crops, and Wells. — AU New England Desolated. — Comparison with Other Gales.

— " Ptlll overhead
The mingling tempest wears its gloom, and still
The deluge deepens; till the fields around
Lie sunk and flatted in the sordid wave.
AU that the winds had spared.
Jn one wild moment ruined."

[UDGING from all the information, historical
and traditional, relating to the great American
gales during the last hundred years, it would
appear that the one which occurred in New
England, on the 23d of September, 1815, was
and is still without a parallel, in its extraordi
nary characteristics of violence and destruc
tiveness. In the history of the country,
dating back to its earliest annals, there is no
account of any gale or hurricane equaling
this, in its various phenomena of suddenness,
severity and power. As distinguishing it,
therefore, above all others of its class, this
has ever since been called the Great Septem
ber Gale.
The observations of the character, course
and effects of this wonderful storm, made by
Professor Farrar and others, for the latitude
of Boston, show that it was there preceded by
rain, which continued to fall for about twenty-four hours with a moderate wind
from the north-east. Early in the morning of the twenty-third, the wind shifted
to the east, and began to blow in gusts accompanied with showers. It continued

DESTRUCTION BY THE GKEAT GALE AND FLOOD.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

265

to change toward the south and to increase
in violence while the rain abated. Be
tween nine and ten o'clock in the fore
noon, it began to excite alarm. Chimneys
and trees were blown over both to the
west and north ; but shingles and slates,
that were torn from the roofs of buildings,
were carried to the greatest distance in the
direction of about three points west of
north. Between half-past ten and half-past
eleven o'clock, the greatest destruction
took place. The rain ceased about the
time the wind shifted from south-east to
south; a clear sky was visible in many
places during the utmost violence cf the
tempest, and clouds were seen flying with
great rapidity in the direction of the wind.
The air had an unusual appearance. It
was considerably darkened by the exces
sive agitation, and filled with the leaves
of trees and other light substances, which
were raised to a great height and whirled
about in eddies, instead of being driven
directly forward as in a common storm.
The rivers raged and foamed like the sea in
a storm, and the spray was raised to the
height of sixty or one hundred feet in the
form of thin white clouds, which were
drifted along in a kind of wave form, like
snow in a violent snow-storm. Travelers
were frequently driven back by the force
of the wind, and were obliged to screen
tliemselves behind fences and trees or to
advance obliquely. It was impossible for
even the stoutest man to stand firm in a
place exposed to the full force of the wind.
The pressure of the wind was like that
of a rapid current of water ; pedestrians
could with great difficulty hear each other
speak at the distance of two or three
yards; and they moved about almost as
awkwardly as if attempting to wade in a
strong tide.
In Boston harbor, the sea had risen
unusually high, two hours before the calen
dar time of high water. But the direction
of the wind at this time tended to coun
teract the tide, and thus secured the port
from that awful calamity which threatened
it. Great losses, however, were sustained

from the wind alone ; many buildings
were blown down, great numbers were
unroofed or otherwise injured, and few
entirely escaped. The most calamitous
destruction befell the trees, — orchards and
forests exhibiting a scene of desolation,
the like of which had never before been
witnessed in America. The roads in many
places were rendered impassable, not only
through woods, but in the more cultivated
towns, where they happened to be lined
with trees ; and the streets in Boston and
neighboring towns were strewed with the
ruins of innumerable gardens and fruit-
yards. A considerable proportion of the
large and beautiful trees in Boston mall,
and in other public walks, some of which
trees measured from eight to twelve feet
in circumference, were torn up by the
roots and prostrated. Apple trees, in
especial, being separated at a considerable
distance from each other, were overturned
in great numbers ; no less than five thou
sand were thus destroyed in the town of
Dorchester alone. In this same town,
also, seventeen houses were unroofed, sixty
chimneys blown over, and about forty
barns demolished.
Rhode Island felt the full force of this
remarkable gale, Providence suffering to
the amount of millions of dollars, accom
panied with a fearful loss of life, as in
other places. This was owing to the wind
blowing directly up the river on which the
place is built, unbroken by the cape or
Long Island, and in sweeping over such
an extent of water it accumulated a dread
ful and most destructive tide, so that
vessels were actually driven over the
wharves and through the streets. Early
in the morning, the wind was north-east,
but, at about eight, it shifted to south-east,
and soon began to blow violently, continu
ing to increase until ten, when it became
a hurricane. All was now confusion and
dismay in the exposed region. The tide,
impelled by the tempest, overflowed the
wharves ; vessels, broken from their moor
ings in the stream, and their fastenings at
the wharves, were seen driving with dread
ful impetuosity towards the bridge, which

266

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

they swept away, without a moment's
check to their progress, and passed on to
the head of the basin, where they drove
high up the bank. Every exertion to
protect property, was rendered futile by
the violence of the wind, the rapid rise of
the water, and the falling of trees ; indeed,
these, with the crashing of chimneys,
tumbling upon the houses and descending
into the streets, together with tiles and
railings from the tops of buildings, and
many other species of dangerous missile
flying through the air, rendered it perilous
to appear in the streets. All considera
tion of property, however, was soon for
gotten in the more important one of self-
preservation. The tempest still raged

elements, were seen removing the panic-
stricken inmates ; and on the east side, an
awful torrent rolled through the main
street, in depth nearly to a man's waist,
and by which boats, masts, bales of cotton,
and immense quantities of property of
every description, were driven along with
resistless force. It was an awful and ter
rific scene. Every store below, on the
east side, was either carried away or com
pletely shattered ; and every building on
the opposite side and on the wharves, were
swept from their foundations — so that all
the space, where, an hour or two before,
were so many valuable wharves and stores
crowded with shipping and merchandise,
was now one wide waste of tumultuous

THE EVER-MEMORABLE GALE, SEPTEMBER 23, 1815.

with increasing violence ; the flood was
overwhelming the lower parts of the town ;
stores and dwelling-houses were tottering
on their foundations, and then, plunging
into the deluge, blended their shattered
remains with the wrecks of vessels, — the
whole passing, with irresistible impetuos
ity, in full view, on the current to the head
of the cove, to join the already accumu
lated mass of similar wrecks.
By this time, the water on the west side
of the river had risen nearly to the tops of
the lower windows of the houses, and boats
and scows, struggling with the maddened

water. Only two small vessels, of all that
were in the harbor, succeeded in riding
out the gale, all the rest having drifted
ashore, or been carried high up on the
wharves. It was such a scene of wide
spread ruin and desolation, as beggars all
description — vessels of all kinds and in
every position, blended promiscuously,
with carriages, lumber, wrecks of build
ings of every variety, furniture, and tens
of thousands of fragments from far and
near, all told the story of universal havoc
and destruction. Women and children were
saved in boats from chamber-windows.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

267

One distressing and peculiar scene,
which took place among the shipping, will
serve as a description of a thousand other
cases which occurred during the storm. A
brig, loaded and ready for sea, with live
stock, drove against the end of a wharf,
and her head rested on it ; here she hung,
appearing every moment as if she would
upset, and plunge her crew into the raging
flood. The men were seen clinging to her,
awaiting their fate, as no soul could ven
ture to their succor, — the whole distance
between the vessel and the houses being
filled with roofs and parts of stores tum
bling with the violence of the tempest.
Expecting every moment to be precipitated
into the torrent, they determined at last
upon the final but perilous attempt to quit
the vessel and gain the houses. Strug
gling with the violence of the gale, and
with the rolling and bounding materials,
in endeavoring to get a foothold, they at
last reached the rear of the houses, where
some were taken into the second story,
and others, unable to be reached, succeeded
in braving the waves until they swam to a
place of safety.
But it would be absolutely impossible to
give an extended detail of the disastrous
scenes pertaining to each separate locality,
although some of the incidents and items
of the gale's destructive effects deserve to
be cited for their very marvelousness.
Mention has already been made of the
devastation in Dorchester, near Boston, —
unparalleled since its settlement, — result
ing in seventeen houses being unroofed,
sixty chimneys prostrated, forty barns
demolished, and more than five thousand
trees destroyed. The number of buildings,
large and small, destroyed in Providence,
was estimated at five hundred, and about
fifty vessels wrecked. In many instances,
majestic oaks, which had braved the tem
pests an hundred years or more, were
thrown down, or twisted into shreds ; and
in Danvers, Mass., the venerable pear tree,
imported and transplanted by Governor
Endicott, was made terrible havoc with.
In Chelsea, not far from Danvers, the
great Elm tree, seventeen feet in girth,

and which had a portico built upon its
limbs, capable of holding thirty persons,
was among the wrecked. In the little
town of Acton, about twenty miles from
Boston, the damage amounted to forty
thousand dollars. At Stonington, Conn.,
the tide rose seventeen feet higher than
usual, all the vessels going ashore or sink
ing, and all the wharves and many build
ings being destroyed. The fate of one
citizen of this town was almost as disas
trous as that of Job of yore : His house,
ropewalk, blacksmith's shop, and other
buildings, with all their contents, were
swept away, and, melancholy to relate, his
wife, daughter, wife's mother, and a
young lady visitor, all perished in the
billows. All along the New England
coast, and as far as New York, the damage
done to the shipping was immense, hun
dreds of vessels with their cargoes being
wrecked ; and almost every seaport as well
as inland town suffering to some degree,
— in many instances, almost irreparable, in
kind and extent. Innumerable churches
were wholly or partially ruined, and the
number of cattle killed was very great.
The gale was also severely felt by
vessels off Cape Hatteras, in the gulf
stream, off the capes of Delaware, at Sandy
Hook, Nantucket Shoals, Cape Ann, Cape
Henlopen, etc.
The course of the gale, as ascertained
from data procured from various points,
furnishes facts of peculiar meteorological
interest. Thus, in Philadelphia, there
was, during most of the night of the
twenty-second, a gale from the north-east,
with heavy rain. Early the next day, the
wind veered to the north-west, the gale
continuing, with torrents of rain, for sev-
eral hours. Between eight and nine
o'clock, the wind slackened, the rain
ceased, and clouds broke away in the west
and south. About noon, the weather was
clear and mild, with a gentle westerly
breeze. During the greater part of the
afternoon, the sun was obscured with fly
ing clouds from the west and north-west.
In New York, a violent north-east storm
of wind and rain commenced at night, on

268

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

the twenty-first; about two o'clock, the
wind suddenly shifted to the north and
north-west, blowing with increased vio
lence. On the twenty-second, there was a
gale all day, from the north-east and east,
with heavy and incessant rain. The gale
increased in the evening, continuing until
four o'clock the next afternoon, though
most violent at nine o'clock the same fore
noon, the wind being north to north-west.
At New London, Connecticut, the storm
commenced on Friday, the twenty-second,
a heavy rain falling during that day and
night, the wind north-east. Next morn
ing, the twenty-third, the wind became
very violent, and soon after almost a hur
ricane. The tide, which commenced flood
about six o'clock, had, by ten, risen three
or four feet higher than was ever known
before. The rise was so rapid, too, that
some of the dwellings were deluged before
the inhabitants knew of their danger, and
not more than thirty minutes elapsed after
they thus realized their peril, before the
waves rose four to six feet in the streets !
Stores were soon seen falling before the
terrible power of the tempest, buildings
were unroofed, giant trees fell. But this
awful scene of destruction was short.
Soon after eleven o'clock, the wind shifted
to the westward and abated; the sea
returned with the velocity it came in,
though it should have run flood until
twelve ; and the storm ceased. The show
ers which fell over the city and neighbor
hood were of salt water ; and the leaves of
the tender fruit-trees and shrubs and of
many forest trees, without frost, shrunk in
a few hours after the gale as though they
had been scorched. Brooks and wells in
the town and neighborhood became brack
ish ; and during the strength of the wind,
in the eddies, the air was extremely hot
and suffocating.
Far into the interior, the tempest swept
and raged with unparalleled fury. Early
on Saturday morning, the wind became
very violent, and torrents of rain descended,
continuing with but short intermissions
until about half-past ten in the forenoon ;
at this time, the rain abated, and the wind,

suddenly shifting to the south-east, blew a
hurricane, the terrible devastation of which
covered a column or area of sixty miles in
width. A suffocating current of air as,
from a hot bath, accompanied the middle
stage of the tempest. Flocks of gulls,
from the far-off ocean, were seen after the
storm in the Worcester meadows, and, as
evening approached, they flew toward the
sea. Along the seaboard, the effect of the
tide upon the soil and its productions was
very marked. Grass was entirely killed.
There was not a green blade to be seen, in
any place, over which the flood had passed.
In a few spots, near running springs, some
new shoots appeared in the course of the
autumn ; but on uplands, none grew until
another season, and then it was not the
same kind of grass which grew there
before, excepting in a very few instances,
Several cedar-swamps were filled with sea
water, which, having no outlet, soaked
into the ground. The trees in these
swamps perished forthwith, the leaves
withering and falling off in a very short
time. In the trees cut from these swamps
during the winter following the storm, the
sap-wood had turned nearly black; and
there was scarcely an instance in which a
cedar-tree survived the effect of the flood
Pine and oak trees suffered a similar fate,
excepting a very few, which stood near
the shore, — these latter, perhaps, having
grown accustomed to the influence of salt
water, and could better endure the ordeal,
— though a very great proportion even of
these perished in a short time. Most of
the shrubs and bushes, over which the tide
passed, perished similarly. It was ob
served, however, that one or two species
of laurel, and the common bayberry, were
but little if at all injured, and some of
the swamp whortleberry-bushes survived.
Apple trees were, generally, on such high
ground, that the tide did not reach them;
only a few were surrounded by the water,
and none of them were so situated that the
water could remain about them for any
length of time. They were, nevertheless,
as much exposed as many of the cedars

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

269

which died ; but the apple trees continued
to live, though considerably stinted in
their growth. With these exceptions, the
destruction of vegetable life in localities of
this exposure, was very general, if not
universal. Wherever the cultivated lands were in
low places near the shore, they were of
course overflowed. In fields where Indian
corn was standing, the roots were, in most
eases, torn out of the ground ; and where
this did not take place, the stalks were
wrenched and twisted, and the spikes
broken off. The corn, where it had pre
viously grown hard or ripe, was fit for
food, but where the grain had not already
hardened, it failed to do so, and either per
ished in the husk, or very soon after it
was taken out. It was a common remark,
that no part of the plant could be dried by
any means, and therefore by far the
greater part of the harvest was lost, not
being yet ripe. Potatoes, and other
vegetable roots, if left in the ground,
perished; but, where they had ripened,
and were taken up within a few days
after the flood, and well dried, they were
good.

which the tide water did not run, were so
infected with the taste and qualities of sea
water, as to be totally unfit for domestic
purposes. The inhabitants were obliged
therefore to transport this necessary article
for household uses, from a great distance ;
and travelers who needed it were glad to
receive it in a measure of tho smallest
capacity. In some wells near the shore,
the water formerly rose and fell with the
tide, still remaining fresh ; but the severe
and peculiar discipline of this flood so
changed their habit, that the water in
them became of a fixed height, and saltish.
When the vast and tremendous tide was
sweeping over the land, the spray arising
from it was very great, over a wide surface
of country, extending to the furthermost
of the interior of the northern states. It
is spoken of as having resembled a driving
snow-storm, through which objects could
be discerned only at short distances. In
the more northerly regions, it was observed,
immediately after the storm, that a singu
lar effect had been produced upon the
leaves of the trees by the spray ; their
vitality was destroyed, and they exhibited
an appearance similar to that which

HORRORS OP THE WHIRLWIND THROUGHOUT NEW ENGLAND.

Fresh water, along the seaboard, was,
for along time, a rarity of price, the wells
having been generally overflown and left
full of sea water. Watering-places for
cattle suffered a similar fate; and so
extensive was the influence of the flood,
that many wells, pools and streams, into

accompanies frost, except that they
retained more of their original color, and
in some instances they assumed a dark
red hue, as if they had been well scorched.
But in other sections along the shore, the
leaves did not exhibit this peculiar dis
coloration; those which were destroyed by

270

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

the flood, bore every mark of death, hut
not of having been burnt, — neither was
there any thin coating of salt on the win
dows in these regions, as on those in the
neighborhood of Boston and elsewhere.
In multitudes of instances, the saltness
of the wells and watering-places continued
unabated for six months, or until the first
week of the following March. The winter
had been severe, and the ground frozen
very deep until the middle of February,
when there were several weeks of moderate
weather, with soft rains, which dissolved
the snows and opened the ground ; shortly
after which, it was discovered that several
of the wells and ponds were fresh. As
the water in the:- 6 had been tasted but a
few days previously and was found still to
retain its disagreeableness, the freshness
must have taken place suddenly. After
successive spells of dry weather, these
wells grew salt again, but not to the same
degree as before ; and, on the other hand,
they would be fresh, after heavy rains, and
then become salt again after dry weather,
the degree of saltness diminishing from
time to time. This peculiarity continued
for several years, in some localities, being,
of course, a great inconvenience to man
and beast.
The center or the limits of this great
and memorable tempest, scientific investi
gators were unable to determine. It was
very violent at places separated by a con
siderable interval from each other; while
the intermediate region suffered much less.
Its course through forests was, in some
instances, marked almost as definitely, as
where the trees have been newly cut down
for a road. In these cases, it appears to
have been a moving vortex, and not the
rushing forward of the great body of the
atmosphere. There seems to have been
no part of the coast of New England which
escaped its fury, though in Vermont and
the western parts of New Hampshire its
severity was much less ; yet still further
west, on the St. Lawrence, the gale was so
great as to render it extremely dangerous
to be upon the river. And what is still
more remarkable, the storm began to grow

violent at this place about the same time
that it commenced near the Atlantic, and
subsided about the same time.
As to the direction of the wind, at the
several places where the storm prevailed
Professor Farrar's account states, that, on
the twenty-second, the wind was pretty
generally from the north-east. The storm
commenced to the leeward ; but when the
wind shifted from north-east to east and
south, along the coast of New England, it
veered round in the opposite direction at
New York, and at an earlier period. It
reached its greatest height at this latter
place about nine o'clock on the morning of
the twenty-third, when it was from the
north-west ; whereas, at Boston, it became
most violent and devastating about two
hours later, and blew from the opposite
quarter of the heavens. At Montreal, the
direction of the wind was the same as at
New York, but did not attain its greatest
height so soon by several hours. The
barometer descended very fast during the
morning of the twenty-third, and, when
the wind was highest, had fallen about
half an inch. It began to rise as the wind
abated, and recovered its former elevation
by the time the air was restored to its
usual tranquillity.
According to the investigations made
by others, and the observations recorded
at the time, in different places, the follow
ing facts are believed to be established,
namely: That the hurricane commenced
in the West Indies, and moved northward
at the rate of twelve or fifteen miles an
hour. Its course from St. Barts was about
west-north-west to Turks Island, and
thence to Boston — nearly on the same
meridian — it was a curve convex to the
west. Previous to the arrival of the hur
ricane in New England, a north-east storm
had prevailed along the Atlantic coast for
more than twenty-four hours. For some
hours previous to the hurricane, there was
a great and rapid condensation of vapor,
producing a heavy fall of rain in the line
of the north-east storm. The hurricane,
or violent blow, was mostly from the south
east, blowing into and at right angles to

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

271

the north-east storm, at its southern ter
mination. As the south-east wind ap
proached the line of the north-east storm,
it was deflected into an east wind. The
general form of the hurricane, in and about
New England, was that of an eccentric
ellipse, with its longest diameter north
east and south-west ; wind blowing north
east on the north-west side ; north-north
west, and west-north-west, at its south
end; south-east on its south-east side,
curving into an east wind at its junc
tion with the north-east current; wind
blowing from south at the easternmost
part of the hurricane. The whole body
of the hurricane, in the form thus
described, moved to the north nearly on
the meridian.
It is universally admitted, that there is
no account of a storm or gale in all respects
so remarkable in its phenomena as this, to
be found in the history of the United
States. Other hurricanes there have been,
laying waste whatever came in their way,
but they have been comparatively limited
in their extent and destructiveness.
Morton, in his New England Memorial,
gives a description of the violent tempest
that took place soon after the first settle
ment at Plymouth. It began on the
morning of August fifteenth, 1635, very
suddenly, "blew down houses, uncovered
divers others, divers vessels were lost at
sea; it caused the sea to swell in some
places so that it arose to twenty foot right
up and down, and made many Indians to
climb into trees for their safety; blew
down many hundred thousands of trees,"
etc. The tremendous gales of 1723, 1804,
1818, 1821, 1836, 1841, 1851, 1859,
1860, 1869, and some others, will long

be remembered in certain localities, for
their severity and the loss of life
and property, on land and sea, which
attended them ; but neither the memory
of man, nor the annals of the country,
from its first settlement doivn to the
present time, furnish any parallel to
the peculiar character of the great gale
of September, 1815.
Of the storms and floods which occurred
during the last half of the century, those
of September and October, 1869, were per
haps the most memorable. The devasta
tion by the latter embraced the whole
country between the Nova Scotia coast and
the Mississippi, and from the north limits
of the Canadas to the cotton states. The
rain fell in torrents for about forty consec
utive hours, the dense clouds descending
in vast sheets, and a moaning wind accom
panying the powerful outpouring. A
stronger storm was beyond conception. In
some places, the rain-gauge showed that
four inches of rain fell in the course of
twenty-nine hours, and, during the suc
ceeding six hours, 3.34 inches additional,
— the total fall of water during the storm,
over a vast region of country, reaching the
enormous amount of 8.05 inches. The
resulting floods on all the streams were
beyond any ever recorded. The storm was
so sudden and unexpected, that no pre
cautions could have been taken, and none
were. Railroads, telegraph wires, streets,
bridges, dams, manufactories, houses, lands,
crops, were utterly or partially ruined,
over a wide extent of country ; and such
an embargo on travel was never known
before. The pecuniary losses reached
millions of dollars, and many lives were
lost.

XXIX.
VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA, AS THE GUEST
OF THE REPUBLIC— 1824.

His Tour of Five Thousand Miles Through the Twenty-Four States.— A National Ovation on the
Grandest Scale. — Cities, States, Legislatures and Governors, Vie in Their Demonstrations of Respect.
— The Venerable Patriot Enters the Tomb and Stands Beside the Remains of His Great Departed
Friend, Washington. — Noble Qualities of the Marquis. — A Favorite of Louis XVI. — Hears
of the Battle of Bunker Hill.— Pleads the Cause of the Americans. — Resolves to Join Their
Army. — Freely Consecrates His Vast Wealth. — Equips a Vessel and Embarks. — Introduced to
General Washington — Admiration of Him by the Chieftain.— One of Washington's Military
Family. — A Major-General in His Nineteenth Year. — Heroic Fidelity During the War.— Subse
quent Vicissitudes in France. — America's Heart-Felt Sympathy. — He Leaves Havre for New York.—
Enthusiasm Excit
ed by His Pres
ence. — Incidents,
Interviews, Fetes.
— Greetings with
Old Comrades. —
— Memories, Joys,
and Tears. — De
parts in the United
States Ship Lafay
ette.— His Death
in 1834— National
Grief.

"Fortunate, fortunate man)
Heaven saw fit to ordain that
ihe electric spark of liberty
ihobiu he conducted. thxougii
Lafayette, from the New
World to the Old."— DiKUL
Webster.

WO names are most intimately and indissolubly associated with
the dramatic train of military events which led to the establish-
MUDa^'A'J :r'*~— ' ' ment of the United States as a nation and government, namely,
^ — those of .Washington and Lafayette. No two names are,
down to the present day, more fresh in the love and gratitude of the American people,
and, until time shall be no more, a test of the fidelity with which that people hold to
the principles of republican wisdom and virtue that gave them birth, will be their
admiration of the names of those patriots and heroes. To understand, therefore,
the significance of that spontaneous outburst of popular enthusiasm which greeted
Lafayette on his visit to America in 1824, and which made that year one of the most

GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

273

memorable in the nation's history, it will
only be necessary to glance at the services,
military and civil, rendered us by this
large-hearted patriot, during the opening
years of our national existence. Those
services and that reception form, indeed, a
national romance.
When only thirteen years of age, Lafay
ette was left an orphan, and in full posses
sion of valuable estates, and master of his
own affairs. Being for a time at the col
lege in Paris, his associations brought him
into notice at the court of King Louis, and
he became quite a favorite with that mon
arch. He was appointed one of the
queen's pages, and through her agency
received a commission at the early, age of
fifteen. He formed an early attachment
to a daughter of the noble family of
Noailles, with whom he was united in
marriage at the age of sixteen. Adopting
the profession of a soldier, Lafayette, at
nineteen, was stationed, as captain of dra
goons, at Metz, one of the garrisoned
towns of France. Here, in 1776, Lafay
ette's attention was directed to the conflict
of liberty in America — the hostilities
between Britain and her colonies ; and
while in conversation with the Duke of
Gloucester, brother to George the Third, of
England, he elicited facts that led him to
see the whole merits of the case. The
battle of Bunker Hill and the Declaration
of Independence fired his heart ! Before
rising from the dinner-table at which this
interview occurred, Lafayette had resolved
to leave his home, and offer himself and
his services to the rising republic, whose
cause he regarded as just and noble. Prom
that hour he could think of nothing but
this chivalrous enterprise, though aware
that it would cut him off from the favor
of that brilliant court-circle in which he
shone so conspicuously, and that he would
also have to tear himself away from his
young, beautiful, and fondly attached
wife, who alone, among all his associates,
approved of his intention.
Proceeding to Paris, he confided h
scheme to two young friends, Count Segu_
and Viscount Noailles, and proposed that
18

is
ur

they should join him. They entered with
enthusiasm into his views, but, owing to
obstacles put in their way through family
interference, they were prevented from
following out their course, but faithfully
kept their comrade's secret. He next
explained his intention to Count Broglie,
who advised him to abandon it at once as
in the highest degree chimerical and haz
ardous. The count assured him that his
confidence was not misplaced; but, said
he— " I have seen your uncle die in the wars
of Italy, I witnessed your father's death at
the battle of Minden, and I will not be
accessory to the ruin of the only remaining
branch of the family."
But, so far from being disheartened by
the unpromising reception which Lafay
ette's plan met with from those to whom
he made known his purposes, his ardor
was rather increased in the pursuit of his
object. "My zeal and love of liberty,"
said he, " have perhaps been hitherto the
prevailing motives ; but now I see a
chance for usefulness, which I had not
anticipated. I have money; I will pur
chase a ship, which shall convey to Amer
ica myself, my companions, and the freight
for congress." All this, as the sequel will
show, he nobly and self-sacrificingly car
ried out.
This design was now made known by
Lafayette to Messrs. Franklin, Lee, and
Deane, the American commissioners at
Paris ; and to a proposal so disinterested
and generous they could, of course, make
no objection, — could only admire, indeed,
the spirit which actuated it ; and he hast
ened immediately to put it into execution.
After surmounting the many difficulties
which from time to time interrupted the
progress of his plans, he at last set sail,
the Baron de Kalb and eleven other offi
cers of various ranks, in pursuit of em
ployment in the American army, consti
tuting his retinue. In due time they
approached the shore near Georgetown,
South Carolina, having fortunately escaped
two British cruisers, and soon proceeded
to Charleston harbor, where a magnificent

274

OUE FIKST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

reception was given them. The vessel
was subsequently loaded with rice for the
French market, but it foundered in going
out of the harbor, and both the vessel and
the cargo became a total loss.
But Lafayette had not yet reached his
destination. As soon, however, as all
things were in readiness, the party left
Charleston and traveled to Philadelphia,
where congress was then sitting. On
arriving there, he put his letters into the
hands of Mr. Lovell, chairman of the com
mittee on foreign affairs. He called the
next day at the hall of congress, and Mr.
Lovell came out to him and said, that so
many foreigners had offered themselves for
employment, that congress was embar
rassed with their application, and he was
sorry to inform him there was very little
hope of his success. Lafayette suspected
that his papers had not been read, and he

immediately sat down and wrote a note to
the president of congress, in which he
desired to be- permitted to serve in the
American army on two conditions : first,
that he should receive no pay; second,
that he should act as a volunteer. These
terms were so different from those de
manded by other foreigners, and presented
so few obstacles on the ground of any
interference with American officers, that
they were at once accepted. His rank,

zeal, perseverance, and disinterestedness,
overcame every objection, and he was-
appointed a major-general in the American
army before he had reached the age of
twenty. But he was yet to stand before the face
of the great American chieftain. Wash
ington was at head-quarters when Lafay
ette reached Philadelphia, but, being daily
expected iu the city, the young general
concluded to wait his arrival, instead of
presenting himself at camp. The intro
duction of the youthful stranger to the
man on whom his career depended was,
however, delayed only a few days. It
took place in a manner peculiarly marked
with the circumspection of Washington,
at a dinner-party, where Lafayette was
one among several guests of consideration.
Washington was not uninformed of the
circumstances connected with Lafayette's
arrival in this country ; and it may well
be supposed that the eye of the father of
his country was not idle during the re<
past. But that searching glance, before
which pretense or fraud never stood
undetected, was completely satisfied,
When they were about to separate,
Washington took Lafayette aside, spoks
to him with kindness, complimented
him upon the noble spirit he had shown
and the sacrifices he had made in favor
of the American cause, and then told
him that he should be pleased if he
would make the quarters of the com
mander-in-chief his home, establish him
self there whenever he thought proper,
and consider himself at all times as one
of his family, — adding, in a tone of pleas
antry, that he could not promise him the
luxuries of a court, or even the con
veniences which his former habits might
have rendered essential to his comfort, but,
since he had become an American soldier
he would doubtless contrive to accommo
date himself to the customs, manners and
privations of a republican army. Suck
was the reception given to Lafayette, by
the most sagacious and observant of men ;
and the personal acquaintance, thus com
menced, ripened into an intimacy, a con-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

275

fidence, and an affection without bounds,
and never for one moment interrupted. If
there lived a man whom Washington
loved and admired, it was Lafayette.
Gloriously did' Lafayette fulfill, in his
military career, the high hopes which
swelled the hearts of American patriots, in
the heroic courage which he displayed at
Brandywine, where he received a ball in
his leg ; his success in Jersey, before he
had recovered from his wounds, in a battle
where he commanded militia against Brit
ish grenadiers ; in the brilliant retreat,
by which he eluded a combined maneuver
of the whole British force ; by his great
services in the enterprise against Rhode
Island, and his successful movements
against Cornwallis ; — all these proofs of
his patriotism and military skill, together
with his warm and unsullied friendship
for Washington, through all the varying
fortunes of war, endeared him forever to
every American.
After the fall of Cornwallis, Lafayette
sailed for France, but revisited America
in 1784. He was received with enthusi
asm wherever he went. Returning to
France, he found himself the object of
immense popularity, and took his seat with
the notables, convoked in 1787. In 1789,
he boldly proposed, in the national convo
cation, the Declaration of Rights, which
he had brought from the free soil of Amer
ica, as the preliminary of a constitution.
Proclamation of this world-renowned doc
ument was made July 22, and it furnished
the French people with the metaphysical
reasons for the "sacred right of insurrec
tion." Meanwhile the Bastile had been
taken, July 14, the national guard organ
ized, and Lafayette appointed to the com
mand. In this capacity he rode a white
charger, and shone the impersonation of
chivalry, and twice the royal family owed
their preservation to his address and cour
age. When the popular enthusiasm lulled,
he returned to his native fields; the
national guard, on his retirement, present
ing him with a bust of Washington, and
a sword forged from the bolts of the Bas-
Jle, Subsequently, having denounced the

bloodthirsty Jacobins, he was burned in
effigy by the sans-culottes of Paris, and,
fleeing from the guillotine which there
awaited him, he finally fell into the hands
of the Austrians, and was by them sub
jected to a long and cruel imprisonment in
the fortress at Olmutz. His release, so
earnestly but unsuccessfully solicited by
Washington, was peremptorily demanded
by Napoleon, and obtained, in September,
1797. In the year 1818, he became a
member of the chamber of deputies, and,
resuming his career as an advocate of con
stitutional principles, succeeded at last in
elevating Louis Philippe to the throne of
France. By this time, Lafayette had grown old
in the services he had rendered to America
and France. Though his years were now
nearly three score and ten, he could not
think of meeting death until he had once
more seen that land of liberty across the
wide Atlantic, which was as dear to him as
his native country. In its infancy, and
for its freedom, he had, fifty years ago,
contributed his wealth and shed his blood,
sharing the bosom confidence of the greal
Washington as did no other human being.
That struggling little republic had now
become a giant nation ; the thirteen state?
constituting the original galaxy, had be
come almost double that number, and vast
as the empires of antiquity in territory.
Remembering his magnificent services, in
1824 the congress of the United States
voted unanimously a resolution requesting
President Monroe to invite Lafayette to
visit the United States, as the nation's
guest, — an honor never before accorded a
foreign nobleman, — and tendering a ship
of the line for his conveyance. This invi
tation was extended to the great French
patriot in President Monroe's most happy
manner, and was duly accepted, though
the offer of a war-ship was declined.
On the twelfth of July, 1824, Lafayette,
accompanied by his son, George Washing
ton Lafayette, and his secretary, M. Levas-
seur, sailed from Havre for America. He
arrived in New York, August fifteenth,
and landed on Staten Island. One of the

276

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

first to greet him was Joseph Bonaparte,
brother of the great Napoleon. Joseph
then resided at Bordentown, New Jersey ;

SWORD OF HONOE PRESENTED TO LAFAYETTE.
he had always cherished a high regard for
the Marquis, and greatly valued his
friendship. The interview between the
two was attended with the warmest emo
tions ; and whoever has seen Sully's por
trait of the great French patriot can form
some adequate conception of the chieftain's
magnificent bearing on this occasion.
The announcement of his arrival sent a
thrill of joy to every American heart and
home, and the great pageant of his recep
tion commenced in the city where he first
set foot forty years before. As the fleet
arrived off the battery at New York, a mili
tary line composed of thousands of veter
ans was formed, and the people, crowding
the battery and all the adjacent streets,
swelled the throng to the number of forty
thousand. The patriot was deeply affected
when he exchanged congratulations with
his old companions and friends. Shout
after shout went up in long and loud
acclaim, while the bands of music played
a triumphant welcome to the hero. His
stay in the city was one unbroken succes

sion of high honors and civic laudation
such as kings might envy ; at Albany, he
was received by Vice-President Tompkins.
On proceeding to New England, the same
enthusiasm was exhibited in every city
town, and village. From the residence of
Hon. William Eustis, the governor oi
Massachusetts, in Roxbury, he was es
corted by a large cavalcade and almost the
entire population, to Boston, where a
dense assemblage awaited his appearance.
Arriving at the line, he was greeted by
the mayor of the city and the people,
through whom he passed in a superb car
riage, under deafening cheers. The streets
were lined with spectators to the entrance
of the beautiful common. There, the
children of the public schools formed two
lines, the girls being dressed in spotless
white, and the boys in white pants and
blue jackets, and all wearing appropriate
badges. A little girl sprang forward from
the line as Lafayette was passing, and, at
her request to speak to him, was lifted
into the carriage, when she gracefully pre
sented him with a wreath of flowers, which
the venerable hero received with affecting
courtesy. While going from town to town,
he found in every place some of the
descendants of 1776, ready to give him
the heartiest of welcomes. Thus, when
visiting Marblehead, in Massachusetts, the
marquis manifested much curiosity at so
many ladies being mingled with the male
citizens, who had been deputed to receive
him. The spokesman of the occasion,
perceiving the pleasant surprise of the
marquis at this peculiar feature, said to
him —
"These are the widows of those who
perished in the revolutionary war, and the
mothers of children for whose liberty you,
illustrious sir ! have contended in the field
of battle. They are now here in the
places of their husbands, many of whom
were once known to you."
It may here be remarked, that Marble
head was the "banner town" for furnish
ing soldiers, in the revolutionary war,
there being a larger proportion to the
whole number of inhabitants from that

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

277

town than any other place in the United
States. The British armed vessels hover
ing on the coast destroyed the coasting
and fishing business, and thus the loss of
men in the war fell heavily upon the small
seaport towns ; for, being out of employ
ment, nearly all the young and old men
shouldered their muskets and joined the
army. At Philadelphia he was welcomed with
almost idolizing enthusiasm ; for tender
and thrilling indeed were the associations
which linked together the history of the
past and present of that city, in the person
and services of Lafayette ; the hospitali
ties of the state were appropriately dis
pensed by Governor Shultze. On landing
at Baltimore, he was conducted to the
' tent of Washington,' and the freedom of
the state and city conferred upon him in
an address by Governor Stevens. For
some time Lafayette could not precisely
understand the compliment conveyed in
the selection of the tent — especially one of
that construction — for
such proceedings. It
was soon made plain,
however, for, glancing
around, he recognized
a portion of Washing-

>^SfJ

ton s personal equipage
during the war ; and
turning to one near

him, he said, in a voice tremulous with emo
tion, " / remember ! " Proceeding to
Washington, Lafayette was received with
open arms by President Monroe, at the
executive mansion. Congress had just
assembled in regular session, at the capitol.
He was introduced to both houses, and was
formally and elegantly addressed by Mr.
Clay, speaker of the house of representa
tives, the two branches unanimously unit
ing in their legislative honors to the
nation's guest. At this session the sum
of two hundred thousand dollars, together
with a township, consisting of twenty-
four thousand acres of fertile land, was
voted by congress to General Lafayette, as
an expression of the grateful memory with
which the people of America regarded his
services in their behalf. A few of the
members felt themselves constrained, from
some doubts respecting its constitution
ality, to vote against this appropriation.
Lafayette, taking one of them by the
hand, said to him with considerable feel
ing: " I appreciate your views. If I had
been a member, I should have voted with
you, not only because I partake of the sen
timents which determined your votes, but
also because I think that the American
nation has done too much for me."
Most characteristic of Lafayette's
disinterestedness and magnanim
ity was that remark !
At this time, Governor Pleas
ant was chief magistrate of the
Old Dominion,' and warmly wel
comed the na
tion's guest. The
emotions experi
enced by Lafay
ette, as he once
more trod the bat
tle-fields of Vir
ginia, can of
course hardly be
described. York-
town, distinguish-
surrender of Cornwallis,
gave the finishing blow
presented a vast field

ed for the
which event
to the war

278

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

of tents at the reception of Lafayette.
The same house occupied by Cornwallis, as
his head-quarters in 1781, was still stand
ing. The general appearance of the place
gave evidence of a deserted village. The
houses of yore, which had been riddled
with balls and blackened with smoke, still
retained the marks of battle. In many
parts of the ground were seen broken
shells, and gun-carriages, with various
implements of war, — some on rocks, and
others half buried in the earth; every
arrangement having been made to give the
town, on Lafayette's arrival, the appear
ance of a place taken and occupied after a
severe contest in battle. One of the tents
erected on this occasion, was the one used
by Washington at the time of the siege,
together with others which had furnished
temporary apartments for weary soldiers
during the eventful campaign. An arch,
bearing the names of Lafayette, Hamilton,
and Laurens, was erected on the very spot
where the redoubt stood which was stormed
by Lafayette ; an obelisk was also erected,
bearing the names of distinguished French
men. And on the same spot it is said
that the orator of the occasion was design
ing, at the close of his address, to place a
blended civic crown and national wreath
in honor of Lafayette, who, while he
acknowledged the unique compliment,
gracefully averted its consummation, and,
taking the symbolic garland in his hand,
called for Colonel Fish, the only survivor
of the attack upon the redoubt, and
declared that half the honor belonged to.
him. Washington's marquee was erected
on the plain, just out of the village. Be
ing escorted to this tent, Lafayette gave
an affecting welcome to the officers of the
militia. Two old veterans were there, who
had faced the enemy in war, and stood firm
in the midst of the roar of the cannon ;
but as they pressed the hand of Lafayette
on this occasion, the old heroes wept and
fainted. Some of the servants who were
present discovered in an obscure corner of
a cellar a large box of candles, bearing
marks of belonging to Comwallis's military
stores — having remained undisturbed for

forty-three years. They were lighted for
the evening, and notwithstanding the
fatigues of the day, some of the old soldiers
remained till the last vestige of these Brit
ish candles had expired in the sockets.
Taking Camden, South Carolina — Gov
ernor Richard J. Manning, — in his tour,
Lafayette assisted in laying the corner
stone of a monument erected to the name
and memory of Baron de Kalb, a German
by birth, who came over in the same vessel
with Lafayette, in 1776, and volunteered
his services in the American army for
three years. He fell while bravely en
gaged in the battle at Camden, pierced
with eleven deadly wounds. It is said
that Washington, visiting the baron's
grave many years after his death, sighed
as he looked upon it, and exclaimed,'
"There lies the brave De Kalb, the gener
ous stranger, who came from a distant
land to fight our battles, and to water with
his blood the tree of Liberty. Would to
God he had lived to share with us in its
fruits ! " At Savannah, Georgia, after
being welcomed by Governor Troup, Lafay
ette united in the same service commemor
ative ©f Generals Greene and Pulaski.
On the seventeenth of June, Lafayette
witnessed the laying of the corner-stone of
Bunker Hill monument, at .Charlestown,
Massachusetts ; he was the only surviving
major-general of the revolution who was
present at this ceremony. - Colonel Francis
K. Huger participated in '-the patriotic
services — the man who, when a'lad, walked
with Lafayette over his fathers grounds,
and who, some thirty years before this
seventeenth ,. of , June, risked his life in
attempting to aid the escape of Lafayette
from th e ; castle of Olmutz. The people' of
Charlestown not only .welcomed Huger,
but gave: him a seat by the side of Lafay
ette, in the carriage which moved in the
procession, and also one near him at the
festive board. Daniel Webster was the
orator for the day ; it was the fiftieth anni
versary of the battle; and every thing con
spired to render the day memorable. As
the procession passed, Lafayette was con
tinually hailed with demonstrations of love

GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

279

and gratitude. The procession was sev
eral miles long, and, on arriving at the his
toric spot, the impressive rite of laying the
corner-stone was performed by the grand
master of the Freemasons, the president of

LAFAYETTE S BIHTHPLACE.

the Monument Association, and General
Lafayette, in the presence of a vast con
course of people. The assembly then
moved to a spacious amphitheatre, where
the oration was pronounced by Mr. Web
ster, before as great a multitude as was
ever, perhaps, assembled within the sound
of a human voice. '
There was one place — Kaskaskia, on the
route of Lafayette's tour, at which, though
no preparations had been made to receive
him, he paused a short time ; and here it
was that a most affecting incident oc
curred. Curiosity induced one of his com
panions to go and look at an Indian
encampment, a short distance from the
town. He there met with an educated
Indian woman, who spoke the French lan
guage tolerably well, and who expressed a
desire to see Lafayette, and to show him a
relic which she always carried with her,
and which was "very dear to her." She
wished to show it to Lafayette, as proof of
¦the veneration with which his name was
regarded among their tribes. It was a
letter written by Lafayette in 1778, and
addressed to her father, Panisciowa, a

chief of one of the six nations. This letter
expressed the hearty thanks of Lafayette
for the faithful services of that chief in the
American cause. The name of this only
child of the old chief was Mary, who, at
the decease of her mother, was
placed under the care of an
American agent, by whom she
was instructed and kindly treat
ed. She became a Christian. As
she was walking out in the for
est, about five
years after, an
Indian warrior
overtook her and
informed her that
her father was dy
ing, and wished
to see her. She
soon started off,
traveled all night,
and in the morn
ing reached his
hut, which was
situated in a narrow valley. As she came to
his bedside, he took from his pouch a paper
wrapped in a dry skin, and gave it to her,
with a charge to preserve it as a precious
gift, saying: "It is a powerful charm to
interest the pale-faces in your favor. I
received it from a great French warrior,
whom the English dreaded as much as the
Americans loved him, and with whom I
fought in my youth." The chief died the
next day. Mary returned to her white
friends, and soon after married the young
warrior, who was her father's friend and
companion. She had the pleasure of
showing the letter to Lafayette, who rec
ognized it, and listened with great respect
and deep feeling to her touching story.
Another most interesting episode was that
which transpired at Lafayette's reception
in Nashville, Tenn., Governor Carroll pre
siding at the state ceremonies. There had
come from different parts of the country
about forty officers and soldiers of the rev
olution. Among the number was an aged
man who had traveled one hundred and
fifty miles. His name was Haguy, a
German, and he was one of those who

280

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

embarked in the same vessel with Lafay
ette for this country, nearly fifty years
back, and served under him during the
whole war. The old veteran, clasping
Lafayette's hand with affectionate
warmth, the tears rolling down his
cheeks, said :
"I have come many miles to see the
' young general.' I have had two happy
days in my life — one, when I landed with
you on the American coast, nearly fifty
years ago, and to-day when I see your face
again. I have lived long enough." The
sensation produced by this scene, in that
great throng, was for a time completely
overpowering. Not less interesting was the interview,
at Buffalo, between Lafayette and 'Bed
Jacket,' the old chief of the Seneca tribe
of Indians. They had both met in council
at Fort Schuyler, in 1784. Red Jacket,
in conversation with General Lafayette,
made some allusions to that famous coun
cil, and to those who participated in its
proceedings, when Lafayette inquired with
some curiosity —
" Where is the young warrior, I wonder,
who opposed the burying of the toma
hawk?" "He is here before you," instantly re
plied the aged chief.
" Ah, I see," replied the general, " time
has changed us. We were once young
and active."
" But," said the chief, " time has made
less change on you than on me."
Saying this he uncovered his head, and
exhibited his entire baldness. The gen
eral wore a wig, and, not wishing to
deceive Red Jacket, took it from his head,
to the no small amusement of the aston
ished Indian.
A visit to the tomb of Washington was
one of the most notable events in Lafay
ette's tour. His arrival there was an
nounced by the firing of cannon, which
brought to his memory the din of war, —
the scenes of the revolution, — when he,
with the great but now lifeless chieftain,
were side by side in battle. Standing for
awhile upon the consecrated ground and

amidst the solemn stillness of the place
he descended alone into the tomb with hia
head uncovered. There he remained in
solitary contemplation for some time  the
living aged veteran communing with the
illustrious dead. He returned with his
face bathed in tears, and, taking his son
and Levasseur, the secretary, by the hand
led them into the tomb. He could not
speak, but pointed mutely to the coffin of
Washington. They knelt reverently by
it, kissed it, and, rising, threw themselves-
into the arms of Lafayette, and for a few
moments wept in silence. Lafayette was.
now presented, by the hand of Mr. Custis,
one of the surviving family connections of
Washington, with a massive finger-ring
containing a portion of the hair of his
departed friend. He was also the recipi
ent of some other personal memorials of
the "Father of his Country."
During this tour Lafayette visited every
one of the twenty-four states of the Union,
and traveled over five thousand miles. In
nearly every region which he visited,
towns or counties, and literary, scientific
or civic associations, named in honor of
him, still preserve his memory. Indeed,
one of the foremost of the great colleges of
the Middle states dates from the same'
period. At Easton, in Pennsylvania,
the citizens convened on the 27th of
December, 1824, and resolved to estab
lish Lafayette College, an eminent
institution of learning, in memory of
and " as a testimony of respect for the
talents, virtues and signal sevices, of
General Lafayette, in the great cause of
Freedom." When the time which he had allotted
for his tour had expired, Lafayette re
paired to Washington, to pay his parting
respects to the chief magistrate of the-
nation, John Quincy Adams, who had suc
ceeded President Monroe. This took
place at the presidential mansion, on the
sixth of September, 1825. The farewell
address from the president, in behalf of
the whole American people, was a most
affecting tribute to the lofty character and
patriotic services of Lafayette, during his-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

281

long and eventful career, and closed with
the following words :
" You are ours by that unshaken senti
ment of gratitude for your services which
is a precious portion of our inheritance ;
ours by that tie of love, stronger than
death, which has linked your name for the
endless ages of time with the name of
Washington. At the painful moment of

parting with you
we take comfort
in the thought
that, wherever you may be, to the last pul
sation of your heart, our country will ever
be present to your affections ; and a cheer
ing consolation assures us that we are not

called to sorrow — most of all, that we
shall see your face no more, — for we
shall indulge the pleasing anticipation
of beholding our friend again. In the
name of the whole people of the United
States, I bid you a reluctant and .affec
tionate farewell."
To this parting address from the lips of
the nation's distinguished chief magistrate,
Lafayette replied in a strain of patriotic
and impassioned eloquence never to be
forgotten. On the same day he embarked for
France, on board the Brandywine, a new
frigate, named
thus in compli
ment to Lafay
ette, who, on the
banks of that riv
er, was wounded
in his first battle
for American
freedom. In the
whole range of
history, ancient
or modern, there
is no instance of
similar honors being paid to any hero, by
the united and spontaneous will of a great
people ; and when, nine years after, he paid
the debt of nature, that same great people
gave vent to universal grief, and every
tongue spoke words of eulogy to the mem
ory of America's most illustrious friend.

xxx.
DUEL BETWEEN HENRY CLAY, SECRETARY OF STATE,
AND JOHN RANDOLPH, UNITED STATES SENA
TOR FROM VIRGINIA— 1826.

Randolph's Bitter Insult to Clay on the Floor of the Senate. — Accuses Him of Falsifying an Offlcia]
Document. — The Puritan and "Blackleg" Taunt. — Clay Challenges the Senator to Mortal Com
bat. — Words and Acts of these Two Foremost Men of their Times, on the " Field of Honor."—
Result of the Hostile Meeting. — Fame of these Party Leaders. — Ancient Political Antagonists.—
Origin of the Present Dispute. — Randolph's Gift of Sarcasm. — Applies it Severely to Clay. — Clay
Demands Satisfaction. — Reconciliation Refused — Bladensburg the Dueling-Ground.— Pistols the
Weapons Chosen. — Colonel Benton a Mutual Friend. — Incidents the Night Before. — Randolph's
Secret Resolve. — Going to the Field of Blood. — View of this Shrine of " Chivalry." — Salutations of
the Combatants. — Solemn Interest ofthe Scene. — Distance Ten Paces.— A Harmless Exchange of
Shots— Clay Calls it " Child's Play ! "—Another Fire— No Injury.— " Honor " Satisfied.— Pleasant
Talk with Each Other.

"I would not have seen him fall mortally, or even doubtfully, wourjded, for all the land that is watered by the King of Floods and all
hie tributary streams."— Randolph to Bunton.
"I trust in God, my dear sir, you are untouched; after what has occurred, I would nothave harmed you fpra thousand worlds."—
Clay to Randolph.

¦T would be needless, at this point of time, to recount
the circumstances of that long and bitter antago^
^. nism which characterized the relations, in political
^ life, between the renowned and eccentric John
Randolph and the equally famous and brilliant
Henry Clay. This antagonism, after the accession
to the department of state by Mr. Clay, under the
presidency of John Quincy Adams, acquired addi
tional violence, and finally led to a hostile encoun
ter, under the following circumstances : The presi-
pkblimin aries of the " code of honor." dent had sent in a message to the senate, on the
subject of the Panama mission. A motion was made in the senate for a call upon the
president for further information. In response to this the president answered by a
message, with the tone of which Randolph was greatly displeased, and, in his place in
the senate, bitterly denounced it and its authors, President Adams and his secretary,
Mr. Clay. Alluding to one passage in particular, in the president's message, Randolph
was reported as saying : " Here I plant my foot ; here I fling defiance right into his
teeth ; here I throw the gauntlet to him, and the bravest of his compeers, to come
forward and defend these lines." And he concluded his speech with the sentence :

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

283

"I was defeated, horse, foot, and dragoons
— cut up, clean broke down by the coali
tion of Blifil and Black George— by the
combination unheard of till then, of the
Puritan ivith the Blackleg." But, what
was most pointed, perhaps, than anything
else, in this assault upon Mr. Clay's honor,
was Randolph's statement, " that a letter
from General Salazar, the Mexican min
ister at Washington, submitted by the
executive to the senate, bore the ear-mark
of having been manufactured or forged by
the secretary of state."
Mr. Clay smarted under the stigma of
these charges. He demanded explana
tions. These being refused, Clay at once
sent a challenge, which Randolph accepted.
The seconds, however, chosen by the dis
tinguished principals, determined to at
tempt an accommodation, or a peaceable
termination of the difficulty. But Ran
dolph, though modifying the unrevised
and somewhat inaccurate report of his
speech which had gone forth, refused to
explain, out of the senate, the words he
had used within it. Clay was peremptory
with Randolph, on the point of honor, as
he had also been with Humphrey Mar
shall, in 1808, whom the brilliant Ken
tuckian challenged and fought. Though
bad enough, both personally and politically,
these duels of the great Kentuckian will
at least compare favorably with the later
duel between Graves of Kentucky, and
Cilley of Maine, in which Webb, the New
York journalist, bore so prominent a part.
It being certain that there was no hope
of reconciliation, the seconds proceeded to
arrange for the duel. The afternoon of
Saturday, April eighth, 1826, was fixed
upon for the time, — the right bank of the
Potomac, within the state of Virginia,
above the Little Falls bridge, 'was the
place, — pistols the weapons, distance ten
paces,— each party to be attended by two
seconds and a surgeon, and Senator Ben
ton to be present as a mutual friend.
There was to be no practicing with pistols,
and there was none ; and the words, ' One,
two, three,— stop,' after the word ' Fire,'
were, by agreement between the seconds

and for the humane purpose of reducing
the result as near as possible to chance, to
be given out in quick succession. The
Virginia side of the Potomac was taken,
according to Mr. Benton's account of the
duel, at the instance of Mr. Randolph.
He went out as a Virginia senator, refus
ing to compromise that character, and, if
he fell in defense of what he deemed to
be its rights, Virginia soil was to him the
chosen ground to receive his blood. There
was a statute of the state against dueling
within her limits ; but as he merely went
out to receive a fire without returning it
he deemed that no fighting, and conse
quently no breach of her statute.
The week's delay, which the seconds
had contrived, was about expiring. It was
Friday night, when Mr. Benton went to
see Mr. Clay for the last time before the
duel. There had been some alienation
between the two since the time of the
presidential election in the house of repre
sentatives, and the senator desired to show
Mr. Clay that there was nothing personal
hi it. The family (says Mr. Benton) were
in the parlor, — company present, — and
some of it staid late. The youngest child
went to sleep on the sofa, — a circumstance
which availed me for the next day. Mrs.
Clay was, as always after the death of her
daughters, the picture of desolation, but
calm, conversable, and without the slight
est apparent consciousness of the impend
ing event. When all were gone, and she
also had left the parlor, I did what I came
for, and said to Mr. Clay that, notwith
standing our late political differences, my
personal feelings were the same towards
him as formerly, and that, in whatever
concerned his life or honor, my best wishes
were with him. He expressed his gratifi
cation at the visit and the declaration, and
said it was what he would have expected
of me. We parted at midnight.
Mr. Benton's account continues as fol
lows : Saturday, the 8th of April, 1826,
— the day for the duel, — had come, and
almost the hour. It was noon, and the
meeting was to take place at half-past four
o'clock. I had gone to see Mr. Randolph

284

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

before the hour, and for a purpose. I had
heard nothing from him on the point of
not returning the fire, since the first com
munication to that effect, eight days be
fore. I had no reason to doubt the steadi
ness of his determination ; but felt a
desire to have some fresh assurance of it
after so many days' delay, and so near
approach of the trying moment. I knew
it would not do to ask him the question, —
any question that would imply a doubt of
his word. So I fell upon a scheme to get
at the inquiry without seeming to make
it. I told him of my visit to Mrs. Clay
the night before, — of the late sitting, — the
child asleep, — the unconscious tranquillity

of Mrs. Clay; and added, I could not help
reflecting how different all that might be
the next night. He understood me per
fectly, and immediately said, with a
quietude of look and expression which
seemed to rebuke an unworthy doubt, —
" I shall do nothing to disturb the sleep
of the child or the repose of the mother."
Mr. Randolph at the same time went
on with his employment — his seconds

being engaged in their preparations in a
different room, — which was, making codi
cils to his will, all in the way of remem
brance to friends ; the bequests slight in
value, but invaluable in tenderness of
feeling and beauty of expression, and
always appropriate to the receiver. To
Mr. Macon, he gave some English shil
lings, to keep the game when he played
whist. His namesake, John Randolph
Bryan, then at school in Baltimore, and
afterwards married to his niece, was sent
for to see him, but sent off before the hour
for going out, to save the boy from a pos
sible shock of seeing him brought back.
He wanted some gold, — that coin not
being then in circulation, and only to be
obtained by favor or purchase, — and sent
his faithful man, Johnny, to the United
States Branch Bank, to get a few pieces, —
American being the kind asked for.
Johnny returned without the gold, and
delivered the excuse that the bank had
none. Instantly his clear silver-toned
voice was heard above its natural pitch,
exclaiming : " Their name is legion ! and
they are liars from the beginning. Johnny,
bring me my horse." His own saddle-
horse was brought him, for he never rode
Johnny's, nor Johnny his, though both,
and all his hundred horses, were of the
finest English blood; and he rode off to
the bank, down Pennsylvania avenue,
Johnny following, as always, forty paces
behind. Arrived at the bank, the follow
ing scene transpired. Mr. Randolph asked
for the state of his account, was shown it,
and found it to be some four thousand dol
lars in his favor. He asked for it. The
teller took up packages of bills, and civilly
asked in what sized notes he would have
it. " I want money," said Mr. Randolph,
putting emphasis on the word ; and at that
time it required a bold man to intimate
that United States Bank notes were not
money. The teller, beginning to under
stand him, and willing to make sure, said,
inquiringly :
" You want silver ? "
" I want my money," was the reply.
"Have you a cart, Mr. Randolph, to

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

285

put it in ? " said the teller, politely, lifting
boxes to the counter.
"That is my business, sir," answered
Randolph. By this time, the attention of the cashier
was attracted to what was going on, who
came up, and, understanding the question
and its cause, told Mr. Randolph there
was a mistake in the answer given to his
servant ; that they had gold, and he should
have what he wanted. In fact, he had
only applied for a few pieces, which he
wanted for a special purpose. This brought
about a compromise. The pieces of gold
were received, — the cart and the silver
dispensed with.
On returning, Randolph handed a sealed
paper to Mr. Benton, which the latter was
to open in case Randolph was killed, —
give back to him if he was not ; also
an open slip, which that senator was to
read before he got to the ground. This
slip was a request to feel in his left
breeches' pocket, if he was killed, and find
so many pieces of gold, — Mr. Benton to
take three for himself, and give the same
number to Tatnall and Hamilton each, to
make seals to wear in remembrance of him.
He also remembered his friend Macon.
They were all three at Mr. Randolph's
lodgings, then, and soon set out, — Mr.
Randolph and his seconds in a carriage,
and Mr. Benton following him on horse
back. As has already been stated, the count
was to be quick after giving the word ' Fire,'
and for a reason which could not be told
to the principals. To Mr. Randolph, who
did not mean to fire, and who, though
agreeing to be shot at, had no desire to be
hit, this rapidity of counting out the time,
and quick arrival of the command ' Stop,'
presented no objection. With Mr. Clay
it was different. With him it was all a
real transaction, and gave rise to some
proposal for more deliberateness in count
ing off the time, which being communicated
to Colonel Tatnall, (Randolph's friend,)
and by him to Mr. Randolph, had an ill
effect upon his feelings, and, aided by an
imtoward accident on the ground, unset

tled for a moment the noble determination
which he had formed not to fire at Mr.
Clay. General Jesup (Clay's friend,)
states, that, when he repeated to Mr. Clay
the 'word' in the manner in which it
would be given, Mr. Clay expressed some
apprehension that, as he was not accus
tomed to the use of the pistol, he might
not be able to fire within the time, and
for that reason alone desired that it might
be prolonged. This desire of Mr. Clay
was mentioned, on his behalf, to Colonel
Tatnall, who replied, " If you insist upon
it, the time must be prolonged, but I should
very much regret it." The original agree
ment was carried out. Mr. Benton, how
ever, states that he himself knew nothing
of all this, until it was too late to speak
with the seconds or principals, he having
crossed the Little Falls bridge just after
them, and come to the place where the serv
ants and carriages had stopped. He saw
none of the gentlemen, and supposed they
had all gone to the spot where the ground
was being marked off ; but on speaking to
Johnny, Mr. Randolph, who was still in
his carriage, and heard the voice, looked
out from the window and said to Colonel
Benton —
" Colonel, since I saw you, and since I
have been in this carriage, I have heard
something which may make me change
my determination. Colonel Hamilton will
give you a note which will explain it."
Colonel Hamilton was then in the car
riage, and in the course of the evening
gave to Colonel Benton the note, of which
Mr. Randolph spoke. Colonel Benton
readily comprehended that this possible
change of determination related to Ran
dolph's firing ; but the emphasis with
which he pronounced the word ' may,'
clearly showed that his mind was unde
cided, and left it doubtful whether he
would fire or not. No further conversa
tion, however, took place between them —
the preparations for the duel were finished
— the parties went to their places.
The place was a thick forest, and the
immediate spot a little depression, or
basin, in which the parties stood. Not

286

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

far west of Bladensburg, just beyond the
line which separates the federal city from
the state of Maryland, a short distance off
the road from Washington, is this dueling-
ground, — a dingle, embosomed in a sun
burnt amphitheatre of trees, secluded, and
from associations, no less than location, a
dismal shrine, consecrated to human sacri
fices. On this spot, not long before the
battle of Bladensburg in the second war
with England, a United States secretary
of the treasury shot his antagonist, Mr.
Gardenier, through the body, both mem
bers of congress, in a party duel. Deca
tur, surrounded by brother naval officers,
fell there. A senator of the United States
lost his life there, horribly fighting with
muskets at pistol distance. Other vic
tims to the vanity of honor, so called, have
lost or staked their lives on this field of
blood. But never before, on that fatal field,
was any scene enacted, comparable with
that which was to witness a mortal con
test between Henry Clay and John Ran
dolph. Not too highly has the graphic
delineator of these dramatis persona? (Mr.
Baldwin, in his "Party Leaders,") drawn
the picture, in saying that there stood on
the banks of the Potomac, on that bright
April evening, as the sun was declining
behind the high hills of Virginia, in the
attitude of combatants, two men, around
whom gathered, probably, a more stirring
interest, than around any other two men
in the 'Union. And yet, their political
opinions and personal history were as
opposite as their persons, when they stood
in their places. Against any and all
insinuations of corruption, Mr. Clay might
safely have left his reputation with the
people. His splendid services as peace
commissioner to Europe, with such col
leagues as Bayard, Gallatin, Russell and
Adams ; his long period of statesman-like
service in the house of representatives,
succeeding repeatedly to the chair that
had been dignified by Muhlenberg, Trum
bull, Dayton, Varnum, Cheves, and Bar
bour, — this his record should have suf
ficed for his honor.

The two were alike only in chivalry of
bearing, integrity and independence of
character, genius and pride. They had
to all appearance met now to fight to the
death with physical weapons, as they had
met so often before, to do battle with the
weapons of intellectual warfare. Their
opposition had been unceasing. Each
looked upon the other as, if not the ablest,
at least as the most annoying and dreaded
opponent of his political principles and
personal aims. They were, in early life,
and to some extent, still, representatives

of different phases of American society.
Randolph, born to affluence ; descended
from a long and honored line ; accustomed
always to wealth, family influence, and the
pride of aristocracy and official position.
Clay, on the other hand, born in obscurity,
of humble parentage — the first man of his
family known out of his county — "the
mill-boy of the Slashes ; " but winning
his way and rising rapidly, by his boldness
and talents, to the very summit of public
station and influence, so as to be styled
the "Great Commoner;" — these were the
two men, alike in splendid gifts of intel
lect, yet so unlike in character and circum
stance, who now, weapon in hand, stood
opposed in deadly conflict.
As they took their stands, the princi-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

287

saluted each other courteously, accord
ing to the usage of the 'code.' Colonel
Tatnall had won the choice of position,
which gave to General Jesup the delivery
of the word. They stood on a line east
and west; there was a small stump just
behind Mr. Clay, and a low gravelly bank
rose just behind Mr. Randolph. The
latter asked General Jesup to repeat the
word as he would give it ; and while in
the act of doing so, and Mr. Randolph
adjusting the butt of his pistol to his
hand, the muzzle pointing downwards, and
almost to the ground, it fired. Instantly
Mr. Randolph turned to Colonel Tatnall,
and said, " I protested against that hair
trigger." Colonel Tatnall took blame to himself
for having sprung the hair. Mr. Clay
had not then received his pistol. Mr.
Johnson, one of his seconds, was carrying
it to him, and still several steps from him.
This untimely fire, though clearly an acci
dent, necessarily gave rise to some re
marks, and a species of inquiry, which
was conducted with the utmost delicacy,
but which, in itself, was of a nature to be
inexpressibly painful to a gentleman's
feelings. Mr. Clay stopped it with the
generous remark that the fire was clearly
an accident, and it was so unanimously
declared. Another pistol was immediately
furnished; an exchange of shots took
place, and, happily, without effect upon
the persons. Mr. Randolph's bullet struck
the stump behind Mr. Clay, and Mr. Clay's
knocked up the earth and gravel behind
Mr. Randolph, and in a line with the level
of his hips, both bullets having gone so
true and close, that it was a marvel how
they missed.
The moment had now arrived when
Colonel Benton felt that he could inter
pose. He accordingly went in among the
parties, and offered his mediation. Noth
ing, however, could be done. Mr. Clay
said, with that wave of the hand with
which he was accustomed to put away a
trifle, « This is child's play ! " and required
another fire. Mr. Randolph also demanded
another fire. The seconds were directed

to reload. While this was doing, Colonel
Benton prevailed on Mr. Randolph to
walk away from his post, and importuned
him, more pressingly than ever, to yield to
some accommodation. The colonel found
him, however, more determined than ever
before, and for the first time impatient,
and seemingly annoyed and dissatisfied at
such approaches. The accidental fire of
his pistol preyed upon his feelings. He
was doubly chagrined at it, both as a cir
cumstance susceptible in itself of an unfair
interpretation, and as having been the
immediate and controlling cause of his fir
ing at Mr. Clay. He regretted this fire
the instant it was over. He felt that it
had subjected him to imputations from
which he knew himself to be free, — a
desire to kill Mr. Clay, and a contempt for
the laws of his state; and the annoyances
which he felt at these vexatious circum
stances revived his original determination,
and decided him irrevocably to carry it
out. It was in this interval that Mr. Ran
dolph told Colonel Benton what he had
heard since they parted, and to which he
alluded when speaking from the window
of the carriage. It was to this effect :
that he had been informed by Colonel
Tatnall, that it was proposed to give out
the words with more deliberateness, so as
to prolong the time for taking aim. This.
information grated harshly upon his
feelings. It unsettled his purpose,
and brought his mind to the inquiry
expressed in the following note, which
he had immediately written in pencil,
to apprise Colonel Benton of his possible
change :
" Information received from Colonel
Tatnall since I got into the carriage may
induce me to change my mind of not
returning Mr. Clay's fire. I seek not his
death. I would not have his blood upon
my hands — it will not be upon my soul if
shed in self-defense — for the world. He
has determined, by the use of a long, pre
paratory caution by words, to get time to
kill me. May I not, then, disable him ?
Yes, if I please."

288

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

According to the statement of General
Jesup, already given, this ' information '
was a misapprehension, Mr. Clay not hav
ing applied for a prolongation of time for
the purpose of getting sure aim, but only
to enable his unused hand, long unfa
miliar with the pistol, to fire within the
limited time. There was no prolongation,
in fact, either granted or insisted upon ;
but Mr. Randolph was in doubt, and Gen
eral Jesup having won the word, he was
tiaving him repeat it in the way he was
to give it out, when his finger touched the
dair trigger. The inquiry, 'May I not
disable him?' was still on Mr. Randolph's
mind, and dependent for its solution on
the rising incidents of the moment, when
the accidental fire of his pistol, gave the
turn to his feelings which solved the

was to disable him, and spoil his aim.
And then he added, with the deepest feel
ing— " I would not have seen him fall mor
tally, or even doubtfully, wounded, for all
the land that is watered by the King of
Floods and all his tributary streams."
Saying this, Mr. Randolph left Colonel
Benton to resume his post, utterly refusing
to explain out of the senate anything that
he had said in it, and with the positive
declaration that he would not return the
next fire. Colonel Benton concludes his
reminiscences of this most remarkable
affair, as follows : I withdrew a little way
into the woods, and kept my eyes fixed
upon Mr. Randolph, whom I then knew to
be the only one in danger. I saw him
receive the fire of Mr. Clay, saw the

^^#%^

U

DUELING-GROUND AT BLADENSBURG.

doubt. But he afterwards declared to
Colonel Benton, that he had not aimed at
the life of Mr. Clay ; that he did not level
as high as the knee — not higher than the
knee-band, ' for it was no mercy to shoot
a man in the knee ; ' that his only object

gravel knocked up in the same place, saw
Mr. Randolph raise his pistol, — discharge
it into the air, — heard him say, " I do not
fire at you, Mr. Clay," — and immediately
advancing, and offering his hand. He
was met in the same spirit. They met

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

289

half-way, shook hands, Mr. Randolph say
ing jocosely, " You owe me a coat, Mr.
Clay," — (the bullet had passed through
the skirt of the coat, very near the hip)
— to which Mr. Clay promptly and hap
pily replied, " I am glad the debt is no
greater." I had come up, and was prompt
to proclaim what I had been obliged to
keep secret for eight days. The joy of all
was extreme at this happy termination of
a most critical affair, and. we immediately
left, with lighter hearts than we brought.
I stopped to sup with Mr. Randolph and
his friends, — none of us wanted dinner, —
and had a characteristic time of it. A
runner came in from the bank, to say that
they had overpaid him, by mistake, one
hundred and thirty dollars that da}'. Mr.
Randolph answered, '' I believe it is your
rule not to correct mistakes, except at the
time and at your counter." And with
that answer the runner had to return.
When gone, Mr. Randolph said, "I will
pay it on Monday ; people must be honest,
if banks are not." He asked for the
sealed paper he had given me, opened it,
took out a check for one thousand dollars,
drawn in my favor, and with which I was
requested to have him carried, if killed, to
Virginia, and buried under his patri
monial oaks, — not let him be buried at
Washington, with an hundred hacks after
him. He took the gold from his left
breeches pocket, and said to us (Hamil
ton, Tatnall, and I), —
" Gentlemen, Clay's bad shooting shan't
rob you of your seals. I am going to
London, and will have them made for
you." This he did (says Colonel Benton), and
most characteristically, so far as mine was
concerned. He went to the heraldry office
in London, and inquired for the Benton
family, 0f which I had often told him
there was none, as we only dated on that
side from my grandfather in North Caro
lina. But the name was found, and with
ita coat of arms,— among the quarterings
a lion rampant. " This is the family,"
said he; and had the arms engraved on
the seal. 19

The account given by General James
Hamilton, of this duel, states that, in
company with Colonel Tatnall, he repaired,
at midnight, to Mr. Randolph's lodgings,
and found him reading Milton's great
poem. For some moments he did not per
mit them to say one word in relation to
the approaching duel, for he at once com
menced one of those delightful criticisms
on a passage of this poet, in which he was
wont so enthusiastically to indulge. After
a pause, Colonel Tatnall remarked :
'¦' Mr. Randolph, I am told you have
determined not to return Mr. Clay's fire ;
I must say to you, my dear sir, if I am
only to go out to see you shot down, you
must find some other friend."
"Well, Tatnall," said Mr. Randolph,
after much conversation on the subject, " I
promise you one thing; if I see the devil
in Clay's eye, and that, with malice pre
pense, he means to take my life, I may
change my mind."
As the sequel showed, however, he saw
no ' devil in Clay's eye,' but a man fear
less, and expressing the mingled sensi
bility and firmness pertaining to the
occasion. For, whilst Tatnall was load
ing Mr. Randolph's pistol, Hamilton ap
proached Randolph, took his hand, — in
the touch of which there was not the
quivering of one pulsation, — and then,
turning to Hamilton, Randolph said :
" Clay is calm, but not vindictive ; I
hold my purpose, Hamilton, in any event ;
remember this."
On Randolph's pistol going off without
the word, General Jesup, Mr. Clay's
friend, called out that he would instantly
leave the ground with his friend, if that
occurred again. On the word being
given, Mr. Clay fired without effect, Mr.
Randolph discharging his pistol in the
air. On seeing this, Mr. Clay instantly
approached Mr. Randolph, and with a gush
of the deepest emotion, said, —
" I trust in God, my dear sir, you are
untouched; after what has occurred, I
would not have harmed you for a thou
sand worlds !"
On the ensuing Monday, Mr. Clay and

290

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Mr. Randolph formally exchanged cards,
and their relations of amity and courtesy
were restored.
Many of Mr. Clay's warmest political
friends, at the north and west, deeply
regretted that he should resort to what
they deemed so immoral and barbarous
a mode of vindicating his character, as
that of the duello. But this was soon
forgotten, and his political career continued
to be one of great brilliancy and power.
He soon succeeded General John Adair,
as senator from Kentucky ; and again, in
1831, was elected over Richard M. John
son, to the same high post. He was dis

appointed, however, in his aspirations for
the presidency, though great enthusiasm
was manifested for the ticket which in
1831, bore his name at its head, with John
Sergeant for vice-president. The other
political duels which have excited great
interest in the public mind, during the
century, were those of Lee and Laurens
Cadwallader and Conway, Guinnett and
Mcintosh, Hamilton and Burr, DeWitt
Clinton and Swartwout, Cilley and Graves,
Broderick and Terry. General Jackson
and Colonel Benton were also parties to
several duels, the former killing Mi.
Dickinson, and the latter a Mr. Lucas.

XXXI.
FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY AND CELEBRATION OF THE
INDEPENDENCE OF THE REPUBLIC— 1826.

Sudden and Simultaneous Death of Ex-Presidents Jolm Adams and Thomas Jefferson, its Two Most
Illustrious Founders — Tlie Day of Resounding Joy and Jubilee Changed to One of Profound
National Sorrow. — No Historical Parallel to Such a Remarkable Coincidence. — World-Renowned
Career of tnese Statesmen. — Extraordinary Preparations for the Day. — Adams and Jefferson then
Alive. — Sires and Patriarchs of the Nation — Their Names Household Words. — Invited to Share
in the Festivities — They Hail the Glorious Morn. — Great Rejoicings, Death's Summons. — Jefferson's
Distinguishing Honor. — Adams's Patriotic Luster. — Their Imperishable Deeds — Calm yet Hijjh
Enthusiasm — Hostile Leaders in After-Life. — Racy and Piquant Anecdote. — Crisis Point in Adams's
Fortunes — His Last Toast for His Country, — "Independence Forever." — Two Sages in Old Age —
Serenity, Wisdom, Dignity. — Former Friendship Revived. — Letters of Mutual Attachment. — Euro
pean Admiration Excited. — Reverence to their Colossal Fame.

" Such paaa away; hut they leaTe
All hope, or love, or truth, or Likehty, —
Whose forma th. i r mighty spirits could conceive, ¦
To be a rule aud law lo a^es that survive."

OYOUS, painful, by sudden and strange transition, to the Ameri
can people, was the Fourth of July, 1826, — the anniversary of the
first half-century of their national existence, and, as it proved, the
day on which the two chief founders of the republic passed,
simultaneously, from the scenes of their earthly career to the
repose and the rewards of another world ; — one of the most remarkable coincidences
that has ever occurred in the history of nations. It was the half-centennial Jubilee of
American Independence, and preparations had been made in every part of the Union to
celebrate the august day with extraordinary demonstrations and observances. John
Adams and Thomas Jefferson, two illustrious sages, whose names and lives were pre
eminently identified with the formation of the government, and, for so many years,
with its history and administration, so much so as to have become household names
everywhere, in the nation, were, on this most memorable day, — amid the rejoicings of
the people, the peals of artillery, the strains of music, the exultations of a great
aation in the enjoyment of freedom, peace, and happiness, — released from the toils
of life.
In the personal and public career of these two great patriots, there were many
points of similarity. In the enumeration of these similarities by Mr. Webster, their
eloquent eulogist, it appears that they belonged to the same profession, both
being learned and able lawyers. They were natives and inhabitants, respectively,
of those two of the colonies, Massachusetts' and Virginia, which, at the time of the

292

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

revolution, were the largest and most pow
erful, and which naturally had a lead in
the political affairs of the times. When
the colonies became in some degree united,
by the assembling of a general congress,
they were brought, at an early period, to
act together in its deliberations. Each
had already manifested his attachment to
the cause of the country, as well as his
ability to maintain it, by printed addresses,
public speeches, extensive correspondence,
and whatever other mode could be adopted
for the purpose of exposing the encroach
ments of the British parliament, and ani
mating the people to a manly resistance.
Both were not only decided, but early,
friends of independence. While others
yet doubted, they were resolved; where
others hesitated, they pressed forward..
They were both members of the committee
for preparing the Declaration of Independ
ence, and they constituted the sub-com
mittee appointed by the other members to

versary of American liberty — in the very
midst of the festivities which commem
orated the nation's half-centennial jubilee !
Wherever the tidings of their decease
could be flashed, on that eventful day, the
voices of festivity and mirth were changed
to those of wonder and mourning.
Jefferson's imperishable renown consists
in his having penned the Declaration of
Independence, rather than in the fact of
his having filled the highest offices, state
and national, culminating with that of
president of the republic.
On the other hand, to have been fore
most among those who foresaw and broke
the way for the birth of a new nation ; to
have been the mover of numerous decisive
acts, the undoubted precursors of the great
consummation ; to have been among the
many and towering spirits then engaged
in defying the mightiest throne in Chris
tendom, by acknowledgment unsurpassed
in zeal, and unequaled in ability; to have

THE .IEFFEUSON MANSION AT MONTICELLO.

make the draft. Jefferson was the author
of that noblest production of statesman
ship ; Adams was its chief parliamentary
expositor and triumphant advocate in the
' assembly of the mighty.' They left their
seats in congress, being called to other
public employment, at periods' not remote
from each other. Both became public
ministers abroad, both vice-presidents,' and
both presidents. All these remarkable
parallels and coincidences were at last most
singularly crowned and completed : They
died together — and they died on the anni-

been exclusively associated with the au
thor of the Declaration ; and then, with a
fervid and< overwhelming eloquence, to
have taken the lead in inspiring the con
gress unanimously to adopt and proclaim
it, — this is the glory of John Adams.
Mr. Adams commenced the practice of
the law in his native town of Quincy. At
the age of' twenty-eight, he was married to
Abigail Smith, a country clergyman's
daughter, and an excellent woman with
whom he lived in wedlock more than fifty
years. At the age of thirty, he published

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

293

a dissertation on Canon and Feudal Law,
in which he explained the Puritan princi
ples of religion' and government, and
brought them to bear upon the disputes
between Great Britain and the colonies. In
1766, he removed to Boston. His profes
sional standing was now so high, that, in
1768, Governor Bernard offered him the
post of advocate-general of the court of
admiralty. But Mr. Adams had ranked
himself decisively with the friends of the
people ; and had he accepted a lucrative
office under the crown, although no condi
tions were annexed, his course would not
have been the- same as heretofore. In
truth, the offer must; have been intended
quite as much to silence his political oppo
sition, as to secure his legal services. He
therefore declined it, but gave a noble
evidence, not long afterwards, that no base
subserviency to the people, any more than
to the government, could make him swerve
from his own ideas of right. This truth
was shown in 1770, by his conduct in ref
erence to the Boston massacre, as the
following account will show.
The scene of bloodshed in King street,
Boston, was a natural consequence of the
relative positions of 'the soldiery and the
people. No "good feeling, could possibly
exist between them. On the part of the
troops, the haughty consciousness that
Britain had made them keepers of the
province, together with a sense of the
odium in which they were held, produced
a contemptuous antipathy towards the
"colonists. At the sight of their -own blood, shed by
a hireling soldiery, the ferment of the
people became terrible, and was shared,
for a time, by the calmest patriots in New
England. A multitude, computed at ten
or twelve thousand, assembled at Faneuil
Hall, and adjourned thence to, the Old
South Church. There went a rumor, that
the tragedy in King street had .been, pre
meditated, and 'was but the prelude, to a
.general massacre. For defense against
this exaggerated, yet not altogether shad
owy danger, a military guard was enrolled,
and the town put itself under martial law

No British officer or soldier could have
walked the streets with safety to his life.
Stich was the state of affairs, when John
Adams, himself the foremost patriot of all,
and a member of the people's military
guard, was solicited to undertake the
defense of Captain Preston, and the sol
diers who had fired the fatal volley, against
the charge of murder. It was a singular
compliment to his integrity, that the
imprisoned soldiers should have sought the
aid of a man so situated.
It does not appear that the confidence
of. Mr. Adams's countrymen in him was
shaken by this act of personal and profes
sional independence ; or, if so, it was only
for the moment. In 1773, he was chosen
a member of the provincial council, but
was rejected by the tory Governor Hutch
inson, and afterwards by General Gage.
In the year 1775, John Adams, as a
delegate in congress, nominated George
Washington to the post of commander-in-
chief of the American armies. The glory
of originating this choice appears to be
long principally to Mr. Adams, and, did
he need a secondary reputation, this
would have been claim enough to his
country's gratitude. The service cannot
be too highly estimated. Washington's
character, was of such a nature, that, if
some sagacious individual had not pointed
him out, he probably would not have been
the foremost figure in the public eye.
Had the selection fallen upon another, no
one can conjecture what would have been
the result.
As already stated, Mr. Adams was one
of the committee to draft the Declaration
of Independence ; and the calm, yet high
enthusiasm of the letter in which he
announced that event to a friend, and
prophesied that its anniversary would
become a national festival, must be famil
iar to every American. He had a share
in all the weightiest business of congress,
and' bore the burden of much that was less
important, being a member of no less than
ninety committees, and chairman of twen
ty-five. In 1777, he was appointed com
missioner to France, to supersede Deane,

294

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

who was the colleague there of Benjamin
Franklin and Arthur Lee ; returning home
in 1779, he was again sent out, in the
autumn of that year, with powers to con
clude a treaty of peace and commerce. In
1785, the distinguished honor fell to him
of being appointed the first minister from
the United States to the court of St.
James; and, in this capacity, was duly
presented to his long-time political enemy,
King George the Third. In 1788, he
returned home. He subsequently assisted
in forming the constitution of his native
state. During the eight years presidency
of Washington, Mr. Adams was vice-pres
ident, and, when the former retired from
office, Mr. Adams, after a hard political
contest with Jefferson and Thomas Pinck
ney, became president of the United

^f^^m,

States. At the end, however, of the first
four years, Mr. Jefferson came in by a tri
umphant majority, and President Adams
retired to domestic life. This was in 1801,
when he had reached the age of sixty-six.
His long course of public services was
now ended. At the period of his retire
ment, he did not enjoy the unreserved" and
cordial approbation of any party. Some
of his measures had gone far towards alien
ating the federalists by whom he had been
chosen president, and he had bitter ene

mies. Being a man of warm passions,
Mr. Adams was not slow to resent, nor
cautious to hide his resentment. He once
observed, pointing to his own portrait,
" That fellow could never keep his mouth
shut ! " But he was always frank, and
inflexibly honest, as is most plainly shown
by the incidents given in his biography,
written by Hon. Charles Francis Adams.
As showing from what accidental cir
cumstances often spring the most import
ant changes in the lives and fortunes of
men, the following anecdote is well worthy
of a place in this narrative: 'When I was
a boy,' says John Adams, ' I had to study
the Latin grammar, but it was dull, and I
hated it. My father was anxious to send
me to college, and therefore I studied the
grammar till I could bear with it no longer,
and, going to my father, I told him I did
not like study, and asked for some other
employment. It was opposing his
wishes, and he was quick in his answer.
' Well, John,' said he, ' if Latin gram
mar does not suit you, you may try
ditching; perhaps that will. My
meadow yonder needs a ditch, and you
may put by Latin and try that.' This
seemed a delightful change, and to the
meadow I went. But I soon found
ditching harder than Latin, and the first
forenoon was the longest I ever expe
rienced. That day I ate the bread of
labor, and glad was I when night came
on. That night I made some compar
ison between Latin grammar and ditch
ing, but said not a word about it. I
dug the next forenoon, and wanted to
return to Latin at dinner ; but it was
humiliating, and I could not do it. At
night, toil conquered pride, and I told
my father — one of the severest trials of
my life — that, if he chose, I would go back
to Latin grammar. He was glad of it;
and if I have since gained any distinction,
it has been owing to the two days' labor
in that abominable ditch.'
Declining farther and farther into the
vale of years, and now long removed from
the dust of contending parties, the hoary
sage drew towards his sepulchre. For

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

295

several days before the fourth of July on
which he expired, he had been fast failing,
though, in reply to an invitation to partici
pate in the celebration of that day, he
wrote a patriotic note, full of the fire of
his best days. Being desired to furnish a
toast for the occasion, he gave — 'Inde
pendence Forever ! ' He was asked if
anything should be added to it. He imme
diately replied, "Not a word!" This
toast was drank at the celebration in
Quincy, about fifty minutes before the
departure of the venerated statesman from
earth. On the morning of the fourth,
which was ushered in by the ringing of
bells and firing of cannon, he was asked if
he knew what day it was ? — " 0 yes," he
replied, "it is the glorious fourth of July
— God bless it ! — God bless you all ! " In
the course of the day he said, " It is a
great and glorious day." The last words
he uttered were, " Jefferson survives ! "
But the spirit of Jefferson had already
left the body. Among Adams's pall
bearers, were President Kirkland, Judge
Story, Judge Davis, and Lieutenant
Governor Winthrop.
Mr. Jefferson, the illustrious compeer of
Adams, was born in Albemarle county,
Virginia, in 1743, and was entered a stu
dent in the college of William and Mary.
On leaving this seminary, he applied him
self to the study of the law, under the
tuition of the celebrated George Wythe,
and was called to the bar in 1766. He
soon occupied a high stand in his profes
sion, and, at the early age of twenty-five,
entered the house of burgesses of his
native state. In 1774, he published a
Summary View of the Rights of British
America, a bold but respectful pamphlet
addressed, to the king. In 1775, he was
elected a member of the continental con
gress, and in the following year drew up
the Declaration of Independence, the most
remarkable document that has ever, in the
ages of the world, proceeded from an
uninspired pen.
Of the committee appointed to draft the
momentous Declaration, Jefferson, though
youngest, was unanimously made

the

chairman, his colleagues being John
Adams of Massachusetts, Benjamin Frank
lin of Pennsylvania, Roger Sherman of
Connecticut, and Robert R. Livingston of
New York. Jefferson's draft was taken
up, in committee of the whole, on the first
of July, the chair being filled by Benjamin
Harrison, father of William Henry Ha
rison, president of the United States in
1840. The great manifesto was debated,
and, after some slight modifications, vas
agreed to in the course of a three days'
session. No record of that thrilling debate
has come down ; only some fragmentary
reminiscences of the participants of the
drama. Edward Rutledge, of South Caro
lina, is said to have exclaimed, "I should
advise persisting in our struggle for liberty
and independence, though it were revealed
from Heaven that nine hundred and ninety-
nine were to perish, and only one of a
thousand were to survive and retain his
liberty." The Declaration was adopted,
by a unanimous vote, a little past noon, on
the fourth of July. "Now, gentlemen,"
said the quaint Dr. Franklin to his col
leagues, " we must all hang together, or
we shall surely hang separately."
Though what may be termed bitter
political rivals for a long period, — leading,
respectively, the two great opposing par
ties, — time's mellowing influence changed
all this, and the two patriarchal statesmen
and ex-presidents cultivated a mutually
warm and generous friendship in their old
age. In a letter written by Jefferson to
Adams, in June, 1822, he says :
" It is very long, my dear sir, since I
have written to you. My dislocated wrist
is now become so stiff, that I write slowly,
and with pain; and therefore write as
little as I can. Yet it is due to mutual
friendship, to ask once in a while how we
do? I have ever dreaded a doting old
age ; and my health has been generally so
good, and is now so good, that I dread it
still. The rapid decline of my strength
during the last winter, has made me hope,
sometimes, that I see land. During
summer, I enjoy its temperature, but I
shudder at the approach of wintea-, and

296

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

wish I could sleep through it, with the
dormouse, and only wake with him in
spring, if ever. They say that Starke
could walk about his room. I am told you
walk well and firmly. I can only reach
my garden, and that with sensible fatigue.
I ride, however, daily ; but reading is my
delight. I should wish never to put pen
to paper; and the more because of the

Europe, where it excited much coiunienaa-
tion, on account of the contrast it afforded
between an old age thus dedicated to
virtue, temperance, and philosophy, and
the heart-sickening details so often per
taining to the lives of those who sit upon
thrones. Though he had for some time past been
failing in his general health, it was not

THE ADAMS MANSION AT QUINCY.

treacherous practice some people have, of
publishing one's letters without leave ; "
— etc., etc.
In his reply to the pleasant and cordial
letter, from which the above few sentences
are extracted as specimens, Mr. Adams
says, among other friendly and felicitous
expressions :
" Half an hour ago I received, and this
moment have heard read, for the third or
fourth time, the best letter that ever was
written by an octogenarian, dated June
1st. My sight is very dim, hearing pretty
good, memory poor enough. In wishing
for your health and happiness, I am very
selfish ; for I hope for more letters. This
is worth more than five hundred dollars to
me ; for it has already given me, and will
continue to give me, more pleasure than a
thousand ; " — etc., etc.
This correspondence between the once
rival presidents of the greatest republic of
the world, was republished in full, in

until the first of July that Mr. Jefferson
was confined to his bed. On the third, he
continued to sink. Near the middle of the
night he asked the hour ; and on being
told that it was near one o'clock, he
expressed his joy. He expressed an earn
est desire that he might live to behold the
light of the next day — the fiftieth anni
versary of the independence of his coun
try. His prayer was answered. At fifty
minutes past meridian, July fourth, 1826,
Thomas Jefferson ceased to breathe.
Thus, these two most illustrious fathers
of the republic, — associates, rivals, friends,
— took their flight together to the other
world, on the most memorable day since
the birth of the nation, and all" classes and
parties, forgetting the animosities of the
past, united in paying their common trib
ute of reverence to the magnificent fame
of Adams and Jefferson. In the words of
Webster, their great eulogist, " their
NAME LIVETH EVERMORE ! "

XXXII.
THE "GEEAT DEBATE" BETWEEN WEBSTER AND
HAYNE, IN CONGRESS.— 1830.

Vital Constitutional Issues Discussed — Unsurpassed Power and Splendor of Senatorial Eloquence —
Webster's Speech Acknowledged to be the Grandest Forensic Achievement in the Whole Range of
Modern Parliamentary Efforts. — Golden Age of American Oratory.— Unprecedented Interest and
Excitement Produced in the Public Mind — No American Debate Comparable with This. — Known as
the "Battle of the Giants " — Inflamed Feeling at the South. — Hayne's Brilliant Championship. — His
Speech Again9t the North — Profound Impression Created — Its Dash, Assurance, Severity — Bitter
and Sweeping Charges. — His Opponents Wonder-Struck. — Webster has the Floor to Eeply. — An
Ever-Memorable Day. — Intense Anxiety to Hear Him. — Magnificent Personal Appearance. — His
Exordium, all Hearts Enchained. — Immense Intellectual Range — Copious and Crushing Logic. —
Accumulative Grandeur of Thought. — Thrilling Apostrophe to the Union. — The Serious, Comic,
Pathetic, ete — Hayne's Argument Demolished — Reception Accorded the Speech. — Rival Orators ;
Pleasant Courtesies.

"It has been my fortune to hear some of the nbt*st speeches of the Greatest living orators on both sides of the water, but I must confess I
never heard anything which so completely realized my conception of what Demosthenes was when he delivered the Oration for the Cruwn."
— Edward Everstt on Webster's Speech.

jHE remark made by a distinguished public man,
that to have heard the great national debate in the
senate of the United States, between Webster of
Massachusetts and Hayne of South Carolina, "con
stituted an era in a man's life," is an expression
worthy of being expanded into the far more com
mensurate statement that the debate in question
constituted an era of far-reaching influence and
importance, in the political history of the nation.
It was, indeed, the greatest forensic exhibition this
country has ever witnessed, and, though nearly
half a century has elapsed since its occurrence, and the immediate participants and
their official contemporaries have, almost all of them, long since passed to the sphere of
another existence, the occasion still furnishes, and will continue to furnish to future
generations, one of the most instructive chapters in the annals of national affairs. Well
has the debate been called ' the battle of the giants'
Fortunately for those who would wish, in after time, to inform themselves with ref
erence to the principles involved and the chief actors engaged in this great debate,

THE VICTOR'S WKEATH.

298

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the memorials of the occasion furnished
by Mr. March, and, subsequently, by Mr.
Lanman, Dr. Tefft, Louis Gaylord Clark,
Edward Everett, and others, leave nothing
to be supplied. Mr. March's notes are
adopted by Mr. Everett, in his memoirs of
Mr. Webster, and, in an abridged form,
are given below, in connection with the
perspicuous statements of Tefft and others
relating to the general issue. The speech
was also reported by Mr. Joseph Gales,
at the request of Judge Burnett, of Ohio,
and other senators. On canvas, too, Hea
ley, the master-painter, has commem
orated in an enduring manner, the orator
and the occasion.
The subject of discussion before the
senate, in the persons of these two intel
lectual gladiators, grew out of a resolution
brought forward by Senator Foot, of Con
necticut, just at the close of the previous
year, with a view to some arrangement
concerning the sale of the public lands.
But this immediate question was soon lost
sight of in the discussion of a great, vital
principle of constitutional law, namely :
the relative powers of the states and the
national government. Upon this, Mr.
Benton and Mr. Hayne addressed the
senate, condemning the policy of the east
ern states, as illiberal toward the west.
Mr. Webster replied, in vindication of
New England and of the policy of the
government. It was then that Mr. Hayne
made his attack — sudden, unexpected, and
certainly unexampled, — on Mr. Webster
personally, upon Massachusetts and the
other northern states politically, and upon
the constitution itself; in respect to the
latter, Mr. Hayne taking the position, that
it is constitutional to interrupt the admin
istration of the constitution itself, in the
hands of those who are chosen and sworn
to administer it, by the direct interference,
in form of law, of the states, in virtue of
their sovereign capacity. All of these
points were handled by Mr. Hayne with
that rhetorical brilliancy and power which
characterized him as the oratorical cham
pion of the south, on the floor of the
senate ; and it is not saying too much,

that the speech produced a profound im
pression. Mr. Hayne's great effort appeared to be
the result of premeditation, concert and
arrangement. He selected his own time,
and that, too, peculiarly inconvenient to
Mr. Webster, for, at that moment, the
supreme court were proceeding in the
hearing of a cause of great importance, in
which he was a leading counsel. For this
reason, he requested, through a friend, a
postponement of the debate; Mr. Hayne
objected, however, and the request was
refused. The time, the matter, and the
manner, indicated that the attack was
made with a design to crush so formidable
a political opponent as Mr. Webster had
become. To this end, personal history,
the annals of New England and of the
federal party, were ransacked for materi
als. It was attempted, with the usual
partisan unfairness of political harangues,
to make him responsible, not only for what
was his own, but for the conduct and opin
ions of others. All the errors and delin
quencies, real or supposed, of Massachu
setts, and the eastern states, and of the
federal party, during the war of 1812, and,
indeed, prior and subsequent to that
period, were accumulated upon him.
Thus it was, that Mr. Hayne heralded
his speech with a bold declaration of war,
with taunts and threats, vaunting antici
pated triumph, as if to paralyze by intimi
dation; saying that he would carry the
war into Africa, until he had obtained
indemnity for the past and security for the
future. It was supposed that, as a distin
guished representative man, Mr. Webster
would be driven to defend what was inde
fensible, and to uphold what could not be
sustained, and, as a federalist, to oppose
the popular resolutions of '98.
The severe nature of Mr. Hayne's
charges, the ability with which he brought
them to bear upon his opponents, his great
reputation as a brilliant and powerful
declaimer, filled the minds of his friends
with anticipations of complete triumph.
For two days, Mr. Hayne had the control
of the floor. The vehemence of his Ian-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

299

guage and the earnestness of his manner
gave added force to the excitement of the
occasion. So fluent and melodious was his
elocution, that his cause naturally begat
sympathy. No one had time to deliberate
upon his rapid words, or canvass his sweep
ing and accumulated statements. The
dashing nature of the onset ; the assurance,
almost insolence, of its tone ; the serious
character and apparent truth of the accu
sations, confounded almost every hearer.
The immediate impression from the speech
was most assuredly disheartening to the
cause Mr. Webster upheld. Congratula
tions from almost every quarter were show
ered upon the speaker. Mr. Benton said,
in tlie full senate, that much as Mr. Hayne
had done before to establish his reputation
as an orator, a statesman, a patriot, and a
gallant son of the south, the efforts of that
day would eclipse and surpass the whole.
Indeed, the speech was extolled as the
greatest effort of the time, or of other
times, — neither Chatham, nor Burke, nor
Fox, had surpassed it, in their palmiest
days. Satisfaction, however, with the speech,
even among the friends of the orator, was
not unanimous. Some of the senators
knew, for they had felt, Mr. Webster's
power. They knew the great resources of
his mind; the immense range of his intel
lect ; the fertility of his imagination ; his
copious and fatal logic ; the scathing sever
ity of his sarcasm, and his full and electri
fying eloquence. Mr. Webster's own
feelings with reference to the speech were
freely expressed to his friend, Mr. Everett,
the evening succeeding Mr. Hayne's clos
ing effort. He regarded the speech as an
entirely unprovoked attack upon the north,
and, what was of far more importance, as
an exposition of a system of politics,
which, in Mr. Webster's opinion, went far
to change the form of government from
that which was established by the consti
tution, into that which existed under the
confederation,— if the latter could be called
a government at all. He stated it to be
Ins intention, therefore, to put that theory
to rest forever, as far as it could be done

by an argument in the senate-chamber.
How grandly he did this, is thus vividly
portrayed by Mr. March, an eye-witness,
and whose account has been adopted by all
historians :
It was on Tuesday, January the twenty-
sixth, 1830, — a day to be hereafter forever
memorable in senatorial annals, — that the
senate resumed the consideration of Foot's
resolution. There was never before in the
city, an occasion of so much excitement.
To witness this great intellectual contest,
multitudes of strangers had for two or

ROBERT Y HAYNE.

three days previous been rushing into the
city, and the hotels overflowed. As early
as nine o'clock in the morning, crowds
poured into the capitol, in hot haste ; at
twelve o'clock, the hour of meeting, the
senate-chamber, — its galleries, floor, and
even the lobbies, — was filled to its utmost
capacity. The very stairways were dark
with men, who hung on to one another,
like bees in a swarm.
The house of representatives was early
deserted. An adjournment would hardly
have made it emptier. The speaker, it is
true, retained his chair, but no business of
moment was, or could be, attended to.
Members all rushed in, to hear Mr. Web
ster, and no call of the house, or other par
liamentary proceedings, could compel them
back. The floor of the senate was so

300

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

densely crowded, that persons once in
could not get out, nor change their posi
tion. In the rear of the vice-president's
chair, the crowd was particularly dense ;
Hon. Dixon H. Lewis, then a representa
tive from Alabama, became wedged in
here. From his enormous size, it was
impossible for him to move without dis
placing a vast portion of the multitude ;
unfortunately, too, for him, he was
jammed in directly behind the chair of the
vice-president, where he could not see, and
could hardly hear, the speaker. By slow
and laborious effort — pausing occasionally
to breathe — he gained one of the windows,
which, constructed of painted glass, flanked
the chair of the vice-president on either
side. Here he paused,, unable to make
more headway. But determined to see
Mr. Webster, as he spoke, with his knife
he made a large hole in one of the panes
of glass. The courtesy of senators ac
corded to the. fairer sex room on the floor
— the most gallant of them, their own
seats. Seldom, if ever, has speaker in this or
any other country, had more powerful
incentives to exertion ; a subject, the
determination of which involved the most
important interests, and even duration, of
the republic ; competitors, unequaled in
reputation, ability, or position ; a name to
make still more renowned, or lose forever ;
and an audience, comprising not only
American citizens most eminent in intel
lectual greatness, but representatives of
other nations, where the art of eloquence
had flourished for ages.
Mr. Webster perceived, and felt equal
to, the destinies of the moment. The very
greatness, of the hazard exhilarated him.
His spirits rose with the occasion. He
awaited .the time of onset with a stern and
impatient joy. He felt, like the war-horse
of the scriptures, who ' paweth in the
valley, and rejoiceth in his strength : who
goeth on to meet the armed men, — who
sayeth among the trumpets, ha, ha ! and
who smelleth the battle afar off, the thun
der of the captains and the shouting.' A
confidence in his resources, springing from

no vain estimate of his power, but the
legitimate offspring of previous severe
mental discipline, sustained and excited
him. He had gauged his opponents, his
subject, and himself. He was, too, at this
period, in the very prime of manhood. He
had reached middle age — an era in the life
of man, when the faculties, physical or
intellectual, may be supposed to attain
their fullest organization, and most perfect
development. Whatever there was in
him of intellectual energy and vitality, the
occasion, his full life and high ambition,
might well bring forth.
He never rose on an ordinary occasion
to address an ordinary audience more self-
possessed. There was no tremulousness in
his voice nor manner; nothing hurried,
nothing simulated. The calmness .of supe
rior strength was visible everywhere ; in
countenance, voice, and bearing. A deep-
seated conviction of the extraordinary
character of the emergency, and ¦ of his
ability to control it, seemed to possess him
wholly. If an observer, more than ordi
narily keen-sighted, detected at times
something like exultation in his eye, he
presumed it sprang from the excitement of
the moment, and the anticipation of
victory. The anxiety to hear the speech was so
intense, irrepressible, and universal, that
no sooner had the vice-president assumed
the chair, than a motion was made and
unanimously carried, to postpone the ordi
nary preliminaries of senatorial action, and
to take up immediately the consideration
of the resolution.
Mr. Webster rose and addressed the
senate. His exordium is known by heart
everywhere: "Mr. President, when the
mariner has been tossed, for many days, in
thick weather, and on an unknown sea, he
naturally avails himself of the first pause
in the storm, the earliest glance of the
sun, to take his latitude, and ascertain how
far the elements have driven him from his
true course. Let us imitate this prudence ;
and before we float further, on the waves
of this debate, refer to the point from
I which we departed, that we may, at least,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

301

be able to form some conjecture where we
now are. I ask for the reading of the res
olution." Calm, resolute, impressive, was
this opening utterance.
There wanted no more to enchain the
attention. There was a spontaneous,
though silent, expression of eager approba
tion, as the orator concluded these opening
remarks. And while the clerk read the
resolution; many attempted the impossibil
ity of getting nearer the speaker. Every
head was inclined closer towards him,
every ear turned in the direction of his
voice — and that deep, sudden, mysterious
silence followed, which always attends full
ness of emotion. From the sea of up
turned faces before him, the orator beheld
his thoughts reflected as from a mirror.
The varying countenance, the suffused eye,
the earnest smile, and ever-attentive look,
assured him ofthe intense interest excited.
If, among his hearers, there were those
who affected at first an indifference to his
glowing thoughts and fervent periods, the
difficult mask was soon laid aside, and
profound, undisguised, devoted attention

DANIEL WEBSTER.
followed. In truth, all, sooner or later,
voluntarily, or in spite of themselves, were
wholly carried away by the spell of such
unexampled forensic eloquence.
Those who had doubted Mr. Webster's
ability to cope with and overcome his

opponents were fully satisfied of their
error before he had proceeded far in his
speech. Their fears soon took another
direction. When they heard his sentences
of powerful thought, towering in accumu
lative grandeur, one above the other, as
if the orator strove, Titan-like, to reach
the very heavens themselves, they were
giddy with an apprehension that he would
break down in his flight. They dared not
believe, that genius, learning, — any intel
lectual endowment, however uncommon,
that was simply mortal, — could sustain
itself long in a career seemingly so peril
ous. They feared an Icari'an fall.
No one, surely, could ever forget, who
was present to hear, the tremendous — the
awful — burst of eloquence with which the
orator apostrophized the old Bay State
which Mr. Hayne had so derided, or the
tones of deep pathos in which her defense
was pronounced: "Mr. President, I shall
enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts.
There she is — behold her and judge for
yourselves. There is her history ; the
world knows it by heart. The past, at
least, is secure. There is Boston, and
Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill,
— and there they will remain forever.
The bones of her sons, falling in the great
struggle for independence, now lie min
gled with the soil of every state, from New
England to Georgia ; and there they will
lie forever. And, sir, where American
liberty raised its first voice, and where its
youth was nurtured and sustained, there it
still lives, in the strength of its manhood
and full of its original spirit. If discord
and disunion shall wound it — if party-
strife and blind ambition shall hawk at
and tear it — if folly and madness — if uneas
iness under salutary and necessary re
straint, — shall succeed to separate it from
that Union, by which alone its existence
is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by
the side of that cradle in which its infancy
was rocked : it will stretch forth its arm
with whatever of vigor it may still retain,
over the friends who gather round it ; and
it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst
the proudest monuments of its own glory,

302

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

and on the very spot of its origin." No
New England heart but throbbed with
vehement, absorbed, irrepressible emotion,
as Mr. Webster thus dwelt upon New
England sufferings, New England strug
gles, and New England triumphs, during
the war of the revolution. There was
scarcely a dry eye in the senate ; all hearts
were overcome ; grave judges, and men
grown old in dignified life, turned aside
their heads, to conceal the evidences of
their emotion.
In one corner of the gallery was clus
tered a group of Massachusetts men.
They had hung from the first moment
upon the words of the speaker, with feel
ings variously but always warmly excited,
deepening in intensity as he proceeded.
At first, while the orator was going
through llis exordium, they held their
breath and hid their faces, mindful of the
fierce attack upon him and New England,
and the fearful odds against any one
standing up as a champion of the latter ;
as he went deeper into his speech, they
felt easier ; when he turned Hayne's flank
on " Banquo's ghost " — that famous rhe
torical figure used by the South Carolinian,
— they breathed freer and fuller. But
anon, as he alluded to Massachusetts, their
feelings were strained to the utmost ten
sion ; and when the senator, concluding
his passages upon the land of their birth,
turned, intentionally or otherwise, his
burning eye upon them, tears were falling
like rain adown their cheeks.
No one who was not present can under
stand the excitement of the scene. No
one, who was, can give an adequate de
scription of it. No word-painting can
convey the deep, intense enthusiasm, — the
reverential attention, of that vast assem
bly, — nor limner transfer to canvas their
earnest, eager, awe-struck countenances.
Though language were as subtle and flex
ible as thought, it still would be impossi
ble to represent the full idea of the occa
sion. Much of the instantaneous effect of the
speech arose, of course, from the orator's
delivery — the tones of his voice, his coun

tenance, and manner. These die mostly
with the occasion ; they can only be
described in general terms. "Of the
effectiveness of Mr. Webster's manner, in
many parts," says Mr. Everett, himself
almost without a peer, as an orator, "it
wpuld be in vain to attempt to give any
one not present the faintest idea. It has
been my fortune to hear some of the ablest
speeches of the greatest living orators on
both sides of the water, but I must confess
I never heard anything which so com
pletely realized my conception of what
Demosthenes was when he delivered the
Oration for the Crown." There could be
no higher praise than this. Kean nor
Kemble, nor any other masterly delineator
of the human passions, ever produced a
more powerful impression upon an audi
ence, or swayed so completely their hearts.
No one ever looked the orator, as he did,
— in form and feature how like a god ! His
countenance spake no less audibly than his
words. His manner gave new force to his
language. As he stood swaying his right
arm, like a huge tilt-hammer, up and
down, his swarthy countenance lighted up
with excitement, he appeared amid the
smoke, the fire, the thunder of his elo
quence, like Vulcan in his armory forging
thoughts for the gods ! Time had not
thinned nor bleached his hair ; it was as
dark as the raven's plumage, surmounting
his massive brow in ample lolds. His eye,
always dark and deep-set, enkindled by
some glowing thought, shone from beneath
his somber, overhanging brow like lights,
in the blackness of night, from a sepul
chre. No one understood, better than Mr.
Webster, the philosophy of dress; — what a
powerful auxiliary it is to speech and
manner, when harmonizing with them.
On this occasion he appeared in a blue
coat, a buff vest, black pants, and white
cravat, a costume strikingly in keeping
with his face and expression.
The human face never wore an expres
sion of more withering, relentless scorn,
than when the orator replied to Haynes
allusion to the "murdered coalition,' —a
piece of stale political trumpery, well

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

303

understood at that day. " It is," said Mr.
Webster, "the very cast-off slough of a
polluted and shameless press. Incapable
of further mischief, it lies in the sewer,
lifeless and despised. It is not now, sir,
in the power of the honorable member to
give it dignity or decency, by attempting
to elevate it, and introduce it into the
senate. He cannot change it from what
it is— an object of general disgust and
scorn. On the contrary, the contact, if he
choose to touch it, is more likely to drag
him down, down to the place where it lies
itself ! " He looked, as he spoke these
words, as if the thing he alluded to was
too mean for scorn itself, and the sharp,
stinging enunciation, made the words still
more scathing. The audience seemed
relieved, — so crushing was the expression
of his face which they held on to, as 'twere,
spell-bound, — when he turned to other
topics. But the good-natured yet provoking
irony with which he described the imagin
ary though life-like scene of direct collision
between the marshaled army of South
Carolina under General Hayne on the one
side, and the officers of the United States
on the other, nettled his opponent even
more than his severer satire ; it seemed so
ridiculously true. With his true Southern
blood, Hayne inquired, with some degree
of emotion, if the gentleman from Massa
chusetts intended any personal imputation
by such remarks? T'. .vhich Mr. Web
ster replied, with perfect good humor,
" Assuredly not — just the reverse ! "
The variety of incident during the
speech, and the rapid fluctuation of pas
sions, kept the audience in continual
expectation, and ceaseless agitation. . The
speech was a complete drama of serious,
comic, and pathetic scenes ; and though a
large portion of it was strictly argumenta
tive—an exposition of constitutional law,
—yet, grave as such portion necessarily
must be, severely logical, and abounding
m no fancy or episode, it engrossed,
throughout, undivided attention.
The swell of his voice and its solemn
roll struck upon the ears of the enraptured

audience, in deep and thrilling cadence, as
waves upon the shore of the far-resound
ing sea. The Miltonic grandeur of his
words was the fit expression of his great
thoughts, and raised his hearers up to his
theme ; and his voice, exerted to its utmost
power, penetrated every recess or corner
of the senate — penetrated even the ante
rooms and stairways, as, in closing, he
pronounced in deepest tones of pathos
these words of solemn significance :
" 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 glorious
Union ; on states dissevered, discordant,
belligerent ; on a land rent with civil
feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal
blood! Let their last feeble and lingering
glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign
of the republic, now known and honored
throughout the earth, still full high
advanced, its arms and trophies streaming
in their original luster, not a stripe erased
nor polluted, not a single star obscured,
bearing for its motto no such miserable
interrogatory as, "What is all this worth ?"
— nor those other words of delusion and
folly, " Liberty first and Union after
wards : " but everywhere, spread all over
in characters of living light, blazing 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 senti
ment, dear to every American heart,
" Liberty and Union, now and for
ever, ONE AND INSEPARABLE ! "
The speech was over, but the tones of
the orator still lingered upon the ear, and
the audience, unconscious of the close,
retained their positions. Everywhere
around seemed forgetfulness of all but the
orator's presence and words. There never
was a deeper stillness ; silence could almost
have heard itself, it was so supernaturally
still. The feeling was too overpowering,
to allow expression by voice or hand. It
was as if one was in a trance, all motion
paralyzed. But the descending hammer
of the chair awoke them, with a start ; and
with one universal, long drawn, deep

304

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

WEBSTKIt'S REPLY TO HAYNE.

breath, with which the overcharged heart
seeks relief, the crowded assembly broke
up and departed.
New England men walked down Penn
sylvania avenue that day, after the speech,
with a firmer step and bolder air — ' pride
in their port, defiance in their eye.' They
devoured the way in their stride. They
looked every one in the face they met,
fearing no contradiction. They swarmed
in the streets, having become miraculously
multitudinous. They clustered in parties
and fought the scene over one hundred
times that night. Their elation was
the greater, by reaction. Not one of
them but felt he had gained a personal
victory. , In the evening, General Jackson held a
presidential levee at the White House: It
was known, in advance, that Mr. Webster
would attend it, and hardly had the hos
pitable doors of the mansion been thrown
open, when the crowd that had filled the
senate-chamber in the morning rushed in

and occupied the rooms, leaving a vast
and increasing crowd at the entrance.
On all previous occasions, the general
himself had been the observed of all
observers. His receptions were always
gladly attended by large numbers; and
to these he himself was always the chief
object of attraction, on account of his
great military and personal reputation,
official position, gallant bearing, and
courteous manners.
But on this occasion, the room in which
he received his company was deserted, as
soon as courtesy to the president permitted.
Mr. Webster was in the East Room, and
thither the whole mass hurried. He stood
almost in the center of the room, pressed
upon by surging crowds, eager to pay him
deference. Hayne, too, was there, and, with
others, went up and complimented Mr. Web
ster on his brilliant effort. In a subsequent
meeting between the two rival debaters,
Webster challenged Hayne to drink a glass
of wine with him, saying, as he did so,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

305

" General Hayne, I drink to your health,
and I hope that you may live a thousand
years." " I shall not live more than one hundred,
if you make another such speech," Hayne
replied. To this day, Webster's speech is re
garded as the masterpiece of modern elo
quence, — unsurpassed by even the might
iest efforts of Pitt, Fox, or Burke, — a
matchless intellectual achievement and
complete forensic triumph. It was to this
great and triumphant effort, that Mr.
Webster's subsequent matchless fame as a
statesman was due; and, that he was
equal to comprehending the true principles
of international, as well as those of inter
nal, justice and policy, is abundantly
proved by his diplomacy with Great Brit
ain, to which the highest credit is awarded
by Eliot, the accomplished historian, in his
concise and admirable review of public
affairs during this period. An insurrec
tion (says Mr. Eliot) having broken out
in Canada, it was immediately supported
by American parties, the insurgents being
in favor of reform or independence. One
of these American parties, in company
with some Canadian refugees, after pillag
ing the New York arsenals, seized upon
Navy Island, a British possession in the
Niagara river. Mr. Marcy was governor
of New York at this time. The steamer
Caroline, engaged in bringing over men,
arms, and stores to the island, was de
stroyed, though at the time on the Ameri
can shore, by a Britsh detachment. The
deed was instantly avowed by the minister
of Great Britain at Washington as an act
of self-defense on the British side. One
of the chief characters in these exciting
movements was William M'Kenzie. In
November, 1840, one Alexander M'Leod,

sheriff of Niagara, in Canada, and as such
a participator in the destruction of the
Caroline, was arrested in New York on
the charge of murder, an American having
lost his life when the steamer was de
stroyed. The British government de-
manded his release, in doing which they
were sustained by the United States
administration, on the ground that M'Leod
was but an agent or soldier of Great Brit
ain. But the authorities of New York
held fast to their prisoner, and brought
him to trial. Had harm come to him, his
government stood pledged to declare war ;
but he was acquitted for want of proof.
The release of M'Leod did not, however,
settle the affair of the Caroline ; this still
remained. There were, or there had been,
other difficulties also, — namely, upon the
Maine frontier, where the boundary-line
had never yet been run. Collisions took
place, between the Maine militia and the
British troops, and others had been but
just prevented. On Mr. Webster's acces
sion to the state department, our govern
ment proposed, through Mr. Webster, to
the British cabinet, to take up the north
eastern boundary question. The offer was
accepted by the British, who sent, as spe
cial envoy, Lord Ashburton, to whom was
committed the boundary and other contro
verted questions. The consultations be
tween Mr. Webster and Lord Ashburton
led to a treaty which settled the boundary,
put down the claim to visit our vessels,
and provided for the mutual surrender of
fugitives from justice. For the affair of
the Caroline, an apology was made by
Great Britain.
The fame of Mr. Webster, as an
orator, a statesman, and an expounder of
public law, thus became world-wide and
unrivaled.

_'n

XXXIII.
RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS, OR "LATTER-
DAY SAINTS," UNDER JOSEPH SMITH, THE
"PROPHET OF THE LORD."— 1830.

His Assumed Discovery of the Golden Plates of a New Bible. — Apostles Sent Forth and Converto
Obtained in All Parts of the World. — Founding and Destruction of Nauvoo, the *' City of Zion."—
Smith's Character. — Removal to Utah, the "Promised Land." — Smith the "Mohammed
of the West." — His Origin and Repute. — Pretended Supernatural Interviews.— Revela
tions of Divine Records. — Finds and Translates Them. — Secret History of this Transaction.
— Pronounced to be a Fraud. — Teachings of the Mormon Bible. — Smith Claims to be Inspired.—
Announced as a Second Savior. — Organization of the First Church. — Strange Title Adopted.—
Smith's Great Personal Influence. — Rapid Increase of the Sect. — Settlement at the West-
Violent Opposition to Them. — Outrages, Assassinations, Riots. — Polygamy "Divinely" Author
ized. — Smith in Jail as a Criminal. — Is Shot Dead by a Furious Mob. — Brigham Young His Sua
cessor. — The " New Jerusalem."

— " And with a piece of scripture
Tell them.— that God bids us do good for eTil.
And thus 1 clothe my naked villainy
With old odd ends, stol'n forth of Holy Writ,
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."

F the many oracular predictions indulged in by trans- Atlantic wiseacres,
concerning the future of American history, not one of them has had
so accurate and remarkable a fulfillment as that made by Eobert
Southey, the great English poet and historian, in 1829, and which
ran as follows : " The next Aaron Burr who seeks to carve
a kingdom for himself out of the overgrown territories of
= the Union, may discern that fanaticism is the most effective
weapon with which ambition can arm itself ; that the way for
, both is prepared by that immorality which the want of religion naturally and
necessarily induces, and that camp-meetings may be very well directed to forward the
designs of military prophets. Were there another Mohammed to arise, there is no
part of the world where he would find more scope or fairer opportunity than in that
part of the Anglo-American Union into which the older states continually discharge the
restless part of their population, leaving laws and Gospel to overtake it if they can, for
in the march of modern civilization both are left behind." This prophecy was uttered
long before even the name of 'Mormon' had been heard in the west, and, bating the
hermit-poet's very natural fling at camp-meetings, and his English cant about American
immorality, is worthy of a seer.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

307

Joseph Smith, the Mohammed of the
West, — founder of the sect called Mor
mons, or Latter-Day Saints, — was born in
Sharon, Vermont, December 23, 1805, and
met a violent death at Carthage, Illinois,
in his thirty-ninth year. In 1815, he re
moved with his father to Palmyra, New
York, and here they sustained an unen
viable reputation, for idleness, intemper
ance, dishonesty, and other immoralities.
Joseph was especially obnoxious in these
Tespects ; and, having never received any
education, he could scarcely so much as
read and write when he had attained to
manhood, and whatever he put forth to the
¦world, under his own name, was written
or composed by another hand.
According to his own account of him
self, his mind was at a very early age
exercised religiously, and, on the evening
of September 21st, when he was but
eighteen years old, the angel Moroni — a
glorious being from Heaven — appeared
before him, as a messenger from the
Lord, instructing him in the secret pur
poses of the Most High, and announcing
the divine will to be that he, Smith,
should become a spiritual leader and com
mander to the nations of the earth. He
was also told that there was a bundle of
golden or metallic plates deposited in a
hill in Manchester, New York (to which
place Smith had removed in 1819), which
plates contained some lost biblical records,
and with which were two transparent
stones, set in the rim of a bow of silver,
which were anciently known as the Urim
and Thummim ; by looking through these
stones, he could see the strange characters
on the plates translated into plain English.
These plates were about eight inches long
by seven wide, and a little thinner than
ordinary tin, and were bound together by
three rings running through the whole.
Altogether they were about six inches
thick, and were neatly engraved on each
side with hieroglyphics in a language
called the Reformed Egyptian, not then
known on the earth. From these plates,
Smith, sitting behind a blanket hung
across the room to keep the sacred records

from profane eyes, read off, through the
transparent stones, the "Book of Mor
mon," or Golden Bible, to Oliver Cowdery,
who wrote it down as Smith read it. It
was printed in 1830, in a volume of
several hundred pages. Appended to it
was a statement signed by Oliver Cow
dery, David Whitmer, and Martin Harris,
who had become professed believers in
Smith's supernatural pretensions, and are
called by the Mormons, the "three wit
nesses." In after years, however, tliese
witnesses quarreled with Smith, renounced
Mormonism, and avowed the falsity of
their testimony.
It is charged by the opponents of
Smith, that the book in question was not
the production of Smith, in any wise, but
of the Rev. Solomon Spalding, who wrote
it as a sort of romance, and that it was
seen and stolen by Sidney Rigdon, after
wards Smith's right-hand man. Spalding
had become involved in his pecuniary
affairs, and wrote this work, intending to
have it printed and published, and with
the proceeds to pay his debts. The book
was entitled "Manuscript Found." It
was an historical romance of the first set
tlers of America, endeavoring to show that
the American Indians are the descendants
of the Jews or the lost tribes. It gave a
detailed account of their journey from
Jerusalem, by land and sea, till they
arrived in America under the command of
Nephi and Lehi. They afterward had
quarrels and contentions, and sepatated
into two distinct nations, one of which he
denominated Nephites and the other Lam-
anites. Cruel and bloody wars ensued, in
which great multitudes were slain. They
buried their dead in large heaps, which
caused the mounds, so common in this
country. Their arts, sciences, and civiliz
ation were brought into view, in order to
account for all the curious antiquities,
found in various parts of North and South
America. Abundant testimony was ad
duced from the wife, brother, and business
partner of Spalding, to whom portions of
the work had been read while it was in
course of preparation, proving that the

308

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Mormon bible was made up of identically
the same matter, combined with portions
of the true Scripture. Mr. Spalding's
business partner, Mr. Miller, testified on
oath as follows :
'I have recently examined the Book of
Mormon, and find in it the writings of
Solomon Spalding, from beginning to end,
but mixed up with Scripture and other
religious matter, which I did not meet in
the 'Manuscript Found.' Many of the
passages in the Mormon book are verbatim
from Spalding, and others in part. The
names of Nephi, Lehi, Moroni, and in
fact all the principal names, are brought
fresh to my recollection by the gold bible.'
Mr. Spalding wrote his manuscript in
1812; he afterwards removed to Pitts
burg, Pennsylvania, where he died in
1816. His manuscript remained in the
printing-office a long time, and in this
office Rigdon was a workman. There is
the best evidence, therefore, that the
so-called Mormon bible had for its basis
the matter contained in Mr. Spalding's
work. Rigdon, however, had at first no
open connection with Smith, and was con
verted by a special mission sent into his
neighborhood in 1830. From the time of
Rigdon's conversion, the progress of Mor-
monism was wonderfully rapid, he being a
man of more than common cunning and
capacity. It may be of interest here to
state, that a transcript on paper, of one of
the golden plates, having been submitted
to Prof. Charles Anthon, of New York,
for his inspection, that eminent scholar
gave, as his statement, that the paper was
in fact a kind of singular scroll, consisting
of all kinds of crooked characters, disposed
in columns, and had evidently been pre
pared by some person who had before him
at the time a book containing various
alphabets, Greek, and Hebrew letters,
crosses and flourishes ; Roman letters, in
verted or placed sideways, were arranged
and placed in perpendicular columns ; and
the whole ended in a rude delineation of
a circle, divided into various compartments,
decked with various strange marks, and
evidently copied after the Mexican calen

dar given by Humboldt, but copied in
such a way as not to betray the source.
The Mormon theology teaches that
there is one God, the Eternal Father, his
son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost;
that men will be punished for their own
sins, and not for Adam's transgressions;
that through the atonement of Christ, all
mankind may be saved by obedience to
the laws and ordinances of the gospel,
these ordinances being faith in the
Lord Jesus, repentance, baptism by im
mersion for the remission of sins, lay
ing on of hands by the gift of the Holy
Ghost, and the Lord's Supper ; that man
must be called of God by inspiration, and

by laying on of hands from those who
are duly commissioned to preach the gospel
and administer the ordinances thereof;
that the same organization that existed
in the primitive church, viz., apostles,
prophets, pastors, evangelists, etc., should
be maintained now ; that the powers
and gifts of faith, discerning of spirits,
prophecy, revelations, visions, healing,
tongues, and the interpretation of tongues,
still exist; that the word of God is
recorded in the Bible, and in the Book of
Mormon, and in all other good books ;
that there are now being revealed, and
will continue to be revealed, many more
great and important things pertaining to
the kingdom of God and Messiah's second
coming; that there is to be a literal
gathering of Israel, and the restoration oi
the ten tribes; that Zion will be estab-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

309

lished upon the western continent; that
Christ will reign personally upon the
earth a thousand years, and the earth
will be renewed and receive its paradisiacal
glory ; that there is to be a literal resur
rection of the body, and that the rest
of the dead live not again until the
thousand years have expired; that the
privilege belongs to all, of unmolested
worship of God, according to the dictates
of conscience ; that all persons are to be
subject to kings, queens, presidents, rulers,
and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and
sustaining the law ; that God, having be
come nearly lost to man, revived his work,
by revealing himself to Joseph Smith, and
conferring upon him the keys of the ever
lasting priesthood, .thus making him the
mediator of a new dispensation, which is
immediately to precede the second coming
of Christ ; that all those who recognize the
divine authority of Smith, and are bap
tized by one having authority, are the
chosen people of God, who are to intro
duce the millennium, and to reign with
Christ, on the earth, a thousand years. The
doctrine of direct revelation from Heaven
was at first applied in a general sense, and
any one firm in the faith, and who stood
high in the church, received visions and
revelations. But this soon became trouble
some, — the revelations often clashed with
each other and led to many annoyances,
and the power of receiving revelations
was therefore, in course of time, confined
to the presidency, in whom the supreme
authority of the church rests. This presi
dency consists of the president and his
two counselors; the First President is,
however, supreme, and there is no resist
ance to his decrees. Next in authority in
the church is the apostolic College, which
is composed of twelve apostles, who form
a kind of ecclesiastical senate, but a por
tion of them are generally on missions,
taking charge of the different branches of
the church in other parts of the world.
After these come the high priests, who,
together with the elders, compose the
body politic of the church, whose duty it
is to carry out and enforce its decrees and

regulations. These high priests and elders
are divided into societies, called quorums
of seventies, and every quorum preserves
on its records a complete genealogy of
each of its members.
Among the dignitaries of the church,
the patriarch stands eminent. He holds
his office for life ; all other stations are
filled with candidates nominated by the
presidency and elected annually in con
vention by the body of the church. The
bishops also are conspicuous and important
officers, for it is their duty to collect the
tithing, to inspect once a week every
family in their ward or district, and to
examine strictly into their temporal and
spiritual affairs. In order to do this more
thoroughly, each bishop is assisted by two
counselors. The bishop also adjudicates
and settles all difficulties occurring be
tween persons residing in his ward, though
from his decision an appeal can be made
to the high council. This is a tribunal
consisting of fifteen men selected from
among the high priests, twelve of whom
sit as jurors and hear the testimony of
witnesses in the case, and then by voting
make a decision — a majority on one side
or the other deciding the question ; the
remaining three, as judges, render judg
ment as to the costs or punishment. From
this court the only appeal is to the presi
dency. The first regularly constituted church
of the Mormon faith was organized in
Manchester, N. Y., April sixth, 1830, and
from this time and event dates the Mor
mon era. It began with six members or
elders being ordained, viz., Joseph Smith,
sen., Hyrum Smith, Joseph Smith, jr.,
Samuel Smith, Oliver Cowdery, Joseph
Knight. The sacrament was adminis
tered, and hands were laid on for the gift
of the Holy Ghost on this first occasion in
the church. The first public discourse
was preached by Cowdery, setting forth
the principles of the gospel as revealed to
Smith, April eleventh; and during the
same month the first miracle was per
formed, " by the power of God," in Coles-
ville, N. Y.

310

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

On the first of June, 1830, the first con
ference of the church was held at Fayette,
N. Y., and soon after, Messrs. Pratt and
Rigdon united publicly with the order.
Meanwhile, converts multiplied rapidly.
Early in 1831, Smith set out for Kirt
land, Ohio, which, for a time, became the
chief city of his followers. The elders
soon received command to go forth in pairs
and preach, the Melchizedek or superior
priesthood being first conferred upon them
in June. A considerable body of Mor
mons transferred themselves to Jackson
county, Missouri, in the summer of this
year. So rapidly did their numbers aug
ment in this region, that the older settlers
became alarmed, and held public meetings
protesting against the continuance of the
sect in their neighborhood. Among the
resolutions passed at these meetings was
one requiring the Mormon paper to be
stopped, but, as this was not immediately
complied with, the office of the paper was
destroyed. Finally, they agreed to re
move from that county into Clay county,
across the Missouri, before doing which,

however, houses were destroyed, men
whipped, and some lives were lost on both
sides. These outrages, according to the annals
given by Perkins, kindled the wrath of
the prophet at Kirtland, who took steps to
bring about a great gathering of his

disciples, and, marshaling them as an
army, in May, 1834, he started for Mis
souri, which in due time he reached, but
with no other result than the transfer of a
certain portion of his followers as per
manent residents in a section already too
full of them. At first, the citizens of
Clay county were friendly to the perse
cuted ; but ere long, trouble grew up, and
the wanderers were once more forced to
seek a new home, to insure their safety.
This home they found in Caldwell county,
where, by permission of the neighbors and
state legislature, they organized a county
government, the country having been pre
viously unsettled.
In addition to the stirring scenes al
ready recorded, some of the more important
events in the history and continued prog
ress of this sect may be stated briefly as
follows. The year 1832 was distinguished
by the tarring and feathering of Smith
and Rigdon by a mob, for attempting to
establish communism, and for alleged dis
honorable dealing, forgery, and swindling
in connection with the Kirtland Safety
Society Bank, founded by them;
the conversion of Mr. Brigham
Young, and his baptism by Eleazer
Millard, also the baptism of Mr.
Heber C. Kimball; and the es
tablishment of the first Mormon
periodical, by Mr. W. W. Phelps.
In 1833, the gift of tongues
was conferred; the re-translation
of the bible finished; Bishop
Partridge became the ecclesias
tical head of the church in Zion;
the 'Missouri Enquirer' was es
tablished by Messrs. Davis and
Kelley. At a conference of
elders in Kirtland, May 3, 1834,
the body ecclesiastic was flrst
named "The Church of Jesus
Christ of Latter-Day Saints." In 1835,
a quorum of twelve apostles was organized,
among whom were Brigham Young and
H. C. Kimball, the former, being then
thirty-four years old, assuming the head
ship of the apostolic college, and, receiv
ing the gift of tongues, was sent on a

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

311

missionary tour toward the east. Young
was so devoted a disciple of Mormonism,
that he said of Smith, its founder :
" The doctrine he teaches is all I know
about the matter ; bring anything against
that, if you can. As to anything else, I
do not care if he acts like a devil ; • he has
brought forth a doctrine that will save us,
if we will abide by it. He may get drunk
every day of his life, sleep with his neigh
bor's wife every night, run horses and
gamble; I do not care anything about
that, for I never embrace any man in my
faith." Eigdon was equally bold and lawless ;
who declared, in behalf of the prophet and
his followers, in a sermon preached at
Far West, to a great concourse,
"We take God and all the holy angels
to witness this day, that we warn all men,
in the name of Jesus Christ, to come on
us no more forever. The man, or the set
of men, who attempts it, does it at the
expense of their lives. And that mob that
comes on us to disturb us, it shall be
between them and us a war of extermina
tion, for we will follow them till the last
drop of their blood is spilled, or else they
will have to exterminate us. For we will
carry the seat of war to their own houses
and their own families, and one party or
the other shall be utterly destroyed."
On the 20th of July, 1837, Elders Kim
ball, Hyde, Richards, Goodson, Russell,
and. Priest Fielding, sailed from New
York for Liverpool, to preach and propa
gate Mormonism, and proselytes multi
plied, especially in northern Europe, so
plausibly was Smith's imposture set be
fore them; multitudes of these converts,
male and female, emigrated to the " prom
ised land." The next year was dis
tinguished by continued scenes of violence,
attended with bloodshed and death, be
tween the people of Missouri and the
Mormons, among the killed being Captain
^emnot, alias Patten, leader of the Danite
band. Smith, and his brother Hyrum,
together with such kindred spirits as
Young, Phelps, pratt, Hedlock, Turley,
Rockwell, Higbee, were particularly ob

noxious to the hatred of the Missourians;
and, throughout all the western states, no
curse that could come upon a neighbor
hood was considered so great as that of the
advent of Mormon settlers.
Early in the summer of 1839, Smith
visited the town of Commerce, in Illinois,
at the invitation of Dr. Isaac Galland, of
whom he obtained, gratis, a large tract of
land, to induce the Mormons to immigrate,
and upon receipt of revelation called his
people around him, and sold them the
town lots. This place was afterward called
Nauvoo, "the beautiful site," and soon
numbered thousands of souls ; the build
ing of the famous temple was commenced
the next year. Polygamy dates from
about this time, being authorized as
Smith's privilege, according to a " revela
tion " received by him. Smith was re
peatedly arrested in 1842-3^4, on charges
of murder, treason, and adultery, but
managed either to escape or be acquitted,
until the fatal summer of 1844. The
greatest crimes charged against him were
those testified to by some of his once
devoted but afterwards disgusted and
seceding disciples, and who would have
been glad to execute summary vengeance
upon his head.
The exasperation produced by the Mor
mons murdering Lieutenant Governor
Boggs (under Governor Dunklin), of Mis
souri, in May, 1843, was widespread and
most intense, and the swarming of the
sect into Illinois, caused the inhabitants of
the latter to arm themselves. Governor
Ford, of Illinois, persuaded the Smiths,
under pledge of his word, to yield up their
arms, and sent them prisoners, under
the charge of sixty militia men, to Car
thage. Here the prisoners were at once
arrested for treason. Instead of being
confined in cells, the two Smiths, at the
instance of their friends, were put into
the debtors' room of the prison, and a
guard assigned for their security. But,
on the 27th of June, 1844, a large body
of exasperated and lawless men, with their
faces painted and blackened, broke into
the jail, and summarily killed both Joseph

312

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

and Hyrum Smith, and instantly fled. In
his struggle against the mob, the prophet
attempted, as a last resort, to leap from the
window, when two balls pierced him from
the door, one of which entered his right
breast, and he staggered lifeless, exclaim
ing, ' 0 Lord, my God!' He fell on his
left side, a dead man. The excitement in
all parts of the west, following this event,
was tremendous.
An address was now sent forth to "all
the saints in the world," announcing, with
lamentations, tho death of "the Lord's
Prophet." Brigham Young, a native of
Whittingham, Vt., succeeded to the presi
dency, thus defeating Rigdon, who claimed
the office, but who was forthwith cut off,
and delivered over to the 'buffetings of
Satan.' The next great step was the
abandonment of Nauvoo, on account of the
bitter hostility of the Illinoisians to the
existence of Mormonism in their midst.
Nauvoo was a city regularly laid out with
broad streets crossing at right angles, and
the houses were built generally of logs,
with a few frame and brick buildings
interspersed. A temple, one hundred and
thirty feet long by ninety wide, was

MORMON TEMPLE.
erected of polished limestone ; the bap
tistry was in the basement, and held a
1 irge stone basin supported by twelve
colossal oxen. In 1848, this building was
set on fire by an incendiary, and all con
sumed except the walls, which were finally
destroyed by a tornado, in 1850.
The valley of the Great Salt Lake, in
Utah, now became the new "promised

land " of the exiled Mormons, and, cross
ing the frozen Mississippi in the winter of
1846, the exodus began ; in the summer
ensuing, they commenced to lay the
foundations of the city, — the " New Jeru
salem." Soon after, the whole of this vast
region was surveyed by Messrs. Stansbury
and Gunnison, by order of the federal
government, and a bill organizing Utah
into a Territory having been signed by
President Fillmore, Brigham Young was
appointed governor, and thus became the
supreme head of the church and state.
He has ruled with consummate tact and
success, overcoming all opposition from
" Gentile " sources, and even keeping at
bay the national government itself. He
declared, " I am, and will be, governor,
and no power on earth can hinder it, until
the Lord Almighty says, 'Brigham, you
need not be governor any longer.' " Under
his teachings and practice, polygamy be
came firmly established and universal, the
prohibitory laws of the United States in
this matter being openly defied. His
conduct he defended in powerful harangues
to the faithful, who were always ready, at
the word of command, to fight or murder,
in behalf of their political and spiritual
chief, if occasion required. Their sec
tarian literature has been very voluminous,
and has appeared in almost every language;
for even in the old world — throughout
Europe, as also in Asia, Africa, Australia,
and Polynesia, — scores of thousands of the
simple-minded have become dupes of the
itinerant impostors sent forth from head
quarters to convert the " gentile " world.
Of Young, personally, the description
usually given is that of a man rather
above the medium height and somewhat
corpulent, with a face indicative of pene
tration and firmness ; hair parted on the
side, and reaching below the ears with a
half curl ; the forehead somewhat narrow,
thin eyebrows, the eyes between gray and
blue, with a calm, composed, and some
what reserved expression ; nose, fine and
sharp-pointed, and bent a little to the left;

lips close, the lower one evincing

the

sensual voluptuary; cheeks rather fleshy,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

313

SALT LAKE CITY, THE M011MOX ZION.

the side line between the nose and
the mouth considerably broken, and the
chin peaked ; hands well made ; the whole
figure large, broad-shouldered, and stoop
ing a little when standing. In dress, no
Quaker could be neater or plainer, — all
gray homespun, except the cravat and
waistcoat; the coat of antique cut, and,
like the pantaloons, baggy, and the but
tons black; a neck-tie of dark silk, with
a large bow, was loosely passed around a
starchless collar, which turned down of its
own accord ; the waistcoat of black satin
— once an article of almost national dress
— single-breasted, and buttoned nearly to
the neck, and a plain gold chain passed
into the pocket. In manner, affable and
impressive, simple and courteous, exciting
in strangers a consciousness of his power.
The number of his wives was never known
by any person but himself ; and the multi
tude of his children, thus born into the
world, constituted his chief boast. Those
who would like to know more of the
details of a Mormon prophet's harem will
find them amply portrayed in the works
of Burton, Ferris, Waite, Bowles, Colfax,
and other travelers in that region.
Salt Lake City, about two thousand
miles west of New York, is situated on
the east bank of the river Jordan, a stream
which connects Great Salt Lake and Lake
Utah; it is separated as well from the
western frontier as from the Pacific coast,
"J dreary, timberless prairies, sand plains,
and high mountains, the mountains on
the east side being covered with perpetual

snow, and their summits are nearly two
miles above the level of the sea. Thus,
the Mormons form an isolated people,
and their home is almost shut out from
the rest of mankind. The city was laid
out so as to contain two hundred and
sixty blocks of ten acres each, divided
into eight lots and four public squares ;
the streets, one hundred and twenty-eight
feet wide, and a stream of water flowing
through each, for the purpose of irrigat
ing the gardens ; and the squares being
adorned with trees from the four quarters
of the globe, and adorned with fountains.
The houses are built of sun-dried brick,
and are generally small and of one story,
with separate entrances where there are
several wives. The great temple, built in
the Gothic style, is one hundred and fifty
feet long and sixty feet wide. One of the
largest buildings is the tithing-house,
where is deposited one-tenth of all the
products of the territory for the benefit
of the church. Almost "all the authorities
of Zion " live in this, the great city
thereof, with families comprising from
twenty-five to two wives each, and there
are many more girls than boys born. The
population is composed largely of English,
Scotch, Wtlsh and Danes. In the taber
nacle, a large public building, the people
assemble on the Sabbath, to hear the
Mormon gospel preached by the prophet
and his coadjutors. In another building,
called the Endowment House, the secret
orders, sacred ordinances, and solemn mys
teries of Mormonism are administered.

XXXIV.
CAREER, CAPTURE, AND EXECUTION OF GIBBS, THE
MOST NOTED PIRATE OF THE CENTURY.— 1831.

His Bold, Enterprising, Desperate, and Successful War, for Many Years, Against the Commerce of all
Nations. — Terror inspired by His Name as the Scourge of the Ocean and the Enemy of Mankind.—
Scores of Vessels Taken, Plundered, and Destroyed. — Tlieir Crews and Passengers, Male and Female
Instantly Butchered. — Gibbs Born in Rhode Island — Joins the Privateer Maria. — Captures Her in a
Mutiny.— Hoists the Black Flag. — Gibbs Chosen Leader. — Rendezvous at Cape Antonio.— Booty
Sold in Havana. — No Lives Spared. — One Beautiful Girl Excepted. — Atrocious Use Made of Her.—
The Maria Cbased AUDay. — Her Pinal Abandonment. — A New Craft: Rich Prizes. — Fight with a
United States Frigate. — Gibbs Overmatched and Flees — Fatal Voyage in the Vineyard.— Lands at
Southampton, L. I. — His Infamy Brought to Light.— Arrested With His Treasure.— Confession of
His Guilt. — Black Record of Crime and Blood. — Close of His Ill-Starred Life.

" Lending a pirate's crew.
O'er the dark pea I flew.
Wild was the life we led.
Many the bouIs that aped.
Many the hearts that hied.
By our stern orders."

APPEAL OF A GIRL TO GIBBS TO SPARE HEH LIFE.

OTWITHSTANDING a.new generation
has come upon the stage of human af
fairs, since " Gibbs, the pirate'' startled
the world by his bold and atrocious
career on the high seas, his deeds are
still read of, rehearsed, and listened to,
\ with the same wondering interest and
involuntary shudder, as when, in the
days of their actual occurrence, they broke
fresh upon the ears of an astonished and
outraged community ; — a career which, in
spite of the destiny that inevitably awaits
such a course of crime against mankind,
seemed for years to defy and baffle all the
efforts of pursuit and of retributive justice.
From the various accessible resources of
information concerning this notorious
adept in piracy and blood, it appears that
his native place was Providence, E. I, his
real name, James D. Jeffers, having been
given up, and that of Charles Gibbs sub
stituted. Bearing this name, at the very

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

315

mention of which mankind would after
wards shudder, he became, in the widest
and most ghastly sense of the term, ever
applied to man, the Scourge of the Ocean.
In November, 1830, there sailed from
New Orleans for Philadelphia, the brig
Vineyard, Captain William Thornby, with
William Roberts as mate, and the follow
ing crew : Charles Gibbs, John Brownrigg,
Robert Dawes, Henry Atwell, James
Talbot, A. Church, and Thomas I. Wans-
ley, a young negro native of Delaware,
who acted as cook. When the Vineyard
had been five days at sea, Wansley made it
known to the crew that there were fifty
thousand dollars in specie on board. This
information excited their cupidity, and
induced them to secretly consult as to
whether and how they could get the money
into their own hands. Many conversa
tions took place on the subject, and wliile
these were going on, Dawes, who was a
mere boy, was sent to converse with the
officers, in order to divert their attention
from what was passing.
Finally, the resolution was taken, that
as the master and mate were old men, it
was time they should die and make room
for the rising generation. Moreover, they
were of the opinion that as the mate was
of a peevish disposition, he deserved death.
It does not appear, however, that Brown
rigg or Talbot had any part in these plans,
or in the foul deed that resulted from
them. The conspirators agreed to commit
the fiendish crimes of murder and piracy,
on the night of the twenty-third. The
murder of the master was, by agreement,
to Gibbs and Wansley, and that of the
mate to Atwell and Church. This plan
was carried out.
The pirates took possession of the vessel,
and Wansley busied himself in wiping up
the blood that had been spilled on deck,
declaring, with an oath, that though he
had heard that the stains of the blood of a
murdered person could not be effaced, he
would wipe away these. Then, after
drinking all round, they got up the money.
It was distributed in equal portions to all
on board; Brownrigg and Talbot being

assured that, if they would keep the secret,
and share the plunder, they should receive
no injury.
They then steered a north-easterly
course toward Long Island, till they came
within fifteen or twenty miles of South
ampton light, where they resolved to leave
the vessel and take to the boats, though
the wind was blowing very hard. Atwell
scuttled the brig and got into the jolly-
boat with Church and Talbot, while
Gibbs, Wansley, Dawes, and Brownrigg,
put off in the long-boat. The jolly-boat
swamped on a bar two miles from the
shore, and all on board were drowned.
The long-boat was also in great danger,
and was only saved from a like fate by
throwing over several bags of specie. Nev
ertheless, the crew at last got on shore at
Pelican Island, where they buried their
money, and found a sportsman who told
them where they were. They then crossed
to Great Barn Island, and went to the
house of a Mr. Johnson, to whom Brown
rigg gave the proper information. Thence
they went to the house of a Mr. Leonard,
where they procured a wagon to carry
them farther. As they were about to get
in, Brownrigg cried aloud that they might
go where they pleased, but he would not
accompany them, for they were murderers.
On hearing this, Mr. Leonard obtained the
presence of a magistrate, and Gibbs and
Dawes were apprehended. Wansley es
caped into the woods, but was followed
and soon taken. The maritime, and '
indeed the whole civilized world, breathed
freer, when the news spread abroad of the
great pirate's capture.
The evidence of the guilt of the accused
was full and conclusive. Their own con
fession of the crime, voluntarily made to
Messrs. Merritt and Stevenson, who had
the custody of them from Elatbush to New
York, could have left not the shadow of a
doubt on the mind of any person who heard
the testimony of those officers. Wansley
told the whole story, occasionally prompted
by Gibbs; and while both admitted that
Brownrigg was innocent, their confession.
was not so favorable as to Dawes.

316

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Gibbs was arraigned for the murder of
William Roberts, and Wansley for that of
Captain Thornby, and, being found guilty,
judgment in accordance with the law was
pronounced. During the trial, the iron
visage of Gibbs was occasionally changed
by a transient emotion ; he had evidently
abandoned all hope of escape, and sat the
greater part of his time with his hands
between his knees, calmly surveying the
scene before him. Wansley was more
agitated, and trembled visibly when he
rose to hear the verdict of the jury.
And now, as was to be expected, there
was revealed the bloody annals of Gibbs' s
ill-starred career.

PIRATE GIBBS.
It was in the latter part of 1813, that
he entered on board a ship bound to New
Orleans and thence to Stockholm. On the
homeward passage they were forced to put
into Bristol, England, in distress, where
the ship was condemned, and he proceeded
to Liverpool. He returned to the United
States in the ship Amity, Captain Max
well. Shortly after his arrival home, the
death of an uncle put him in possession
of about two thousand dollars, with which
he established himself in the grocery busi
ness in Boston, an undertaking which did
not prove profitable, so that he was often
under the necessity of applying to his
father for assistance, which was always
afforded, together with the best advice.
The stock was finally sold at auction, for
about nine hundred dollars, which he soon
squandered in tippling-houses and among
profligates. His father, hearing of his
dissipation, wrote affectionately to him to
come home, but he stubbornly refused, and
again turned his attention to the sea.

Sailing in the ship John, Captain Brown,
bound for the island of Margaretta, he
left the ship soon after its arrival at that
place, and entered on board the Colombian
privateer Maria, Captain Bell. They
cruised for about two months in the Gulf
of Mexico, around Cuba, but the crew
becoming dissatisfied in consequence of
the non-payment of their prize-money, a
mutiny arose, the crew took possession of
the schooner, and landed the officers near
Pensacola. A number of days elapsed
before it was finally decided by them what
course to pursue. Some advised that they
should cruise as before, under the Colom
bian commission; others proposed to hoist
the black flag. They cruised for a short
time without success, and it was then
unanimously determined to hoist the black
flag, and wage war against the commerce
of all nations. Their bloody purpose,
however, was not carried into full and
immediate execution; for, though they
boarded a number of vessels, they allowed
them to pass unmolested, there being no
specie on board, and their cargoes not
being convertible into anything valuable
to themselves.
At last, one of the crew, named Anto
nio, suggested that an arrangement could
be made with a man in Havana, that
would be mutually beneficial ; that he
would receive all their goods, sell them,
and divide the proceeds. This plan being
received favorably, they ran up within.
two miles of Moro Castle, and sent Anto
nio on shore to see the merchant and make
a contract with him. Previous to this,
Gibbs was chosen to navigate the vessel.
Antonio succeeded in arranging every
thing according to their wishes, and Cape
Antonio was appointed to be the place of
rendezvous. The merchant was to furnish
facilities for transporting the goods to
Havana, which he did for more than three
years. The Maria now put to sea, with a crew
of about fifty men, mostly Spaniards and
Americans, with every expectation of suc
cess. The first vessel she fell in with was
the Indispensable, an English ship bound

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

317

to Havana, which was taken and carried
to Cape Antonio. The crew were imme
diately destroyed ; those who resisted were
haclced to pieces; those who offered no
resistance were reserved to be shot and
thrown overboard. The maxim to which
they scrupulously adhered, was, that ' dead
men tell no tales.' According to Gibbs's
statement, he never had occasion to give
orders to begin the work of death. The
Spaniards were eager to accomplish that
object without delay, and generally every
unhappy victim disappeared in a very few
minutes after the pirates' feet trod the
deck of the fated vessel.
Gibbs now directed his course towards
the Bahama Banks, where they captured a
brig, believed to be the William, of New
York, from some port in Mexico, with a
cargo of furniture, destroyed the crew, took
the vessel to Cape Antonio, and sent the
furniture and other articles to their accom
plice in Havana. Sometime during this
cruise, the pirate was chased for nearly a
whole day, by a United States frigate,
supposed to be the John Adams; he
hoisted patriot colors, and finally escaped.
In the early part of the summer of 1817,
they took the Earl of Moria, an English
ship from London, with a cargo of dry-
goods. The crew were destroyed, the
vessel burnt, and the goods carried to the
Cape; here the pirates had a settlement
with their Havana agent, and the proceeds
were divided according to agreement.
Gibbs repaired perse nally to Havana, in
troduced himself to the merchant, and
made arrangements for the successful pros
ecution of his piracies. While there, he
became acquainted with many of the En
glish and American naval officers, and,
adroitly concealing his own character and
calling, inquired respecting the success of
their various expeditions for the suppres
sion of piracy, and all their intended
movements !
On the return to Cape Antonio, Gibbs
found his comrades in a state of mutiny
and rebellion, and that several of them had
heen killed. His energy checked the dis
turbance, and all agreed to submit to his

orders, and put any one to death who
should dare to disobey them.
During the cruise which was made in
the latter part of 1817 and the beginning
of 1818, a Dutch ship from Curacoa was
captured, with a cargo of West India
goods, and a quantity of silver plate. The
passengers and crew, to the number of
thirty, were all killed, with the exception
of a young and beautiful female, about
seventeen, who, in the midst of the awful
scene of death-blows and shrieks and man
gled corpses, kneeled upon the gory deck,
and piteously implored Gibbs to save her
life ! The appeal was successful ; and he
promised to save her, though he knew it
would lead to dangerous consequences
among his crew. She was carried to Cape
Antonio, and kept there about two months ;
but the dissatisfaction increased until it
broke out at last into open mutiny, and
one of the pirates was shot by Gibbs for
daring to lay hold of her with a view to
beating out her brains. Gibbs was com
pelled, however, in the end, to submit her
fate to a council of war, at which it was
decided that the preservation of their own
lives made her sacrifice indispensable. He
therefore acquiesced in the decision, and
gave orders to have her destroyed by
poison, which was immediately adminis
tered to her, and thus the young, beautiful,
and unfortunate creature was launched
into the other world.
Shortly after this, the piratical schooner
was driven ashore near the Cape, and so
much damaged that it was found necessary
to destroy her. A new, sharp-built
schooner was in consequence provided by
their faithful ally in Havana, called the
Picciana, and dispatched to their rendez
vous. In this vessel, they cruised successfully
for more than four years. Among the
vessels taken and destroyed — and their
crews and passengers remorselessly hurried
into eternity — were the Belvidere, Dido, a
Dutch brig, the British barque Larch, and
many others.
Gibbs further stated that he had been
concerned in robbing forty different ves-

318

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

OIBBS BUTCHERING THE CREW OF ONE OF HIS PRIZES.

sels. He gave the names of upwards of a
score of vessels taken by the pirates under
his command, the crews of which had been
murdered. Sometime in the course of the year
1819, Gibbs left Havana for the United
States, carrying with him about thirty
thousand dollars. He passed several
weeks in New York, and then went to
Boston, whence he took passage for Liver
pool, in the ship Emerald. Before he
sailed, however, he had squandered a large
part of his money in dissipation and gam
bling. He remained in Liverpool a few
months, and then returned to Boston in
the ship Topaz. His residence in Liver

pool, at that time, was testified to by &
female in New York, who was well
acquainted with him there, and where, as
she stated, he lived like a wealthy gentle
man. In speaking of his acquaintance
with this female, Gibbs said :
" I fell in with a woman, who, I thought,
was all virtue, but she deceived me, and I
am sorry to say that a heart that never
felt abashed at scenes of carnage and
blood, was made a child of, for a time, by
her, and I gave way to dissipation and
torment. How often, when the fumes of
liquor have subsided, have I thought of
my good and affectionate parents, and of
their godly advice ! But when the little

GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

319

monitor began to move within me, I imme
diately seized the cup to hide myself from
myself, and drank until the sense of intoxi
cation was renewed. My friends advised
me to behave like a man, and promised me
their assistance, but the demon still
haunted me, and I spurned their advice."
He readily admitted his participation in
the Vineyard mutiny, revolt and robbery,
and in the murder of Thornby ; and, so
impressed was he with the universal detes
tation and horror which his heinous crimes
had excited against him, that he often
inquired if he should not be murdered in
the streets, in case he had his liberty, and
was recognized. He would also frequently
exclaim, " Oh, if I had got into Algiers,
I should never have been in this prison,
to be hung for murder ! "
Though he gave no evidence of contri
tion for the horrible and multiplied crimes
of which he confessed himself guilty, yet
he evidently dwelt upon their recollection
with great unwillingness. If a question
was asked him, in regard to how the crews
were generally destroyed, he answered
quickly and briefly, and instantly changed
the topic either to the circumstances
attending his trial, or to his exploits in
Buenos Ayres. On being asked why with
such cruelty he killed so many persons,
after getting all their money, which was
all he wanted, he replied that the laws
themselves were responsible for so many
murders ; that, by those laws, a man has
to suffer death for piracy, and the punish
ment for murder is no more, — besides, all
witnesses are out of the way, and, conse
quently, if the punishment was different,
there would not be so many murders.
On Friday, April twenty-second, 1831,

Gibbs and Wansley paid the penalty of
their crimes. Both prisoners arrived at
the gallows about twelve o'clock, accom
panied by the marshal, his aids, and a
body of United States marines. Two
clergymen attended them to the fatal spot,
where, everything being in readiness, the
ropes were adjusted about their necks, and
prayers offered. Gibbs addressed the
spectators, acknowledging the heinousness
of his career, and adding —
"Should any of the friends of those
whom I have been accessory to, or engaged
in, the murder of, be now present, before
my Maker I beg their forgiveness — it is
the only boon I ask — and, as I hope for
pardon through the blood of Christ, surely
this request will not be withheld by man,
from a worm, like myself, standing, as I
do, on the very verge of eternity! An
other moment, and I cease to exist; — and
could I find in my bosom room to imagine
that the spectators now assembled had
forgiven me, the scaffold would have no
terrors. My first crime was piracy, for
which my life would pay the forfeit on
conviction ; no punishment could be
inflicted on me farther than that, and
therefore I had nothing to fear but detec
tion, for had my offenses been millions of
times more aggravated than they now are,
death must have satisfied all."
Gibbs shook hands with Wansley, the
officers and clergymen, the caps were then
drawn over the faces of the two criminals,
and a handkerchief dropped by Gibbs as a
signal to the executioner caused the cord
to be severed, and in an instant they were
suspended in air. Wansley expired with
only a few slight struggles. Gibbs died
hard.

xxxv.

NULLIFICATION OUTBREAK IN SOUTH CAROLINA,
UNDER THE LEAD OF CALHOUN, McDUFFIE,
HAYNE, AND OTHERS.— 1832.

State Sovereignty, Instead of the Federal Government, Claimed by them to be Supreme. — The Wrath
of President Jackson Aroused — His Stern and Heroic Will Upholds the National Authority and
Saves the Union from Anarchy and from the Perils of Dismemberment. — Momentous Nature of
this Contest. — The Tariff a Rock of Offense — Action in the " Palmetto " State— Anti-National
and Defiant.— Pacific Proposals Scouted. — A Political Dinner in Washington. — Jackson's and Cal
houn's Toasts. — Plan of the Conspirators. — A Bombshell in Their Camp. — Convention of Agitators
in Columbia — Nullification Ordinance Passed. — " Old Hickory " Bold and Resolute. — His Peremp
tory Proclamation. — South Carolina's Counter-Blast. — United States Troops Sent to Charleston.—
Presidential Idea of Compromising. — Clay's Conciliation Scheme. — The Leading Nullifiers in
Danger. — Jackson Threatens to Hang Them. — They are Roused from Bed at Midnight. — Two
Alternatives Presented. — Swallowing a Bitter Pill.

•' Thou too, snil on, O ehip of State, -
Sail on, O I mon. strong and great;
Humanity, with all its fears.
With all ita hopen of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate I "

j^^Ww:

FAVORITE STATE EMOLEH, S. C.

ITTEE and momentous was the political contest
<^ which shook the Union to its very center in 1832, the
' " year in which culminated, in all its violence, the
South Carolina doctrine of State Bights and Nullifi
cation. In a general, preliminary way, the nature or
origin of this great sectional conflict presents itself
thus : A powerful party in South Carolina, led on by
able and ambitious politicians, contended that con
gress had no power to impose taxes for protecting
home industry or manufactures, but solely for pur
poses of revenue, sufficient to defray the expenses of
the government ; that each state had a right to judge
whether congress, in its legislation, exceeded its powers,
and in that case to disobey it, — treat it as of no binding
They therefore declared the tariff which passed into
operation at the close of the session of 1832, to be null and
void ; making it unlawful for any of the constituted authorities
to enforce it ; and disallowing all appeal to the supreme court.
Any act which might be passed by congress to coerce them into
obedience, they would consider as dissolving them from the
obligation to maintain the Union, and they would proceed to
organize a separate government. These views were supported
by their legislature, and vehemently advocated by Calhoun and
McDuffie at Washington,— two of the most celebrated leaders in
public affairs, who have ever appeared in American history.
Their scheme, however, of defying the national government, on

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

321

the assumption of the sovereignty of the
states as principals, and the subordination
of the federal government as a mere
agency, found a mortal enemy in Andrew
Jackson, who, at the very time chosen by
the sectionalists, or milliners, to put their
doctrine into practice, was chief magistrate
of the nation.
But, though the climax of these anti-
national proceedings was not reached until
this period, the great leaders had for years
been sowing the seeds of contempt for
federal authority and the constitution and
Union from which that authority was de
rived, and, in doing this, even went so far
as to claim that the fathers of the republic,
especially Mr. Jefferson, held and taught
the same principle. Of these tactics, Mr.
Benton gives a notable example, in his
account of the anniversary of Mr. Jeffer
son's birthday, April thirteenth, 1830,
celebrated by a numerous company, that
year, in the city of Washington ; Mr.
Benton's account agreeing, in every ma
terial point, with that furnished by other
pens, as follows :
It was the birthday of Thomas Jeffer
son, and those who attended the party did
so avowedly for the purpose of honoring
J the memory of the author of the Declar
ation of Independence. Such at least was
i the. tenor of the invitation. Andrew Jack
son, the president of the United States,
was there. So was John C. Calhoun, the
vice-president.' Three of the cabinet min
isters, namely, Van Buren, Eaton, and
Branch, were there ; and members of con
gress and citizens not a few.
It soon became manifest to the more
sagacious ones, that this dinner party and
the day were to be made the occasion for
inaugurating the new doctrine of nullifi
cation, and to fix the paternity of it on
Mr. Jefferson, the great apostle of democ
racy in America. Many gentlemen pres
ent, perceiving the drift of the whole per
formance, withdrew in disgust before sum-
m°ned to the table; but the sturdy old
PIwJent' periectly ^formed, remained.
When the dinner was over and the cloth
amoved, a call was made for the regular
21 b

toasts. These were twenty-four in num
ber, eighteen of which, it is alleged, were
written by Mr. Calhoun. These, in multi
farious forms, shadowed forth, now dimly,
now clearly, the new doctrine. They
were all received and honored in various
degrees, when volunteer toasts were an
nounced as in order.
The president of the United States was
of course first called upon for a sentiment.
His tall form rose majestically, and with
that sternness appropriate to the peculiar
occasion, he cast that apalling bomb-shell
of words into the camp of the conspira
tors, which will forever be a theme for
the commendation of the patriot and the
historian — " The Federal Union : it
must be Preserved ! " He was fol
lowed by the vice-president, Mr. Calhoun,
who gave as his sentiment — " The Union :
next to our Liberty the most dear ; may
we all remember that it can only be pre
served by respecting the rights of the
States, and distributing equally the benefit
and burden of the Union ! " Those who
before doubted the intentions of Calhoun
and his southern friends, and were at a
loss to understand the exact meaning of
the dinner party, were no longer embar
rassed by ignorance. In that toast was
presented the issue — liberty before union
— supreme state sovereignty — false com
plaints of inequality of benefits and bur
dens — ' our rights ' as we choose to define
them, or disunion. From that hour, there
fore, the vigilant old president watched the
South Carolina conspirator, his lieutenant,
with the searching eyes of unslumbering
suspicion. But the opposition of South Carolina
to a protective tariff dated farther back
than this. In 1820, and again in 1825,
the legislature of that state protested
against all such congressional measures,
and in 1827 instructed her representatives
at Washington to maintain these views,
to the fullest extent, on the floor of con
gress. The next year, she entered a for
mal protest and resolutions against any
right of congress to impose protective
duties on imported goods. More resolu-

322

OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

tions, addressed to other states, followed
in December, 1828, and in 1830 the state
legislature most forcibly reaffirmed the
doctrines to which it had previously given
such emphatic expression. In fact, the
people had been worked by their leaders
into a temporary frenzy.
In an exhaustive, as well as most vivid
and truthful review of the events per
taining to this exciting period in national
affairs, a writer in the New Monthly
Magazine has contributed one of the most
thrilling chapters to be found in American
history. From that source the following
abridged narrative is derived for the most
part :
A prominent issue in the presidential
election of 1832 was that of the protective
tariff, otherwise known as the American
System. South Carolina had virtually
threatened to secede from the Union unless

appointed. She refused to take an honest
part in the presidential election, giving
her votes for citizens who were not candi
dates. She had resolved — or rather the
conspirators had resolved for her — not to
be pacified with anything less than federal
dismemberment !
Jackson, the chosen standard-bearer of
the democratic party, and to which organ
ization the conspirators professedly be
longed, was re-elected ; yet the malcon
tents continued to defy the government,
and exhibited the falsity of their profes
sions of attachment to that party by im
mediately, when the result of the election
was known, calling a convention of the
delegates of the people of South Carolina,
at Columbia, their state capital, for a
rebellious purpose.
In that convention, composed of poli
ticians, the professed representatives of

OlVD STATE HOUSE AT COLUMBIA.

the policy of that system should be aban
doned by the government. A nervous
apprehension of some dire impending ca
lamity appears to have taken possession of
the public mind, and the congressional
elections resulted unfavorably to the sys
tem. Those who loved peace in the
national household fondly expected now
to see the smile of satisfaction on the face
of South Carolina. But they were dis-

the people took into their own
violent instrumentalities for the redress of
alleged grievances, which the chief con
spirators had prescribed. Just a fortnight
after the election, November 24, 1832,
which really decided the fate of the Ameri
can System, they sent forth from that
convention an Ordinance of Nullification
against it, its title being, "An ordinance
to nullify certain acts of the Congress of

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

323

the United States, purporting to be laws
laying duties and imposts on the im
portation of foreign commodities." Mr.
Hayne, recently senator in congress, was
president of that convention, and chair
man of the committee of twenty-one who
reported the ordinance of nullification.
A fortnight after this labor was per
formed, the legislature of South Carolina,
made up chiefly of Calhoun's and McDuf-
fie's disciples, evinced their sympathy with
Hayne's course by electing him governor
of that commonwealth.
The ordinance of nullification forbade
all constituted authorities, state or na
tional, within the boundaries of South
Carolina, to enforce the payment of duties
imposed by the tariff laws, and disallowed
any appeal, by residents of the state, to
the United States supreme court. It was
also ordained that all public officers should
take an oath to obey that ordinance on
penalty of forfeiture of office. A military
spirit everywhere prevailed. The blue
cockade with the Palmetto button, was
almost universally worn.
Having thus bound the people of the
state hand and foot, the conspirators de
fiantly declared that they would not sub
mit to coercion by the United States, and
that they should consider the passage by
congress of any act declaring the ports of
that state abolished or closed, or in any
way interfering with their commerce as
" inconsistent with the longer continuance
of South Carolina in the Union;" and
that the people of the state would hence
forth " hold themselves absolved from all
further obligation to maintain or preserve
their political connection with the people of
the other states," and would proceed forth
with to "organize a separate government,
and do all other acts and things which sov
ereign and independent states may of right
do." The ordinance was to take effect on
the first day of February ensuing after its
Passage. It was signed by more than one
hundred leading citizens of South Carolina,
and thus officially communicated to the
President of the United States. The state
« affairs threatened a fatal crisis.

Fortunately for the country, there was
a man at the head of the government
whose patriotism and courage had never
been found wanting. It was equal to this
emergency !
South Carolina, through her unscrupu
lous politicians, had been placed in the
attitude of open, forcible resistance to the
laws of the United States, which the
president had solemnly sworn to execute.
Andrew Jackson was not a man to be
trifled with. He quickly perceived his
duty, and as quickly hastened to the per
formance of it. The ordinance of nulli
fication reached him on the 1st of De
cember. On the tenth of the same month
he issued a proclamation, kind but firm,
persuasive but admonitory, in which he
denounced the pernicious doctrine of state
supremacy, and warned the people of
South Carolina that they had been de
ceived by demagogues. " Eloquent appeals
to your passions, to your state pride, to
your native courage, to your sense of real
injury," he said, " were used to prepare
you for the period when the mask, which
concealed the hidden features of disunion,
should be taken off. It fell, and you were
made to look with complacency on objects
which, not long since, you would have re
garded with horror." Thus, perfectly
self-poised and unterrified, he reasoned
fraternally with them.
In patriotic language he also appealed
to the misguided people to snatch from the
archives of their state the disorganizing
edict of its convention ; " bid its members
to reassemble, and promulgate the de
cided expression of your will to remain in
the path which alone can conduct you to
safety, prosperity, and honor. Tell them
that, compared with disunion, all other
evils are light, because that brings with it
an accumulation of all. Declare that you
will never take the field unless the star-
spangled banner of your country shall
float over you ; that you will not be stig
matized, when dead, and dishonored and
scorned while you live, as the authors of
the first attack on the constitution of your
country. Its destroyers you cannot be.

324

OUE FIEST CENT UEY.— 1776-1876.

You may disturb its peace ; you may in
terrupt the course of its prosperity ; you
may cloud its reputation for stability ; but
its tranquillity will be restored, its pros
perity will return, and the stains upon its
national character will be transferred and
remain an eternal blot on the memory of
those who caused the disorder." No
presidential document ever caused so pro
found a sensation, not even that concern
ing the transfer of the government de
posits from the old United States bank
to various local banks, under Secretary
Taney, the successor of Duane, — an act
which nothing less than Jackson's im
mense personal popularity could survive.
Meanwhile, Governor Hayne had called

^> c^^'j^^Zo

the South Carolina legislature together, to
take measures for enforcing the ordinance
of nullification. They authorized the gov
ernor to call out the militia of the state
for the purpose, and ordered the purchase
of ten thousand stand of arms, and a
requisite quantity of equipments and muni
tions of war. The feelings of the poli
ticians of other states were consulted.
Those of Virginia, Georgia, and Ala
bama approved of the action of the " Pal
metto State," and gave assurance that, in
the event of secession, those states would
join her in forming a southern confederacy.
But North Carolina refused her assent to
any such scheme. Governor Hayne, how

ever, issued his counter-proclamation, de
nouncing the attitude of the general
government towards the state of South
Carolina, and threatening to resist to the
last extremity. Hayne was of the same
political stripe, in his day, as Floyd
Jacob Thompson, General Quitman, and
the host of lesser marplots in congress, of
a later era.
The time for action had now arrived,
and Calhoun resigned the vice-presidency
and took his seat in the senate of the
United States, where he might do battle
for disunion more potently. The presi
dent had resolved to arrest him on his
arrival at Washington, have him tried for
high treason, and hung if found guilty.
But the great southern chieftain walked
in, slowly and deliberately, to the crowded
senate, and, with reverential manner, and
in a serious, solemn, and audible voice,
took the oath to support the Constitution
of the United States. Perhaps, at this
moment, the prediction of Dr. Timothy
Dwight that he, Calhoun, would one day
be president of the nation, flashed across
the mind of the ambitious southron.
This contemplated arrest, in the then
condition of public feeling in the southern
states, might have been, if carried out, a
most pernicious step; one that would have
kindled the flames of civil war instantly.
Webster and others persuaded Jackson
not to adopt that extreme measure, but
to endeavor to win back the deluded
people. The proclamation already men
tioned, followed; and, on the assembling
of congress, President Jackson, in his
annual message, called attention to the
attitude of South Carolina, and asked for
co-operation in suppressing the rising
rebellion. He had already taken pre
cautionary measures. Quite a large body
of troops, under General Scott, were
stealthily thrown into Fort Moultrie in
Charleston harbor, and a sloop of war was
sent to the same waters to protect the
national officers of customs, if necessary,
in the performance of their duties. ,
Before the inhabitants of Charleston
that the president would re-

were aware

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

325

sort to force in the maintenance of the
laws, the national troops were before their
faces, and the guns of Fort Moultrie were
silently but admonishingly telling them
to be careful not to interfere with the busi
ness of the United States custom-house !
¦ The president had declared, in substance,
in his message, that his policy would be a
peaceful one towards the rebellious state,
so long as peaceful measures promised to
be effectual; but in the event of per
sistent contumacy, he was prepared to
force South Carolina into submission.
This determination of the government,
the presence of General Scott with a
competent force, and the sloop-of-war in
the harbor, caused a material abatement
of rebellious zeal in the metropolis of the
turbulent state, and it became evident to
the leaders there that South Carolina would
not be permitted to sever the bond that
bound her to the Union. Her famous
ordinance was not enforced ; the revenues
were regularly collected ; and the national
laws continued to be executed without
interruption. Such being the case, the
conspirators in the convention, illy conceal
ing their mortification after such a dis
play of arrogance, resolved to postpone
their intended forcible resistance until the
first of February.
On the very first day of the session of
congress, bills for the reduction of the
tariff were introduced. One reported by
Mr. Verplanck, from the committee of
ways and means, was very favorably re
ceived, especially by those who wished
to conciliate the radical opponents of the
tariff, of the South Carolina school. But
long debates followed, and February, as
well as the session of congress, was draw-
mg to a close, when, to the astonishment
of everybody, Mr. Letcher, a representa
tive from Kentucky, and an ardent friend
of Mr. Clay, rose in his place and moved
to strike out every word of the bill except
the enacting clause, and insert in lieu
of it a bill introduced in the senate by
Mr. Clay, which has since been called the
^compromise bill.' It was a formal aban

donment of the American sysfc

em, and

confessedly a measure to heal disaffection
and save the Union. It proposed a
gradual reduction of the tariff in the
course of ten years, in such a way that all
interests would be unharmed. This com
promise bill ultimately passed, and the
weapons of disunion were for a time
foiled, as well as Calhoun's mad ambition.
Of the secret history of this remarkable
measure, in the passage of which Clay
and Calhoun appeared to be in coalition,
Mr. Benton has given a most interesting
explanation, substantially as follows :
The relative position of the national
government and South Carolina, and of
the president of the United States and
Mr. Calhoun, in the winter of 1833,
placed the latter in great personal peril,
which his friends perceived and tried to
avert. Among others consulted on the
subject by them, was Letcher, of Ken
tucky, Clay's warm personal friend. He
knew that South Carolina must yield, on
some terms, to the authority and power of
the national government, and he conceived
the idea of a compromise by which, in so
yielding, she might preserve her dignity.
He proposed it to Mr. Clay, who, sincerely
desiring reconciliation, entertained the
idea, and submitted it to Webster. The
amazing intellectual plummet of the latter
had fathomed the turbid waters of nullifi
cation far deeper than had the brilliant
Kentuckian, and he instantly answered —
" No ! It will be yielding great prin
ciples to faction. The time has come to
test the strength of the constitution and
the government."
Mr. Webster had heartily supported the
force bill reported by Mr. Wilkins from the
judiciary committee. Although opposed,
politically, to Jackson's administration, he
had said that he believed an unlawful com
bination was threatening the integrity of
the Union, and that he should give the
administration a frank and hearty sup
port, in all just measures for dealing
firmly with the crisis. He was utterly
opposed to compromising and temporizing
measures with a rebellious faction, and
told Mr. Clay so ; and from that time he

326

OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

was not approached by those who were
willing to shield conspirators from the
sword of justice.
Mr. Clay drew up a compromise bill and
sent it to Mr. Calhoun by Mr. Letcher.
Calhoun objected to parts of the bill most
emphatically, and remarked that if Clay
knew the nature of his objections, he
would at least modify those portions of
the bill. Letcher made arrangements for
a personal interview between these eminent

Letcher now flew to McDuffie, Calhoun'g
ardent friend and chief coadjutor, and
alarmed him with a startling picture of the
president's wrath. That night, after he
had retired to bed, Letcher was aroused
by a Louisiana senator, Josiah S. John
son, who informed him that Jackson would
not allow any more delay, and that Cal
houn's arrest might take place any hour.
He begged Letcher to warn Calhoun of
his danger. He did so. He found the

(T^~/\ i^P ^Y^ z*^^^—-'

senators, who had not been on speaking
terms for some time. The imperious Clay
demanded that it should be at his own
room. The imperiled Calhoun consented
to go there. The meeting was civil, but
icy. The business was immediately en
tered upon. The principals were unyield
ing, and the conference ended without
results. Letcher now hastened to the
president, and sounded him on compro
mising. " Compromise ! " said the stern old man,
" I will make no compromise with traitors.
I will have no negotiations. I will execute
the laws. Calhoun shall be tried for
treason, and hanged if found guilty, if he
does not instantly cease his rebellious
course."

South Carolinian in bed. He told him of
the temper and intentions of the president,
and the conspirator was much alarmed.
Meanwhile, Mr. Clay and J. M. Clay
ton of Delaware had been in frequent
consultations on the subject. Clayton
had said to Clay, while his bill was linger
ing in the house, "These South Caro
linians act very badly, but they are good
fellows, and it is a pity to let Jackson
hang them ; " and advised him to get his
bill referred to a new committee, and so
modify it as to make it acceptable to a
majority. Clay did so, and Clayton ex
erted all his influence to avert the ca
lamity which hung over Calhoun stod his
friends. He assembled the manufacturers
who had hurried to the capital when they

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

327

had heard of the compromise bill, to see
whether they would not yield something,
for the sake of conciliation and the Union.
At a sacrifice of tlieir interests, these
loyal men did yield, and agreed to with
draw all opposition to the bill, and let it
pass the senate, providing all the nullifiers
should vote for certain amendments made
by the lower house, as well as the bill
itself. The nullifiers in committee would
not yield. The crisis had arrived. The
gallows was placed before Calhoun's eyes.
Clayton earnestly remonstrated with him.
He pointed out the danger, the folly, the
wickedness of his course ; and notified
him that unless the amendments were
adopted, and that by the votes of himself
and political friends, the bill should not
pass ; that he, Clayton, would move to lay
it on the table when it should be reported
to the senate, and he had strength enough
there pledged to do it. " The president
will then," he said, "be left free to ex
ecute the laws in full rigor." His object,
he told them plainly, was to put them
squarely on the record ; to make all the
nullifiers vote for the amendments and the
bill, and thus cut them off from the plea of
"unconstitutionality," which they would
raise if the bill and amendments did not
receive their votes. Unless they were so
bound, he knew that the present pacifica
tion would be only a hollow truce, and
that they would make this very measure,
probably, a pretense for renewing their
resistance to what they were pleased to
call "unconstitutional measures" of the
national government, and for resuming
their march toward secession and inde
pendence. He was peremptory with both
Clay and Calhoun, and warned them that
this was the last chance for compromise.
Mr. Clayton was inexorable. Clay and
Calhoun agreed to the amendments. These
with the bill were reported to the senate.
All the nullifiers voted for the amendments
in order, until they came to the last, that
of home valuation, which was so revolting
to the great leader of the conspirators.
When that came up, Calhoun and his
friends met it with the most violent op

position. It was the last day but one of
the session, and a late hour in the day.
Finding the nullifiers persistent in their
opposition, Clayton, to their great con
sternation, suddenly executed his threat.
He moved to lay the bill on the table, and
declared it should continue to lie there.
Mr. Clay begged him to withdraw his
motion. Others entreated him to give a
little more time. He was inflexible.
There was fluttering in the bevy of nulli
fiers. Calhoun and his friends retired
behind the colonnade back of the presi
ding officer's chair, and there held a
brief consultation. It was very brief, for
time and opportunity were precious. Sena
tor Bibb came from the trembling con
clave and asked Clayton to give a little
more time. This was a token of yielding,
and he complied. He withdrew his
motion, but with the declaration that
unless the measure, in full, was voted for
by all the nullifiers, he should renew it.
Instantly one of their friends moved an
adjournment, and it was carried. A little
time brought them to the conclusion to
vote as Mr. Clayton demanded, but begged
that gentleman to spare Mr. Calhoun the
mortification of appearing on the record
in favor of a measure against which, at
that very time, and at his instance, troops
were being raised in South Carolina, and
because of which the politicians of that
state were preparing to declare her seces
sion from the Union ! Mr. Clayton would
not yield a jot. Calhoun was the chief of
sinners in this matter, and he, of all
others, must give the world public and
recorded evidence of penitence, whatever
his "mental reservations" might be.
" Nothing would be secured," Mr. Clayton
said, " unless his vote appears in favor of
the measure."
The senate met ; the bill was taken up ;
and the nullifiers and their friends, one
after another, yielded their objections on
various pretenses. At length, when all
had voted but Mr. Calhoun, he arose, pale
and haggard, for he had had a most ter
rible struggle. He declared that he had
then to determine which way he should

328

OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

vote, and at the termination of his brief
remarks he gave his voice in the affirma
tive with the rest. It was a bitter pill for
that proud man to swallow. The alterna
tive presented to him was absolute humilia
tion or the gallows. He chose the former.
With that act fell the great conspiracy to
break up the government of the United
States in 1832. The violent clamors
raised in South' Carolina and the Gulf
States on the appearance of Jackson's
proclamation soon ceased, and the ordi
nance of nullification was repealed.
To Jackson's heroic will and unfaltering
purpose was the result due. Thus, when
the nullification frenzy was at its height,
the Union men in Charleston sent a

deputation to Washington, to inform the
president that they were daily threatened
with an outbreak, and did not consider
their lives safe. Scarcely waiting to hear
the words uttered, the general sprung to
his feet, and with a voice and a look of
almost superhuman energy, exclaimed —
"The lives of Union men not safe,
while Andrew Jackson is president! Go
back to Charleston, and tell the nullifiers
that if a hair on the head of a Union man
is harmed, that moment I order General
Coffee to march on Carolina with fifty
thousand Tennessee volunteers, and if that
does not settle the business, tell them—
by the Eternal! — that I will take the field
myself, with fifty thousand more ! "

XXXVI.
SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER ALL OVER THE UNITED
STATES.— 1833.

The Most Grand and Brilliant Celestial Phenomenon Ever Beheld and Recorded hy Man. — The WhoU,
Firmament of the Universe in Fiery Commotion for Several Hours — Amazing Velocity, Size, and
Profusion of the Falling Bodies. — Their Intense Heat, Vivid Colors, and Strange, Glowing Beauty. —
Unequaled in Every Respect. — Cloudless Serenity of the Sky. — The People Wonder-Struck —
Admiration Among the Intelligent. — Alarm Among the Ignorant — Conflagration of the World
Feared.— Impromptu Prayer-Meetings. — Prodigious Star-Shower at Boston. — Myriads of Blood-Ked
Fire-Balls. — The Display at Niagara Falls. — Blazing Heavens, Roaring Cataracts. — Some of the
Meteors Explode. — Trains of Light in their Track. — Radiant Prismatic Hues.— Substance Compos
ing these Bodies. — Dissipated by Bursting. — One Great Central Source. — Velocity, Four Miles a
Second. — Novel Shapes and Motions. — Hotter than the Hottest Furnace. — Possible Result to the
Earth. — Half a Continent in Presumed Jeopardy.

" the sanguine flood
Rolled a broad slaughter o'er the plains of heaven,
And nature's self did seem to totter on the brink of time."

[TENSIVE and magnificent showers of shooting stars have been known
to occur at various places in modern times ; but the most universal and
m ^ wonderful which has ever been recorded is that
sttS of the thirteenth of November, 1833, the whole
firmament, over all the United States, being
then, for hours, in fiery commotion! No celestial
phenomenon has ever occurred in this country, since
its first settlement, which was viewed with such in
tense admiration by one class in the community, or
with so much dread and alarm by another. It was
the all-engrossing theme of conversation and of
scientific disquisition, for weeks aud months. In
deed, it could not be otherwise, than that such a
rare phenomenon, — next in grandeur and sublimity
to that of a total solar eclipse, or a great comet
stretched athwart the starry heavens, in full view
of a wonder-struck universe, — should awaken the
deepest interest among all beholding it. Nor is the

taraUH

Wm

METEORIC SHOWER AT BOSTON.

memory of this marvelous scene yet extinct ; its

sublimity and awful beauty still linger in many minds, who also remember well the
terror with which the demonstration was regarded, and the mortal fear excited among
the ignorant that the end of the world had come. During the three hours of its con-

330

QUE EIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

tinuance, the day of judgment was be
lieved to be only waiting for sunrise, and,
long after the shower had ceased, the
morbid and superstitious still were im
pressed with the idea that the final day
was at least only a week ahead. Impromptu
meetings for prayer were held in many
places, and many other scenes of religious
devotion, or terror, or abandonment of
worldly affairs, transpired, under the in
fluence of fear occasioned by so sudden
and awful a display.
But, though in many districts the mass
of the population were thus panic-stricken,
through fear, as well as want of familiarity
with the history of such appearances, the
more enlightened were profoundly awed
at contemplating so vivid a picture of the
apocalyptic image — that of 'the stars of
heaven falling to the earth, even as a fig
tree casting her untimely figs, when she is
shaken of a mighty wind.' In describing
the effect of this phenomenon upon the
black population, a southern planter says :
' I was suddenly awakened by the most
distressing cries that ever fell on my ears.
Shrieks of horror and cries for mercy,
could be heard from most of the negroes of
three plantations, amounting in all to some
six or eight hundred. While earnestly
and breathlessly listening for the cause, I
heard a faint voice near the door calling
my name. I arose, and, taking my sword,
stood at the door. At this moment I
heard the same voice still beseeching me
to rise, and saying, " 0, my God, the world
is on fire ! " I then opened the door, and
it is difficult to say which excited me most
— the awfulness of the scene, or the dis
tressed cries of the negroes. Upwards of
one hundred lay prostrate on the ground,
some speechless, and others uttering the
bitterest moans, but with their hands
raised, imploring God to save the world
and them. The scene was truly awful, for
never did rain fall much thicker than the
meteors fell towards the earth ; east, west,
north, and south, it was the same.' In a
word, the whole heavens seemed in motion.
The display, as described in Professor
Silliman's Journal, was seen all over North

America. The chief scene of the exhibi
tion was within the limits of the longitude
of sixty-one degrees in the Atlantic ocean,
and that of one hundred degrees in Cen
tral Mexico, and from the North Ameri
can lakes to the southern side of the island
of Jamaica.
Over this vast area, an appearance pre
sented itself far surpassing, in grandeur
and magnificence, the loftiest reach of the
human imagination. From two o'clock
until broad daylight, the sky being per
fectly serene and cloudless, an incessant
play of dazzlingly brilliant luminosities
was kept up in the whole heavens. Some
of these were of great magnitude and most
peculiar form. One, of large size, remained
for some time almost stationary in the ze
nith, over the Falls of Niagara, emitting
streams of light which radiated in all direc
tions. The wild dash of the waters, as con
trasted with the fiery commotion above
them, formed a scene of unequaled and
amazing sublimity. Arago computes that
not less than two hundred and forty thou
sand meteors were at the same time visible
above the horizon of Boston ! To form some
idea of such a spectacle, one must imagine
a constant succession of fire-balls, resem
bling sky-rockets radiating in all direc
tions, from a point in the heavens near the
zenith, and following the arch of the sky
towards the horizon. They proceeded to
various distances from the radiating point,
leaving after them a vivid streak of light,
and usually exploding before they disap
peared. The balls were of various sizes
and degrees of splendor ; some were mere
points, but others were larger and brighter
than Jupiter or Venus ; and one, in par
ticular, appeared to be nearly of the moon's
size. But at Niagara, no spectacle so ter
ribly grand and sublime was ever before
beheld by man as that of the firmament
descending in fiery torrents over the dark
and roaring cataract !
Everywhere within the range of the
exhibition, the first appearance was that of
fire-works of the most imposing grandeur,
covering the entire vault of heaven with
myriads of fire-balls resembling sky-rock-

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

331

ets. On more attentive inspection, it was
seen that the meteors exhibited three dis
tinct varieties, as follows, described by Dr.
Olmsted : —
First, those consisting of phosphoric
lilies, apparently described by a point.
This variety was the most numerous,
every-where filling the atmosphere, and
resembling a shower of fiery snow driven
with inconceivable velocity to the north of
west, and transfixing the beholder with
wondering awe.
Second, those consisting of large fire
balls, which at. intervals darted along the
sky, leaving luminous trains which occa
sionally remained in view for a number of
minutes, and, in some cases, for half an
hour or more. This kind appeared more
like falling stars, giving to many persons
the very natural impression that the stars
were actually falling from the sky ; and it
was principally this spectacle which caused
such amazement and terror among the
unenlightened classes.
Third, those undefined luminous bodies
which remained nearly stationary in the
heavens for a considerable period of time ;
these were of various size and form.
One of the most remarkable circum
stances attending this display was, that
the meteors all seemed to emanate from

sky, ran along the vault with immense
velocity, describing in some instances an
arc of thirty or forty degrees in less than
four seconds. The trains which they left
were commonly white, but were sometimes
tinged with various prismatic colors.
One ball — seen at New Haven, and sup
posed to have been identical with one
described by various observers — that shot
off in the north-west direction, and ex
ploded a little northward of the star
Capella, left, just behind the place of
explosion, a phosphorescent train of pecu
liar beauty. The line of direction was at
first nearly straight ; but it soon began to
contract in length, to dilate in breadth,
and to assume the figure of a serpent draw
ing himself up, until it appeared like a
small luminous cloud of vapor. This
cloud was borne eastward, — the wind
blowing gently in that direction, — oppo
site to the course in which the meteor had
proceeded, remaining in sight several
minutes. Of the third variety of meteors, the fol
lowing are remarkable examples. At
Poland, Ohio, a luminous body was dis
tinctly visible in the north-east for more
than an hour ; it was very brilliant, in the
form of a pruning-hook, and apparently
twenty feet long and eighteen inches

METEORIC SHOWER AS SEEN AT NIAGARA FALLS.

one and the same point ; that is, if their
lines of direction had been continued back
ward, they would have met in the same
point, south-east a little from the zenith.
They set out at different distances from
'ihis point, and, following the arch of the

broad; it gradually settled towards the
horizon, until it disappeared. At Niagara
Falls, a large, luminous body, shaped like
a square table, was seen nearly in the
zenith, remaining for some time almost
stationary, and emitting large streams of

332

OUE FIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

light. At Charleston, S. C, a meteor of
extraordinary size was seen to course the
heavens for a great length of time, and
then was heard to explode with the noise
of a cannon.
The point from which the meteors
seemed to issue, was observed, by those
who fixed the position of the display
among the stars, to be in the constellation
Leo. At New Haven, it appeared in the
bend of the ' sickle ' — a collection of stars
in the breast of Leo, — a little to the west
ward of the star Gamma Leonis. By
observers at other places remote from each
other, it was seen in the same constella
tion, although in different parts of it. An
interesting and important fact, in this
connection, is, that this radiating point
was stationary among the fixed stars —
that is, that it did not move along with the
earth, in its diurnal revolution eastward,
but accompanied the stars in their appar
ent progress westward.
According to the testimony of by far the
greater number of observers, the meteors
were, in general, unaccompanied by any
very peculiar sound ; but, on the other
hand, such a sound, proceeding, as was
supposed, from the meteors, was said to be
distinctly heard by a few observers in
various places. These sounds are repre
sented either as a hissing noise, like the
rushing of a sky-rocket, or as explosions,
like the bursting of the same bodies ; and
these instances were too numerous to
permit the supposition that they were
imaginary. A remarkable change of weather, from
warm to cold, accompanied the meteoric
shower, or immediately followed it. In
all parts of the United States, this change
was remarkable for its suddenness and
intensity. In many places, the day pre
ceding had been unusually warm for the
season, but, before morning, a severe frost
ensued, unparalleled for the time of year.
Indeed, the seasons and atmospheric
changes exhibited remarkable anomalies
long after that period. Thus, in parts of
Michigan, so uncommonly mild was the
season throughout the latter part of

November, and the whole of December,
that the Indians made maple sugar during
this month, and the contiguous lakes
remained unfrozen as late as January
third. At the same period, the season in
the south-western states, as far as New
Orleans, was uncommonly cold. In most
portions of New England, an unusually
mild winter was succeeded by a remarka
bly cold and backward spring, requiring
domestic fires to be kept throughout the
month of May, and frequently in the
month of June. A succession of gales
commenced about the time of the meteoric
shower, first in the Atlantic ocean, and
afterwards in various parts of the United
States, almost unequaled in this country
for their frequency and violence.
The meteors were constituted of very
light, combustible materials. Their com
bustibility was rendered evident by their
exhibiting the actual phenomena of com
bustion, being consumed, or converted
into smoke, with intense light and heat;
and the extreme tenuity of the substance
composing them is inferred from the fact
that they were stopped by the air. Had
their quantity of matter been considerable,
with so prodigious a velocity, they would
have had a sufficient momentum to enable
them to reach the earth, and the most dis
astrous consequences might have ensued.
Upon submitting this subject to accurate
calculation, upon established principles,
Dr. Olmsted ascertained that the quantity
of heat extricated from the air by the fall
ing meteors, exceeded that of the hottest
furnaces, and could be compared only to
those immeasurable degrees of heat pro
duced in the laboratory of the chemist,
before which the most refractory sub
stances are melted, and even dissipated in
vapor. Some of the larger meteors must have
been bodies of very great size. Dr. Smith,
of North Carolina, and other persons in
various places, saw a meteor which ap
peared as large as the full moon. If this
body were at the distance of one hundred
and ten miles from the observer, it must
have had a diameter of one mile ; if at a

GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

333

distance of eleven miles, its diameter was
five hundred and twenty-eight feet; and
if only one mile off, it must have been
forty-eight feet in diameter. These con
siderations leave no doubt that many of
the meteors were of great size, though it
may be difficult to say precisely how large.
The fact that they were stopped by the
resistance of the air, proves that their
substance was light ; still, the quantity of
smoke, or residuum, which resulted from
their destruction, indicates that there was
quite a body of matter.
The momentum of even light bodies of
such size, and in such numbers, traversing
the atmosphere with such astonishing
velocity, must have produced extensive
derangements in the atmospheric equilib
rium, as the consideration of certain points
will show.
These lafge bodies were stopped in the
atmosphere) only by transferring their
motion to columns of air, large volumes of
which would be suddenly and violently
displaced. Cold air of the upper regions
would be brought down to the earth ; the
portions of air incumbent over districts of
country remote from each other, being
mutually displaced, would exchange places,
the air of the warm latitudes being trans
ferred to colder, and that of' cold latitudes
to warmer regions ; remarkable changes
of season would be the consequence, and
numerous and violent gales would prevail
for a long time, until the atmosphere
should have regained its equilibrium. That
the state of the weather, and the condition
of the seasons that followed the meteoric
shower, corresponded to these consequences
of the disturbance of the atmospheric equi
librium, is a remarkable fact, and favors
the opinion early suggested, that such
disturbance is a natural effect of the mete
oric shower, and it is a consequence from
which the most formidable dangers attend
ing phenomena of this kind are to be
apprehended. With regard to the nature of the mete
ors, Dr. Olmsted, after establishing the
fact that they were combustible, light,
and transparent bodies, infers that the

cloud which produced the fiery shower,
consisted of nebulous matter, analogous to
that which composes the tails of comets.
It cannot be said, indeed, precisely what
is the constitution of the material of which
the latter are composed ; but it is known
that it is very light, since it meets no
appreciable force of attraction on the plan
ets, moving even among the satellites of
Jupiter without disturbing their motions,
although its own motions, in such cases,
are greatly disturbed, thus proving its
materiality; and, that it is exceedingly
transparent, is evinced by the fact that
the smallest stars are visible through it.
Hence, so far as there can be gathered
any knowledge of the material of the neb
ulous matter of comets, and of the matter
composing these November meteors, they
appear to be analogous to each other.
¦ Various hypotheses have been proposed
to account for this wonderful phenomenon.
The agent most ireadily suggesting itself
in this and in rriost other unexplained
natural appearances — electricity — has no
known properties adequate to account for
the production of the meteors, for the
motions which they exhibited, or for the
trains which, in many instances, they left
behind them. And, if this agent be sup
posed to have some connection with the
light and heat which they exhibited, it is
to be borne in mind, that the compression
of the air which must result from the
rapid progress of large bodies through it,
is a sufficient cause of this.
Magnetism has also been assigned as the
principal agent concerned in producing
the meteoric shower. The aurora borealis,
and the remarkable auroral arches which
occasionally appear in the sky, have been
found to have peculiar relations to the
magnetism of the earth, arranging them
selves in obedience to the laws of magnetic
attraction. Something of this kind was
supposed by some to appear during the
meteoric phenomenon, especially in the
position of the apparent center or radiant-
point, which was, as noticed by many
observers, very nearly in the place towards
which the dipping-needle is directed.

334

OUE FIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

REMARKABLE METEORIC DISPLAY ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

From other observations, however, it
appears that the radiant-point was not
stationary with respect to the meridian,
but accompanied the stars in their westerly
progress ; the apparent coincidence with
the pole of the dipping-needle being,
according to this, purely accidental.
According to the view that has been
taken, by some, of the origin of meteoric
stones, namely, that of ascribing them to
terrestrial comets, the hypothesis has been
suggested, that the meteors in question
might have a similar origin. But the
body which afforded the meteoric shower,
could not have been of the nature of a
satellite to the earth, because it remained

so long stationary with respect to the
earth — at least two hours, — a period suffi
cient to have carried it nearly round the
earth in a circular orbit.
Nor can it be supposed that the earth,
in its annual progress, came into the vicin
ity of a nebula, which was either station
ary, or wandering lawless through space.
Such a collection of matter could not
remain stationary within the solar system,
in an insulated- state ; and had it been in
motion in any other direction than that in
which the earth was moving, it would soon
have been separated from the earth, since,
during the eight hours while the meteoric
shower lasted, — and perhaps, in all its

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

335

wide range, it lasted much longer, — the
earth moved in its orbit through the space
of nearly five hundred and fifty thousand
miles. In connection with the account of this
meteoric shower, mention may be made of
a remarkable light, seen in the east at the
time of that great display, and subse
quently in the west after twilight at differ
ent times, until the month of May, which
light assumed different aspects, corre
sponding, apparently, to those which the
body revolving around the sun, in the
manner contemplated by theory, would
occupy. Hence it was conjectured, that
this luminous appearance proceeded from
the body itself, which afforded the mete
oric shower. It has also been suggested,
that this light may result from the same
cause as the zodiacal light, and that the
latter interesting phenomenon perhaps re
sults from a nebulous body revolving
around the sun, interior to the orbit of the
earth. It is a point worthy of contemplation,
namely, the direful effects which such a
"fiery shower" might, in the absence of
that law of harmony which governs the
universe, have unquestionably produced.
Had the meteors been constituted of mate
rials a little more dense, their momentum
would have enabled them to reach the
earth ; and had they held on their course
three seconds longer, it is impossible to
conceive of the calamities which would
have ensued by the descent to the earth of
bodies of such magnitude, glowing with
the most intense heat. Half the continent
must have been involved in one common
destruction !
One of the most interesting facts per
taining to this grand celestial phenomenon,
is its periodical character. Between the
years 903 and 1833, of the modern era,
thirteen of these great showers are re
corded, separated from each other by inter
vals of thirty-three and sixty-six years.
It is not a little remarkable, too, that the
epoch of these periodic displays coincides
with the annual November showers so
familiar in their occurrence to all, and

that their point of divergence in the heav
ens is the same. Indeed, the phenomenon
of the long interval or period differs from
that of the annual period only in its
numerical character.
The last of these magnificent stellar
showers — second, perhaps, in grandeur of
demonstration to that of November, 1833,
which latter stands solitary in its unsur
passed extent and splendor, — occurred
November fourteenth, 1867, beginning at
about three o'clock in the morning. At -
half-past three, a meteor of a greenish blue
color, and about the size of a star of the
first magnitude, shot out from the direc
tion of the constellation Leo, lighting up
the sky with a long train of crimson fire,
and traveling in a north-westerly direction.
It had scarcely faded from the sight, when
another and equally brilliant, though n<=t
quite so large, came speeding along in its
track, and it was followed by fourteen of
smaller magnitude, one by one, in quick
succession. At this moment a heavy
cloud drifted towards the north, and for
some minutes the spectacle was partially
lost to view. That the meteors were fall
ing rapidly, however, was plainly evident ;
for, from all points where the mass of
clouds was thin, occasional meteors flashed
out, and the frequent lighting up of the
clouds, as they passed over, left no doubt
that the mysterious phenomenon was
having full play in the regions beyond.
At ten minutes before four o'clock, the
northern sky again became clear ; a thick
and almost impenetrable cloud passed over
the moon, partially obscuring its light,
and thus enabling the observers to view
with greater distinctness the size and bril
liancy of the meteors.
The display was now a most magnifi
cent one indeed. The meteors shot out
from Leo in all directions, and with
remarkable swiftness traveled across the
horizon. Sixty-three were counted in one
minute and ten seconds, of which three
were of extraordinary size and beauty.
One of these, of a greenish hue, and fol
lowed by a long train of the same color,
traveled in the direction of Ursa Major,

336

OUE FIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

and as it was disappearing in the southern
horizon, apparently burst, lighting up the
sky for a great distance on all sides. It
soon became utterly impossible to keep any
correct account of the number falling.
Eight, ten and twelve sped onwards, on
their erratic course, at the same moment,
scarcely disappearing before others of
equal splendor took their places. For
fully twenty minutes they continued to
fall with the same rapidity, during which
time, there were counted, exclusive of those
already mentioned, three hundred and
thirteen. This number, however, was not
one-fifth of that which really fell, as
observed in New York city. Not less
than fifteen hundred or two thousand were
estimated by observers at that city, to
have radiated from Leo, during this space
of time, some of which were splendid in
color and movement.
One of the meteors constituting this
display is described as of surpassing
beauty, size and brilliancy. It radiated
from Leo, and took a direct northerly
course toward Ursa Major, followed by a
long train of a yellowish red hue, which
spanned the horizon from its point of
appearance to that of its disappearance.
This meteor was of the same greenish blue
color as the others which preceded it,

and as it passed over about one-half of the
course traversed, it seemed to burst, and
then the spectacle was one of extreme
beauty. Apparently, hundreds of frag
ments cf an almost blood-red color broke
from it and scattered in every direction,
while it continued its course towards the
north, no longer wearing its greenish-blue
color, but of one uniform and beautiful
blue. The panorama it presented was
exceedingly grand, and lasted about three
minutes, before the varied colors disap
peared and the fire-lit skies resumed their
wonted serenity. After the appearance of
this, the display gradually died away.
Although it is doubtful, from the want
of the requisite data, whether the source
of the meteors, or the height of the mete
oric cloud, has been accurately ascertained,
yet the truth in regard to the latter may
be approximated. According to the estab
lished laws of falling bodies, the velocity
the meteors would acquire in falling from
a point two thousand two hundred and
thirty-eight miles above the earth to within
fifty miles of its surface — this being con
sidered as nearly the height of the atmos
phere — is about four miles per second,
which is more than ten times the maxi
mum velocity of a cannon-ball, and about
nineteen times that of sound !

XXXVII.
ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON,
AT THE UNITED STATES CAPITOL IN WASHING
TON, BY RICHARD LAWRENCE.— 1835.

Failure of the Pistols to Discharge. — The President Rushes Furiously Upon His Assailant, and is
Restrained from Executing Summary Vengeance only by His Friends. — Political Hostility Supposed,
at First, to Have Instigated the Act. — Lawrence Proves to be a Lunatic, Without Accomplices. — His
History and Trial. — Funeral of a Member of Congress. — Great Concourse at the Capitol. — President
Jackson and Cabinet Present. — Lawrence Enters During the Sermon. — Moves to the Eastern Portico.
—President Jackson Leaves with Secretary Woodbury. — Their Carriage at the Portico Steps. —
Approach to Lawrence's Position. — He Levels a Pistol at Jackson. — Explosion of the Percussion Cap.
—A Second Pistol Snapped. — Jackson Raises His Cane Fiercely. — Lion-Like Energy of the Old Hero.
—Is with Difficulty Kept Back. — Lawrence Stunned and Secured. — His Perfect Calmness Through
All. — The Crowd Wish to Kill Him. — Fine Appearance of the Assassin. — Frank Avowal of His
Motives. — Insane Idea Possessing Him. — Claims to be a King. — Is Confined in a Madhouse.

"Let me go, Gentlemen I I am not afraid— they can't kill me— I can protect myself I "—Jackson's Exclamation when Bushing
Upoh tub Assassin.

11

IKE wildfire on the flowing prairie, did the announcement of the attempted
assassination of President Andrew Jackson, on the
thirtieth of January, 1835, spread over the country,
to its furthermost limits. Consternation filled the
public mind, at the thought that the tragical mode
of dealing with the crowned heads of kingdoms and
empires, had at last been tried — though fortunately
with abortive result — upon the person of the popu--
larly elected ruler of a free republic ?
On the afternoon of the day above-named, while
President Jackson was in the capitol, in attendance
on the funeral of the Hon. Warren E. Davis, of
the peesebvation. South Carolina, Eichard Lawrence, a painter,
residing in Washington, attempted to shoot him. This individual was seen
to enter the hall of the house of representatives during the delivery of the funeral
sermon; before its close, however, he had taken his stand on the eastern
Portico, . near one of the columns. The president, with the secretary of the
treasury on his left arm, on retiring from the rotunda to reach his carriage at the
steps of the portico, advanced towards the spot where Lawrence stood, — who had his
Pistol concealed under his coat, — and when he approached within two yards and
22

338

OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

a half of him, the assassin extended his
arm and leveled the pistol at the presi
dent's breast. The percussion cap ex
ploded with a noise so great, that several
witnesses supposed the pistol had fired.
On the instant, the assassin dropped the
pistol from his right hand, and taking
another ready cocked from his left, pre
sented and snapped it at the president,
who at the moment raised his cane and
made for the assailant with lion-like
energy, and would have executed summary
vengeance ; but Secretary Woodbury and
Lieutenant Gedney at the same instant
laid hold of the man, who gave way
through the crowd and was at last knocked
down, the president pressing after him
until he saw he was secured. The presi
dent's friends then urged him to go to the
capitol, which the brave-hearted man did,
with great firmness and self-possession,
though during the eventful moment the
president's commanding voice was heard
above all others, as, tearing himself from
his friends and rushing upon the assassin,
he said, " Let me go, gentlemen, — I am not
afraid — they can't kill me — I can protect
myself! " As soon as the act was known
to the crowd, they wished to kill the assas
sin on the spot.
Lawrence was forthwith carried to jail,
after a brief preliminary examination
before Judge Cranch. At this examina
tion, Mr. Eandolph, sergeant of the house
of representatives, who attended the mar
shal to conduct the prisoner to the city
hall, gave in testimony that the prisoner,
when asked by the marshal what motive
he had to make his horrid attempt, stated
that the president had killed his father.
His father was an Englishman who died
many years ago in Washington. The son
himself was apprenticed afterwards to a
Mr. Clark, with whom he lived three years.
Mr. Clark, when called upon, said that he
was a young man of excellent habits, sober
and industrious; that he had seen him
very frequently, and was well acquainted
with him since he had left his family, and
had heard nothing to his disadvantage,
until, of late, he was informed of his being

quarrelsome among his friends, and had
treated one of his sisters badly.
The total absence of any personal motive
on the part of the prisoner to commit the
deed he attempted, suggested the idea that
he must be insane. But his demeanor
when committing the act, and on being
seized, as well as when examined, bore not
the slightest appearance of frenzy, or
derangement of any sort. When asked
by the court if he wished to cross-examine
the witnesses, or to make explanation, he
answered in the negative — said that those
who had seen the act could state the facts
— and at the conclusion, when asked if he
had anything to offer, said that he could
not contradict what had been given in
evidence. In the midst of the excitement
and anxiety which prevailed around him,
Lawrence appeared perfectly calm and
collected ; and the president, in speaking
of the event, remarked that Lawrence's
manner, from the moment his eye caught
his, was firm and resolved, until the failure
of his last pistol, when he seemed to shrink,
rather than resist.
Lawrence was a handsome young man
of about thirty-five years, small in stature,
pale complexion, black hair, dark eyes,
genteel deportment, and well-dressed. The
keeper of the rotunda stated that he had
frequently observed the man about the
capitol, so frequently that he had endeav
ored to draw him into conversation, but
found him taciturn and unwilling to talk.
On the day in question, he kept prowling
about, but did not come within the railing
near the members' seats; his hand was
held inside his vest, as if grasping some
thing, and his lips were pale and quiver
ing. On his pistols being taken from him,
after the affair, they were found to be a
very elegant pair, in most excellent order,
and loaded with powder and ball almost to
the muzzle, the barrels being about six
inches long. On examining the load m
one of the pistols, a ball was drawn out by
means of a screw, about sixty of which
balls would have made a -pound; it was
well packed, and forced down tight on a
full charge of excellent glazed powder. It

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

339

was a most astonishing circumstance,
loaded as they were and with percussion
caps, that the pistols missed fire. In view
of this latter fact, Mr. Key, the district
attorney, and General Hunter, the marshal
of the district, lost no time in testing the
actual condition of the weapons, the pistol
still loaded being first tried, by putting on
another cap. The tube of this pistol
showed the powder at its summit. Gen
eral Hunter, by inclining the pistol, threw
out a few grains of the powder in his
hand. They took from a box of caps found

each of the pistols, several times, without
taking any other means of forcing the
powder into the tubes than that of ram
ming home small paper wads on the
charges. The discharge of the weapons
took effect on every trial. So great was
the excitement produced by the affair,
that some of the most eminent political
opponents of the president, including such
men as Clay, Calhoun, Poindexter, White,
and others, were, in the frenzy of the
moment, suspected of having conspired in
a plot to get rid of the president !

ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON.

in Lawrence's shop without selecting it,
one, which was placed upon the tube. On
Major Donelson firing it, the ball passed
through an inch plank, at a distance of
about five or six yards, and lodged, nearly
buried, in the opposite side of the enclos
ure, six or seven yards distant. They
then loaded with a small quantity of the
powder found in the prisoner's possession,

It was ascertained that, some time pre
vious, Lawrence had formed an attachment
to a young lady, and frequently told his
sister that he would by his industry soon
be enabled to buy a corner lot near her,
and build on it a good house, when he
would marry the object of his attachment;
and, with this view, he labored diligently,
day and night, until he had by him about

340

OUE FIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

eight hundred dollars. He was disap
pointed — became extremely pensive — quit
all employment — and would stand for
hours in a little parlor, gazing upon the
spot which he had selected as his future
residence. Up to this time, he was quiet,
kind and affectionate.
His brother-in-law, with whom he lived,
endeavored to persuade Lawrence to
resume his work — he said that he would
go to England, that he had something of
great importance which demanded his
presence, and in the fall of 1833 went to
New York for the purpose of taking pas
sage from that port. During the winter
he returned, saying that he found the
papers filled with notices of his contem
plated enterprise, and that he could get no
captain to take him on board. In the
spring of 1834, he again went as far as
Philadelphia, put up at the Mansion House,
kept his room, or else would stand for
hours on the porch, engaged in deep
thought, without speaking to any one.
After a few days he returned to Washing
ton, and said that he found his purpose of
going to England was known, that none of
the captains would consent to take him on
board, but that he would soon have a vessel
of his own — that he had engaged men who
would put all things right. About this
time he became very quarrelsome, and his
relatives were afraid to keep him in the
house. His brother-in-law endeavored
again to induce him to go to work, which
he obstinately refused to do, saying that
his hands would do no more work — that
others might work, but, as for him, he
would soon have money enough. At
length, he committed an assault upon his
sister, for which he was handed over to the
officers of justice, and lodged in jail. The
case was carried before the grand jury,
only a short time previous to the assault
on the president, and, after an examina
tion of witnesses who knew him, the grand
jury refused to find a bill against him, on
the ground of his insanity.
In a conversation between Lawrence
and some visitors, held soon after the rash
act, the following curious statements were

made by the prisoner, in reply to the
questions put to him :
" What object had you in view in shoot
ing the president ? "
"About ten days before making the
attempt, I called on the president at his
house, and stated to him that I was in
want of money, and wished him to give a
check for it. The president made no par
ticular objection to this demand, but stated
that Mr. Dibble wished to see him, and
that I must call again."
" Do you suppose the president knew of
your intention to kill him ? "
" He must have known what my inten
tion was, if he did not comply with my
wishes." " Why did you call upon the president
with such a demand ? "
" Because he knew, as I supposed every
person did, the true situation of things.
The president is my clerk, and I have
control over his money and his bank, and
the sword ; and if he refused to comply,
he knew the consequences."
"By what means did you expect to
enforce compliance with your wishes, and
how much money did you expect to get ? "
" The president knew I had the right to
the money, and, if he refused, that I had
the right to kill him. One or two thou
sand dollars would have satisfied me, but
I would have accepted three or four hun
dred." " How came the president to know that
you had the right ? "
" Because there was an understanding,
and it would have been taking the law in
his own hands to refuse."
" Did you expect any aid in your under
taking to kill the president?"
" No, I needed none. I have the right
to the crown of England. It has always
been in my ancestors. They were deprived
of it by force. My father was then re
duced to labor, and had to drive a coal cart
in England. He was fond of hunting,
riding, and shooting, and was frequently
called on by noblemen and persons of dis
tinction, notwithstanding his reduced cir
cumstances."

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

341

" How came General Jackson to get the
power over your rights and money ? "
"The first cause was what took place
at Orleans. He leagued in with Lord
Wellington, and the consequence was, that
out of twenty-five thousand English sol
diers sent over, only a small remnant was
left ; with the aid of cotton-bags fixed by
Jackson, they were wasted away. A
number of officers were drafted for this
campaign, among them Pakenham and
Gibbs, and they were killed. This is the
unjust treatment my father received on
that occasion, and it is my business to put
things right — I have the power — Jackson
is my clerk — he knew what would be the
consequence of refusing to obey."
" If you were now set at liberty, would
you endeavor to go on with your determin
ation?" "After a while, I should call on the
president for the money, and if he refused,
I would pursue the same plan I did
before." On the day appointed for the trial of
Lawrence, he appeared in court dressed in
a gray coat, black cravat and vest, and
brown pantaloons. His conduct was that of
a man perfectly at his ease, and collected,
though his eyes showed indications of
mania, and there was an evident assump
tion of kingly dignity in his demeanor
and the expression of his countenance.
He took his seat, however, very quietly by
the side of his counsel,, and conversed
smilingly with them. That his appear
ance was decidedly handsome and prepos
sessing, was the opinion universally ex-

The witnesses having been called into
court, Mr. Key, the prosecuting attorney,
commenced some observations to the
bench, when — up jumped Lawrence from
his chair, under evident excitement of
mind, and said he wished to know whether
. it was correct to bring him or not ? He
claimed the crown of Great Britain, he
said, and also that of the United States;
and he wished to know if they could bring
him there ? The judge desired him to
take hia seat, and to allow his counsel to

manage his case for him. Lawrence com
plied, but still continued the subject, in
conversation with his counsel. The latter
now inquired of the court, whether, as this
was simply the case of a misdemeanor, the
presence of the prisoner, considering his
state of mind, might not be dispensed with.
Lawrence again rose, and addressed the
court, saying, " I wish to know, if, having,
as I have, the sword  ." He was again
stopped. His counsel once more, but still
without success, appealed to the bench,

KICHABD LA WHENCE.

to allow the prisoner to be removed,
saying that he had done all he could to
quiet the man's feelings, but had not been
able to present any course of which he
would make choice. The judge replied,
that it was always customary for the pris
oner to be in court, in cases like this ; he
wished the trial to proceed in the ordinary
way. On proceeding to call the panel, the
following passage ensued :
"I observe," said Lawrence, "that a
jury has been called. I wish to know if
this is correct. I certainly am king ! "
" You must sit down," commanded the
judge, " and be quiet, Mr. Lawrence, until
called on to answer."
Lawrence sat down ; but not until he
had reiterated the assertion that he was
king of Great Britain, and likewise of
America, and that he was protected by the
law in his claim.
On the examination of witnesses, Sec
retary Woodbury testified as follows : On
the occasion of the funeral ceremony which
took place in the hall of the house of rep
resentatives, in consequence of the death
of one of its members, I attended, together

342

OUE FIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

with the president and other officers of the
government; had listened to the funeral
service in the hall ; left it ; the president
being on my right arm, had passed through
the rotunda, and through the eastern door,
where we came rather to a halt — being in
the rear, — in consequence of the delay
occasioned by the gentlemen who had pre
ceded us getting into the coaches. We
had perhaps passed some two or three steps
on to the portico, when I heard a noise
like the discharge of a pistol ; looked
round directly, and there saw a person,
about six or eight feet, a little obliquely7 to
the left, who was just in the act of lower
ing his hand when my eye caught him.
It was the prisoner at the bar. Saw him
distinctly when I turned, and saw the
pistol in his hand ; presumed he was the
person who fired. It was directed right
towards the president. At first I doubted
whether it was not myself who was aimed
at, but saw that it was towards the presi
dent, who was on my right ; turned to the
president to see if he was injured, and,
seeing that he was not, I turned to look
for the prisoner. He was then in the act
of raising his hand again ; had something
in it ; presumed it was a pistol. I gave a
pull from the president's arm and sprang
towards the prisoner, seized him by the
collar, and at that moment the second
explosion took place. Other persons had
previously got hold of him, which proceed
ing appeared to have rather put him out of
his first position ; they continued to pull
him, with some violence, in a somewhat
opposite direction. Seeing he was secured,
and that there was reason to believe he
had no other weapon, I let go my hold to
learn what was the state of the president.
The prisoner was dragged forwards towards
the front of the piazza. I saw no more of
him until I saw him here an hour after.
Found the president in the crowd, and went
home with him.
Secretary Dickerson stated the circum
stances of the assault, as observed by him,
to be as follows : I went with other gentle
men of the cabinet, to the capitol, on the
day of the funeral of the Hon. W. E.

Davis. After the service in the hall, the
procession moved forward towards the
eastern colonnade, there being a great
crowd. I was a little to the rear of the
president, and at the door of the colonnade
there was a halt, which brought me up
nearly to his side. I had advanced, I
think, about two steps from the door, when
I heard the discharge of a pocket pistol ;
have certainly heard such pistols dis
charged without making a louder report; —
it being in the colonnade might have
increased the sound. On turning my eye,
I saw that some men had laid hold of an
individual. I was to the left of the presi
dent, and saw Lieutenant Gedney, who
seemed to be trying to get the man down,
but I could not see the man. It was some
seconds before the prisoner could get at
his other pistol, and when he did, from his
altered position, he had to throw his arm
over to get aim at the president. The
latter must have been struck, had a dis
charge taken place. In an instant from
this time, the prisoner was crushed to the
floor, but was soon raised again. Mr.
Gillet, a member of congress from New
York state, a very strong man, had hold
of him, as also had Lieutenant Gedney.
I looked at the prisoner, and kept my eye
on him, so as to be certain of his identity.
About the instant the second explosion
took place, the president had lifted his
stick to strike the prisoner, but made no
blow, being prevented by his friends. The
crowd coming out at the door was very
great. The president spoke angrily to
those who prevented him from getting
at Lawrence, saying, "Let me alone!
Let me alone!" I recollect hearing
him also say, " he knew where this came
from ! "
After some further evidence on the part
of the prosecution, the prisoner's counsel
asked permission of the judges that Law
rence might leave the court, saying that it
was painful to them all to have him-
remain — particularly so to himself, as his
counsel,— and the law did not require his
presence. Lawrence now rose, and ad
dressed the judges wildly, saying —

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

343

" What I have done to Jackson, was on
account of money which he owes me. I
went there for that purpose. I consider
all in this court as under me. The United
States bank has owed me money ever since
1802, and I want my money. I must
have my revenue from that bank. You
are under me, gentlemen. (Mr. Wood
ward, the deputy-marshal, endeavoring to
prevail on him to resume his seat, Law
rence turned round, indignantly, and said,
'Mr. Woodward! mind your own business,
or I shall treat you with severity!') It is
for me, gentlemen, to pass upon you, and
not you upon me."
Again did the counsel appeal to the
feelings of the court to spare itself, and
the jury, this painful exhibition, by per
mitting Lawrence to depart in custody of
the marshal. He, the counsel, felt, for his
own part, that he could not do justice to
the cause of the prisoner, if he sat beside
him ; the very fact, that he should take a
¦course in the defense of the prisoner with
which he was displeased, would prevent it.
The court replied, that Lawrence should
remain until proven to be insane; he
would, however, be permitted to withdraw,
if it was his own wish so to do. The
unfortunate maniac here shouted out: —
" I deny the power of the court to try
me — I am my own man — I will have my
revenue ! "
Lawrence's counsel here endeavored to
soothe him, by telling him he should have
his rights. "Ay, but when?" "To
day," replied his counsel ; and he sat down,
contentedly, on this assurance.
It was, of course, not at all difficult for
the prisoner's counsel to prove his insanity
and consequent irresponsibleness. Mr.
Eedfern, who married Lawrence's sister,
testified on this point, to the following
effect : I have known Lawrence for sixteen
years, and first observed a change in him
in 1833. In the fall of 1832 he left Wash
ington with the intention, he said, of going
to England; he went in November, and
returned again in December, assigning as
a reason, that the weather was cold. In
the spring of the next year, he started

again to go to New York or Philadelphia,
but he certainly got no farther than Phila
delphia; on his return this time, he said the
people would not let him go, that the gov
ernment opposed his going, that I and
others had prevented him ; that he should
not be able to go until he got a ship and
captain of his own, — that, when he got to
Philadelphia, he found all the papers so
full about him, that he was obliged to
come back. After this, he remained in
my house six months, but did nothing,
saying he had no occasion to labor, that he
lived on his people, — it was very well for
men such as me to work, but he had no
such need, that he had large claims on this
government which were now before con
gress. He used to attend congress regu
larly. In January, 1834, he left my
house, but, previous to this, had got quar
relsome with his sister, said the colored
girl laughed at him and that he would kill
her, and that other people also laughed at
him. He struck all his sisters on several
occasions, and once took up a four-pound
weight to throw at my wife. I have seen
him pass since this time, but never have
spoken to him since 1833 ; he would go
about the house, without speaking, for
days together, but would talk and laugh
to himself continually in his own chamber.
It was the general impression of the neigh
bors, that Lawrence was insane from the
beginning of 1833.
The question being put to Mr. Eedfern,
as to whether Lawrence held two estates
in Ireland, the answer was in the nega
tive. On asking Lawrence the names of
his estates, he replied, very gravely, " Tre-
gear and Kinnany ! and they are attached
to the crown of England ! "
Similar in its bearing, was the testi
mony of Mr. Drury, who had known Law
rence twenty-five years, and who stated
the following facts : For the last year I
have observed a change in his conduct ; he
would talk to himself continually in his
shop, sometimes saying, '  him, he
does not know his enemy ; I will put a
pistol — erect a gallows.' He conceived
himself to be King Eichard the Third, oi

344

OUE FIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

England, and likewise king of this coun
try ; this was about the latter end of last
December, or the beginning of January,
after which, I heard him say, '  Gen
eral Jackson! who's General Jackson?'
On one occasion a black boy called to col
lect a bill, and Lawrence said he would
call and pay it ; but, as soon as the boy
had left, he said, '  him ! he don't
know who he's dunning ! ' He would
stand at the door for hours, wrapt in
thought, and, even when I passed, he took
no notice of me. He was continually
talking to himself, and would now and then
burst into fits of laughter. I noticed no
particular change in him as to dress— he
was always fond of dress, — but I did in his
conduct and appearance. I have often
said he was a crazy man, and have heard
others say so ; the boys would call him
' King Eichard.' On the morning of his
attack on the president, he came to the
shop at the usual time, and went to a place
where I could see him through a partition ;
he was sitting on a chest, with a book in
his hand, laughing. I heard soon after
the lid of the chest fall, and heard him
say, ' I'll be  if I don't do it ! ' He
then came out, left the shop, and locked
the door. Lawrence did some little work
within the last twelve months, and had a
shop. I had a room adjoining this.
Much testimony of the same purport as
the preceding was brought forward, and
nothing of a conflicting character pre
sented itself. The law, in criminal cases,

says that the existence of reason is neces
sary to constitute punishable crime  its.
deprivation renders the individual dispun
ishable. Acting upon this ground, several
physicians were examined as to their opin
ion of Lawrence's condition, judging from
the facts drawn out by the evidence, and
their personal interviews with the prisoner.
Their testimony was unanimous in de
claring Lawrence's state of mind to be
that of morbid delusion, — not possessing a
judgment of right and wrong, especially as
to anything connected with General Jack
son, — and. therefore not to be treated as a
moral agent. Among the physicians who
expressed this as their decided opinion,
were Messrs. Coussin and Thomas Sewell,
two of the most eminent in their profes
sion. In accordance with the evidence thus
given, the jury were out only five minutes,
returning at once with a verdict of "Not
guilty, he having been under the influence
of insanity at the time of committing the
act." But, long before the trial and its
termination, the intense excitement pro
duced by the act, throughout the country,
had almost entirely subsided, — the first
impression, that the horrid deed had been
prompted by secret political conspiracy,
under partisan instigation, rapidly dying
away, as the true character of the man and
his unaided deed became known. Law
rence was sent to a lunatic asylum, where
he remained an inmate thirty or forty
years.

XXXVIII.
MOESE'S INTENTION OF THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH, 1835.

Realization of the Highest Ideal of a Mechanical Miracle. — Principle, Structure, and Operation of the
Machine. — Net-work of Lines Established Over the Four Continents. — The Inventor's Experiments,
Labors, Discouragements, and Triumphs. — " Orders of Glory," Gifts, and other Honors, Bestowed
UponHioi by Crowned Heads. — Casual Origin of the Invention. — Mr. M.'s European Voyage in 1882.
—Recent French Experiments then Discussed. — Important Question and Answer. — Two Great Ex
isting Facts. — The Electric Spark Transmissive. — Easy Control of the Current. — Theory Applied to-
Practice.— Completion of a Crude Model — Private Exhibition in 1835. — Simplicity of the Instru
ment. — The Invention Made Public in 1837. — Wonder and Incredulity. — Appeal to Congress for
Pecuniary Aid. — Merciless Ridicule Ensues — Scene in the Committee-Room. — A Machine at the
Capitol. — Perfect in its Operation. — Success of Morse's Appeal. — His Joy at the Decision. — Putting
up the Wires to Baltimore. — First Message Through.

"That steed called 'Lightning' (say the Fates)
la owned inthe United States:
'Twas Franklin's hand that caucht'the horse;
'Twas harnessed by Professor Morse."

HANGING

INGS and courts, presidents and cabinets, have
united in doing honor to that illustrious American
citizen, who, more than any other man of his race,
has realized to the human mind its highest ideal, or
conception, of a mechanical miracle, through human
agency. It is not claimed that, previous to Profes
sor Morse's achievement, the possibility of applying
electricity to telegraphic communication had not oc
cupied other minds, but that to him belongs the-
high merit of having effected, after years of patient
, ^iT' > jgff* study and ingenious experiment,
BjJftlllBisf" a practical application of the great
r ^j^ff^~^f~j/$ scientific principle involved.
In the year 1829, Mr. Morse,.
who was then an artist of much
celebrity, having, more than fifteen
years previously, exhibited before
the Eoyal Academy of England his
picture of " The Dying Hercules,"
of colossal size, made a second pro
fessional visit to Europe, where he
remained three years ; and it was
this visit which proved, through a-
casual circumstance, of so much
importance to himself, to science
and the world, — for it was on his-
return in 1832, on board the ship
Sully, that he made that great dis
covery, to which is due the present
system of telegraphing. A gentle-

346

QUE EIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

man on board had been describing some
experiments made in Paris with the
electro-magnet, and the question arose as
to the time occupied by the fluid in pass
ing through the wire, stated to be one hun
dred feet in length. On the reply that it
was instantaneous, Professor Morse (recol
lecting the experiments of Franklin,)
suggested that it might be carried to any
distance instantly, and that the electric
spark could be made a means of conveying
and recording intelligence. Here was the
idea, but a greater triumph was the appli
cation of the theory to practice, which he
successfully accomplished, after much
study and multitudinous trials, in New
York, where, in 1835, he put in operation
the model of his recording electric tele
graph. Professor Morse's discovery was based
on these two principal facts, namely : that
a current of electricity will pass to any dis
tance along a conductor connecting the two
poles of a voltaic battery, and produce
visible effects at any desired points on that
conductor ; also, that magnetism is pro
duced in a piece of soft iron, around which
the conductor, in its progress, is made to
pass, when the electric current is permit
ted to flow, and that the magnetism ceases
when the current of electricity is prevented
from flowing. Hence, if the end of a soft
iron lever be placed beneath the iron to
be magnetized, it can be made to rise and
fall as the electricity flows, or is inter
rupted. The other end of the lever, having
a point in it, may be made to press on a
strip of paper or not, at the will of the
operator. This point may be made to im
press a dot or a line, at pleasure. A dot
and a line may represent letters, and by
different combinations of dots and lines
any letter of the alphabet could be repre
sented. The operator in one city could
make the apparatus in another city, at any
distance, write what he pleased, by break
ing and closing the circuit at longer or
shorter intervals.
The invention, as thus devised by Pro
fessor Morse, and as described in a popular
way by Antisell, Bakewell and others,

is a recording instrument, that embosses
the symbols upon paper, with a point
pressed down upon it by an electro-magnet-
the symbols that form the alphabet con
sisting of combinations of short and long
strokes, and made to stand for different
letters, by their repetitions and variations.
Thus a stroke followed by a dot signifies
the first letter of the alphabet ; a stroke
preceded by a dot, the second letter; a
single dot, the third letter ; and in this
manner the whole alphabet could easily be
indicated, the number of repetitions in no
case exceeding four for each letter, — the
letters and words being distinguished from
one another by a longer space being left
between them than between each mark
that forms only a part of a letter or of a
word. Simplicity characterized this instrument
in an eminent degree. The transmitter is
merely a spring key, like that of a musical
instrument, which, on being pressed down,
makes contact with the voltaic battery,
and sends an electric current to the receiv
ing station. The operator at the trans
mitting station, by thus making contact,
brings into action an electro-magnet at the
station he communicates with, and that pulls
down a point fixed to the soft-iron lever
upon a strip of paper that is kept mov
ing by clock-work slowly under it. The
duration of the pressure on the key,
whether instantaneous or prolonged for a
moment, occasions the difference in the
lengths of the lines indented on the paper.
A single circuit is sufficient for the pur
pose, as well as very effective.
As the working of this telegraph depends
upon bringing into action at the receiving
station an electro-magnet of force equal to
mechanically indenting paper, and as the
resistance to the passage of electricity
along the wires diminishes the quantity
transmitted so greatly, that at long dis
tances it was supposed to be almost
impossible to obtain sufficient power for
the purpose, if it acted directly, — to over
come this difficulty, an auxiliary electro
magnet was employed. The electro
magnet which is directly in connection

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

347

with the telegraph wire is a small one,
surrounded by about five hundred yards
or more of very fine wire, for the purpose
of multiplying as much as possible the
effect of the feeble current that is trans
mitted. The soft-iron keeper, which is
attracted by the magnet, is also very light,
so that it may be the more readily attracted.
This, highly sensitive, instrument serves to
make and break contact with a local bat
tery, which brings into action a large
electro-magnet, and as the local battery
and the magnet are close to the place
where the work is to be done, any required
force may be easily obtained.
The batteries used are Grove's zinc and
platinum, and two liquids ; any number of
these may be used. To form the electric

THE ORIGINAL INSTRUMENT.
circuit, one end of a copper wire is attached
to the end platina plate, and the other
end of the copper wire to the zinc cylinder.
A wire is not required to run round all
the circuit— any metallic connection, such
as brass plates, etc., may form part of it.
In the practical working of the telegraph,
—the battery with the key attached, and
a small table, being supposed, for example,
to be at the Philadelphia station, and the
telegraph register to be at New York —
a wire runs from the platina plate up to
the metallic binding screw connection on

the small table, and the other wire runs
from the zinc, and is connected by the first
wire by the metallic connection of the
register at New York. This forms the
circuit. The key is fixed upon a pivot
axis, to be gently pressed by the operator's
fingers on the top of an ivory button.
The circuit is now broken, and a small gap
in the key above the wire from the battery
shows the metallic connection to be open.
By pressing upon the butt end of the key,
its metal surface comes in contact with the
metal termination of the wire from the
battery, and then the circuit is closed, and
the electric fluid fleets along to the distant
station. In connection with the register, there
is, as has already been stated, a strip or
ribbon of paper passing from the roll
between two small metal rollers of the
register. This strip is drawn through
between the rollers by their motion, they
revolving towards the paper roll, drawing
in the paper, — motion being given to these
rollers by a train of clock-work gear wheels,
moved by the weight below the machine.
The upper small roll has a small groove run
ning around its, periphery, and the ribbon
of paper is drawn through against ita
under surface. The instrument for in
denting the paper is suspended on a
pivot axis at its middle, and its action is
like a walking-beam, though the stroke
made is very short. This pen-lever is
very nicely poised, and at its extreme end
from the paper its stroke is neatly regu
lated by a set or button screw. The metal
pen is attached to the lever and fixed on a
pivot like a walking-beam. When one
end is drawn down, the other end flies up,
and, having a steel point on it, it marks
the strip of paper, already described as
running along a roller, and which is drawn
along between other two rollers. Then,
by letting the other end of this pen
come up, the steel point drops, and
then it is thrown up again, leaving a space
between the two marks on the paper. As,
therefore, the paper is always moving and,
as the point is held to it for a longer or
shorter time, marks are made — as before

348

OTJE EIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

explained — of dots, spaces and dashes, and
by a combination of these the whole
alphabet is formed, the letters made into
words, and the words into sentences. The
electro-magnet is fitted with an armature,
whose attraction and withdrawal gives
motion to the lever. Instead of reading
off from the strip of paper, operators in
time trusted to sound.
But, though Professor Morse exhibited
the model of his recording apparatus in
1835 and 1836, it was not until after some
years' additional toil that he brought it to
the above-described efficiency and its sub
sequent improvement and perfection. He
made no efforts to bring the matter
definitely before the public until the
autumn of 1837, when, in its advanced
state of completion, he exhibited to an
appreciating and wonder-struck auditory,
its marvelous operation. The announce
ment of the invention and its astonishing
capacity, was for a long time the most
prominent theme of public and private
discussion, admiration being largely min
gled with blank incredulity, and not a little
ridicule. Even in congress, on the appli
cation of Professor Morse for government
aid, to enable him to demonstrate the value
of his invention by constructing a line
between Washington and Baltimore, in
1838, there were not found wanting learned
legislators who treated the idea as a mere
chimera. It was the same congress of
which Espy, the " Storm King," was
asking assistance, to test his favorite
theory, then so prominently discussed.
Both Morse and Espy, says a writer of
that time and the event, became the butt
of ridicule, the target of merciless
arrows of wit. They were voted down
right bores, and the idea of giving them
money was pronounced farcical. They
were considered monomaniacs, and as such
were laughed at, punned upon, and made
the standing staple for jokes. One morn
ing, however, a gentleman rose from his
seat in the house — quite to the astonish
ment of everybody, for he had never been
known to speak before, unless it was to
vote or to address the speaker, — and said,

" I hold in my hand a resolution, which I
respectfully offer for the consideration of
the house." In a moment a page was at
his desk, and the resolution was trans
ferred to the speaker and by him delivered
to the clerk, who read as follows :
" Eesolved, That the committee of ways
and means be instructed to inquire into
the expediency of appropriating $30,000,
to enable Professor Morse to establish a
line of telegraph between Washington and
Baltimore." The gentleman who offered
it was Mr. Eerris, one of the New York
representatives, a man of wealth and
learning, but modest, retiring, and diffi
dent. This being merely a resolution of
inquiry, it passed without opposition, and,
out of regard to the mover, without com
ment. In time, it came before the com
mittee, all the members of which had, by
their public services and brilliant talents,
acquired a national reputation. The clerk
of the committee read the resolution.
The chairman, Mr. Eillmore, in a clear,
distinct voice, said, " Gentlemen, what
disposition shall be made of it ? " There
was a dead pause around the table. No
one seemed inclined to take the initiative.
It was expected that, inasmuch as the
mover of the resolution in the house was a
democrat, the democratic side of the com
mittee would stand god-father to it there.
But not a bit of it. They felt that the
whole thing was preposterous and deserv
ing of no countenance. At length, one on
the other side broke the ominous silence
by moving that the committee instruct
the chairman to report a bill to the house,
appropriating thirty thousand dollars for
the purpose named in the resolution.
This movement "brought them all up
standing ! " No speeches were made.
The question was called for. The yeas
and nays were taken alphabetically, and,
as four had voted on the affirmative side,
and four on the negative, it fell to the lot
of Governor Wallace, of Indiana, whose
name came last on the list, to decide the
question. He, however, had paid no atten
tion to the matter, and, like the majority of

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

349

people, considered it a great humbug. He
had not the faintest idea of the importance
to his country, of the vote he was to cast.
But as fortune would have it, the thought
came to mind that Mr. Morse was even
then experimenting in the capitol with the
" new-fangled invention," having stretched
a wire from the basement story to the
ante-room of the senate chamber. It was
therefore in Governor Wallace's power to
satisfy himself at once in regard to the
question of feasibility, and he determined
to try it. He asked leave to consider his
vote. This was granted. He imme
diately stepped out of the committee room,
and went to the ante-chamber, which was
found crowded with representatives and
strangers. Governor Wallace requested
permission to put a question to the " mad
man " (Morse) at the other end of the
wire. It was granted immediately. He

wrote the question and handed it to the
telegrapher. The crowd cried "read!
read! " In a very short time the answer
was received. When written out by the
¦operator, the same cry of " read it ! read
*¦*¦'" went up from the crowd.
To his utter astonishment, Governor
Wallace found that the madman at that end

of the wire had more wit and force than the
congressmen at the other — the laugh was
turned completely upon the committee-man.
But, as western men are rarely satisfied
with one fall — not less than two failures
out of three attempts forcing from them
any acknowledgment of defeat, — the
governor put a second question, and there
came a second answer. If the first raised
a laugh at his expense, the second convert
ed that laugh into a roar and a shout.
He was more than satisfied. Picking up
his hat, he bowed himself out of the
crowd, the good-natured shout following
him as he passed along the passages and
halls of the capitol.
As a matter of course, Governor Wallace
voted in the affirmative of the motion then
pending before the committee, and it
prevailed. The chairman reported the
bill, the house and senate concurred in its
passage, and thus was Professor Morse
successful in this his last struggle to
demonstrate the practicability of — as
it has proved — the most amazing in
vention of the age, the electro-mag
netic telegraph. If the committee had
ignored the proposition, there is no
telling what would have been the result.
That the experiment would have been
finally made, no one can entertain a
doubt. But when or by whom is the
question. It was not within the range
of ordinary individual fortune to make
it, and, if it was, none but Professor
Morse would have hazarded it.
It appears, however, that Professor
Morse came to the last stage of discour
agement, in the prosecution of his appeal
to congress, before light finally broke
in upon him. On the very last day of
the session, the bill relating to his
case was the one hundred and twenti
eth on the senate docket, to be acted upon
in course. Concerning this scene, a
writer in Harper's Monthly states, that
during the entire day Professor Morse
watched the course of legislation from the
gallery with nervous trepidation and the
deepest anxiety. At length, worn out
by the interminable discussion of some

350

OUE FIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

senator who seemed to be speaking
against time, and overcome by his
prolonged watching, he left the gallery at
a late hour and went to his lodgings,
under the belief that it was not possible
his bill could be reached, and that he must
again turn his attention to those labors of
the brush and easel by means of which he
might be enabled to prosecute appeals to
congress at a future time. He accordingly
made his preparations to return to New
York on the following morning, and
retiring to rest, sank into a profound
slumber, from which he did not awake
until a late hour on the following morn
ing. But a short time after, while seated
at the breakfast-table, the servant an
nounced that a lady desired to see him.
Upon entering the parlor, he found Miss
Annie Ellsworth, the daughter of the
Commissioner of Patents, whose face was
all aglow with pleasure.
" I have come to congratulate you," she
remarked, as he entered the room, and
approached to shake hands with her.
" To congratulate me ! " replied Mr.
Morse, " and for what ? "
" Why, upon the passage of your bill,
to be sure," she replied.
" You must surely be mistaken ; for I
left at a late hour, and its fate seemed
inevitable." "Indeed I am not mistaken," she re
joined; "father remained until the close
of the session, and your bill was the very
last that was acted on, and I begged
permission to convey to you the news.
I am so happy that I am the first to tell
you." The feelings of Professor Morse may be
better imagined than described. He
grasped his young companion warmly by
the hand, and thanked her over and over
again for the joyful intelligence, saying —
"As a reward for being the first bearer
of this news, you shall send over the tele
graph the first message it conveys."
"I will hold you to that promise,"
replied she ; " Remember ! "
"Remember!" responded Professor
Morse ; and they parted.

The plans of Mr. Morse were now alto
gether changed. His journey homeward
was abandoned, and he set to work to carry
out the project of establishing the line of
electro-telegraph, between Washington and
Baltimore, authorized by the bill. His
first idea was to convey the wires, inclosed
in a leaden tube, beneath the ground. He
had already arranged a plan by which the
wires, insulated by a covering of cotton
saturated in gum shellac, were to be
inserted into leaden pipes in the process
of casting. But after the expenditure of
several thousand dollars, and much delay
this plan was given up, and the one now
in use, of extending them on poles,
adopted. By the month of May, 1844, the whole
line was laid, and magnets and recording
instruments were attached to the ends of
the wires at Mount Clare Depot, Balti
more, and at the supreme court chamber,
in the capitol at Washington. When the
circuit was complete, and the signal at the
one end of the line was responded to by
the operator at the other, Mr. Morse sent
a messenger to Miss Ellsworth to inform
her that the telegraph awaited her mes
sage. She speedily responded to this, and
sent for transmission the following, which
was the first formal dispatch ever sent
through a telegraphic wire connecting
remote places with each other :
" What hath God wrought ! "
The original of the message is now in
the archives of the Historical Society at
Hartford, Connecticut. The practicability
and utility of the invention were now
clearly and firmly established.
Of the subsequent history and triumphs
of this invention, it is scarcely necessary
here to speak. The lines of telegraphic
communication which now, like a web,
traverse the length and breadth of the
republic, and which, indeed, connect and
cover as with a net-work the four conti
nents of the globe, — these attest the vast-
ness, influence and power, of this amazing
invention. Nor is it necessary to specify
the details of those various mechanical
improvements in the construction and

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

351

working of the apparatus, as also its diver
sified adaptation, brought forward by the
fertile genius of Morse, as well as by
House, Hughes, Phelps, Shaffner, O'Eeilly,
Vail, Farmer, Page, Hicks, Eitchie, etc.,
and which have secured to the whole system
of telegraphy its present wonderful degree
of scientific perfection, bringing to the
discoverer fame and pecuniary fortune at
home, and also the most splendid medals,
decorations of honor, and " golden gifts,"
from nearly all the crowned heads of
Europe. It is au interesting fact, that the
first kingly acknowledgment received by
Professor Morse, was the "Order of
Glory" from the Sultan of Turkey. The
rulers of Prussia, Wurtemberg, and Aus
tria, sent him superb gold medals ; the
emperor of the French made him a Cheva
lier of the Legion of Honor, instituted by
Napoleon the First ; while Denmark made
him one of the knightly "Dannebrog,"
and Spain a Knight Commander of the
Order of Isabella the Catholic.

powerful an enemy Abd-el-Kader proved
himself to the French, during the career
of conquest undertaken by the latter in
Algeria. On a certain occasion, during
that terrific struggle, the French telegraph
made the announcement: "Abd-el-Kader
has been taken  ; " a fog, however,
enveloped the remainder of the sentence
in obscurity. The excitement, neverthe
less, in the money market, was at fever
height, at the supposed capture of that
adroit enemy, and the funds rose tremen
dously. The following day, the sentence
being completed, the intelligence ran thus :
"Abd-el-Kader has been taken with a
dreadful cold in his head." The funds
fell, but the coup — which was worthy of a
Eothschild's subtlety — had been suffi
ciently successful for those who managed
to make the telegraph play into the hands
of their financial agents.
A case of a somewhat different character
—one involving the " tender passion " —
was the following. A daughter of one oi

H ^

OBDEES OF GLOBY CONFESSED ON PEOFESSOE MOBSE.

An example or two of the humorous
side of the telegraph may here be given,
as a kind of side-relief to a subject
liable to be regarded as somewhat exclu
sively involving abstract philosophical
science and the technical minutise of its
application. "robably no one is ignorant of how

the wealthiest merchants in Boston, Mass.;
had formed an attachment for a handsome
young man, who was a clerk in her father's
counting-house. The father having heard
of the attachment, feigned ignorance of it,
with a view of enabling him more success
fully to adopt measures that would break
it off. For this purpose he directed the

352

OUE FIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

young man to proceed to England, upon
business; and the lover accordingly ar
rived, on his route, in New York. In the
meantime, the enamored young lady had
got an inkling of her father's intentions,
and wishing to frustrate them effectually,
sent a message to that effect to her lover
in New York, by the following expedient :
She took her place in the telegraph office
in Boston, and he did the same with a
magistrate, in the New York office ; and
now, the exchange of consent being duly
given by the electric flash, they were mar
ried by telegraph ! Shortly after, the
lady's father insisted upon her marriage
with the gentleman he had selected for
her; and judge of his amazement when
she told him that she was already married
— the wife of Mr. B., then on his way to
England; adding an explanation of the
novel way in which the ceremony was per
formed. And so the matter ended ; adding
another to the triumphs of love and —
electricity !
During the revolutionary excitement in
Europe, in 1848, the astounding report
flashed across Europe, that the king of
Prussia had abdicated ! The statement
originated with the electric telegraph,
which sent the following dispatch : " The
-—King of — Prussia — has — gone to Pot — ."
In another minute, the communication in
this form was on its way to the news
paper bulletins, and was immediately tele
graphed thence in every direction. Not
long after, however, the dial was again
agitated, and then " s — dam " was added ;
making the very quiet piece of news,

" The King of Prussia has gone to Pote-
dam." In the early days of telegraphing, the
competition for priority among the lead
ing journals was very great, and feats were
performed which, for that day of the art's
infancy, were indeed marvelous. One
instance will suffice :
An important speech by Mr. Clay was
much looked for. It was delivered in
Lexington, Ky., on a Saturday, and the
proprietor of the New York Herald deter
mined on beating his contemporaries.
Express riders were ready, and in less
than five hours a full report of the speech
was in Cincinnati. Notifications had been
sent along the line of telegraph to "look
out ; " and at four o'clock on Sunday
morning, the publisher of the Herald had
the speech before him in New York — the
distance being more than eleven hundred
miles. This was done during a heavy rain,
and while a thunder shower was passing
over a portion of both the eastern and
western lines. At Cincinnati, where it
was to be copied in passing, the telegraph
suddenly ceased working, to the dismay of
the superintendent. Being short of proper
hands, he mounted a horse, and followed
the line, through the pelting storm, until
he found a break, caused by the falling of
a tree, beyond Turtle Creek, a distance of
twenty-one miles. He finished mending
the break at dark, and then returned to
the city, where, in the temporary absence
of other competent operators, received the
speech and sent it to New York, finishing
it at four o'clock in the morning.

XXXIX.
TREMENDOUS FIRE IN NEW YORK CITY.— 1835.

Its Destructiveness Unparalleled, up to this Period, in the Western World. — Resistless Devastation foi
Sixteen Hours in Midwinter. — A Pall of Ruin and Desolation Over the Richest Business Locality
in America.— Nearly Seven Hundred Warehouses, Filled with Costly Merchandise, and the Com
merce of Every Clime, Laid in Ashes. — Loss Upwards of Eighteen Millions. — Peculiar Seat of this
Fire. — The Money Center of America. — Breaking Out in the Evening. — Fury of the North Wind —
The Flames Spread Violently. — Bitter and Intense Cold. — Freezing of the Engine-Water. — All the
Elements Hostile. — Human Endeavors Powerless. — Acres on Fire at Midnight. — Sweeps from Point
to Point. — Mingled Horror and Sublimity. — Efforts to Save the Exchange. — Fate of that Splendid
Pile.— Fall of its Magnificent Dome. — Numberless Reverses of Fortune. — Rich Men Made Penni
less— A Singular Exception. — Swarms of Bold Robbers. — Military Protection Required. — Discovery
of a Diabolical Crime. — Supposed Cause of the Fire.

, *' Only the horrors of the great fire of London in 1666, and of Moscow in 1812, can be said to rival those of the night of December 16,
«35, lu tha commercial metropolis of America." — HlSTorcr OF New York.

IODEEN history affords but few instances of more awful desolation by
fire, than that which so suddenly visited the city of New York, on the
sixteenth and seventeenth of December, 1835. Indeed, there are not
many examples of any calamities affecting property and business
interests, showing greater destruction or involving consequences
more distressing. The consuming of nearly seven hundred spacious storehouses of
the first class, filled with the most valuable goods of all kinds and from all countries,
covering about twenty acres of land, and giving employment in various connections
to several thousand persons, was an unprecedented event, in the roll of national
disasters. It was not, however, upon the individuals directly employed, nor upon the
owners or occupants of the buildings consumed, nor even upon the merchants, that
the chief burden of this appalling calamity fell ; but it was the thousands of widows
and orphans who were dependent upon the dividends of their little stock in the insur
ance companies for their daily bread, who were most afflicted by this unpitying devas
tation ; and next to them, the artisan and manufacturer, in almost every district of the
United States, however remote, was irretrievably involved. Indeed, every species of
business and every ramification of trade, throughout the Union, was seriously affected.
It was the fountain-head that had been so dreadfully ravaged, and the whole nation felt
the shock. Other fires there have been, most disastrous in their extent,— at Savannah,
San Francisco, Sacramento, Pittsburg, Portland, Albany, St. Louis, Charleston, etc.,
—but this is conceded to have been, up to that time, the most fearfully memorable, of
the century, and, therefore, appropriately narrated in this volume. For terrible
Zo

354

QUE EIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

destruction of life, also, numbering some
seventy victims, including Hon. George
W. Smith, governor of the state, the
burning of the theater in Eichmond, Va.,
December 24, 1811, will forever be remem
bered. At nine o'clock, on the night of Wednes
day, December sixteenth, smoke and flames
were seen to issue from a five-story build
ing in Merchant street, formerly Hanover
street, in the vicinity of the Merchants'
Exchange, and in precisely that locality
of the metropolis which was crowded with
the most costly treasures of foreign and
domestic production. The weather had
been unusually severe for several days ;
but on the night in question, the cold had
increased to an intensity almost without
precedent, the thermometer standing be
low zert>, with fierce north winds, amount
ing nearly to a gale. It was an awful
night for New York and the country.
The flames soon leaped forth in fury
through every aperture, and seized on
the adjoining buildings for their im
mediate prey, and, spreading from this
point, the raging element in a short time
obtained a tremendous advantage in the
most compactly and loftily built portion
of the city, filled with silks, cloths, liquors,
oils, chemicals, and other combustibles,
and intersected only by narrow streets
which could interpose no barrier to the
progress of the flames.
Owing to the unparalleled severity of
the weather, and to the fact that there had
been so many alarms within the week,
requiring so large an amount of harassing
service of the fire department, the latter
did not rally with its accustomed alacrity.
It /as soon found, too, that the effort put
forth to check the power of the conflagra
tion in that quarter to which the wind was
so vehemently urging it, was utterly una
vailing. The water so plenteously thrown
upon it by hydrants and engines, was
blown back in the faces, and fell con
gealed at the feet of the brave firemen, or
seemed only to add to the fury and force
of the destroyer, which rapidly embraced
the great range of houses on the opposite

side, until the whole triangular block
formed by Wall, William, and Pearl
streets, became one lofty altar of waving
fires. From this point, taking the direc
tion of Wall street below Pearl, on the
one hand, and Pearl street below Wall
on the other, the flames rolled on, mocking
all human endeavors to restrain them.
Advancing thus in two grand divisions,
the conflagration, as contrasted with the
red masses of buildings which they alter
nately illuminated with glaring brightness
and wrapped in huge volumes of smoke,
conveyed to the beholder the idea of some
fabulous monster of destruction, waving
its wings over its helpless and devoted
prey. The extraordinary strength of the Wall
street buildings — many of them resisting
firmly the assaults of the destroyer, and
none of the walls crumbling and falling
into the street, as is so generally the case
— did more for the security of those north
of the street, than anything within the
power of human effort. Onward, how
ever, still onward, continued the resistless
sweep of destruction, involving some of
the most massive blocks of warehouses in
the world, crammed with the costliest of
goods from every section and clime.
After consuming the Phoenix buildings
on Wall street, the fire pursued its
way to Water street, Front street, and
at length, as the morning dawned,
to South street, adjoining the EaBt
river. But progressing at the same
time, through Pearl street, on both sides,
towards Hanover square, it crossed and
speedily devoured Governeur lane, Jones s
lane, and the whole of Front and Water
streets that lay between Wall street and
Franklin market. In the meantime, it
was furiously extending through Exchange
street and Exchange place to William
street, and to all the buildings in the rear
of the Merchants' Exchange.
This magnificent and beautiful edifice,
which, for the elegant grandeur of its ar
chitecture, was the pride not only of
New York but of the whole country, it
was hoped would continue to rear its dome

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

355

VIEW OF WALL STREET DURING THE FIRE.

in the sky, though all around it should
become a scene of desolation — for, there
being no flames between it and the course
of the wind, it seemed fortunately secure
from any imminent danger. And so much
confidence was reposed in this presumption,
that the building was selected as the grand
depot for the most precious kinds of mer
chandise that could be rescued from the
adjacent streets, and with which its great
hall was completely piled. Every pre
caution, too, was taken to preserve it, by
conveying hose to its roof, and by spread
ing wet blankets along those parts of the
windows and cornices most exposed to the
neat. But all proved vain ! At about one
o'clock in the morning the splendid edifice
took fire, and although the flames preyed
upon it but slowly for some time, they at
length burst forth from its roof and dome,
and weaved a pall of ruin over its vast and
beautiful form. For full half an hour, the
flames arose in pyramidal columns, from
its dome, up to an immense height in the
troubled sky, and rendered it a most sub
lime though fearful object. But before

the unhappy persons who had made it a
refuge for their property from the terrible
enemy that was abroad, could again rescue
scarcely an article, the dome fell in with a
portentous crash, burying beneath its
ruined arches the new and beautiful statue
of the illustrious Hamilton. A gallant effort
was made to save this statue, by a young
officer from the navy yard, with a party of
four or five sailors; they had actually
succeeded in removing it from the pedestal,
when the danger from the approaching
fall of the roof, — watched with breathless
anxiety by the terror-stricken multitude —
compelled them to seek safety in flight.
At this time, the fire on Pearl street had
reached Hanover square, which large space
of ground was covered with goods. A
desperate struggle was made to save them,
but so rapidly did the fire spread on both
sides of the square, that, in a short time,
everything was reduced to cinders. Of
the South Dutch church, which had also
been stored with valuables, nothing was
left but the bare walls. The post-office
shared the same desolation.

356

OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

To check the augmenting avalanche of
fire, when water could not be thrown upon
it or seemed of no avail if it was, gun
powder was at last resorted to; but none,
in sufficient quantities was to be procured
in the city, it not being allowed as an
article of merchandise. An application at
the fort on Governor's Island was unsuc
cessful ; but a supply was ultimately pro
cured, after daylight, from the Brooklyn
navy yard, with a corps of marines, and
the demolition of some prominent build
ings by this means, contributed materially
to the subjugation of the flames, which
was finally effected at Coenties slip, about
noon of Thursday, after an awful and
uninterrupted devastation of sixteen hours.
Thus, seventeen of the most valuable
'blocks' in the money and business part
of the city were totally destroyed, and
three others nearly so. The total loss, as
given in the New American Cyclopoedia,
was more than eighteen million dollars !
Six hundred and seventy buildings were
burnt, principally occupied as importing
and wholesale warehouses, — the seat, in
deed, of the greatest monetary and com
mercial transactions on the American con
tinent. It is not likely that the destruc
tion of any given section of any other city
in the world, of equal extent, would have
involved a greater loss of capital, or ruined
the fortunes of a larger number of men.
The south side of Wall street was half
destroyed. William, Pearl, Water, Front
and South streets, from Wall street to
Coenties slip, were in ruins. Exchange
place, Hanover street, Merchant street,
and Hanover square, were entirely de
stroyed ; Stone street, from Pearl to Broad
street, nearly so. Some of the buildings
on Broad street suffered ; but throughout
the night this noble avenue was univer
sally regarded as the only efficient barrier
against the entire destruction of the first
ward, involving results almost incalculable,
to property of every description.
Before the gunpowder was used in blow
ing up the buildings, there were constantly
heard loud reports caused by explosions
of casks of spirits, chemicals, and other

substances. During the entire night, the
scene was one of awful terror and inde
scribable grandeur. The drought of the
season had contributed to the combusti
bility of the materials, and the rapidity
with which house after house, range after
range of buildings, was wrapped in flames,
was frightful to the beholder. The gale
being strong, large flakes of fire were
borne whirling aloft, through the dark
vault of heaven, with fearful splendor.
Among the noticeable matters of curi
osity, observed during the progress of the
conflagration, was the resistance offered
so long and staunchly to the flames, by
the South Dutch church, Eev. Dr. Mat-
thews's, but which finally yielded to the
all-conquering foe. The bright gold ball
and star surmounting the structure —
crowning the highest point of the spire —
gleamed brilliantly ; and thus, while the
two were shining, in the deep blue con
cave, with an intensity of brightness
which attracted general remark, they sud
denly gave one surge, and fell, in all their
glory, into the chaotic heap beneath.
Similar was the fate of the Hamilton
statue, which, towering brightly amidst
the sea of flames that dashed against ita
crackling base, cast a mournful glance on
the terrific scene, and then fell with stately
motion, perishing under the crush of the
edifice of which it had been, as it were,
the tutelary genius. A fine old syca
more, near the corner of Beaver and Wil
liam streets, on the premises formerly
occupied by Cadwallader D. Colden, vig
orously resisted the foe, standing un
harmed amid the ruins.
At the head of one of the slips, a novel
spectacle occurred. A large quantity of
turpentine, piled up in barrels, caught the
flames and burnt with great fur}', on ac
count of its peculiarly inflammable charac
ter. It ran down in a stream, like burn
ing lava, into the dock, upon the surface
of the water, and, being lighter than the
latter, spread out until it had covered a
vast extent, giving the river the appear
ance of one rolling mass of liquid fire,
startling but beautiful to behold.

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

ioi

Peculiarly exciting was the doom which
overtook Hanover square, where every
body thought the goods deposited would
be perfectly safe. In this great area,
there was accumulated from the stock of
all the French stores, a mass of silks,
satins, laces, dresses in pattern, capes,
Cashmere shawls, and the richest kinds of
fancy articles, forming an enormous pile
sixty feet wide by twenty-five feet in
height, or nearly one hundred feet square.
Suddenly, and to the apalling consterna
tion of the anxious throng, a gust of flame,
like a streak of lightning, came from the
north-east corner building, and shooting

and happy, were the next day bankrupts,
utterly ruined. Stephen Whitney's loss,
in stores, stock, and goods, was estimated
at nearly half a million dollars. In one
of the stores consumed, were eight hun
dred thousand pounds of lead ; after the
fire was over, and the rubbish removed, it
was found that the lead had melted into
prodigious masses, so that the owner had
to quarry it out.
The great dry goods firm of which
Arthur Tappan, the renowned abolition
leader, was at the head, escaped, peculiarly,
the absolute ruin in which so many of the
other great firms were involved. Their

THE GREAT CONFLAGRATION AS VIEWED FROM COENTIES SLIP.

wildly across the square, blown by the
strong wind, set fire to the entire mass.
-No human effort could for a moment suc
cessfully interpose, and in a few moments
the whole was but a heap of cinders and
ashes. Some of the individual losses were, of
course, immense ; as an example, one mer
chant had in silks alone, three hundred
thousand dollars, which were destroyed;
another, two hundred thousand dollars in
teas and brandies. Many who went home
to their families that evening, prosperous

store being of stone, and having window-
shutters of thick boiler iron — put on after
the mobs of the previous year, — withstood
the flames for nearly an hour, while all
was in a blaze around it, so that there was
thus afforded time to carry out the books
and papers, and a very large amount of
goods, estimated at one hundred thousand
dollars in value, placing them, after two
removes, beyond the spread of the fire.
The energy and daring with which the
colored people pressed forward, in the face
of every obstacle, to save Mr. Tappan's

358

OUE FIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

property, greatly impressed the bystanders.
It was with difficulty they were restrained
from rushing in, after the flames had
burst out at the door. In addition to the
value of what they thus saved, was a con
siderable insurance.
As usual, those miscreants who always
avail themselves of such public opportuni
ties to exercise their skill in plundering,
did not neglect the present most fruitful
and tempting occasion. The extent of
tlieir depredations, and the number of rob
bers who committed them, were commen
surate with the extent and character of
the conflagration. More than ninety rob
bers were taken in the aet of carrying
away property during the night of the
fire ; and the ensuing day, some two hun
dred more were arrested for having in
their possession property which was stolen
from the fire. The scenes at the police
oflice, growing out of these criminal prac
tices, were of a kind that beggared de
scription, — the squalid misery of the
greater part of those who were arrested
with their ill-gotten spoils, the lies and
prevarications to which they resorted to
induce the magistrates not to commit
them to prison, their objurgations and
waitings when they found they must re
linquish the splendid prizes they had
seized during the raging of the fire and
the accompanying excitement. The num
bers in which these persons were brought
up for examination, by the police and mil
itary, exceeded anything of a similar kind
on record. For three days and nights,
every place capable of affording detention
was crammed with these unhappy culprits
— sometimes as many as one hundred
being in confinement at the same
moment. Hundreds were discharged
without any other proceedings than
merely taking from them their plunder;
and, indeed, but very few of the whole
number, even those who had pillaged to a
very large amount, could be convicted in
a court of justice, in consequence of the
impossibility of identifying, by the neces
sary legal proof in such cases, the prop
erty stolen. But thus it was — the night

of terror was made a carnival of lawless
ness and crime !
On the second night after the conflagra
tion, a couple of gentlemen observed a
stout Irish woman walking up Pearl street
near the corner of Wall street, with what
was evidently a ponderous bundle under
her cloak. When she saw the gentlemen
observing her, she immediately commenced
singing, with the usual maternal tone
and accent, (Hush-a-by, baby,' etc. The
gentlemen thinking that the poor baby
was quite worrisome, offered their aid to
quiet its infant restlessness. 'Oh, bless
your honors, she's asleep now,' was the
response. The gentlemen still persisted
in having a peep at the blooming little
cherub. She resisted — but manly tender
ness could not be overcome thus. On
opening the cloak, they found that the
dear little creature, in the terror of the
moment, had actually changed into an
armful of the richest silk and satin goods,
slightly burnt at the ends. The affection
ate mother was immediately secured and
put beyond the reach of any similar
maternal trials.
It is supposed that a thousand baskets
of champagne were broken and destroyed,
the tops being unceremoniously knocked
off, and the contents drank up by the
crowds surrounding the fire or working.
An immense quantity of baskets of cham
pagne were to be seen floating in the
docks, and cheese and provisions were pro
fusely scattered about. Had it not been
for the civic patrols formed in several of
the wards, property to a much greater
amount would have been pillaged. The
United States marines, too, in a large
body, under official command, formed a
complete chain of sentinels, all along
South street, from the Fulton ferry to
Wall street, and up Wall to the Exchange;
they kept their post, with bayonets fixed,
all night, and proved a terror to the hordes
of thieves hovering around. Nevertheless,
in addition to the inevitable robberies
after the ordinary methods, vast quanti
ties of merchandise were carried «H
in boats, during the long nights, and

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

359

secreted on the Long Island and Jersey

One of the most remarkable develop
ments of crime, in the midst of these
scenes of terror and disaster, was the case
of the man caught in the act of setting
fire to the house at the corner of Stone and
Broad streets. It is scarcely possible to
conceive, that there could exist such a
fiend as this in human shape, without sup
posing him to be either a maniac, or drunk
with liquor. It would seem, however, to
have been done with design — and that of
the most diabolical nature, — when it is
considered that the fearful apprehensions
of the whole of that part of the city were
directed to this point, lest the fire would
cross it and reach the Battery.
On the determination, finally arrived at,
to check the onward march of the fire by
blowing up the buildings with gunpowder,
the fate of the city was believed to hang.
The material with which to carry out this
plan was, as already observed, obtained
with difficulty, but it1 was used effectually
when once secured. Nothing could be
more characteristic than the entire sang
froid with which the sailors of Captain
Mix's party carried about, wrapped up in
a blanket, or a pea-jacket, as it might hap
pen, kegs and barrels of gunpowder, amid
a constant shower of fire, as they cour
ageously followed their officers to the
various buildings indicated for destruction.
Stung with the cold, the hardy fellows
never for a moment quailed in the per
formance of their duty. So inclement,
indeed, did the weather continue, that
many of the firemen were compelled to
take the fine blankets saved from the
flames, and, cutting a hole through them,
convert them into temporary cloaks; in
this attire they were seen the ensuing day,
dragging home their engines, many of the
poor fellows being so exhausted by fatigue
and bitten by the cold, that they were well
nigh asleep as they walked. One entire
company, thus accoutered,— thinking the
best way of dealing with their troubles was
to make light of them,— had artificial
wreaths and bunches of artificial flowers,

of the richest kind, in their caps, picked
up from the wreck of matter scattered
beneath their feet ; in this garb, they
left the scene of their protracted toil, pre
senting a very singular contrast with
their begrimmed faces and jaded appear
ance. The striking advantage of railroads
(then in their infancy in the United
States), especially at a season when every
thing is locked up in ice, was never more
emphatically demonstrated, than in the
prompt arrival of fire engines from New
ark, N. J., nine miles distant. The same
locomotive that early on Thursday morn
ing carried out the news of the great fire,
brought these engines on their platform
within an hour afterwards to the city.
Their services were eminently useful. The
noble conduct, too, of the Philadelphia
firemen, won for them deserved praise.
Immediately on the receipt of the intelli
gence from New York, four hundred of
them organized themselves and started to
go on. Unfortunately, by the breaking
down of one of the cars on the railroad, a
large number of them were obliged to go
back, but some arrived early on Saturday
morning, and the remainder followed with
as little delay as possible. They reported
themselves immediately on arrival, and
having stations assigned them amid the
ruins, went to work with great spirit and
effect. The appearance of things on the day
after the fire, was such as to impress itself,
ineffaceably, upon the memory. It re
quired but a slight stretch of the imagi
nation, for the beholder to feel as though
he were in the vicinity of Pompeii, with
Vesuvius sending up its lurid glare close
at hand, throwing a melancholy light over
the deserted ruins. Just here arose a
large and ragged pile, where the corners
of four stately buildings still stood up by
mutual support ; there towered grandly a
solitary chimney; yonder stood the frown
ing fragment of a vast wall ; a little far
ther, was the front of a half block, the
windows gone, — reminding one, in the
dim distance, of the vacancy and desola-

360

OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

I

RUINS OF THE MERCHANTS' EXCHANGE.

tion of a castle ; in the midst, there
loomed up half a dozen cold-visaged granite
pillars, standing as though they were grim
and solitary sentinels, stationed there to
frighten the plunderer from his ill-sought
"booty. But here is the grandest ruin of
all — the Exchange ! with its huge pillars
rent and torn from top to bottom, and the
massy architraves, like the antiquated
temples of Carthage and Palmyra, still
tottering upon their capitals ! So vast
was the barren waste, that an uninter
rupted view was afforded from Wall street
to the East river, and thence to Coenties
slip ; a prospect of awful grandeur, as far
as the eye could reach.
As has already been stated, the Exchange
was the architectural pride, not only of
New York, but of the nation. It was
three magnificent stories in height, with
corresponding basement and attic. The
south-west front, one hundred and fourteen
feet front, and the main front on Wall
street, was of Westchester marble. The
first and second stories were of the Ionic
order, from the temple of Minerva Polias,
at Prigne, in Ionia. A recessed elliptical
portico, of forty feet width, introduced in

front. A screen of four columns and two
antse, each thirty feet high, and three feet
four inches in diameter above the base,
composed of a,- single block of marble, ex
tended across the front of the portico, sup
porting an elegant entablature of six feet
in height, on which rested the third story,
making a height of sixty feet from the
ground, and the cupola which crowned the
structure was also sixty feet high.
The principal entrance' to the rotunda
and exchange room was by a flight of
marble steps, with a pedestal at each end.
The vestibule was of the Ionic order,
from the little Ionic temple of Illyssus.
The exchange room, which was the rotunda,
measured seventy-five feet long, fifty feet
wide, and forty-two feet high. In the
center of this splendid rotunda was
erected, by the liberality of the New York
merchants, the statue of Alexander Ham
ilton, sculptured by Ball Hughes. This
fine work of art was about fifteen feet
high, including the base on which it was
elevated, and chiseled from the whitest
marble. After a long and critical official investi
gation, as to the origin of this fire, the

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

361

•conclusion arrived at by the citizens' com
mittee, was, that a report like an explo
sion of a gas-pipe was heard in the store
No. 25 Merchant street, to proceed from
No. 28, and soon after the flames seemed
to have been enkindled on the first floor,
And shot up with the rapidity of light

ning through the scuttles in the several
floors to the upper story and through the
roof. The fire, therefore, must have been
produced by the bursting of a gas-pipe,
and the distribution of the gas, until it
came in contact with the coal in the stove
or grate, by which it was ignited.

XL.
STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION IN CON
GRESS.— 1836.

John Quincy Adams, the " Old Man Eloquent," Carries on a Contest of Eleven Days, Single-Handed
in its Defense, in the House of Representatives — Passage of the " Gag Rule." — Expulsion and Assas
sination Threatened. — His Unquailing Courage. — A Spectacle Unwitnessed Before in the Halls of
Legislation — Triumph of His Master Mind. — The Right and Petition a Constitutional One. — Indiscrim
inate and Unrestricted. — Anti-Slavery Petitions. — Mr. Adams Their Champion. — An Unpopular Posi
tion. — He Defies every Menace. — His Bold and Intrepid Conduct. — The North and South at Variance.
Monster Petitions Pour In . — A Memorial from Slaves. — Wild Tumult in the House. — Cries of " Expel
the Old Scoundrel!" — Proposal to Censure and Disgrace Him. — Mr. Adams Unmoved Amidst the
Tempest. — Eloquence and Indomitableness — A Petition to Dissolve the Union. — Increased Exasper
ation. — Violent and Denunciatory Debate. — Sublime Bearing of Mr. Adams. — Vindicated and Vic
torious at Last. — What He Lived to See. — Honor from His Opponents.

" Though aged, he was so iron of limb,
Noneor the youth could cope with him:
And the foes whom he singly kept at bay,
Outnumbered his haire of white and gray."

NEEABLE in years, and laden with political
honors — such as a king might be proud of, John
Quincy Adams took his seat as a member of the
house of representatives at Washington, in 1831.
It was about this time, that the anti-slavery socie
ties of the North began to petition congress for the
abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia, the
inhibition of the inter-state slave-trade, and kin
dred measures. Though comparatively few at the
outset, the petitioners for these objects increased
greatly in numbers during the next four or five
years, until they reached, in one congress, three-
fourths of a million. But not all of these petition
ers were 'abolitionists,' in the then commonly
accepted meaning of that term. In the defense of
the untrammeled right of petition, as also that of
the freedom of speech and of the press, it became
evident to considerate men, of all parties, that not alone was the right to discuss and
petition in regard to slavery involved, but that vital constitutional principles were at
stake, and that these must be defended, irrespective of the merits of the particular sub
ject over which the battle was waged. It was upon this broad ground that Mr. Adams,

MONSTER PETITION TO CONGRESS.

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

363

'the old man eloquent,' as he was famil
iarly called, became at once the champion
of freedom of debate and the right of peti
tion in the national legislature, making
not America only, but the civilized world,
resound with the clash of the conflict. Of
the long and eventful life of this extraor
dinary man, the chapter covering the
events here recorded may perhaps be
regarded as the most striking and brilliant.
The exalted positions he had held, almost
from the very foundation of the govern
ment, his multifarious learning, his world
wide renown, lent luster to the cause ;
while his exhaustless resources, his skill in
debate, his dauntless courage and indomit
able will, were a tower of strength to its
friends, and, as the sequel will show, a
source of mortification and discomfit
ure to its foes. No threats and no tu
mults could for a moment cause him to
quail or waver in his heroic determina
tion. On the twelfth of December, 1831, Mr.
Adams, then at the very outset of his con
gressional career, presented fifteen peti
tions, all numerously signed, from inhabi
tants of Pennsylvania, praying for the
abolition of slavery and the slave-trade in
the District of Columbia. In presenting
these petitions, Mr. Adams remarked, that
although ,the petitioners were not his
immediate constituents, he inferred, from a
letter which accompanied the petitions,
that they came frdm members of the Soci
ety of Friends, or Quakers, — a body of
men, he declared, than whom there was no
more respectable and worthy class of citi
zens in the whole country. At the same
time, while he considered that the petitions
for the abolition of the slave-trade in the
District related to a proper subject for the
legislation of Congress, he did not approve
of those which prayed for the congressional
abolition of slavery there.
Similar petitions were constantly for
warded from different parts of the land,
during successive terms of congress, for
Mr. Adams to present, the parties well
knowing that they could rely upon his
scrupulous fidelity to them in the high:

places of power, and that, against all men
aces or blandishments, he would intrepidly
advocate that most sacred privilege of free
men — the right of petition.
Becoming alarmed at these demonstra
tions, the southern members of congress
determined to arrest them, and, on the
eighth of February, 1836, a committee of
the house was appointed to consider what
disposition should be made of petitions and
memorials of this nature. The report of
this committee consisted, in substance, of
three resolutions, as follows : First, that
congress could not constitutionally inter
fere with slavery in any of the states;
second, that it ought not to interfere with
slavery in the District of Columbia ; third,
that all petitions, propositions, or papers of
any kind, relating to the subject, should,
if brought before congress, be laid upon
the table, without liberty of debate, and
receive no further action. This report
ivas the casting of the die. Well was it
called the "GagEule."
When the first of these resolutions was
taken up, Mr. Adams said, if the house
would allow him five minutes' time, he
would prove the resolution to be untrue.
His request was denied. On the third
declaration, Mr. Adams refused to vote,
and sent to the speaker's chair the follow
ing protest, demanding that it should be
placed on the journal of the house, there
to stand to the latest posterity :
" I hold the resolution to be a di-reet vio
lation of the constitution of the United
States, of the rules of this house, and of
the rights of my constituents."
Notwithstanding the rule embodied in
this resolution virtually trampled tlie right
of petition into the dust, yet it was adopted
by the house, by a large majority. But
Mr. Adams was not to be baffled by this
arbitrary restriction. Petitions on the
subject of slavery continued to be trans
mitted to him in increased numbers, some
of them of monster size, bearing thousands
of signatures. With unwavering firmness
— against a bitter and unscrupulous oppo
sition, exasperated to the highest pitch by
his unconquerable pertinacity — amidst a

364

OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

perfect tempest of vituperation and abuse
— he persevered, unvanquished, in present
ing these petitions, one by one, to the
amount sometimes of two hundred in a
day, and demanding the attention of the
house on each separate petition. His
position in these scenes, — advocating,
amidst scorn and derision) and threats of
expulsion and assassination, the inalienable

right of petition for the poorest and hum
blest in the land, — was in the highest
degree illustrious and sublime ; a spectacle
unwitnessed before in the halls of legisla
tion. On the sixth of January, 1837, Mr.
Adams presented the petition of one hun
dred and fifty women, whom he stated to
be the wives and daughters of his immedi
ate constituents, praying for the abolition
of slavery in the District of Columbia;
and he moved that the petition be read.
Objection was made, whereupon Mr.
Adams remarked that, understanding that
it was not the petition itself which was
laid upon the table, but the motion to
receive, he gave notice that he should call
up that motion, for decision, every day, so
long as freedom of speech was allowed to
him as a member of the house. Being
called to order at this stage of proceedings,
Mr. Adams said he would then have the
honor of presenting to the house the peti
tion of two hundred and twenty-eight
women, the wives and daughters of his

immediate constituents ; and, as a part of
the speech which he intended to make he
would take the liberty of reading the peti
tion, which was not long, and would not
consume much time. Objection being
made to the reception of the petition, Mr.
Adams at once proceeded to read, that the
petitioners, inhabitants of South Wey
mouth, in the state of Massachusetts,
" impressed with the sinfulness of slavery,
and keenly aggrieved by its existence in
a part of our country over which con
gress  "
Here Mr. Pinckney, of South Carolina,
rose to a question of order, and, after a
brisk colloquy in the house, the speaker
ruled that Mr. Adams must confine him
self to stating the contents of the petition.
Mr. Adams. — I am doing so, sir.
The Speaker. — Not in the opinion of
the chair.
Mr. Adams. — I was at this point of the
petition : "Keenly aggrieved by its exist?
ence in a part of our country over which
congress possesses exclusive jurisdiction
in all cases whatsoever — — "
Loud cries of "Order," "Order!"
Mr. Adams. — " Do most earnestly peti
tion your honorable body  "
Mr. Chambers, of Kentucky, rose to a
point of order.
Mr. Adams. — "Immediately to abolish
slavery in the District of Columbia,  "
Mr. Chambers reiterated his call to
order, and the Speaker directed Mr.
Adams to take his seat.
Mr. Adams proceeded, however, with
great rapidity of enunciation, and in a
very loud tone of voice — "And to declare
every human being free who sets foot upon
its soil ! "
The confusion in the hall at this time
was very great. The speaker decided that
it was not in order for a member to read a
petition, whether it was long or short.
Mr. Adams appealed from any decision
which went to establish the principle that
a member of the United States house of
representatives should not have the power
to read what he chose. He had never
before heard of such a thing. If the hith-

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

365

erto invariable practice was to be reversed,
let the decision stand upon record, and let
it appear how entirely the freedom of
speech was suppressed in this house. If
the reading of a paper was to be suppressed
in his person, so help him God, he would
only consent to it as a matter of record.
Saying this, he instantly resumed and
finished the reading of the petition, that
the petitioners
"  respectfully announce their inten
tion to present the same petition yearly
before this honorable body, that it might
at least be a memorial in the holy cause of
human freedom, that they had done what
they could."
These words were read by Mr. Adams,
at the top of his voice, amidst tumultuous
cries of "order" from every part of the
house. The petition was finally received,
and laid upon the table.
One month after this, namely, on the
seventh of February, after Mr. Adams had
offered some two hundred or more aboli
tion petitions, he came to a halt, and, with
out yielding the floor, employed himself in
packing up or arranging his budget of
documents. He was about resuming his
seat, when, suddenly glancing at a paper
on his desk, he took it up, and exclaimed,
in a shrill tone —
" Mr. Speaker, I have in my possession,
a petition of a somewhat extraordinary
character; and I wish to inquire of the
chair if it be in order to present it."
The Speaker replied, that if the gentle
man from Massachusetts would state the
character of the petition, the chair would
probably be able to decide on the subject.
"Sir," ejaculated Mr. Adams, "the
petition is signed by eleven slaves of the
town of Fredericksburg, in the county of
Culpepper, in the state of Virginia. It is
one of those petitions which, it has oc
curred to my. mind, are not what they
purport to be. It is signed partly by per
sons who cannot write, by making their
marks, and partly by persons whose hand
writing would manifest that they have
received the education of slaves. The
petition declares itself to be from slaves,

and I am requested to present it. I will
send it to the chair."
The speaker, Mr. Polk, who habitually
extended to Mr. Adams every courtesy
and kindness imaginable, was taken by
surprise, and found himself involved in a
dilemma. Giving his chair one of those
hitches which ever denoted his excitement,
he said that a petition from slaves was a
novelty, and involved a question that he
did not feel called on to decide. He
would like to take time to consider it ; and,
in the meantime, would refer it to the
house. The house was very thin at the
time, and but little attention was paid to
what was going on, till the excitement of
the speaker attracted the attention of Mr.
Dixon H. Lewis, of Alabama, who impa
tiently, and under great excitement, rose
and inquired what the petition was. The
speaker furnished the required informa
tion ; whereupon Mr. Lewis, forgetting all
discretion, whilst he frothed at the mouth,
turned towards Mr. Adams, and exclaimed,
in thunder-tones —
" By  , sir, this is not to be endured
any longer ! "
" Treason ! treason ! Expel the old scoun
drel ; put him out ; do not let him disgrace
the house any longer," screamed a half
dozen other members.
" Get up a resolution to meet the case,"
exclaimed a member from North Carolina.
Mr. George C. Dromgoole, who had ac
quired quite a reputation as a parliamen
tarian, was selected as the very man who,
of all others, was most capable of drawing
up a resolution that would meet and cover
the emergency. He produced a resolution
and preamble, in which it was stated, sub
stantially, that, whereas the Hon. John
Quincy Adams, a representative from Mas
sachusetts, had presented to the house a
petition signed by negro slaves, thus
" giving color to an idea " that bondmen
were capable of exercising the right of
petition, it was " Eesolved, That lie be
taken to the bar of the house, and be cen
sured by the speaker thereof."
A still more stringent resolution was
introduced by Hon. Waddy Thompson,

366

OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

namely, that Mr. Adams, "having been
guilty of gross disrespect to the house, be
instantly brought to the bar, to receive
the severe censure of the speaker." Sev
eral other resolutions and propositions,
from members of slave-holding states, were
submitted, but none proved satisfactory
even to themselves. The idea of bringing
the venerable ex-president to the bar, like
a culprit, to receive a reprimand from a
comparatively youthful speaker, was equal
ly disgraceful and absurd. Mr. Adams,
however, entirely unmoved by the tempest
which raged around him, defended him
self, and the integrity of his purpose, with
his accustomed ability and eloquence.
"In regard to the resolutions now
before the house," said he, "as they all
concur in naming me, and in charging me
with high crimes and misdemeanors, and
in calling me to the bar of the house to
answer for my crimes, I have thought it
was my duty to remain silent, until it
should be the pleasure of the house to act
either on one or the other of these resolu
tions. I suppose that if I shall be brought
to the bar of the house, I shall not be
struck mute by the previous question,
before I have an opportunity to say a word
or two in my own defense."
"Now, as to the fact what the petition
was for," said Mr. Adams, in another por
tion of his speech, "I simply state to the
gentleman from Alabama, who has sent to
the table a resolution assuming that this
petition was for the abolition of slavery —
I state to him that he is mistaken. He
must amend his resolution; for if the
house should choose to read this petition,
I can state to them they would find it
something very much the reverse of that
which the resolution states it to be. And
if the gentleman from Alabama still
chooses to bring me to the bar of the
house, he must amend his resolution in a
very important particular; for he may
probably have to put into it, that my crime
has been for attempting to introduce the
petition of slaves that slavery should not
be abolished."
Eeiterating the principle, that the right

of petition belongs to all, Mr. Adams said
that he felt it a sacred duty to present any
petition, couched in respectful language
from any citizen of the United States, be
its object what it might, — be the prayer of
it that in which he could concur, or that to
which he was utterly opposed; no law
could be found, even in the most abject
despotism, which deprives even the mean
est or most degraded, of the right to sup
plicate for a boon, or to pray for mercy;
there is no absolute monarch on earth, who
is not compelled to receive the petitions of
his people, whosoever they may be, — not
even the sultan of Turkey can walk the
streets and refuse to receive petitions from
the lowest and vilest of the land.
When southern members saw that, in
their haste, they had not tarried to ascer
tain the nature of the petition, and that it
prayed for the perpetuation, instead of the
abolition of slavery, their position became
so ludicrous, that their exasperation was
greatly increased. At the time the
petition was announced by Mr. Adams,
the house was very thin ; but the excite
ment that was produced soon filled it;
and, besides, the sergeant-at-arms had been
instructed to arrest and bring in all absen
tees. The excitement commenced at about
one o'clock, and continued until seven
o'clock in the evening, when the house
adjourned. Mr. Adams stood at his desk,
resolutely refusing to be seated till the
matter was disposed of, alleging that if
he were guilty, he was not entitled to a
seat among high and honorable men.
When Mr. Dromgoole's resolution was
read to the house, for its consideration,
Mr. Adams yielded to it one of those sar
castic sneers which he was in the habit of
giving, when provoked to satire; and said
—"Mr. Speaker, if I understand the reso
lution of the honorable gentleman from
Virginia, it charges me with being guilty
of ' giving color to an idea ! ' " The whole ;
house broke forth in one common, irrepres
sible peal of laughter, at this capital double
entendre; and the Dromgoole resolution ;(
was actually laughed out of existence. j
The house now found that it had got itself ;:

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

367

in a dilemma — that Mr. Adams was too
much for it ; and, at last, adjourned, leav
ing the affair in the position in which
they found it.
For several days this subject continued
to agitate the house — and the nation. Mr.
Adams not only warded off the virulent
attacks made upon him, but carried the
war so effectually into the camp of his ene
mies, that, becoming heartily tired of the
contest, they repeatedly endeavored to get
rid of the whole subject by laying it on
the table. To this Mr. Adams objected.
He insisted that it should be thoroughly
canvassed. Immense excitement contin
ued, and call after call of the house was
made. At length, the subject was brought
to a termination by the passage of a pre
amble and resolution — much softened
down, in comparison with what was at first
proposed — declaring that the paper cannot
be received, and that slaves have no right
to petition.
The slave petition in question is believed
to have been a counterfeit, manufactured
by certain members of congress from
slave-holding states, and was sent to Mr.
Adams by way of experiment — with the
double design of ascertaining if he could
be imposed upon; and, if the deception
succeeded, those who got it up were curi
ous to know if the venerable statesman
would redeem his pledge, and present a
petition, no matter who it came from. He
was too wily not to detect the plot at the
outset; he knew that all was a hoax; but
he resolved to present the paper, and then
turn the tables upon its authors.
His success in thus defeating his oppo
nents on their mad intention of censure,
was one of the most signal instances of
personal and parliamentary triumph. In
vain did they threaten assassination,
indictment before the grand jury, and
other proceedings, to seal his iips in
silence. In vain, too, did they declare
that he should "be made amenable to
another tribunal (mob law), and, as an
incendiary, be brought to condign punish
ment." "My life on it," said a southern
member, "if he presents that petition from

slaves, we shall yet see him within the
walls of the penitentiary." Firm stood
the white-haired sage of more than seventy
winters, and with withering rebukes
repelled his hot-blooded assailants. His
clarion voice rang defiantly through the
hall, as he said —
"Do the gentlemen from the south
think they can frighten me by their
threats ? If that be their object, let me
tell them, sir, they have precisely mistaken
their man. I am not to be frightened
from the discharge of a sacred duty, by
their indignation, by their violence, nor,
sir, by all the grand juries in the universe.
I have done only my duty ; and I shall do
it again, under the same circumstances,
even though they recur to-morrow."
On the twenty-fourth of January, 1842,
Mr. Adams presented the petition of forty-
five citizens of Haverhill, Massachusetts,
praying that congress would immediately
take measures peaceably to dissolve the
Union of the States : First, because no
union can be agreeable which does not
present prospects of reciprocal benefits ;
second, because a vast proportion of the
resources of one section of the Union is
annually drained to sustain the views and
course of another section, without any
adequate return ; third, because, judging
from the history of past nations, such a
union, if persisted in, in the present course
of things, would certainly overwhelm the
whole nation in utter destruction.
Mr. Adams moved that the petition be
referred to a select committee, with in
structions to report an answer showing the
reasons why the prayer of it ought not to
be granted.
Immediate and wild excitement fol
lowed the presentation of this petition.
Mr. Hopkins, of Virginia, moved to burn
it in presence of the house. Mr. Wise, of
the same state, asked the speaker if it was
in order to move to censure any member
for presenting such a petition. Mr.
Gilmer, also of Virginia, moved a resolu
tion, that Mr. Adams, for presenting such
a petition, had justly incurred the censure
of the house. Mr. Adams said he hoped

368

OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS DEFENDING THE RIGHT OF PETITION IK CONGRESS.

that the resolution would be received and
discussed. Angry debate continued, until
the house adjourned.
The next day, the whole body of south
ern members came into the house, appar
ently resolved to crush Mr. Adams and his
cause — the right of petition — forever.
They gathered in groups, conversed in
whispers, and the whole aspect of their
conduct at twelve o'clock indicated the
approach of some high-handed proceeding.
Thomas F. Marshall, of Kentucky, who
had been selected as spokesman for the
occasion, rose, and, having asked and
received of Mr. Gilmer leave to offer a
substitute for his resolution of censure
which was pending at the adjournment,
presented three resolutions, which had
been prepared at a caucus, the night
before, and which declared that the peti
tion in question involved a proposition to
the house to commit perjury and high
treason, and that Mr. Adams, for offering
it, receive the severest censure of that
body. Assuming a manner and tone as if be

felt the historical importance of his posi
tion, he spoke with great coolness and
solemnity, — a style wholly unusual with
him ; exhibited, too, a magisterial air, and
judicial consequence, as if he thought that
he was about to pour down the thunder of
condemnation on the venerable object of
his attack, as a judge pronouncing sentence
on a convicted culprit, in the sight of
approving men and angels. The vast
audience before whom he spoke were not
to be left in any doubt of his eminent
capacity to act the part he had assumed,
of prosecutor, judge, and executioner.
When Mr. Marshall concluded, the
chair announced to Mr. Adams that his
position entitled him to the floor ; bringing
up to the imagination a parallel scene—
•' Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Thou art
permitted to speak for thyself.'
Up rose, then, that bald, gray old man,
his hands trembling with constitutional
infirmity and age, upon whose consecrated
head the vials of partisan wrath had been
outpoured. Among the crowd of slave
holders who filled the galleries he could

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

369

seek no friends, and but a few among those
immediately around him. Unexcited, he
raised his voice, high-keyed, as was usual
with him, but clear, untremulous, and
firm. In a moment his infirmities disap-,
peared, although his shaking hand could
not but be noticed ; trembling not with
fear, but with age. At first there was
nothing of indignation in his tone, manner,
or words. Surprise and cold contempt
were all. The thread of his great discourse
was mainly his present and past relations
to Virginia and Virginians. After grate
fully acknowledging his infinite obligations
to the great Virginians of the first age of
the federal republic, he modestly and
unpretendingly recounted the unsought,
exalted honors, heaped upon him by Wash
ington, Madison, and Monroe, and detailed
with touching simplicity and force some of
his leading actions in the discharge of
these weighty trusts. In pursuing his
remarks, he chanced to fix his eye upon
Marshall, who was moving down one of
the side-aisles. Instantly, at the sugges
tion of the moment, he burst forth in a
touching appeal to the hallowed memory
of Marshall, the venerated and immaculate
Virginian, through a long career of judi
cial honor and usefulness. With a flash
of withering scorn, Mr. Adams struck at
the unhappy Marshall of another day. A
single breath blew all his mock-judicial
array into air and smoke. In a tone of
insulted majesty and reinvigorated spirit,
Mr. Adams then said,'in reply to the auda
cious charge of high treason,
"I call for the reading of the first para
graph of the Declaration of Independence.
Read it! read it! and see what that says
of the right of a people to .-eform, to
change, to dissolve their government."
The look, the tone, the gesture, of the
insulted patriot, at that instant, were most
imposing. He seemed to have renewed his
youth hke the eagles, and his voice was

that of

sovereign command. The burthen

of seventy-five winters rolled off, and he
rose above the puny things around him.
When the passage of the Declaration was
read which solemnly proclaims the right

of reform, revolution, and resistance to
oppression, the grand old man thundered
out —
" Read that again ! "
Looking proudly around on the listen
ing audience, he heard his triumphant
vindication sounded forth in the glorious
sentences of the nation's Magna Charta,
written by Mr. Jefferson, a Virginian.
The sympathetic revulsion of feeling was
intense, though voiceless ; every drop of
free, honest blood in that vast assemblage
bounded with high impulse, every fiber
thrilled with excitement. The members
of the house were all gathered around him,
even his persecutors paying involuntary
tribute to the ' old man eloquent.' Lord
Morpeth was an attentive spectator and
auditor ; and so were governors, senators,
judges, and other high officials, innumera
ble. A strong exhibition of the facts in
the case, mostly in cold, calm, logical,
measured sentences, concluded Mr. Adams's
effort, and he sat down, vindicated, victo
rious. Intemperate debates, with violence undi
minished, succeeded, in which all the
topics of party censure, from the adoption
of the constitution, were collected and
heaped upon Mr. Adams, by Marshall,
Wise, Gilmer, and others. No description
can do justice to the effective eloquence of
Mr. Adams in reply, — including amusing
particulars of missives he had received
from the south threatening him with
assassination; among other kindly hints,
of this sort, sent through the post-office,
being a colored lithograph portrait of him
self, with the picturesque annotation of a
rifle-ball on the forehead, and a promise
that such a remedy would "stop his
music." On the eleventh day of this debate, Mr.
Adams, in opening his defense, stated it
as his intention to go over the whole affair,
and that he should require a great deal
more time, in addition to what had already
been consumed; but he was willing to
forego it all, provided it could be done
without sacrificing his rights, the rights
of his constituents, and those of the peti-

370

OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

tioners. He then stated, that if any
gentleman would make a motion to lay the
whole subject — that of which Marshall
had been made the champion — on the
table, he would forbear to proceed with
his defense. This motion was at once
made by Mr. Botts, of Virginia, and car
ried by a vote of one hundred and six to
ninety-three. The petition from Haverhill
was then refused to be received, three-
fourths of the house voting against it.
It would appear well-nigh incredible,
that a venerable man like Mr. Adams
should be able to carry on, for eleven
days, almost single-handed, so great a con
test. That this was due, in no small
degree, to his consummate skill as a par
liamentarian, cannot be questioned. The
following memorable instance of his power
in this respect, will form a fitting close to
this chapter.
At the opening of the twenty-sixth con
gress, the clerk began to call the roll of
the members, according to custom. When
he came to New Jersey, he stated that
five seats of the members from that state
were contested, and that, not feeling him
self authorized to decide the question, he
should pass over those names, and proceed
with the call. This gave rise to a general
and violent debate on the steps to be pur
sued under such circumstances. Innumer
able questions were raised, and proposi
tions made, but the house could not agree
upon the mode of proceeding, and, from
the second to the fifth day, the house
remained in a perfectly disorganized state,
and in inextricable confusion, the clerk
acting as the tool of his party. But the
hour of disenthrallment was at hand; a
scene was to be presented which would
send the mind back to those days when
Cromwell exclaimed, " Sir Harry Vane !
woe unto you, Sir Harry Vane ! "—and in
an instant dispersed the famous rump par
liament. Mr. Adams, from the opening of this
scene of confusion and anarchy, had main
tained a profound silence. He appeared
to be engaged most of the time in writing.
To a common observer he seemed to be

reckless of everything around him. But
nothing, not the slightest incident, escaped
him. The fourth day of the struggle had
«ow commenced. Mr. Hugh A. Garland
the clerk, was directed to call the roll
again. He commenced with Maine, as
usual in those days, and was proceeding
towards Massachusetts. Mr. Adams was
now observed to be holding himself in
readiness to get the floor at the earliest
moment possible. His eye was riveted
on the clerk, his hands clasped the front
edge of his desk, where he always placed
them to assist him in rising. He looked
in the language of Otway, like a ' fowler
eager for his prey.'
" New Jersey ! " ejaculated Mr. Hugh
Garland, "and the clerk has to repeat
that  "
Mr. Adams sprang to the floor !
" I rise to interrupt the clerk," was his
first ejaculation.
" Silence, silence ! " resounded through
the hall. "Hear him, hear him! Hear
what he has to say ! Hear John Quincy
Adams ! " was vociferated on all sides.
In an instant, such profound silence
reigned throughout the vast chamber, that
the fall of a leaf of paper might have been
heard in any part of it; and every eye was
riveted on the venerable Nestor of Massa
chusetts, — one of the purest of statesmen
and noblest of men ! He paused for a
moment, and, having given Mr. Garland
a withering look, he proceeded to address
the dense throng.
"It was not my intention," said he, "to
take any part in these extraordinary pro
ceedings. I had hoped that this house
would succeed in organizing itself; that a
speaker and clerk would be elected, and
that the ordinary business of legislation
would have been progressed in. This is
not the time, or place, to discuss the
merits of the conflicting claimants for
seats from New Jersey; that subject
belongs to the house of representatives,
which, by the constitution, is made the
ultimate arbiter of the qualifications of its
members. But what a spectacle we hce

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

371

present! We degrade and disgrace our
selves ; we degrade and disgrace our con
stituents and our country. We do not,
and cannot organize ; and why ? Because
the clerk of this house, the mere clerk,
whom we create, whom we employ, and
whose existence depends upon our will,
usurps the throne, and sets us, the repre
sentatives, the vicegerents of the whole
American people, at defiance, and holds us
in contempt ! And what is this clerk of
yours ? Is he to control the destinies of
sixteen millions of freemen ? Is he to
suspend, by his mere negative, the func
tions of government, and put an end to
this congress ? He refuses to call the
roll ! It is in your power to compel him
to call it, if he will not do it voluntarily."
Here he was interrupted by a member,
who said that he was authorized to say
that compulsion could not reach the clerk,
who had avowed that he would resign,
rather than call the state of New Jersey.
"Well, sir," continued Mr. Adams,
"then let him resign, and we may possibly
discover some way by which we can get
along, without the aid of his all-powerful
talent, learning, and genius. If we cannot
organize in any other way — if this clerk
of yours will not consent to our discharg
ing the trusts confided to us by our con
stituents, then let us imitate the example
of the Virginia House of Burgesses, which,
when the colonial governor, Dinwiddie,
ordered it to disperse, refused to obey the
imperious and insulting mandate, and, like
men  -"
The multitude could not contain or
repress their enthusiasm any longer, but
saluted the eloquent and indignant speaker,
and intercepted him with loud and deaf
ening cheers, which seemed to shake the
capitol to its center. The very Genii of
applause and enthusiasm seemed to float
in the atmosphere of the hall, and every
heart expanded with indescribable pride
and exultation. The turmoil, the dark
ness, the very chaos of anarchy, which had
for successive days, pervaded the American
congress, was dispelled by the magic, the
tahsmanic eloquence of a single man ; and,

once more, the wheels of government and
of legislation were put in motion.
Having, by this powerful appeal, brought
the yet unorganized assembly to a percep
tion of its real position, he submitted a
motion requiring the acting clerk to pro
ceed in calling the roll. This and similar
.motions had already been made by other
members. The difficulty, indeed, was just
this, that the clerk declined to entertain
them. Accordingly, Mr. Adams was
immediately interrupted by a burst of
voices demanding, " How shall the ques
tion be put ? " " Who will put the ques
tion ? " The voice of Mr. Adams was
heard above all the tumult, " I intend to
put the question myself! " That word
brought order out of chaos. There was
the master mind.
As soon as the multitude had recovered
itself, and the excitement of long and loud
resounding plaudits had abated, Mr.
Bic-hard Barnwell Ehett, of South Caro
lina, leaped upon one of the desks, waved
his hand, and exclaimed:
"I move that the Honorable John
Quincy Adams take the chair of the
speaker of this house, and officiate as pre
siding ofiicer, till the house be organized
by the election of its constitutional officers !
As many as are agreed to this will say ay ;
those  "
He had not an opportunity to complete
the sentence, "those who are not agreed
will say no," — for one universal, deafen
ing, tremendous ay, responded to the
nomination. Hereupon, it was moved and ordered
that Hons. Lewis Williams, of North
Carolina, and Eichard Barnwell Ehett,
conduct John Quincy Adams to the chair.
And well did Mr. Wise, of Virginia, say
to him :
" Sir, I regard it as the proudest hour
of your life ; and if, when you shall be
gathered to your fathers, I were asked to
select the words which, in my judgment,
are best calculated to give at once the
character of the man, I would inscribe
upon your tomb this sentence : / intend
to put the question myself."

372

OUE FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

The brave old man lived not only to
see the odious " gag rule " rescinded, but to
listen to that magnificent speech from one
of his colleagues, Dr. Palfrey, on the
" inalienable rights of man," at the con
clusion of which, Mr. Adams characteris
tically exclaimed, "God be praised; the
seals are broken ; the door is open ! "
Dying in his country's capitol, in the
midst of his public duties, in February,
1848, his illustrious career shone brightly
to the end. As secretary of state under
Mr. Monroe, and subsequently as presi

dent, his cabinet and other political asso
ciates consisted of such eminent statesmen
as Crawford, Shelby, Crowninshield,
Thompson, Southard, Meigs, McLean
Rush, Wirt, Barbour, Porter, Van Benssel-
aer ; nor was his political ability hardly less
appreciated by those master leaders in the
ranks of his opponents. A whole nation
deplored the loss and united in rendering
homage to the memory of the fearless
" champion of the right of petition." His
successor in congress was Hon. Horace
Mann, a kindred spirit.

XLI.
PASSAGE OF BENTON'S FAMOUS "EXPUNGING RESO
LUTION," IN THE U. S. SENATE, AFTER A THREE
YEARS PARLIAMENTARY STRUGGLE.— 1837.

Vindication of President Jackson Against the Condemnatory Sentence Passed by that Body in 1834,
for his Removal of tlie Government Deposits. — Strong Black Lines are Drawn Around Said Sen
tence, by the Secretary, in tlie Presence ofthe Senate and of a Vast and Tumultuous Crowd, at Mid
night. — Opposition to the United States Bank. — Jackson's Message Against It. — Public Opinion
Divided — Congress Grants a Charter. — Presidential Veto of this Bill — Jackson Denounces the
Bank. — Declares it to be Corrupt — Orders the United States Funds Removed. — Secretary Duane
Declines to Act. — Taney Succeeds Him and Obeys. — Fierce Conflict in Congress. — Weeks of Stormy
Debate. — Proposed Censure of Jackson. — Resolution to this Effect Passed. — Benton's Motion to
Expunge.— He Follows it up Unceasingly. — His Consummate Tact. — Approach of the Decisive
Hoer. — Excited Crowds Pour In. — Triumph of the Master Spirit. — Execution of the Kesolve. —
Strange and Impressive Scene.

" Nn pnwr on earth— ao help me God I— shall control the key to the Nation's funds, but the United States Government itself— Presi
dent JAI-E30N.

0 remark concerning the celebrated parlia
mentary feat accomplished in the passage
of the "Expunging Besolution," by the
United States Senate, could more appro
priately describe the chief actor in that
proceeding, than the pregnant sentence
written by Senator Benton's biographer,
namely, that as an exhibition of many
especial traits of that senator's character —
persistency, keen and sagacious insight,
stubborn devotion to the fame of his party
chief, unquailing courage, and confidence of
success against any and all odds, — no act of his life was more striking. As is very
well known, the mover in this exciting measure, Senator Benton, naturally made him
self peculiarly obnoxious to his political opponents, but he finally achieved success,
and gained a great personal triumph. The motion was, to strike from the journals of
the senate a resolution of censure passed upon General Jackson, March twenty-eighth,
1834, during the second term of his presidency, and the passion of partisans clothed
the contest with a violence which shook the whole country.
The history of this remarkable and deeply interesting affair runs as follows : In hi?
message to congress, President Jackson expressed an opinion against renewing the

SAFE PLACE FOR THE KEY TO THE PUBLIC FUNDS.

374

OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

charter of the United States bank, which
would expire in 1836. The bank had not
yet formally applied for such renewal, but,
being thus pressed upon the attention of
congress, it was referred to the committee
on finance in both houses for examina
tion ; and on the thirtieth of April, 1830,
Mr. McDuffie, of the house, made a report
on the subject, taking ground directly at
variance with the views of the president,
arguing that Washington sanctioned and
signed its original charter, that it had
fulfilled the ends for which it was estab
lished, and that expediency and a regard
for the public interest would dictate its
continuance. The report in the senate
concurred with these sentiments. Such
was the effect produced by these reports,
that the shares of the bank, which, under
the effect of the message, had greatly
fallen in value, soon reached the very
highest figure.
As early as 1832, a memorial was pre
sented to congress by the president and
directors of the bank for a renewal of its
charter. Soon after, a committee was ap
pointed to investigate the proceedings of
the bank. A majority of this committee
reported against the bank, principally
on the ground of a violation of its char
ter by illegal transactions ; a minority
report, however, declared that the affairs
of the bank had been administered by Mr.
Biddle and the directors, with very great
ability, and with perfect fidelity to every
obligation ; and that, being an institution
indispensable to the preservation of a
sound currency, and to the financial opera
tions of the government, its downfall
would be a great national calamity.
On the tenth of June, the senate passed
a bill, by eight majority, favoring the
bank, and, shortly after, the house con
curred by a majority of twenty-two. This
bill was vetoed by the president, who de
clared it unauthorized by the constitution,
subversive of the rights of the states, and
dangerous to the liberties of the people.
This veto, though not unexpected to the
country, was bitterly denounced from one
end of the Union to the other, as an act

pregnant with fearful and appalling woes.
Such, too, was the political complexion of
congress, at this period, that it was impos
sible to obtain anything like the two-thirds
vote requisite to pass a bill over the presi
dential veto.
The conflict of opinion in regard to the
bank, — an institution whose existence and
operations naturally affected, for good or
ill, every branch of industry, commerce,
agriculture, and manufactures, throughout
the country, — continued, and with in
creased intensity. All kinds of business
had, by means of the vast loans so freely
obtained from the bank, in larger or
smaller sums, by speculators, become
greatly inflated, and especially was this
the case with stocks. Jackson, viewing
the bank as, in this respect, an unhealthy
corporation, and capable, in its dispensa
tion of favors, of being a dangerous polit
ical engine, determined to cripple and
crush it, and, as an effectual measure to
this end, he planned the withdrawal from
the bank, of those funds belonging to the
governrrrent, of which the bank, according
to its charter, was the legal depository,
During the recess of congress, namely, on
the eighteenth of September, 1833, the
president read to the cabinet a document
advocating and advising a speedy removal
of the public treasure deposited with the
United States bank, — this treasure consti
tuting, as was well understood, the basis
of the bank's credit and operations.
In the document read by the president,
on this occasion, he begged the cabinet
to consider the measure as his own, and
in support of which he should require no
one of them to make a sacrifice of opinion
or principle. Its responsi bility, he assured
them, had been assumed by him, after the
most mature deliberation and reflection, as
necessary to preserve the morals of the
people, the freedom of the press, and the
purity of the elective franchise. Mr.
Duane, at this time secretary of the
treasury, disapproved of the proposed re
moval of the deposites, whereupon he was
dismissed from that position, and his place
supplied by Roger B. Taney, who at once

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

375

executed the presidential order. The
president emphatically declared : "No
power on earth — so help me God! — shall
control the key to the nation's funds,
but the United States government itself ! "
Mr. Clay's indignant, burning eloquence,
denunciatory of the acts of the executive,
knew no bounds, and he concluded by
offering resolutions of censure against the
president, which, after a most stormy de
bate, passed the senate, in a slightly altered
form, on the twenty-eighth of March, 1834,
namely: " That the president, in the late
executive proceedings in relation to the
revenue, has assumed upon himself au
thority and power not conferred by the
constitution and laws, but in derogation of
both." Against this resolution, President
Jackson sent in a long and severe protest.
To this the senate responded, by resolu
tions declaring that the protest was a
breach of the privileges of the senate, and
that it should not be entered upon the
journal. The house of representatives,
however, sustained the president, in his
opposition to the bank, and the removal
of the deposites. Memorials and peti
tions, for or against the measures of the
president, flowed in from all quarters. It
was considered as momentous an issue as
had ever agitated the land.
The president's wrath was unmeasured,
that the resolutions of censure, in sub
stance declaring him guilty of an impeach
able offense, should thus be spread upon
the legislative journal. Mr. Benton, the
most powerful friend of the president,
lost no time in giving notice of his inten
tion to move a strong measure in behalf
of the president, namely, an Expunging
Resolution against the sentence of cen
sure passed and recorded by the senate,
committing himself irrevocably to the
prosecution of the resolution, until he
should succeed in the effort, or terminate
bis political life.
In support of the president's course, and
of Mr. Benton's proposed method of vin
dication, various public proceedings were
had in different sections of the country,
and some of the state legislatures not

only voted in favor of the removal of the
record of censure, but instructed their con
gressional delegations to use tlieir influence
and votes in a similar direction.
Mr. Benton's resolutions rehearsed the
principal points involved in the past his
tory and present aspects of the contro
versy, quite at length, the closing resolu
tion being as follows : " That the said
resolve be expunged from the journal ;
and, for that purpose, that the secretary
of the senate, at such time as the senate
may appoint, shall bring the manuscript
journal of the session 1833-34 into the
senate, and, in the presence of the senate,
draw black lines round the said resolve,
and write across the face thereof, in strong
letters, the following words : ' Expunged

day of

by order of the senate, this ¦
 , in the year of our Lord  .' "
For three years, successively, did Mr.
Benton bring forward, on different oc
casions, his celebrated motion, and again
and again he suffered defeat, after the
most violent and scathing debates that
ever took place in any parliamentarj' body,
the senate at this time containing an
unusual amount of oratorical talent and
forensic power.
But the last scene — and with it victory
to the great Missourian and his presiden
tial master, — was now near at hand ; and

376

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

this scene, as described, mainly, by Mr.
Benton himself, was as follows : Saturday,
the fourteenth of January, the democratic
senators agreed to have a meeting, and to
take their final measures for passing the
expunging resolution. They knew they
had the numbers ; but they also knew
they had adversaries to grapple with to
whom might be applied the proud motto
of Louis the Fourteenth: "Not an un
equal match for numbers." They also
knew that members of the party were in
the process of separating from it, and
would require conciliating. They met in
the night at the then famous restaurant of
Boulanger, giving to the assemblage the
air of a convivial entertainment. It con
tinued till midnight, and required all the
moderation, tact and skill of the prime
movers to obtain and maintain the union
upon details, on the success of which the
fate of the measure depended. The men
of conciliation were to be the efficient men
of that night ; and all the winning re
sources of Wright, Allen of Ohio, and
Linn of Missouri, were put into requisi
tion. There were serious differences upon
the mode of expurgation, while agreed
upon the thing; and finally obliteration,
the favorite of the mover, was given up,
and the mode of expurgation adopted
which had been proposed in the resolu
tions of the general assembly of Virginia,
namely, to inclose tlie obnoxious sentence
in a square of black lines — an oblong
square : a compromise of opinions to which
the mover agreed upon condition of being
allowed to compose the epitaph — " Ex
punged by tlte order of the Senate." The
agreement which was to lead to victory
was then adopted, each one severally
pledging himself to it, that there should
should be no adjournment of the senate
after the resolution was called until it
was passed ; and that it should be called
immediately after the morning business
on the Monday ensuing. Expecting a
protracted session, extending through the
day and night, and knowing the difficulty
of keeping men steady to their work and
in good humor, 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
certain committee room near the senate
chamber by four o'clock on the afternoon
of Monday.
The motion to take up the subject was
made at the appointed time, and imme
diately a debate of long speeches, chiefly
on the other side, opened itself upon the
question. As the darkness of approaching night-
came on, and the great chandelier was lit
up, splendidly illuminating the chamber,
then crowded with the members of the
house, and the Jobbies and galleries filled
to their utmost capacity with visitors and
spectators, the scene became grand and
impressive. A few spoke on the side of
the resolution — chiefly Rives, Buchanan,
Niles — and, with an air of ease and satisfac
tion that bespoke a quiet determination,
and a consciousness of victory. The com
mittee room was resorted to in parties of
four and six at a time, always leaving
enough on watch ; and not resorted to by
one side alone. The opposition were in
vited to a full participation — an invitation
of which those who were able to maintain
their good temper readily availed them
selves ; but the greater part were not in a
humor to eat anything — especially at such
a feast. The night was wearing away ; the ex-
pungers were in full force — masters of the
chamber — happy — and visibly determined
to remain. It became evident to the
great opposition leaders, that the inevit
able hour had come ; that the ' damnable
deed' was to be done that night; and that
the dignity of silence was no longer to
them a tenable position. The battle was
going against them, and they must go into
it, without being able to re-establish it.
In the beginning, they had not considered
the expunging movement a serious pro
ceeding; as it advanced, they still ex
pected it to miscarry on some point; now,

GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

377

the realjty of the thing stood before them,
confronting their presence, and refusing
to " down " at any command.
Mr. Calhoun opposed the measure, in a
speech of great severity. The day (said
he) is gone ; night approaches, and night
is suitable to the dark deed we meditate ;
there is a sort of destiny in this thing ;
the act must be performed, and it is an
act which will tell upon the political his
tory of this country forever.
Mr. Clay indulged in unmeasured de
nunciation of the whole thing.
The last speech in opposition to the
measure was made by Mr. Webster, who
employed the strongest language he could

was there. Expectation, and determina
tion to see the conclusion, were depicted
upon every countenance. It was evident
there was to be no adjournment until the
vote should be taken — until the deed was
done ; and this aspect of invincible deter
mination had its effect upon the ranks of
the opposition. They began to falter
under a useless persistence, for they alone
now did the speaking ; and while Mr.
Webster was yet reciting his protest, two
senators from the opposition side, who had
been best able to maintain their equanim
ity, came round to the mover of the
resolution, and said: 'This question has
degenerated into a trial of nerves and

FAC-SIMILE COPY OF THE EXPUNGING RESOLUTION.

command, condemnatory of an act, which,
he declared, was so unconstitutional, so
derogatory to the character of the senate,
and marked with so broad an impression of
compliance with power.
But, though thus pronounced an irregu
lar and unconstitutional proceeding, by
Mr. Wehster and the other senators with
whom he sided and voted, Mr. John
Quincy Adams, who was at the time a
member of the house, and in direct antag
onism, politically, to Mr. Benton and to the
Jackson administration, held a different
opinion. Midnight (says Mr. Benton, in con
tinuing his account,) was now approach-
mg. The dense masses which filled every
inch of room in the lobbies and the gal-
kries, remained immovable. No one
went out ; no one could get in. The floor
of the senate was crammed with privileged
Persons, and it seemed that all congress

muscles. It has become a question of
physical endurance ; and we see no use in
wearing ourselves out to keep off for a few
hours longer what has to come before we
separate. We see that you are able and
determined to carry your measure — so,
call the vote as soon as you please. We
shall say no more. Mr. Webster con
cluded. No one rose. There was a pause,
a dead silence, and an intense feeling.
Presently the silence was invaded by the
single word, "question" — the parliament
ary call for a vote — rising from the seats
of different senators. One blank in the re
solve remained to be filled — the date of its
adoption. It was done. The acting presi
dent of the senate, Mr. King, of Alabama,
then directed the roll to be called. The
yeas and nays had been previously ordered,
and proceeded to be called by the secretary
of the senate, the result showing a majority
of five on the side of the expungers.

378

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

The passage of the resolution was an
nounced from the chair. Mr. Benton rose,
and said that nothing now remained but
to execute the order of the senate, which he
moved be done forthwith. It was ordered
accordingly. The secretary thereupon pro
duced the original manuscript journal of
the senate, and opening at the page which
contained the condemnatory sentence of
March twenty-eighth, 1834, proceeded in
open senate to draw a square of broad
black lines around the sentence, and to
write across its face in strong letters
these words :
"Expunged by order of the sen
ate, this 16th day op March, 1837."
Up to this moment, the crowd in the
great circular gallery, looking down upon
the senate, though sullen and menacing in
their looks, had made no manifestation of
feeling. Things were in this state when
the secretary of the senate began to per

form the expunging process. Instantly
a storm of hisses, groans, and vociferations
arose from the left wing of the gallery
over the head of Mr. Benton. Anticipat
ing the possibility of violence, some of the
senator's friends had gone out and brought
arms into the hall. No use, however, was
made of them, the mob being intimidated
by one of the ringleaders being seized by
the sergeant-at-arms and brought to the
bar of. the senate ; and the expunging
process was performed in quiet. The
gratification of General Jackson was ex
treme. He gave a grand dinner to the
expungers and their wives; being, how
ever, too weak to sit at the table, he only
met* the company, placed the 'head ex-
punger ' in the chair, and withdrew to his
sick chamber. That expurgation (re
marks Mr. Benton,) was the crowning
glory of Jackson's civil, as New Orleans
had been of his military, life.

XLIL
MAGNIFICENT AURORA BOREALIS ENCOMPASSING
THE WHOM FIRMAMENT TO ITS FARTHEST
BOUNDS.— 1837.

A Vast Canopy of Gorgeous Crimson Flames Encircles the Earth. — Arches of Resplendent Auroral
Glories Span the Hemisphere — Innumerable Scarlet Columns of Dazzling Beauty Rise from the
Horizon to the Zenith. — The Face of Nature Everywhere Appears, to an Astonished World, as if
Dyed in Blood. — Uncommon Extent and Sublimity — Remarkable Duration and Aspects. — Intensely
Luminous Character. — Universal Outburst of Luster. — Preceded by a Fall of Snow. — First Signs of
the Phenomenon. — Exquisite Rosy Illumination — The Snow Appears Deep Red. — A Fiery Vermil
ion Tinge to Nature. — Alarm Produced by the Scene. — Great Moving Pillar of Light. — Vivid Stream
ers in All Directions. — Pure White and Brilliant Colors. — Contrast of the Glowing Tints. — Wide
Fields of Rainbow Hues. — Radiant Beauty Heaven- Wide — Superlative Pageant of Splendor. — Perfec
tion of the Stellar Form. — Millions of Wondering Observers. — Visible Nearly the Whole Night. —
Accounts from Different Points. — Europe's Share in the Display.

"  Depth, height, breadth.
Are lost in their extremes; and where to count
The thick-sown iilone* in these fields of nra,
Perhaps a seraph's computation rails."

EARS of observation, covering many cen
^ turies, and embracing all zones and lati
tudes, give no record of any display ot
auroral glories equal, in sublimity, mag
nificence, and extent, to the aurora borealis of
November fourteenth, 1837. Of the various
accounts of this phenomenon, as furnished by
observers in different parts of the land, the fol
lowing will suffice to show its marvelous beauty
sisgulak form of aukoral akch. and grandeur, — remarkable for its amplitude, its
duration, its intense luminosity, and the brilliancy of its colors. Scientific observations
of the phenomenon were made by Professors Barnard, Herrick, Twining, Joslin, Silli-
man, Gibbs, Henry, Dewey, Redfield, and others, and these were republished in all
parts of Europe, attracting universal attention.
The city of New Haven had been visited, during the day of the fourteenth, with a
moderate storm of snow, which began to subside between the hours of five and six in
the evening. The heavens continued, however, to be more or less obscured by clouds
during the entire evening ; on which account, the splendors of the aurora, as they man
ifested themselves to observers more favorably situated, were here in a great degree
concealed. The veil of snow-clouds, which, at sunset, and for some time afterward,
covered the sky, was nevertheless exceedingly thin ; and it was through this, and even

380

OCJR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

through the falling snow itself, that the
first visible indications of the presence of
an aurora were discovered. Though the
exact time at which the phenomenon com
menced could not be known, it had doubt
less been in progress for a while, before the
intensity of the light became sufficient to
penetrate the screen. The first evidence
of its existence consisted in a strong rosy
illumination of the entire arch of the
heavens. Of this appearance, Professor Olmstead,
then of New Haven, says : The snow,
which at sunset had covered the earth and
all things near it, with a mantle of the
purest white, closed, .early in the evening,
with a most curious and beautiful pageant.
About six o'clock, while the sky was yet
thick with falling snow, all things sud
denly appeared as if dyed in blood. The
entire atmosphere, the surface of the earth,
the trees, the tops of the houses, and, in
short, the whole face of nature, were
tinged with the same scarlet hue. The
alarm of fire was given, and the vigilant
firemen were seen parading the streets in
their ghostly uniform, which, assuming the
general tint, seemed in singular keeping
with the phenomenon. The light was
most intense in the north-west and north
east. At short intervals it alternately
increased and diminished in brightness,
until, at half-past six, only a slight tinge
of red remained on the sky. On account
of the light being thus transmitted through
the snowy medium and a thin veil of clouds,
the aurora borealis was diffused like the
light of an astral lamp, covered with a
red shade of ground glass. That the
stratum of clouds was very thin, was
inferred from the fact, that, before half-
past six, a few stars were discernible as
when seen through a fog; and such was
the appearance of the moon, which rose
about the same time. Within ten minutes
from the time the heavens began to assume
their fiery appearance, the whole clouded
hemisphere shone with that marvelously
brilliant light, which, reflected in rosy
tints by the snow on the ground, produced
a scene indescribably gorgeous. To some

observers, the auroral flush seemed to over
spread all parts of the sky almost simul
taneously. East of New Haven, the storm was more
protracted. At New London, the snow
was falling copiously, and continued so
unabatedly, during the whole evening.
But, notwithstanding the storm, the heav
ens seemed as if they were on fire, — a
lurid light on all sides, from the zenith to
the horizon, casting a most vulcanean hue
on the fallen snow. The light seemed the
same in every portion of the firmament,
but without any apparent cause.
In the city of New York, the display,
as witnessed from an eminence which com
manded an unobstructed view of the hori
zon in every direction, was, in the latter
part of the evening, magnificent beyond
description. At about a quarter before
six, the attention of observers was at
tracted by a most unusual appearance of
the heavens. The sky was wholly over
cast, as in New Haven, at the same hour;
though the cloud was not sufficiently
dense, absolutely to obscure all the starSj
of which quite a number were seen from
time to time, faintly glimmering through.
At the time of the first observation, the
whole heaven was suffused with a lovely
carnation, brightest, apparently, at the
commencement in the zenith, but soon
afterward rather toward the north-east.
This tint, reflected on the snow, clothed
all nature with a red-tinted garniture, of
supernal beauty. It gradually faded,
though at the end of an hour it was still
slightly perceptible. The sky then rap
idly cleared, and all traces of the aurora
passed away.
But at about half-past seven, the north
and east being still overcast, and. some
stratified clouds extending themselves
along the horizon around toward the west,
a brightness began to appear in the north
west, which, in a very short time, extended
itself upward forty-five degrees, in a col
umn of diffused light, quite broad at the
base, and tapering to a point. This col
umn moved very slowly southward, and at
length became divided into two of similar

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

381

MAGNIFICENT AURORA BOREALIS OF NOVEMBER 13 AND 14, 1837.

character. But in the meantime, in all
the north, and especially in the north-west,
numerous streamers began to make their
appearance. They became faintly red at
the height of about thirty degrees, and the
redness of the whole blended itself into one
general cloud, while the columns continued
distinct and white below. The changes
were rapid, but the red tint covered the
heavens nearly to the zenith for a long
time. The moon, emerging from the
clouds, a little before eight, detracted
from the brightness of the display. The
whole subsided, or nearly so, shortly after
eight, and observations were discontinued.
A few minutes before nine, however,
the community was summoned to witness
a new exhibition of auroral wonders, the
lustrous grandeur of which no tongue could
tell, nor pen portray. The heavens were
at this time wholly unclouded, with the
exception of a single very small and faint
cirrus high in the north-west. Innumer
able bright arches shot up from the whole
northern semi-circle of the horizon, and
from even farther south, all converging to
the zenith with great rapidity. Their
upper extremities were of the most bril

liant scarlet, while below they were ex
ceedingly white. At the formation of the
corona, the appearance of the columns
below, which were very numerous and
bright, resembled that of bright cotton of
long fiber, drawn out at full length. The
intermingled hues afforded each other a
mutual strong relief, and exhibited the
most dazzling contrasts ever beheld. The
stellar form was wonderfully perfect and
regular. Toward the west, there was a
sector of more than twenty degrees of
unmingled scarlet, superlatively beautiful.
The duration of this display was quite
remarkable. For three-quarters of an
hour after its formation, which took place
about nine o'clock, the corona continued,
with variable brightness, to maintain its
position a little to the south of the zenith.
At about half-past nine, the northern col
umns had become disconnected from it,
and had subsided very low, the heavens
being clear between. But long before this,
and, indeed, within a few minutes after
nine, the south was as completely filled
with corresponding columns as the north.
For a time, therefore, the earth was
completely overarched by a perfect canopy

382

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

of glory! The southern columns, which
seemed to proceed downward from the
corona, rested on an arch of diffused light,
extending in a great circle from east to
west, or nearly so, and being about twenty
degrees, or a little more, above the hori
zon, in the center. All below the arch
was of the strange darkness so usual at
such times in the north. The southern
columns were at no time so bright as the
northern, but they maintained their posi
tion, after these last had retired, — extend
ing still from the corona to the arch which
formed their base. The appearance was
at this time that of an aurora australis,
and this continued for more than a quarter
of an hour. Streamers, for a while, con
tinued to shoot up irregularly in the north,
but they did not again reach the zenith.
By half-past ten, all evidence of the phe
nomenon disappeared from the heavens,
and the hosts of charmed observers reluc
tantly abandoned their watch.
In the western part of New York state,
the exhibition was most superb, as seen
and. described at various points of observa
tion. In Buffalo and neighborhood, the
aurora was perceived at its first approach.
At about quarter-past five o'clock, the
heavens being clear in the north and for
fifty degrees both east and west of that
point, an unusual ruddy appearance was
noticed. This soon faded, leaving barely
a perceptible tinge ; and instantly, when
nearly all color had disappeared elsewhere,
a space of some fifteen degrees in diame
ter, immediately west of Cassiopeia and
Andromeda, and north of Pegasus, was
lighted up with red, of a particularly deep
hue. This was entirely disconnected, on
every side, from any auroral light or
appearance whatever, and, from its center,
pencils of white radiated to the periphery
on every side.
After this appearance had continued
some five minutes, the white lines disap
peared, and the whole space in question
assumed a uniform red color, which was
almost instantly thereafter extended, in
an arch of the same width, through the
zenith, and down to the horizon about

sixty degrees west of north. On the east
this light did not extend itself; and
during the whole time, the clear space
existing in the north retained its usual
color and appearance. Deep red streams
penciled with white, then began to appear
and fade in the north, but without the
tremulous motion of 'merry dancers.'
Those in the north-east maintained their
brightness longest.
At about fifteen minutes before six
o'clock, the clouds had become more dense
and dark, though still in detached masses,
particularly throughout that portion of the
heavens which had been occupied by the
red arch above mentioned, and these
isolated clouds now assumed an appearance
at once novel and striking. Those west
of the zenith, and lying within the track
of the crimson arch already described,
suddenly exhibited the most vivid red
along their entire southern borders ; while
the like clouds east of the zenith, and fol
lowing the same track, and prolonging it
quite down to the eastern horizon, assumed
the same vivid color upon their northern
borders ; no other portion, however, of
these clouds, exhibited any of the charac
teristics of auroral light. South of this
line, there was at no time any auroral
light whatever; and at the moment in
question, there was very little in any other
parts of the heavens, save on the borders
of these clouds. At nine minutes before
six, the red edgings of these clouds began
to fade, and immediately a wide space in
the north-east, that was still free from
clouds, was most brilliantly lighted up.
The color was of the same deep red, but it
did not extend down to the horizon ; and
this had scarcely continued four minutes,
when the whole region north of the zenith,
to within about eight degrees of the hori
zon, was again reddened and glowing-
while, beyond these limits, either north or
south, no vestige of the aurora was visible.
Just two minutes • before six, the moon
appeared above the horizon, and as it was
only two days past the full, its beams soon
surpassed in brightness those of the
aurora.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

383

In Hudson, Ohio, at the Western
* Eeserve College, some of the earlier dis
plays of the phenomenon were noticed by
Professor Loomis. This was some five
minutes after six, when he observed that
a small pile of light, of a reddish hue, lay
upon the horizon, in a direction a little
. north of north-west, and a similar pile in
the east of north-east. Between these
there was a low faint cloud, bounded by a
somewhat ill-defined arch, rising in its
center about ten degrees from the horizon.
Above this arch, a diffused light streamed
upward toward the zenith, in one or two
places, being somewhat more condensed,
forming beams. This light increased
rapidly in brightness ; it became of a more
decided crimson color, extended up to the
zenith, and, at the same time, light began
to shoot up from several points in the east,
and somewhat south of east. At a quarter-
past six, meantime, a pretty regular arch
was formed, extending from the above-
mentioned pile of light in the north-west.
This arch was rather irregular in its out
line, and had a slightly crimson color. In
about five minutes, another arch of white
light partially formed in the southern sky,
and had nearly the ' same direction with
the preceding ; but this arch was never
complete, and soon vanished entirely. The
great arch, however, before described,
brightened up again in very nearly the
same position as previously. About half-
past eight, light of a crimson color was
observed to shoot from the eastern horizon
toward and beyond the zenith, nearly in
the position of the former arch. The
heavens were now nearly covered with thin
cirro-cumulus clouds, and the contrast of
the ordinary clouds with this crimson
auroral light, produced a very singular
effect. The sky remained cloudy during
the night.
Strange though it may appear, this
beautiful and magnificent phenomenon
was visible during nearly the whole night
in the neighborhood of St. Louis, Mo.,
and was particularly brilliant between the
hours of twelve and one, when the moon
was near its zenith. Time in St. Louis

being rather more than one hour earlier
than in New York, this midnight display
was contemporaneous with the latest
return of the aurora in the longitude of
New York ; but this, which was the least
energetic in the latter, appears there to
have been the most remarkable.
The commencement of the phenomenon
in Philadelphia was similar to that ob
served at New York. At a later period,
the lights were again visible, and, between
nine and ten o'clock, exceeded in extent
and brilliancy, anything of the kind ever
before witnessed in that region. A broad
field of crimson flame, stretching from
nearly a western course, and reaching the
eastern hemisphere, encompassed the
heavens with a brilliant glory, of indescrib
able beauty and magnificence, hanging,
as it were, suspended from the blue vault
above, like an immense curtain over the
earth — while, from almost every point of
the compass, shot up rays of rich and gor
geous light, spreading and intermingling
with a wavy tremulous motion, and exhib
iting every hue of the clearest rainbow.
The richness, variety, and delicacy of the
colors, were surprisingly beautiful, as was
their prismatic brilliancy. The sky itself
was remarkably clear and cloudless — and
through the celestial phenomena, a full
moon and innumerable stars were, all the
while, distinctly visible.
In Maryland, according to the observa
tions made at Emmettsburg, the first indi
cation of the aurora's approach was given
as soon as it became dark, by the singular
redness of the cumulo-stratus clouds, now
entirely covering the sky. Those in the
north, south, east and west, all partook of
the redness, the reflection from them being
strong enough to give a red tinge to the
snow. The heaviest clouds retained their
dark color in the center, but they were
bordered with red. During the hour in
which this state of things existed, there
were no streamers, streaks of light, nor
merry dancers. Indeed, where the sky
could be seen between the clouds, there
were no signs of an aurora, but rather a
deep green sky. By seven, the moon

384

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

VIEW OF THE AURORA BOREALIS IN ITS EARLY STAGES.

being risen, and the clouds having van
ished, nothing remained to show that there
had been any unusual occurrence. A little
after nine, however, the sky being per
fectly clear, an aurora suddenly sprang up,
which, for magnificence, surpassed any
thing of the kind ever before witnessed in
that section. The streamers from the
east, west, and north, converged a few
degrees south of the zenith, forming a
beautiful auroral crown, red as scarlet, but
intermingled with streaks of pale light.
There were no merry dancers, but all the
other appearances usually witnessed on
such occasions were noticed. In little
more than half an hour, the grand display
was over, for the most part.
Observers at Annapolis, Md., describe
the aurora there as coming on in waves,
at about a quarter before six, and return
ing at seven, at eight, and at nine. The
first arch was formed suddenly, and became
vertical in a very few minutes, from the
first appearance of the columns at the
north-west and south-east. It was crim
son, traversed by white pencils. The
color of the light at eight o'clock was not
red, but dusky, and formed from the north

west point to the pole star, a broad column,
which kept its position for half an hour.
A succession of fine cirrus clouds floated
off from the lower parts of the column to
the south. At nine o'clock, the recurrence
of the crimson light was more in patches,
and of intense brightness, accompanied by
cirro-cumulus clouds, which were formed
suddenly over the whole sky, and were
borne swiftly to the east by the wind.
Near Alexandria, Va., the early dis
play, as seen from east south-east to
west south-west, exhibited a rich orange
red color, extending even to the zenith,
and covering all the heavens north of these
points. The return occurred toward nine
o'clock, in a brilliant and fiery form.
The appearance of the aurora in South
Carolina commenced about six o'clock, in
the shape of a bank or store-house of auro
ral vapor towards the north. When first
observed, a space of about fifteen degrees
above the horizon was strongly marked by
a pale white light, above which the crim
son hue peculiar to this phenomenon began
to be distinctly visible. At this time, the
greatest degree of brightness was to the
east of north, assuming no very definite

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

385

form, but extending about eight or ten
degrees east, and reaching in height to the
constellation of Cassiopeia's chair, the
lower portion of which was enveloped in
its reddening glow. The action then sub
sided ; but at about eight o'clock, another
bright crimson column ascended due north,
attaining an altitude some degrees greater
than that of the polar star, and maintaining
its place about half an hour. After this
had faded away, no return was observed
until half-past nine, when there was per
ceived another broad arch of crimson light,
ascending several degrees to the west of
north. In certain sections of Georgia, the phe
nomenon commenced a little after dark.
The sky a little to the north of the star
Capella, began to appear luminous, and a
luminous arch was soon formed, of about
six or eight degrees in breadth, and
extending over to the north-western hori
zon, having the pole star in its highest
point. Soon after the arch was formed,
that part of it in the north-east horizon
became much brighter, and somewhat
broader than the rest; and this luminous
portion gradually rose, and passed on in
the arch, its densest part culminating a
little below the north star. It continued
its motion to the western horizon.
An hour and a half was occupied by the
passage of the luminous part of the arch
just described. It became somewhat
fainter, after it had passed the meridian,
and it gradually was lost to sight, begin
ning first to disappear in the east, so that
not a vestige remained at nine o'clock,

three hours from its first appearance. The
color of the arch was that of light scarlet,
the most luminous part being a little
darker, and much more intense. Its form
was that of a semi-circle, having for its
base about sixty degrees of tho horizon.
It differed from the aurora in its regular
outline, as well as its regular motion from
east to west, and was witnessed with admir
ation and astonishment.
So extensive was this magnificent celes
tial phenomenon, that it exhibited its won
derful splendors, contemporaneously, to
the inhabitants of Europe and America,
though the presence of clouds greatly
interfered with the attractiveness and
grandeur of the exhibition in the former.
At half-past twelve, however, — says one of
the observers in England, — a patch of the
most intense blood-red colors ever seen,
was visible, free from the interposition of
clouds. The whole of the sky had an
awful appearance ; for the tinge of red
which pe-vaded the whole expanse,
assumed, in many points, from the depth
of colors above, and the density of the
clouds below, the dark copper tint, which
is seen on the disk of the moon during a
lunar eclipse. It was such a sight as fills
the mind with wonder and awe ; and, in
America at least, was the most marvelous
of the kind ever known ; though that of
August and September, 1859, proved but
little inferior in some respects. In north
ern Europe, this phenomenon is quite
frequent, and Mr. Bayard Taylor describes
one of rare beauty which he there wit
nessed.

25

xliii.
EXPLORING EXPEDITION TO THE SOUTH POLE, UNDER
COMMAND OF CAPTAIN CHARLES WILKES,
UNITED STATES NAVY.— 1838.

First Naval Enterprise of the Kind Ever Undertaken by the American Navy. — The Squadron Sails
Ninety Thousand Miles in Four Years. — Extent and Importance of the Investigations.— Discovery
of the Great Antarctic Continent. — Other Geographical, Nautical, and Scientific Results. — Selection
of Officers and Vessels. — A Scientific Corps Organized. — Route Prescribed : Seas and Lands.—
Enthusiastic Departure. — Arrival at Terra del Fuego. — Observations at Cape Horn. — Excursion to
the Cordilleras. — Ascent of ¦<•, Lofty Peak. — Desolation and Silence. — New Islands Discovered.—
An Observatory Established. — The Samoan Group Examined. — Descent into an Extinct Volcano.—
New South Wales Visited. — Extreme Southward Cruise. — View of the Ice-bound Continent— A
Landing Effected. — Account of this Achievement. — Experiences at Feejee. — On the Summit of
Mauna-Loa. — Homeward Bound Tracks. — Safe Arrival.

** The primary object of the Expedition ia to promote the (Treat interests of Commerce and Navigation ; yet you are to take all occasion!
not incompatible with the great purposes of the undertaking, to Extend the Bounds of Science and Promote the Acquisition of Knowledge."
—Official Instructions to the Explorers.

ULETLY raising the flag of his gallant little squadron, in the harbor
of Norfolk, Va., on the eighteenth of August, 1838, the intrepid
Wilkes, as commander of the first maritime exploring expedition ever
undertaken by the United States government, set sail on that voyage
of discovery to the far southern ocean and the mysterious south pole, which, occupying
four years, sailed ninety thousand miles, nearly two thousand of which were along the
coast of a great Antarctic Continent never before seen by civilized man, and which was
first discovered by Wilkes from the one hundred and fifty-eighth degree of east longi
tude ; — one of the numerous splendid scientific results of this grand national expedition
The enterprise received its official programme from Hon. James K. Paulding, secretary
of the navy under President Van Buren ; and, though it was at first organized under
Commodore Thomas Ap Catesby Jones, he subsequently resigned.
This expedition will always be memorable in the history of the nation, from its being
the first fitted out by the United States for scientific objects ; for, although its
primary design was the promotion of the great interests of commerce and navigation,
yet its conductors were explicitly directed to take all occasions, not incompatible with
the great purpose of their undertaking, to extend the bounds of science, and promote
the acquisition of knowledge.
Some of the specific matters to which the attention of the expedition was par
ticularly called, in the official instructions, were as follows : The hydrography and

GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

387

geography of the various seas and coun
tries visited on the prescribed route, and
all the researches connected with them, as
well as with astronomy, terrestrial mag
netism, and meteorology, were confided
exclusively to the omcers of the navy, —
the government expecting such results
from this arrangement, as would enable
future navigators to pass over the track
traversed by the expedition, without fear
and without danger.
The leading members of the scientific
corps were Mr. Hale, philologist; Mr.
Pickering, and Mr. Peale, naturalists ; Mr.
Couthuoy, conchologrst ; Mr. Dana, miner
alogist ; Mr. Eich, botanist ; Mr. Drayton,
and Mr. Agate, draughtsmen ; Mr. Brack-
enridge, horticulturist.
Much enthusiasm and anxiety naturally
prevailed, on the signal being given for
tbe squadron to sail. The vessels compos
ing the squadron, were the sloop of war
Vincennes, the flag-ship of the comman
der of the expedition ; the sloop of war
Peacock, Lieutenant William L. Hudson ;
the brig Porpoise, Lieutenant Cadwalader
Ringgold ; the store-ship Relief, Lieu
tenant A. K. Long ; and the tenders Sea-
Gull and Flying Fish. Every confidence
was reposed in Commander Wilkes, who
bad served so creditably under Commodores
McDonough and Stewart.
Keeping the direction of the Gulf
stream, the course of the expedition was
towards Madeira; having touched there,
they stood to the southward, and, on the
twenty-third of November, stood for the
magnificent harbor of Eio Janeiro. The
whole squadron then sailed by the way of
Bio Negro to Orange harbor in Terra del
Fuego. The natives of the former, with
whom the explorers came in contact, had
good figures and pleasant looking coun
tenances, low foreheads and high cheek
bones, with broad faces, the lower parts
projecting ; their hair was coarse and cut
snort on the crown, leaving a narrow bor
der of hair hanging down; over this they
wre a kind of cap or band of skin or
woolen yarn. The front teeth of all of

them

were very much worn, more appar

ent, however, in the old than in the young.
On one foot they wore a rude skin sandal.
Many of the inhabitants of Terra del
Fuego had their faces painted in red and
black stripes, with clay, soot, and ashes.
Their whole appearance, together with
their inflamed and sore eyes, was filthy
and disgusting.
The Petcherai Indians were found to go
entirely naked, with the exception of a
small piece of seal-skin, only sufficient to
cover one shoulder, and which was gen
erally worn on the side from which the
wind blew, affording them some little
shelter from its piercing influence. They
are not more than five feet high, of
a light copper color, which is much con
cealed by smut and dirt, particularly on
their faces, which they mark vertically
with charcoal. They have short faces,
narrow foreheads, high cheek-bones, small
and very black eyes, the upper eyelids in
the inner corner overlapping the under
one, strongly resembling the Chinese.
Their nose is broad and flat, with wide
spread nostrils, mouth large, teeth white
and regular. The whole face is com
pressed. It is impossible to fancy any
thing in human nature more filthy. , They
are an ill-shapen, ugly race.
On its cruise to the south, the squadron
experienced the usual reception at Cape
Horn — rough and stormy weather. In
regard to the best mode of proceeding, in
making the passage round the cape, Cap
tain Wilkes expresses his belief that as
much depends upon the vessel, and the
manner in which she is navigated, as the
route pursued, whether the cape is passed
close to, or given a wide berth — the ob
ject of all being to pass it as quickly as
possible. Arriving at Valparaiso, the explorers
established an observatory. An excursion
to the Cordilleras, by the scientific corps,
was to be expected ; but, unfortunately,
they were not provided with the requisite
instruments for ascertaining elevations.
They ascended a ridge belonging to the
main body of the Cordilleras, and at the
height of about ten thousand feet, they

388

OUE FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

reached the summit. Here tliey had an
extensive view of all the line of the snowy
peaks. That of Tupongati appeared the
most conspicuous, although at a distance
of eighty miles. Indeed, the guide him
self asserted that he could see smoke
issuing from its volcano in a faint streak,
but it was beyond the vision of the rest

of the party. The peak itself from this
view of it was quite sharp-pointed. The
scene immediately around the explorers
was one of grandeur and desolation, —
mountain after mountain, separated by
immense chasms, to the depth of thousands
of feet, and the sides broken in the most
fantastic forms imaginable. Nor could
anything be more striking or impressive
than the complete silence that reigned
everywhere ; not a living thing appeared
to their view.
From Callao the squadron passed through
the Paumotu group to Tahiti, visiting
islands not before known, the ships steer
ing for the island of Minerva, or Cler
mont de Tonnerre, one of the most eastern
of that 'Cloud of Islands,' as the name
implies. Visits were made to other islets
also, and their inhabitants, such as Wy-
toohee, Otooho, Earaka, Aratica, and the
Arutua or Rurick Islands ; but the ac

count of this archipelago is, of course
imperfect, the whole number of coral
islands being sixty-five. Eemark is made
however, that the landing on a coral island
effectually does away with all precon
ceived notions of its beauty, and any pre
vious ideas formed in its favor are imme
diately put to flight. The verdure con
sists of mere patches of wiry grass,
no fruit nor flowers, and most of the
trees are of stunted size.
Eecord is made of the discovery of
new islands — namely, King's island, so
denominated after the man at the mast
head who first discovered it ; Tai-a-ra,
situated to the northward and west
ward and nigh to Raraka, which was
not laid down on any charts ; and
Kawahe. Arriving at Tahiti, the explorers lost
no time in commencing operations. An
observatory, furnished with both as
tronomic and magnetic instruments,
j\% was at once established, and parties
sent out for the survey of the princi
pal harbors and the intervening chan
nels. A large body of officers and
naturalists were also sent across the
islands to visit Orohena, one of the
highest peaks, and Lake Waiherea.
They could not, however, reach the de
sired spot, but some days afterwards Cap
tain Hudson, with his officers, succeeded
in measuring the elevation of Aorai, the
peak which is next in height to Orohena.
This was found to be about seven thousand
feet ; Orohena appeared to be some fifteen
hundred feet higher. From tliese two
peaks, ridges descend to all parts of the
coast; they are precipitous and narrow;
their summit being often a mere edge.
Reaching the harbor of Papieti, the
commander invited the great chiefs on
board, the ship being dressed for the oc
casion, and every mark of respect being
shown them. Luncheon was prepared,
and, when the guests were all seated at
it, such a collection of corpulent persons
was rarely if ever before seen. Previous
to eating, one of the chiefs said firace.
They seemed heartily to enjoy the fo°n

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

389

and the occasion, and conducted them
selves with a propriety that surprised all
on board.
It having been determined to make a
thorough examination of the group of the
Samoan islands, Tutulia, as the most cen
tral, was .selected for the station. The
men of Tutulia are a remarkably tall, fine-
looking set, with intelligent and pleasing
countenances. In comparison with the
Tahitians, they would be called sedate.
The women are far from good-looking,
with the exception of some of the younger
ones. They are remarkably domestic and
virtuous, exhibiting a strange contrast to
those of Tahiti.
Messrs. Dana , and Couthuoy visited a
lake called Lauto, which is remarkable for
the existence of an extinct volcano, or
crater. The edge of the crater was found
to be two thousand five hundred and
seventy feet above the sea, and the de
scent thence to the water of the lake is
one hundred and twenty feet. These gen
tlemen succeeded in obtaining a line of
soundings across the lake, by cutting
down trees, and forming a raft of them.
They found the depth, in the middle, nine
and a half fathoms, decreasing thence
gradually in all directions to the shore.
The form of the lake is nearly circular,
and it has a subterranean outlet. The
hill in which this crater is situated is coni
cal, and there is a low knoll at some dis
tance to the south of it, which is the only
other elevation in the neighborhood, above
the general height of the ridge. The bor
der of the crater is clothed with the usual
forest foliage of these islands, which, how
ever, exhibits here more than usual beauty,
being decorated with finely-worked fronds
of the arborescent ferns, in widely-spread
stars, and the graceful mountain-palm
plumes. In the different jaunts across the island,
many of the 'Devil's/ or unconverted,
towns were visited. At the town of
Siusinga, the chief who entertained the
Tarty was a priest of the Gimblet religion,
anew faith, of singular origin, its founder
laving been a native of Savaii, by name

Seeovedi, who, having been taken from
that island by a whaler, received, while on
board, the nickname of Joe Gimblet.
Embracing, in course of time, the Boman
Catholic faith, and possessing withal much
shrewdness, he planned to found a sect of
his own, and pretended to work miracles.
He gained many proselytes ; and the sect,
in case of sickness, confess their sins to
one another, and have a number of fast-
days, which are rigidly kept. Tlieir Sab
bath occurs only once a month, and is cel
ebrated by the firing of guns, and the
puerile mummery in which their worship
consists. After having surveyed and explored the
Samoan group, the expedition proceeded
to New South Wales. The natives of this
country are described as a proud, high-
tempered race, each man being independ
ent of his neighbor, owning no superior,
and exacting no deference ; they have not
in their language any word signifying a
chief or superior, nor to command or serve.
Each individual is the source of his own
comforts, and the artificer of his own
household implements and weapons; and
but for the love of companionship, he
might live with his family apart and
isolated from the rest, without sacrificing
any advantages whatever. They have an
air of haughtiness and insolence arising
from this independence, and nothing will
induce them to acknowledge any human
being as their superior, or to show any
marks of respect. They also appear to
have a consciousness of independence,
which causes them, on all occasions, to
treat even the highest with equality.
Their skin is a chocolate color ; their noses
are not fiat, nor are their lips thick ; their
teeth white and even.
Leaving Sidney, the last of December,
1839, the vessels proceeded separately to
the southward, when all reached the icy
barrier, and three of them were rewarded
with a sight of the hitherto unknown
antarctic continent, — a discovery which,
was subsequently confirmed by both
French and English authorities.
According to the narrative of the expiov.

390

OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ers, it was at two o'clock on the morning
of February thirteenth, 1840, that they
made sail to the south-west, in order to
close with the barrier, which they found

icebergs of tabular form. In the afternoon,
they saw land ahead, and stood in for it.
with a light breeze until halt-past six,
when it was judged to be ten or twelve

retreated in that direction, and gave them
every prospect of getting nearer to it.
The course, for the most part, was through

miles distant. It was very distinct, and
extended from west-south-west to south-
south-east. The longitude was one bun-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

391

dred and six degrees, forty minutes, east;
latitude, sixty-five degrees, fifty-seven
minutes, south. The water was very
green ; and, though sounded to three hun
dred fathoms, no bottom was found. The
weather having an unsettled appearance,
the expedition stood off to seek a clearer
space for the night. The land left was
high, rounded, and covered with snow,
resembling that first discovered, and had
the appearance of being bound by perpen
dicular icy cliffs,
At daylight, the next morning, sail was
again made for the land, the vessels beat
ing in for it for several hours, when any
further progress was found quite impossi
ble. The day was remarkably clear, and
the land very distinct, — judged to be seven
or eight miles distant. By measurement,
the extent of the coast of the Antarctic
Continent then in sight, was made
to be seventy-five miles, and, by ap
proximate measurement, three thousand
feet high. It was entirely covered with
snow. On running in, they passed
several icebergs greatly discolored with
earth, and there being no nearer approach
to the shore possible, it was determined
to land on the largest ice-island access
ible, to make dip, intensity, and variation
observations. On coming up to the island, about a
mile and a half from where the barrier
had previously been encountered, the ship
was hove to, the boats lowered, and a land
ing fortunately effected. There were
found imbedded in the island, in places,
boulders, stones, gravel, sand, and mud or
clay. The larger specimens were of red
sandstone and basalt. No signs of strati
fication were to be seen in it, but it was
in places formed of icy conglomerate, com
posed of large pieces of rocks, as it were
frozen together, and the ice was extremely
hard and flint-like. The largest boulder
imbedded in it was about five or six feet
in diameter, but could not be reached,
oeing situated under the shelf of the ice
berg- Many specimens were obtained, the
eagerness and desire of all hands to pos-
»ess themselves of a piece of the Antarctic

Continent being very great. These pieces
were in great demand during the remainder
of the cruise.
In the center of this iceberg was found
a pond of most delicious water, over which
was a surface of ice about ten inches thick.
The pond was three feet deep, extending
over an area of an acre, and contained
sufficient water for half a dozen ships.
The temperature of the water was thirty-
one degrees. This island had, undoubt
edly, been turned partly over, and had
precisely the same appearance that the
icy barrier would have exhibited if it had
been turned bottom up and subsequently
much worn by storms. There was no
doubt, that it had been detached from the
land, which was about eight miles distant.
The icebergs found along the coast afloat
were from a quarter of a mile to five miles
in length ; their separation from the land
may be effected by severe frost rending
them asunder, after which the violent and
frequent storms may be considered a suffi
cient cause to overcome the attraction
which holds them to the parent mass. In
their next stage they exhibit the process
of decay, being found fifty or sixty miles
from the land, and for the most part with
their surfaces inclined at a considerable
angle to the horizon. This is caused by
a change in the position of the center of
gravity, arising from the abrading action
of the waves.
Proceeding to New Zealand, the expedi
tion went thence to the Feejee islands,
exploring the same very thoroughly.
Most of the harbors in the Feejee group
are described as mere indentations in the
coast outline, protected by the encircling
reefs of coral. Probably the best of them
all is that of Levuka, on the east side of
Ovolau, which is safe and easy of access
for vessels of the largest class. The town
is located in the midst of a grove of bread
fruits and cocoas, whose feathery canopies
afford a most delightful shade ; its site is
a beautiful valley, through which courses
a fine stream of fresh water, opening to
the ocean, flanked on either side by ver
dant hills, and rising by a gradual ascent

392

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

to the lofty peaks of basalt that bound the
view to the west.
The entire Feejee group comprises one
hundred and fifty-four islands, and they
are covered with a luxuriant foliage to

WILKKS'S PARTY DEALING WITH THE SAVAGES.
their very summits, giving them a singu
larly pleasing and picturesque aspect. The
climate is very fine, the soil rich, and
vegetation exceedingly rapid. The natives
are a barbarous and savage race, and to

their cruelty it was that Lieutenant Un
derwood and Midshipman Henry, two of
the most promising officers of the expedi
tion, fell mortal victims, while on shore to
obtain provisions. For these murders
prompt vengeance was inflicted by Captain
Wilkes. Captain Wilkes next visited the Ha
waiian islands, and, in the course of his
scientific operations, ascended personally
to the summit of Mauna-Loa, and there
performed the difficult and important feat
of measuring the pendulum. This moun
tain is nearly fourteen thousand feet high,
with a smooth dome, crowned by an
immense crater, upwards of two miles in
diameter. The other places visited by the expedi
tion, were the north-west coast of America,
and the Columbia and Sacramento
rivers ; they then explored portions
of California, and, leaving San
Francisco in the month of Novem
ber, 1841, went on a cruise to
Manila, Sooloo, Borneo, Singapore,
and the Cape of Good Hope, re
turning home, by way of St. He
lena, in June, 1842, after an ab
sence of about four years. The
number of sketches of the different
places visited, made by the artists
on board, was about five hundred,
together with some two hundred
portraits. Thousands of speci
mens of birds, animals, fishes, rep
tiles, insects, shells, minerals, etc.,
were also collected and brought
home. The results of the expedi
tion were, in a word, such as reflected
the highest honor upon the national
government, under whose auspices it was
organized, and upon the gallant officers
and men to whom it was intrusted.

XLIY.
BREAKING OUT OF THE TEMPERANCE REFORMA
TION.— 1840.

Origin, Rapid Spread, Influence, and Wonderful History of the Movement. — Enthusiasm Attending the
" Washingtonian" Era. — Its Pioneers Rise from the Gutter to the Rostrum, and Sway Multitudes by
their Eloquence. — Father Mathew's Visit. — His 600,000 Converts. — Career of Hawkins, Mitchell,
Gough, Dow, and Others. — First Temperance Society in the United States. — Singular Terms of
Membership. — Social Customs in Former Times. — Unrestrained Use of Spirits. — Growing Desire for
Reform. — Influential Men Enlisted. — Meetings, Societies, Agitation. — A Congressional Organization.
—Origin of " Tee-Totalism." — Deacon Giles's Distillery. — " My Mother's Gold Ring." — Rise of
" Washingtonianism." — Six Reformed Drunkards. — Cold Water Armies, Processions, etc. — Music,
Banners and Badges. — The Country All Ablaze — An " Apostle of Temperance." — Administering the
Pledge. — Conflict Concerning Measures. — Anecdotes of Washington. — General Taylor's Whiskey
Jug.— Farragut's Substitute for Grog.

" I shall not close this letter without exhorting you to refrain from spirituous liquors; they will prove ynur ruin if you do not. Consider
bow little s drunken man differs from a beast; the tatter U not endowed with reason, the former deprives himself of it."— Olvebal Wash-
uraTuN.

k ERHAPS it would be difficult to name the precise date when
active public efforts were initiated in the United States to
check the widespread evil of intemperance. It is not to
be doubted, however, that the writings of that eminent
man of science, Dr. Benjamin Rush, of Philadelphia,
especially his " Inquiry into the Effects of Ardent Spirits
upon the Human Body and Mind," issued as early as 1804,
did much to awaken an interest in the subject, on the part
of the community. But not until 1808, was there any
movement of an associated character, for public or indi
vidual abandonment of the use of intoxicating drinks.
But it sounds somewhat strangely, in these later days of
radical reform, that the initial movement referred to, and
Which was entitled " The Temperate Society of Moreau and Northumberland," (towns
ta the county of Saratoga, N. Y.) originated by Billy Clarke, should be based upon
regulations like the following :—
JNo member shall be intoxicated, under penalty of fifty cents. No member shall
rank rum, gin, whiskey, wine, or any distilled spirits, or compositions of the same, or
any of them, except by the advice of a physician, or in case of actual disease (also
excepting wine at public dinners), under penalty of twenty-five cents ; provided -that
nis article shall not infringe on any religious ordinance. No member shall offer any
0 8aid liquors to any other member, or urge any other person to drink thereof,
wider penalty of twenty-five cents for each offense."

EFFECT OF HEFOKMATION.

394

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

But the day of small beginnings, in a
humane cause, is never to be despised,
and, in a few years, the reform had
enlisted the earnest co-operation of law
yers, divines, and other eminent men, such
as Carey, Palfrey, Humphrey, Dexter,
Marsh, Edwards, Beecher, Porter, Leavitt,
Hewit, Day, and Kittredge. In 1813,
there was formed the Massachusetts Soci
ety for the Suppression of Intemperance ;
one in Connecticut, in 1829 ; and, in 1826,
the American Temperance Union. The
statistics of this period present the calcu
lation, that, out of a white population of
ten millions, between three and four mil
lions were habitual spirit-drinkers, of whom
three hundred and seventy-five thousand
drank daily on an average three gills of
ardent spirits, while an equal number con
sumed more than twice that quantity, and
of course were drunkards. Making due
allowance for the imperfectness of such
statistical data, it was admitted by all,
that the intemperate use of spirituous liq
uors, in every part of the land, had become
alarmingly prevalent.
The excellent resume of this movement,
as given by Dr. Emerson Davis, himself
one of its ablest and most efficient sup
porters, states that at this time the reform
seemed to be simultaneous through the
country. At the beginning of 1828, the
custom, hitherto so general, of treating
visitors with wine, cordials, and brandy,
began to disappear. The sideboards of
the rich and influential, which from time
immemorial had groaned under a load of
decanters, were relieved of their burdens,
and a very great change in the customs of
society began to be apparent. At the
close of 1828, the number of temperance
societies reported in the temperance jour
nals was two hundred and twenty-five.
At the close of 1829, there were more
than one thousand such societies, embrac
ing more than one hundred thousand
members, pledged to total abstinence;
fifty distilleries had stopped, four hun
dred merchants had abandoned the traffic,
and twelve hundred drunkards had been
reclaimed. On the first of May, 1831, it

appeared that more than three hundred
thousand persons had signed the pledge
and not less than fifty thousand were sup
posed to have been saved from a drunkard's
grave. Even at Washington, a congres
sional temperance society was organized
under the auspices of such men as Cass,
Grundy, Bates, Wayne, Post, Durbin, and
others ; and some of the most brilliant
public men signed the pledge.
A very common objection (adds Dr.
Davis), made by many of the poor, was,
that they could not afford to drink wine,
and, therefore, that signing the pledge
operated unequally ; it took from them
the use of all stimulants but cider and
beer, but it left to the rich the use of wine,
which was often about as strong as Cognac
brandy. In order to obviate this objec
tion, it was found necessary to introduce
a new pledge, prohibiting the use, not
only of distilled, but of fermented, liquors.
The first society that adopted this pledge
was the Eighth Ward Branch of the New
York City Temperance Society. This
was called the tee-total pledge, — a name
first given to it in England, and which
had its origin in the prolonged and inco
herent stuttering, by one who was taking
the pledge, at the first letter in the word
'total.' This tee-total pledge was intro
duced into this country in 1834, and in
a short time many societies were formed
on that principle. Many, however, who
signed the old pledge, refused to sign the
new ; and thus there was an apparent fall
ing off in the number of tbe members of
temperance organizations. Some, too, who
had delivered public addresses, and stood
foremost in the ranks of reformers, were
thrown into the background, and became
silent spectators of passing events.
Among the prominent promoters of the
cause, appear the names of Delavan, Nor
ton, Keener, Gerritt Smith, Moses Grant,
Loyd, Collins, Briggs, Walworth, Grundy,
Hunt, Stewart, and Hoar, as speakers.
Mr. L. M. Sargent contributed powerfully
to the reform, by his unrivaled temper
ance tales, including that widely circulated
and admired production, "My Mother's

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

395

Gold Ring." Pierpont inspired thousands
by his quaint and thrilling poems ; and
the letters, essays, and other writings, of
such men as Woodward, Warren, Baird,
Beman, Chapin, Kirk, Channing, and
Barnes, added greatly to the impression
upon the public mind. Among the inci
dents of this period, perhaps none created
greater interest and excitement through
out the whole land, than the assault, prose
cution, and imprisonment, of Rev. George
B. Cheever, of Salem, Mass., subsequently
of New York. About the beginning of
1835, he published in a Salem newspaper,
a dream, descriptive of " Deacon Giles's
Distillery," in which the liquors were
graphically characterized as containing
demons in an inferno. Deacon Giles was
a veritable person, and the publication
resulted in a violent assault upon Mr.
Cheever, one night, by the foreman of the
distillery, who inflicted upon the unarmed
clergyman a number of severe blows with
a raw hide, to which Mr. Cheever made no
resistance. Mr. Cheever was also prose
cuted for libel, and sentenced to thirty
days' imprisonment. He was regarded as
a martyr to the cause of temperance, and
his case helped rather than checked the
progress of the reform. He continued to
do valiant service, as before, with his pen
and voice, ranking, in this respect, with
such men as Clarke, Grimke, Fisk, Coffin,
Woods, Williams, Merrill, Sewall, Pond,
Thurston, Reese, Van Loon, Jewett, Buck
ingham. But a most stirring and enthusiastic
impetus was yet to be given to the temper
ance movement, and that through the
humblest personal instrumentality. This
was the organization of the Washington
Temperance Society, in Baltimore, in the
month of April, 1840 ; its most remarka
ble convert being Mr. John H. W. Haw
kins, who joined the society the following
June. It appears that six individuals, who
were in the habit of associating together,
were seated, as usual, on Friday evening,
Vii 2, 1840, in Chase's tavern, in Lib
erty street, Baltimore, where they were

accustomed to meet almost every evening,
for the purpose of enjoying mutually all
the benefits and conveniences which that
establishment and each other's society
could possibly afford. These were Wil
liam K. Mitchell, tailor ; John F. Hoss,
carpenter ; David Anderson, blacksmith ;
George Steers, blacksmith ; James McCur
ley, coach-maker; and Archibald Camp
bell, silver-plater. A clergyman who was
preaching in the city at that time, had
given public notice that on that evening
he would deliver a discourse on the sub
ject of temperance. Upon this lecture,
the conversation of the six comrades pres
ently turned ; whereupon it was agreed
that four of them should go and hear it,
and report accordingly. So, after the ser
mon, they returned and conversed on its
merits for some time ; when one of the
company remarked, ' After all, temperance-
is a good thing.' ' Oh,' said the host,
' they're all a parcel of hypocrites.' ' Oh,
yes,' replied McCurley, ' I'll be bound for
you; it's your interest to cry them down,
anyhow.' 'I tell you ivhat, boys, let's
form a society, and make Bill Mitchell
president.' ' Agreed,' cried they. The-
idea seemed to take wonderfully, and the-
more they talked and laughed over the
idea, the more were they pleased with it.
After parting that night, they did not
all meet again until Sunday, when they
took a stroll, and, between walking and
treating, they managed to arrange the
whole matter to their entire satisfaction.
It was agreed that one of them should
draw up a pledge, and that the whole-
party should sign it the next day. Accord
ingly, on Monday morning, Mitchell wrote-
the following pledge : ' We whose names
are annexed, desirous of forming a society
for our mutual benefit, and to guard
against a pernicious practice, which is
injurious to our health, standing, and fam
ilies, do pledge ourselves as gentlemen,
that we will not drink any spirituous or
malt liquors, wine, or cider.'
He went with this, at about nine o'clock,.
to Anderson's house, and found him still
in bed, sick from the effects of his Sunday

396

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

adventures. He arose, however, dressed
himself, and, after hearing the pledge read,
went down to his shop with his friend for
pen and ink, and there did himself the
honor of being the first man to sign.
After obtaining the names of the remain
ing four, the worthy president finished
this noble achievement by adding his own.
On the evening of that day, they met at
the residence of one of their number and
duly formed themselves into a society, with
the usual officers. Little did these six
associates know of the fame and achieve
ments they were moulding !
Having thus got under way, they next
turned their attention to obtaining mem
bers and devising means to defray the
expenses of their meetings ; it was there
fore agreed that each man should bring a
man, and every one should pay twenty-five
<;ents upon becoming a member, and
twelve and a half cents, monthly, there-
After. The next debate was as to the name
they should give to their society. A num
ber were proposed, among them that of
Jefferson ; when it was finally agreed that
the president and secretary should be a
•lommittee to draft a constitution, and
select a name. This they did, giving to
the association the name of the "Wash
ington Temperance Society," in honor f^v.\
of the Father of his Country, and were k^i
consequently known as Washingtonians. \ M
It is a little singular, however, that this ¦
name should have been chosen, for, f \|
though Washington was
one of the brightest
examples of temperate
eating and drinking, he
habitually used liquor
or wine himself, and
provided it for his
guests and laborers.
The following curious
document is in point :
" Articles of Agree
ment made this twelfth
day of April, Anno
Domini, one thousand
seven hundred and

eighty-seven, by and between George
Washington, Esq., of the Parish of Truro,
in the County of Fairfax, State of Vir
ginia, on the one part, and Philip Bater,
Gardener, on the other. Witness, that
the said Philip Bater, for and in
consideration of the covenants herein
hereafter mentioned, doth promise and
agree to serve the said George Wash
ington for the term of one year, as a
Gardener, and that he will, during said
time, conduct himself soberly, diligently
and honestly — that he will faithfully and
industriously perform all and every part of
his duty as a gardener, to the best of his
knowledge and abilities, and that he will
not, at any time suffer himself to be dis
guised with liquor, except on the times
hereafter mentioned. In consideration of
these things being well and truly per
formed on the part of the said Philip
Bater, the said George Washington doth
agree to allow him (the said Philip) the
same kind and quantity of provisions as he
has heretofore had ; and likewise, annually,
a decent suit of clothes, befitting a man in
his station ; to consist of a coat, vest and
breeches ; — a working-jacket, and breeches
of home-spun besides ; two white shirts ;
three checked do ; two linnen pocket-hand
kerchiefs, two pair linnen overalls ; — as

SIGNING THE PLEDGE.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

397

many pair of shoes as are actually neces
sary for him ;—four dollars at Christmas,
with which he may be drunk four days
and four nights ; two dollars at Easter to
effect the same purpose; two dollars at
Whitsuntide, to be drunk two days; — a
dram in the morning and a Drink of Grog
at Dinner at noon."
The above is signed by the two con
tracting parties, and witnessed by George
A. Washington1 and Tobias Lear. In
another instance, Washington's fine in
stincts and principles are admirably dis
played :
"I shall not close this letter," writes
Washington to one of his overseers,
"without exhorting you to refrain from
spirituous liquors; they will prove your
ruin if you do not. Consider how little a
drunken man differs from a beast ; the
latter is not endowed with reason, the
former deprives himself of it; and when
that is the case, acts like a brute, annoy
ing and disturbing every one around him ;
nor is this all, nor,- as it respects himself,
the worst of it. By degrees it renders a
person feeble, and not only unable to
serve others, but to help himself; and
being an act of his own, he falls from a
state of usefulness into contempt, and at
length suffers, if not perishes, in penury
and want. Don't let this be your case.
Shew yourself more of a man and a Chris
tian than to yield to so intolerable a vice,
which cannot, I am certain, (to the great
est lover of liquor,) give more pleasure to
sip in the poison, (for it is no better,) than
the consequence of it in bad behavior at
the moment, and the more serious evils
produced by it afterwards must give pain."
Great and wonderful were the results
destined to flow from the ' Washington
Temperance Society,' thus started by those
six inebriates in the city of Baltimore.
At their second meeting, they had two
new members; but, in a comparatively
short time, the society increased so much
that it became a question how they could
employ their time so as to- make their
meetings interesting. The president there
upon suggested that each member should

rise in his place and give his experience ;
and, by way of commencement, he arose
and told what he had passed through in
the last fifteen years, and the advantages
he had derived from signing the total-
abstinence pledge. This was the origin of
that most popular and efficient method
which the Washington Society and all its
auxiliaries adopted, for giving interest
and effect to their gatherings. Signers
were thus obtained, and the attention of
the public was attracted, so that a class
was reached which otherwise might not
have been affected by the labors of those
other good men who had for so many
years been engaged in promoting temper
ance in a different way.
By Christmas, in 1840, the reform had
become so popular, that thousands had
flocked to its standard, and enrolled them
selves as the friends of temperance. The
wave had swept onward, and tidings of the
great reformation reached distant cities.
On invitation from New York, for a dele
gation of five men to hold experience
meetings twice every day for one week, in
that city, Messrs. Hawkins, Pollard, Shaw,
Casey, and Mitchell, proceeded to that
place, and there held the first Washing-
tonian missionary temperance meeting
ever known in the United States. It was
a type of that success which was to
accompany this new system in behalf
of temperance, for, during each of the
speeches, multitudes came forward and
signed the pledge, and, taken altogether,
such a scene had never before been wit
nessed in New York.
But the most powerful among all the
advocates of Washingtonian reform was
Mr. Hawkins, who rose from the very gut
ter of drunkenness to the rostrum of im
passioned eloquence in advocacy of reform,
and with prodigious success. The pecu
liar circumstances of his history had an
almost overpowering effect on his own
feelings, whenever he spoke, and his au
diences listened now breathlessly, and
anon with uncontrollable demonstrations
of enthusiasm. He was a man of plain,
good common sense, with a peculiar si-i-

398

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

cerity about him, and an easy way of
working up his hearers to a state of sym
pathy with him. He would at one time
assume the melting mood, and picture the
scenes of a drunkard's home — and that
home his own — and the fountains of gen
erous feelings, in many hearts, gushed
forth in tears ; and again, in a moment,
as he related some ludicrous story, those
tearful eyes glistened with delight, sighs
changed to hearty shouts, and long faces
were convulsed with broad grins and
glorious smiles. Drunkards and outcasts
of the worst type, that swarm in the fes
tering purlieus and penetralia of New York,
were reclaimed, and such was the over
whelming power of the movement, that,
finally, immense meetings were held in the
Park. In Boston, too, the old Cradle of
Liberty rocked with tumultuous enthusi
asm for ' independence ' from the tyrant of
strong drink. Festivals, children's cold
water armies, processions, banners, bands
of music, songs, etc., filled the whole land
with the feast of reason and the flow of
soul. Statistics might be indefinitely pre
sented, showing the vast results achieved
by this wonderful moral enginery. Up
wards of twenty-two thousand names were
obtained to the pledge by Messrs. Pollard
and Wright, in a lecturing tour made by
them through Central New York, New
Jersey, and Pennsylvania. Messrs. Vicars
and Small and Smith revolutionized Ohio
and the West ; Hawkins, Bishop, John
son, Hayes, and Haydock, labored from
one end of the country to the other. Haw
kins alone, in less than twenty years,
traveled more than two hundred thousand
miles, lecturing between five and six thou
sand times. Latham, Madden, Snow,
White, Cary, Leigh, Coffin, Brown, Riley,
Bungay, Copway, Zug, Drinkard, Thomp
son, are names that will ever be remem
bered, too, as powerful and successful
advocates of this reform, on the rostrum ;
and those of Pierpont, Burleigh, Phillips,
Tappan, and others, by tlieir stirring
songs and poems. But, chief and most
powerful of the many advocates of the

temperance reformation, is John B. Gough.
who has proved himself in this arena, a
wonderful orator. His eloquence, indeed,
was of that electric quality which, striking
a chord in every heart and drawing tears
from every eye, perfectly swayed the vast
multitudes that hung upon his words
wherever he went. Every city, town, and
village, throughout the country, felt the
impress of his wonderful power in this
great reformatory movement. Like Haw
kins, his condition was humble, but from
this he had descended to the lowest depths
of social and personal degradation until
rescued by the interposition of a friendly
hand. No data can adequately describe
the extent and value of his labors from
hhat time forth, for a quarter of a century
and more.
But a new and most interesting, as well
as important chapter, in the history of
temperance, is yet to be mentioned, namely,
the visit of Father Mathew, the world-
renowned 'Apostle of Temperance' in
Ireland, to this country, in 1849. Por
ten years previously, he labored as a tem
perance agitator and reformer in Ireland
and England. In five months, he obtained
150,000 converts in Cork ; and in Galway,
he administered the pledge to no less than
100,000 in two days ! On his landing at
New York city, the civil authorities ac
corded him the honor of a public recep
tion, — certainly well deserved, by one who
had been the instrument, under divine
guidance, of reclaiming 6,000,000 of his
fellow-creatures. He visited the principal
cities, north and south, and everywhere a
hearty welcome was extended to him from
all classes. He remained several days in
Washington, where he was entertained
at a grand dinner by the president of the
United States, and received many dis
tinguishing marks of esteem from gentle
men highest in the offices of the govern
ment. He was honored, also, with a seat
on the floor of the house of representa
tives, and within the bar of the United
States senate. At Philadelphia, he re
ceived his welcome in Independence Hall ;
and at Boston, the doors of Faneuil Hall

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

399

DISTINGUISHED TEMPEBANOB ADVOCATES.

400

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

opened to him on golden hinges of accla
mation, and where he administered the
pledge to upwards of four thousand per
sons the first day. His method of admin
istering the pledge was somewhat novel,
though at the same time quite affecting.
The converts knelt in a semi-circle around
him, and repeated the following words :
' I promise, with divine assistance, to
abstain from all intoxicating liquors, cor
dials, cider and fruit liquors, and to pre
vent, as much as possible, intemperance in
others, by advice and example.'
To this, Father Mathew's response was,
' May God bless you, my children. May
he give you grace and strength to keep
the pledge.' He then went to each indi
vidual and marked them with the sign of
the cross ; but this latter ceremony, and
the kneeling, were dispensed with in the
case of Protestants. In this way, the
venerable and devoted man traveled over
almost the entire country, zealously ad
vocating his great principles, and upwards
of six hundred thousand persons enrolled
themselves under his banner of total
abstinence. Upon descending the Missis
sippi, he administered in one of the towns
situated on its banks, the pledge to seven
hundred persons. He ascended it, after
an interval of some months, and stopping
at the same town, he had the gratification
to find that among the converts there were
but three instances of relapse. Though
not possessed of the oratorical graces of
eloquence, like those of Gough, he knew
how to present truth with such force and
sincerity, as to win almost irresistibly
upon all hearers. The following anecdote
will illustrate his peculiar forte :
'Did you see Father Mathew lately?'
said one friend to another, whom he hap
pened to meet. 'I did,' was the reply.
'And I'll engage he made you take the
pledge ! ' 'He did, indeed. But did you
see him lately?' 'To be sure I did.'
'And did he make you take it too?'
' That he did ! ' ' There's no escaping
him ; but I am not sorry for it.' ' No, nor
I neither.' Personally, Father Mathew was a little

above the ordinary stature, with a full
and well-proportioned figure, dark hair
soft blue eyes, ruddy and healthy com
plexion. Though characterized by periods of
prosperity and declension, the temperance
cause has proved itself ineradicable, even
under circumstances seemingly the most
untoward. Perhaps the greatest struggle
through which it has passed, in later years,
has been that which involved the enact
ment of state prohibitory laws, which
visited stringent penalties upon those who
sold spirituous liquors. The name of Neal
Dow, the author and advocate of this kind
of legislation, the discussion attending
which has been one of the most important
and exciting during the century, will for
ever be identified with the history of the
American temperance reformation, as will
also the names of Greeley and Miner, dis
tinguished champions of the same prin
ciple. It would be an easy task to fill a whole
volume with distinguished testimonies to
the value of temperance. As this, how
ever, would here be impossible, a few
pleasant illustrative incidents will suffice
the purpose.
Towards the close of the revolutionary
war, an officer in the American army had
occasion to transact some business with
General Washington, and repaired to
Philadelphia for that purpose. Before
leaving, he received an invitation to dine
with tho general, which was accepted and,
upon entering the room he found himself
in the company of a large number of ladies
and gentlemen. As they were mostly
strangers to him, and he was of a naturally
modest and unassuming disposition, he
took a seat near the foot of the table, and
refrained from taking an active part in
the conversation. Just before the dinner
was concluded, Washington politely re
quested him, by name, to drink a glass of
wine with him.
'You will have the goodness to excuse
me, general,' was the reply, 'as I bave
made it a rule not to take wine.
All eyes were instantly turned upon the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

401

young officer, and a murmur of contempt
and surprise ran around the room. That
a person should be so unsocial, not to say
mean, as never to drink wine, was really
too bad ; but that he should abstain from
it on an occasion like that, and even when
offered to him by Washington himself,
was really intolerable ! Washington no
ticed at once the feelings of his guests,
and promptly addressed them in his gra
cious and winning way, saying :
' Gentlemen, Mr.  is right. I do
not wish any of my guests to partake
of anything against their inclination,
and I certainly do not wish them to
violate any established principle in their
intercourse with me. I honor Mr.  for
his frankness, for his consistency in thus
adhering to an established rule which can
never do him harm, and for the adoption
of which, I have no doubt, he has good
reasons.' General Taylor, the hero of the Mexi
can war, always gave the weight of his
example in favor of temperance. A trav
eler in the west one day encountered an
emigrant journeying with his family to
the fertile regions beyond the Mississippi,
all his worldly goods being packed on
wagons, and on one load there hung a
huge jug with the bottom broken out.
The emigrant was asked his reason for
carrying that with him. ' Why,' he said,

' that is my Taylor jug.' ' And what is a
Taylor jug ? ' inquired the friend. ' Why,'
said the emigrant, ' I had a son with Gen
eral Taylor's army in Mexico, and the old
general always told him to carry his whis
key-jug with a hole in the bottom ; and
since that, I have carried my jug as you
see it, and I find it is the best invention I
ever met with.'
Everybody admired Admiral Farragut's
heroism in clinging to the topmast to
direct a battle ; but there was another
particular of that contest, illustrating no
less forcibly his heroic character. ' Ad
miral,' said one of his officers, the night
before the battle, ' won't you consent to
give Jack a glass of grog in the morning,
not enough to make him drunk, but enough
to make him fight cheerfully ? ' ' Well,'
replied the admiral, ' I have been to sea
considerably, and have seen a battle or
two, but I never found that I wanted rum
to enable me to do my duty. I will order
two cups "f coffee to each man, at two
o'clock ; and, at eight o'clock, I will pipe
all hands to breakfast, in Mobile bay.'
And he did give Jack the coffee ; and
then he went up to the mast-head, and the
result is well known.
These illustrations of devotedness to the
principle of temperance in high places
might be greatly multiplied. Their value
to the cause can hardly be overestimated

XLY.
FREMONT'S HEROIC EXPEDITION OF DISCOVERY "TO
THE UNTRACKED REGION OF THE NORTH-WEST,
OREGON, CALIFORNIA, ETC.— 1842.

'W

His Exploration of the Sierra Nevada, and of that Wonderful Gateway in the Rocky Mountains, the
South Pass. — Plants the American Flag on the Highest Peak of that Lofty Range. — He Enriches
Every Branch of Natural Science, and Illustrates a Remote and Boundless Country Before Entirely
Unknown. — Fremont, a Pioneer of Empire. — National Objecti
of this Tour. — Enchanting Record of Adventure.— Surveys
and Researches. — Humboldt's Tribute of Admiration.— Wild
Grandeur of the Route. — Scenes in this "Vast Domain.— The
Rocky Mountains : First Glimpses. — Formation of the South
Pass. — " Kit Carson,'' the Intrepid Guide. — At the Topmost
Peak, 14,000 Feet —Startling Boldness of the View.— Over-
powering Quiet and Solitude. — Evidences of Awful Convul
sions. — Unfurling the Flag of the Union. — Appearance of
Great Salt Lake. — Eternal Snows of the Sierra Nevada. — In
the San Joaquin Valley. — An Immense Circuit of Travel-
Fremont, the Modern Pathfinder. — Honors from His Country
men. — A King's Gift and Regards.

*' Prominently deserving of diBtineul'hed recognition U the eervice rendered to
geographical science by the Amencan explorer, Fremont." — KuCQ Fbidibio
William IV., or Prussia, to Baron Humboldt.

VERY American reader is enchanted with the narrative of
explored the mobth-wesi. those intrepid and heroic explorations of Fremont, "the
Pathfinder," which, in the language of Humboldt, — himself the greatest scientific
explorer and geographer the world has ever seen, — " enriched every branch of natural
science, and illustrated a vast country before entirely unknown," and in appreciation
of which he received from his admiring countrymen the highest tokens of honor, and,
from kingly hands, acknowledgments inscribed on tablets of gold.
Several exploring tours of the western portion of our continent, within the geograph
ical boundaries of the country subsequently known by the title of Oregon, took place
before that which was led by the brave Fremont, but none with such rich and varied
results as the latter.
It being desirable for our government to become fully acquainted with the character
of the vast territory between the southern geographical boundary of the United States
and the Eocky Mountains, around the head-waters of the Missouri, Fremont was
appointed to superintend that exploring tour, under the direction of Colonel Abert,
the chief of the topographical bureau at Washington, and by him projected and

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

403

planned, with the approval of Secretary
Poinsett. The great object of this expe
dition was to examine and report upon the
rivers and country between the frontiers
of Missouri and the base of the Rocky
Mountains ; and especially to examine the
character, and ascertain the latitude and
longitude of that wonderful gateway, the
South Pass, the great crossing place to
these mountains on the way to Oregon.
In executing his official instructions,
Fremont proceeded up the Kansas river
far enough to ascertain its peculiar feat
ures, and then crossed over to the Great
Platte, and pursued that river to its source
in the mountains, where the Sweet Water
— a head branch of the Platte — issues
from the neighborhood of the South Pass.
He reached the Pass on the eighth of
August, and found it to be a wide and low
depression of the mountains, of very easy
ascent, and where a plainly beaten wagon
load leads to the Oregon through the valley
of Lewis's river, a fork of the Columbia.
He went through the Pass, and saw the
. head-waters of the Colorado, of the Gulf
of California ; and, leaving the valleys to
indulge a laudable curiosity, and to make
some useful observations, Fremont, at
tended by four of his men, climbed the
loftiest peak of the Rocky Mountains,
until then untrodden by any known human
being; and, on the fifteenth of August,
looked down upon ice and snow some thou
sand feet below, and traced in the distance
the valleys of the rivers which, taking
their rise in the same elevated ridge, flow
in opposite directions to the Pacific ocean
and to the Mississippi. From that ultimate
point he returned by the valley of the
Great Platte, following the stream in its
whole course, and solving all questions in
relation to its navigability, and the feat
ures of the country through which it flows.
On the prairies which border the forks
of the river Platte, the travelers bivou
acked in the evening, eating their meat
with a good relish; for they were all in fine
health, and had ridden nearly all of a long
summer's day, with a burning sun reflected
torn the sands.

When about sixty miles distant, the
party caught the first faint glimpse of the
Rocky Mountains. Though a tolerably
bright day, there was a slight mist, and
the snowy summit of ' Long's Peak,'
showing like a small cloud near the hori
zon, was just barely discernible. There
was, however, no mistake in distinguishing
it, there being a perceptible difference
in its appearance from the white clouds
that were floating about the sky.
Proceeding onward through hostile
tribes of Indians, Fremont reached the
first military frontier post — Fort Laramie ;
departing thence, in a short time, for the
bases of the " great mountains." With
the change in the geological formation on
leaving Fort Laramie, the whole face of the
country appears entirely changed. East
ward of the meridian, the principal objects
which strike the eye of the traveler are
the absence of timber, and the immense
expanse of prairie, covered with the verd
ure of rich grasses, and highly adapted
for pasturage. Wherever they are not
disturbed by the vicinity of man, large
herds of buffalo give animation to this
country. Many sufferings were endured in reach
ing the Rocky Mountains, but the follow
ing details show that the labors of the
party were amply rewarded. About six
miles from their encampment brought the
party to the summit of the South Pass.
The ascent had been so gradual, that, with
all the intimate knowledge possessed by
Carson, the guide, and who had made that
country his home for seventeen years, the
party were obliged to watch very closely
to find the place at which they had reached
the culminating point. This was between
two low hills, rising on either hand fifty
or sixty feet. From the broken ground
where this pass commences, at the foot of
the Wind River Chain, the view to the
south-east is over a champaign country,
broken, at the distance of nineteen miles,
by the Table Rock, which, with the other
isolated hills in its vicinity, seemingly
stands on a comparative plain. The
'Pass' in no manner resembles the places

404

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

to which that term is commonly applied —
nothing of the gorge-like character and
winding ascents of the Alleghany passes
in America, nor of the great St. Bernard
and Simplon passes in Europe. Approach
ing from the mouth of the Sweet Water, a
sandy plain, one hundred and twenty miles
long, conducts, by a gradual and regular
ascent, to the summit, about seven thou
sand feet above the sea ; and the traveler,
without being reminded of any change,
by toilsome ascents, suddenly finds him
self on the waters which flow to the Pacific
ocean. On this'short mountain-chain are
the head-waters of four great rivers of the
western continent, namely, the Colorado,
Columbia, Missouri, and Platte rivers.

j I'LANTING AMEEICAN FLAG ON THB
KOOKY MOUNTAINS, BY FBEMONT.
A scene of characteris
tic adventure was that of
reaching the summit of
these mountains. Putting
hands and feet in the crev
ices between the blocks,
Fremont succeeded in get

ting over it, and, on attaining the top
found his companions in a small valley
below. Descending to them, they con
tinued climbing, and in a short, time
reached the crest. He sprang upon the
summit, and unfurled the national flag to
wave in the breeze where never flag waved
before. During the morning's ascent, no sign
of animal life was met with, except a small
sparrow-like bird. A stillness the most
profound and a solitude the most terrible
forced themselves constantly on the mind
as the great features of the place. Here,
on the summit, where the stillness was ab
solute, unbroken by any sound, and the
solitude complete, the explorers thought
themselves beyond the region of animated
life ; but, while they were sitting on the
rock, a solitary humble-bee came winging
his flight from the eastern valley, and lit
on the knee of one of the men. It was a
strange place, the icy rock and the highest
peak of the Rocky Mountains, for a lover
of warm sunshine and flowers. The
barometer stood at 18.293, the attached
thermometer at 44 degrees ; giving for
the elevation of this summit 13,570 feet
above the sea, it may be called the highest
known flight of the bee. From this pre
sumed loftiest peak of the great mountain
range, — since known as Fremont's Peak, —
could be seen innumerable lakes and
streams, the spring of the Colorado of the
Gulf of California, on the one side ; on the
other, was the Wind River valley, where
were the heads of the Yellow Stone branch
of the Missouri ; far to the north could be
faintly descried the snowy heads of the
Trois Tetons, where were the sources of
the Missouri and Columbia rivers ; and at
the southern extremity of the ridge, the
peaks were plainly visible, among which
were some of the springs of the Nebraska,
or Platte river. The whole scene around
had one main striking feature, which was
that of terrible convulsion. Parallel to
its length, the ridge was split into chasm*
and fissures ; between which rose the thin
lofty walls, terminated with slender mina
rets and columns.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

405

Fremont's next tour was devoted to
Oregon and California. On arriving at
the Utah lake, he had completed an
immense circuit of twelve degrees diame-

fam^rr^

ter north and south, and ten degrees east
and west. They found themselves in
May, 1844, on the same sheet of water
which they had left in September, 1843.
The Utah is the southern limb of the
Great Salt Lake ; and thus they had seen
this remarkable sheet of water both at its
northern and southern extremity, and were
able to fix its position at these two points.
In this eight months circuit, the explorers
found that the mountains on the Pacific
slope are higher, more numerous, and more
distinctly defined in their ranges and
directions, than those on the Atlantic side ;
and, what is contrary to the natural order
of such formations, one of these ranges,
which is near the coast — the Sierra Nevada
and the Coast Range — presents higher
elevations and peaks than any which are
to be found in the Rocky Mountains them
selves. During all this circuit, the party
were never out of sight of snow; and the
Sierra Nevada, where they crossed it, was
nearly two thousand feet higher than the
famous South Pass. Peaks are constantly
seen which enter the region of eternal
snow. Differing so much from the Atlantic

side of our continent in coast, mountains,
and rivers, the Pacific side differs from it
in yet another most rare and singular
feature — that of the Great Interior Basin.
The structure of the country would require
this formation of interior lakes, for the
waters which would collect between the
Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada,
not being able to cross this formidable
barrier, nor to get to the Columbia or the
Colorado, must naturally collect into reser
voirs, each of which would have its little
system of streams and rivers to supply it.
The Great Salt Lake is a formation of this
kind, and quite a large one, having many
streams, and one considerable river, four
or five hundred miles long, falling into it.
Fremont saw this lake and river, and
examined them ; he also saw the Wahsatch
and Bear River mountains inclosing the
waters of the lake on the east, and consti
tute, in that quarter, the rim of the Great
Basin. Afterwards, along the eastern
base of the Sierra Nevada, where the party
traveled for forty-two days, they saw the
line of lakes and rivers which lie at the
foot of that sierra, and which sierra is the
western rim of the basin. In going down
Lewis's Fork, and the main Columbia, they
crossed only inferior streams coming in
from the left ; and often saw the mountains
at their heads, white with snow, which
divided the waters of the desert from those
of the Columbia, — the range of mountains
forming the rim of the basin on its north
ern side. In returning from California
along the Spanish trail, as far as the head
of the Santa Clara Fork of the Rio Virgen,
the party crossed only small streams
making their way south to the Colorado,
or lost in sand, as the Mo-hah-ve ; while
to the left, lofty mountains, their summits
white with snow, were often visible — and
which, Fremont concluded, must have
turned water to the north as well as to the
south, thus constituting, on this part, the
southern rim of the basin. At the head
of the Santa Clara Fork, and in the Vegas
de Santa Clara, they crossed the ridge
which parted the two systems of waters.
They entered the basin at that point, and

406

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

continued for some time to travel in it,
having its south-eastern rim — the Wah-
satch mountain — on the right, and cross
ing the streams which flow down into it.
In this eventful exploration, all the
great features of the western slope of our
continent were brought to light — the
Great Salt Lake, the Utah Lake, the Little
Salt Lake — at all which places, then desert,
the Mormons now are ; the Sierra Nevada,
then solitary in the snow, now crowded
with Americans, digging gold from its
banks ; the beautiful valleys of the Sacra
mento and San Joaquin, then alive with
wild horses, elk, deer, and wild fowls, now
smiling with American cultivation. The
Great Basin itself, and its contents; the
three Parks; the approximation of the
great rivers which, rising together in the
central region of the Rocky Mountains, go
off east and west towards the rising and
the setting sun, — all these, and other
strange features of a new region, more
Asiatic than American, were brought to

It was in May, 1845, that Fremont set
out on his third expedition for the explora
tion of the Great West, and he was soon
at the north end of the great Tla-math
lake, and in Oregon. Hostilities being
likely to break out between tlie United
States and Mexico, Fremont, in order to
avoid exciting any unjust suspicion as to
the character of his movements, obtained
leave of the Mexican general at Monterey,
to encamp during the ensuing winter, in
the San Joaquin valley. It was not long,
however, before open diplomatic hostilities
broke out between the two republics, and
Fremont received word from his govern
ment to keep an eye upon Mexican and
other designs upon California. General
Kearney, by order of government, was
constituted head of the army of the west,
which was to retaliate sternly upon
Mexico, for her assumed aggressions.
New Mexico was soon prostrate before
American arms. On the fifth of July,
1846, under the lead of Fremont, a band

FREMONT ON HIS GREAT EXPLORING TOUR TO THE FAR WEST AND ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

light and revealed to public view in the
results of this exploration. But the great
pathfinder was to win laurels in still
another field.

of Americans declared their independence
of Mexico at Sonoma, a small town near
San Francisco, and, not long after, they
joined Commodore Sloat, who had recently

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

407

reduced Monterey. The successor of Sloat
was Stockton, who, in connection with
Fremont, at once gained possession of
Ciudad de los Angelos, the capital of
Upper California ; and one event speedily
succeeded another, until, seemingly as
inevitable as the gravitation of fate, the
loss of California was consummated, and
Fr«mont was appointed governor of the
territory, which, largely through his efforts,
had now become a permanent possession
of the United States.
So curious a link in this chain of events,
as the throwing off of the Mexican yoke
at Sonoma, and illustrating so aptly, as it
does, the intrepidity of the great explorer,
possesses an interest peculiarly appropriate
to this narrative. Having aided in clear
ing the enemy from the country north of
the bay of San Francisco, Fremont re
turned to Sonoma on the evening of the
fourth of July, and, on the morning of the
fifth, called the people together, explained
to them the condition of things in the
province, and recommended an immediate
declaration of independence. The declar
ation was made, and he was selected as
governor, or chief director of affairs.
From Sonoma to Yerba Buena, (says
one who accompanied him,) the little
hamlet where now stands the queen city
of the Pacific, Fremont augmented his
stock of horses to the number of fifteen
hundred, completely clearing the country;
and then commenced one of the most pecu
liar races for a fight ever probably known.
Rarely speaking but to urge on his men,
or to question some passing native, taking
the smallest modicum of refreshment, and
watching while others snatched a moment's
repose, was he wrapped up in his project
and determined to have some of the fight.
Through San Pablo, and Monterey, and

Josepha, they dashed like the phantom
riders of the Hartz mountains, startling
the inhabitants, and making the night-
watcher cross himself in terror as their
band flew on. The river Sacrificios was
reached ; swollen by the rains, it rolled on,
a rapid, muddy stream ; his men paused.
" Forward ! Forward ! " cried Fremont.
Dashing in himself, the struggle is a
fierce one, but his gallant mustang breasts
the current, and he reaches the opposite
shore in safety ; his men after a time join
him, two brave fellows finding a watery
grave, and many horses being carried down
the stream ; but nothing can now stop
him — the heights adjacent to the Puebla
appear — now a smile might be seen on the
imperturbable visage of the leader — 'tis the
sixth day, and the goal is won !
With ninety men on the last of his car
avan of horses, he fell like a thunderbolt
on the rear of the Mexicans. The day
was with them; the little band of stout
hearts guarding the presidio, taken by
surprise, and not having the advantage of
the Mexicans in regard to horses, were
beginning to waver. But cheer up, cheer
again — succor is at hand. On come those
riders of Fremont — nothing can withstand
their shock. With shouts of triumph they
change the battle to a rout. The field is
won ! The rout of the enemy was com
plete, and so ended the ride of the one
hundred. Thus did Fremont display, by
the rarest achievements, the character of
a consummate scientific explorer and brave
soldier ; and, for his pre-eminent services
in behalf of geographical science, he
received the highest honors from the
learned societies of Europe and America,
and a rich and massive gold medal from
the king of Prussia, through the hands of
Baron Humboldt.

XLVI.
REBELLION" IN RHODE ISLAND, UNDER THOMAS W.
DORR.— 1842.

Dissatisfaction with the Old Eestricted Charter Granted by King Charles. — Popular Suffrage and Equal
Political Privileges Demanded. — Resistance of the Party in Power to these Movements. — The Con
testants Arm and Take the Field. — Defeat of the Agitators and Flight of Dorr. — Ultimate Prevalence
of their Principles. — A Charter Two Hundred Years Old. — Its Monarchical Provisions. — Suffrage
for Property Holders. — Denied to all Others. — An Exclusive Legislature. — Reformed Measures
Demanded. — A People's Convention Called. — They Form a Constitution. — Proclaimed the Supreme
Law. — Legislature Chosen under It. — Thomas W. Dorr Elected Governor. — Is Treated as a Traitor.—
Claims to be the People's Man. — Governor King's Military Activity. — Dorr Heads a Large Force.—
Tries to Seize the Reins of Power. — Is Routed : Quits the State. — Returns Again to the Conflict-
Entrenches at Chepachet : Retreats. — Tried for Treason and Imprisoned. — Pardoned and Restored.
— Something about " Barn-burning," or the Anti-Rent Insurrection in New York.

" All political government should be instituted for the good of the whole In general, and of every individual in particular."— Essits oa
QOVBBNHBNT.

I , /f^ HARTER rights, granted by a king, constituted the charter
///— \=z& °f the political institutions of Rhode Island, for nearly two
hundred years. This charter, received from Charles tho
Second, in 1663, was the fundamental law, and, down to the
year 1841, no person had been allowed to vote for town or
state officers, unless possessed of a certain amount of real
estate. Under a subsequent statute of the legislature, based
upon the spirit of the charter, no person could be admitted a
freeman of any town, with full political privileges, unless he
owned a freehold estate of the value of one hundred and
thirty-four dollars, or was the eldest son of such a freeholder; and thus, only about one-
third of all the citizens of the state were legal voters.
At tbe January session of the legislature in 1841, a petition, signed by five or six
hundred male inhabitants, praying for an extension of the right of suffrage, was pre
sented. Influenced by that petition, as well as by other considerations, the legislature
requested the qualified voters, or freemen, as they were called, to choose delegates at
the August town-meetings, for a convention, to be held the ensuing November, to frame
a written constitution. This convention was duly held, and the result of its labors,
completed in 1842, was the instrument commonly known as the Landholders' Consti
tution, and which was formally submitted to the people.
The friends of the constitution thus framed, in their statement of affairs to the
chief magistrate of the nation, state that, in May, 1841, after said legal convention

GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

409

had been provided for by the legislature,
and before the time appointed for the
choice of delegates by the qualified voters,
a mass meeting was held by the friends of
the extension of suffrage, at Newport, at
which meeting a committee was appointed,
called the state committee, who were
authorized by said mass meeting, to take
measures for calling a convention to frame
a constitution. This committee, thus
authorized, issued the request for a meet
ing of the male citizens in the several
towns, to appoint delegates to the proposed
convention. Thus called together, the convention
assembled in Providence, in October, 1841,
and the instrument called the People's
Constitution was the result of their delib
erations. At subsequent meetings of por
tions of the people, in December, 1841, by
the authority of this convention, all males
over twenty-one years of age were admitted
to vote for the adoption of the people's
constitution; these meetings not being —
according to the view held by the land
holders' party, — under presiding officers
whose legal duty or legal right it was to
interpose any check or restraint as to age,
residence, property, or color.
By the provisions of the people's consti
tution, it was ordained that said instru
ment should be submitted to the people,
for adoption or rejection, on the twenty-
seventh of December, and on the two suc
ceeding days. And it was also provided,
that 'every person entitled to vote as afore
said, who, from sickness, or other causes,
may be unable to attend and vote in the
town or ward meetings assembled for vot
ing upon said constitution, on the days
aforesaid, is requested to write his name
on a ticket, and to obtain the signature
upon the back of the same of a person who
has given in his vote, as a witness thereto.
And the moderator or clerk of any town
or ward meeting, convened for the pur
pose aforesaid, shall receive such vote on
either of the three days next succeeding
the three days before named for voting for
said constitution.' During the first three
days, about nine thousand votes were

received from the hands of the voters in
the open town-meetings; and, by the
privilege thus granted to every and all the
friends of the constitution, of bringing
into their meetings the names of voters
during the three following days, five thou
sand more votes were obtained, making
an aggregate of about fourteen thousand
votes. This constitution, thus originating and
thus formed, was subsequently declared by
the convention to be the supreme law of
the land ; and, by its provisions, a govern
ment was to be organized under it, by the
choice of a governor, lieutenant-governor,
senators and representatives, on the Mon
day preceding the third Wednesday in
April, 1842.
By the provisions of the landholders'
constitution, as it was called, every white
male native citizen, possessing the free
hold qualification, and over twenty-one
years of age, could vote, upon a residence
of one year; or, without any freehold,
could vote, upon a residence of two years,
except in the case of votes for town-taxes,
in which case the voter was required to
possess the freehold qualification, or be
taxed for other property of the value of
one hundred and fifty dollars.
By the people's constitution, every white
male citizen of the United States, of the
age of twenty-one years, who had resided
in the state for one year, and in the town
where he votes for six months, should be
permitted to vote, — with the same excep
tion in regard to voting for town-taxes, as
that contained in the other constitution.
On the twenty-first, twenty-second, and
twenty-third of March, the landholders'
constitution was, by an act of the legisla
ture, submitted to all the persons who, by
its provisions, would be entitled to vote
under it, after its adoption, for their ratifi
cation. It was rejected by a majority of
six hundred and seventy-six; the whole
number of votes polled, during these three
exciting days, was over sixteen thousand.
The people's constitution, on being sub
mitted to the people for ratification,
received fourteen thousand votes, the

410

OUR FIRST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

returns being counted and the result
declared in January, 1842 ; and, the land
holders' constitution having been defeated,
there was now presented the single issue
of the old charter of 1663 on the one hand,
and the suffrage constitution, just adopted,
as claimed, by the popular vote, on the
other. Great enthusiasm was manifested
by the triumph which they and their cause
had achieved, and meetings and proces
sions, with music, badges, bonfires, etc.,
everywhere proclaimed the event.
Chief among the leaders in this remark
able revolution, as it was termed, was
Thomas Wilson Dorr, of Providence, a

graduate of Harvard College, and who,
after pursuing his legal studies in the office
of Chancellor Kent, of New York, com
menced his professional practice in Provi
dence. Though for years a federalist in
his political principles, he in time identi
fied himself with the victorious party
whose leaders were Jackson and Van
Buren. Of decided ability, Mr. Dorr was,
for several consecutive terms, elected a
member of the state legislature, and, in this
capacity, he repeatedly proposed measures
for extending the privilege of suffrage and
other rights of citizenship. Failing in

this, and possessing great activity and
adroitness as a politician, he appealed to
the masses, and was soon the cherished
leader of a large and enthusiastic party.
Governor King issued his proclamation,
pronouncing the movement of the suffrage
party treasonable, and warning all of the
consequences which a continuance in such
acts would bring upon them.
Undismayed, however, by these threats,
the suffrage party, presuming on its
strength and popularity, went into an
election of state oflicers, April eighteenth,
1842, resulting in the elevation of Mr. Dorr
to the governorship, together with the
other officers constituting the government
of the state. The seal of the state was
copied, and a fac simile engraving pro
cured. Orders, in the form of requests,
were issued to the military in Providence
and elsewhere, which adhered to the new
order of things, to appear in the city on
the fourth of May, to perform escort duty
on the occasion of organizing the new
government. On the day appointed, the officers of the
state, elect, under the people's constitu
tion, assembled in Providence, for the pur
pose of inauguration. The state-house
having been refused them, they met in an
unfinished building, which was designed
as a foundry, and which had been obtained
for their use. On this eventful morning,
the people began at an early hour to come
together, and a large gathering was soon
on hand. A procession was formed, and
proceeded to the place of meeting, accom
panied by a considerable military body.
The new legislature was organized in ac-
cordance with the customary form, and
immediately commenced the transaction
of business. In proceeding to the place
of meeting, the portion of the procession
consisting of Dorr and the other members
of the government elect, was flanked, on
the right and left, by a military guard;
and the guard, as well as all the other mil
itary in the procession, were supposed to
march with loaded muskets, and furnished
with ball cartridges. During the day, no
popular disturbance occurred, and, at night,

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

411

oil was quiet. A military guard was kept
at the place of meeting, during business
hours, and at Dorr's quarters.
A message was delivered by Governor
Dorr, to the people's legislature, in which
he gave a history of past events and
marked out the course of policy to be pur
sued. The message was regarded as bold,
firm, and decided in its tone, and dignified
in its character. The first legislative act
performed, was, the passage of a resolution
to inform the president and congress, and
the governors of the several states, of the
establishment of the new government. A
proposition was made by Governor Dorr to
take possession of the state-house in Provi
dence, and other state property, but this
was not adopted, but commissioners were
appointed to demand possession of the
public records, funds, and other property.
Little was done in the way of organizing
the various departments of government;
but the ' Algerine Law,' as it was called,
passed by the charter legislature, and de
signed to prevent citizens from engaging
in the suffrage party movement, or taking
office of any kind in connection with the
same, under certain pains and penalties,
was solemnly repealed. The courts of law,
however, were left unmolested, though all
of them were opposed to the new party,
and Chief Justice Durfee was its especial
enemy. After a session of three days, the
body adjourned to July fourth, at Provi
dence. Arriving at Providence, Governor Dorr
was received by a large mass of citizens,
of whom two or three hundred were armed ;
m an undress uniform, and a sword at
his side, the hero of the day was conducted
through the principal streets of the city,
in an elegant barouche drawn by four
white horses. In this triumphal style, he
proceeded to the house of Burrington
Anthony, where he took up his quarters,
protected by a military guard, and two small
Pieces of artillery. Governor Dorr soon
issued a proclamation, in which, after stat
ing that the president had intimated an
intention of resorting to the forces of the
United States to check the movements of

the people of Bhode Island in support
of their republican constitution recently
adopted, he, Dorr, declared that, so soon
as a soldier of the United States should
be set in motion for any such purpose, he
should oppose said force by that aid which,
he was authorized to say, would be imme
diately forthcoming from the city of New
York and elsewhere. The military were
enjoined to see that no more arrests were
made under the Algerine law, and the
militia were directed to hold themselves in
readiness for immediate service.
Thus, it became evident that the adher
ents to the charter and the adherents to
the constitution were soon to be brought
face to face, force being opposed to force.
It was ordered by King and his council
that Dorr should be taken, if possible,
before the day closed. With this view,
expresses were dispatched into all parts of
the state, and a steam-boat sent to touch at
Newport, Bristol, and Warren, to bring
help in behalf of the charter government ;
the boat, arriving in the morning, brought
a large body of men, who were at once
joined to King's forces, and prepared for
the field of battle. Some aid also came to
Dorr, and the prospect was that a bloody
fight would occur.
At an early hour, King, with a body of
his men, marched into the very midst of
the suffrage throng, without molestation,
and surrounded Mr. Anthony's house, —
Dorr's quarters. A detachment then went
into the house, but, on searching, Dorr
could nowhere be found. He had, it was
reported, left town. A portion of the
cadets volunteered to go in pursuit of him.
They instantly mounted, determined to
take him wherever he could be found, but
were misinformed as to his route, and
returned after having gone in the direction
of the Norwich and Worcester railroad, a
distance of twenty miles. He felt keenly
the result of the arsenal affair, and the
failure of his forces to come up to the
mark. The leaders, on the part of the suffrage
party, had dismissed their men, and ad
vised them to retire peaceably from the

412

OUE FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ground. A large body left the scene, in
compliance with this request. Others
were on the ground to a large number,
and around the cannons, on the arrival of
the body of citizens under King. Many
in the suffrage ranks cried out "fire" but
there was no attempt in reality to obstruct
the passage of King's men in surrounding
the house and taking possession of the
ground. The landholders, under the di
rection of the United States marshal, at
the instance of the national authorities,
took the guns and arms from the suffrage

men as they passed through the streets on
their way home.
It being pretty generally understood
that Dorr had gone to Connecticut, a
requisition was made by King upon Gov
ernor Cleveland, of that state, for his ren
dition, but unsuccessfully. A reward was
also offered for the capture of Dorr and
his delivery to the charter authorities, for
trial on charges of treason. But all this
was ineffectual. Indeed, the fugitive rap
idly became illustrious out of his own state,
to a degree far beyond his experience at
home. Meetings of sympathy for him and
his cause were held in several of the large

cities; and the legislature of Maine, act
ing at the suggestion of Governor Fair
field, passed resolutions of a similar spirit.
But, notwithstanding the defeat and dis
persion of the suffrage forces on the eight
eenth of May, and the disappearance of
Dorr, no means or efforts were being
spared by the latter to rally his friends
around him in sufficient numbers to insure
a safe return to the state and a reasser-
tion of the supremacy of the people's con
stitution. In a few weeks, the suffrage friends had
entrenched themselves at Alcot's hill,
Chepaehet, a village in the town of
Gloucester, and here, by proclamation
from Dorr, the legislature was sum
moned to meet on the fourth of July.
The expectation was now general,
throughout the state, that matters
were hourly coming to a final test,
In anticipation of this, martial law
was declared by King, and every
available soldier was at once put into
the ranks, soon numbering several
thousand. Business was suspended,
and the alarming state of things ab
sorbed all thought and action. Ma*
jor General William Gibbs McNeill
was in command of the landholders'
army. Dorr arrived at the encamp
ment of his followers, at two o'clock
in the morning, his force, however,
numbering scarcely one-fourth that
of his opponents, though he was well
supplied with field-pieces, arms, and
ammunition; there were four large mar
quees, and some of the men were quartered
in a barn. The encampment occupied a
fine location, the hill being eighty feet
high and commanding the Providence
turnpike, for the whole range of cannon.
At about half-past four o'clock the next
morning, General McNeill caused a body
of five hundred men, under Colonel W. W.
Brown, to proceed from Greenville to Che
paehet, a distance of about eight miles.
A scout party of the infantry, of about a
dozen men, led by Lieutenant Pitman,
kept in advance a half a mile to two miles.
They took and sent to the rear, thirty per-

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

413

sons, in the course of
the march, all fugitives from the Che-
pachet camp. Upon arriving near the
fortification, it was evident that the
force had materially decreased ; so
much so, that the scout party, without
waiting for the advance of the main
body, determined on entering the forti
fication alone. No resistance was
made ! The men fled in confusion, and
the scout party took possession with
out firing a gun. The fortifi
cation proved to be quite inade
quate for any hostile military
operations. The main body
immediately arrived, and, the
village being now entirely in
their power, escape was impos
sible, and a large num
ber of prisoners were
and a

&i

m

m

*™AL M8PER8I0S OF GOV.

IIOKB AND BIS FORCES.

considerable quantity
of arms. Dorr fled to
Connecticut, accompa
nied by a few of his
soldiers. Governor
King offered, again,
a large reward for Gov
ernor Dorr's capture,
but he found safe quar
ters in Connecticut
and New Hampshire,
until he voluntarily re
turned. The authorities of the state
at once took him into custody, and
an indictment for high treason hav
ing been found against him, he was
tried, and a verdict of guilty being ren
dered, he was sentenced to be impris
oned for life. In 1847, however, Hon.
Byron Dinman being then governor of
the state, Mr. Dorr was pardoned ; and
in 1853, during the administration of
Governor Allen, the legislature restored

414

OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

him to full citizenship, and his friends also
caused the official record of his sentence to
be expunged. His death occurred the
next year, but not until the measures he
had espoused were, in good part, engrafted
upon the political system of his state, and
the party with which he was identified
administering its public affairs.
Similar, in some of its features, to the
rebellion in Ehode Island, was the anti-
rent insurrection in the state of New
York, the origin and character of which,
as set forth by Willard, the historian, will
sufficiently appear in the following brief
statement :
Under the early Dutch government of
that state, certain settlers received patents
of considerable tracts of land, that of Van
Eensselaer being the most extensive, —
comprising, as it did, the greater portion
of Albany and Rensselaer counties. These
lands were divided into farms of from one
hundred to one hundred and sixty acres,
and leased in perpetuity on condition that
the tenant pay annually, to the landlord
or ' patroon,' a quantity of wheat, from
twenty-two and a half bushels to ten, with
four fat fowls, and a day's service with
wagon and horses. If the tenant sold his
lease, the landlord was entitled to one
quarter of the purchase money. The land

lord was also entitled to certain privileges
on all water power, and a right to all
mines. The summer of 1844 witnessed the most
violent disturbances by the anti-rent party
in the eastern towns of Rensselaer, and
the Livingston Manor in Columbia county.
The anti-renters formed themselves into as
sociations to resist the law, and armed and
trained bands, disguised as Indians, scoured
the country, crying "Down with the
Rent ! " and, in various ways, intimidating
those who favored the execution of the
law. In 1846, Silas Wright was chosen
governor of the state, and by his wisdom
and firmness public order was restored.
By proclamation, he declared the locality in
which these disorders prevailed, to be in a
a state of insurrection ; resolute men were
made sheriffs, military force was brought
into requisition, and the leading anti-rent
ers arraigned for trial. Some of these,
convicted of murder, were condemned to
death, but their punishment commuted to
imprisonment for life. Throughout the
whole of this exciting period, there were
multitudes who sympathized with those
who opposed the collection of the rents,
but who withheld all countenance from
those measures of lawless resistance, to
which the more violent resorted.

XLVII.
MUTINY ON BOARD THE UNITED STATES BRIG-OF-WAR
SOMERS, CAPTAIN A. S. MACKENZIE.— 1842.

Deep-Laid Plot to Seize the "Vessel, Commit Wholesale Murder of Her Men, Raise the Black Flag, and
Convert Her into a Pirate. — All Prizes to be Plundered, Burnt, their Crews Butchered, and Women
and Girls Ravished. — Midshipman Spencer, Son of a United States Cabinet Officer, the Ringleader.
—The Chief Conspirators Hung at the Yard-Arm. — First Mutiny in the United States Navy. — Spen
cer's Hold Upon His Comrades. — Death the Penalty of Disclosure. — Confidence Fortunately Mis
placed. — A Man of Honor Tampered With. — Captain Mackenzie Informed of the Plot. — Treats it
as Wild and Improbable. — Confronts and Questions Spencer. — Orders Him to be Ironed. — Plan Found
in His Razor-Case. — Alarming Disaffection of the Crew. — None of the Officers Implicated. — Close
Investigation of the Case. — Spencer, Cromwell, and Small, to Die. — Their Fate Announced to
Them.— Spencer's Account of His Life. — They Meet On Their Way to be Hung. — Treatment of
Each Other.— Spencer Begs to Give the Last Signal. — Closing Scene of the Tragedy. — All Hands
Cheer the Ship. — Raising the Banner of the Cross.

" I am leagued to get possession of the vessel, murder the commander and officers,
choose from among the crew who are willing to join me such bb will be useful, murder
the rest, and commence pirating; to attack no vessels that I am not sure to capture;
to destroy every vestige of the captured vessels; and to select such of the female passen
gers as are suitable, and, after using them sufficiently, to dispose of them." — S fencer's
Declaration.

EENLY was the heart of the universal American
nation wrung, in December, 1842, at the story of the
mutiny and tragedy on board the United States brig
Somers, then under the command of Captain Alex
ander Slidell Mackenzie. The chief ringleader in
this deep-dyed and amazing plot of crime and blood,
the black flag, was no less a person than Midshipman Philip Spen
cer, son of the distinguished statesman, Hon. John C. Spencer, of New York, secretary-
of-war under President Tyler, — officiating in that capacity at the very time of the
ghastly occurrences here recited.
In the whole history of the American navy, this act stands out by itself, without a
parallel or precedent ; and, surely, no pen of romance could weave a tale of imaginary
crime equal in ghastly horror to this startling chapter — the first regularly organized
mutiny in the annals of the United States naval service.
The development of the mutinous scheme transpired on the voyage of the Somers to
the United States from Liberia, from which place she sailed on the eleventh of Novem
ber, intending to proceed home via St. Thomas. It was on Saturday, the twenty-sixth
of November, that Lieutenant Gansevoort went into the cabin and informed Captain
Mackenzie that a conspiracy existed on board of the brig to capture her, murder the
commander, the officers, and most of the crew, and convert her into a pirate, acting
Midshipman Philip Spencer being at the head of it. He stated that Purser Hieskell

416

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

had just informed him that Mr. Wales,
his steward, had approached him as if to
converse on their joint duty, and revealed
to him, for the purpose of its being com
municated to the commander, important
information. This was, that, on the night
previous, being November twenty-fifth, he,
Wales, had been accosted by Spencer, and
invited by him to get up on the booms, as
he had something uncommon to say.
When on the booms, Spencer addressed
him as follows :
" Do you fear death ? Do you fear a
dead man ? Are you afraid to kill a
man?" Mr. Wales, thus accosted, and having
his curiosity excited, with admirable cool
ness induced Spencer to go on, and took
the oath of secrecy which was administered
to him. Spencer then informed him that
he was leagued with about twenty of the
crew to get possession of the vessel,
murder the commander and officers, choose
from among those of the crew who were
willing to join him such as would be
useful, and murder the rest and commence
pirating. He mentioned all the details of
the plan, and which was well suited to the
attainment of his object — involving, in
deed, much better notions of seamanship
than he himself was capable of forming.
As one of the inducements to her capture,
he stated that a box, containing wine of
rare value, brought off with much care at
Madeira, as a present from the United
States consul at Funchal to Commodore
Nicholson, contained money or treasure to
a large amount. It was his purpose to
carry the vessel to the Isle of Pines, where
one of his associates, who had been in the
business before, had friends ; to attack no
vessels that he was not sure to capture ; to
destroy every vestige of the captured
vessels, after having removed what was
useful; to select such of the female pas
sengers as were suitable, and, after they
had used them sufficiently, to dispose of
them. Spencer also stated that he had
the written plan of his project in the back
of his cravat, which he would show to Mr.
Wales in the morning. On separating,

Spencer gave expression to terrible threats
of instant death to Wales from himself or
his accomplices, should Wales utter one
word of what had passed.
So monstrous and improbable did this
project appear to Captain Mackenzie, as
thus related to him by Lieutenant Ganse-
voort, that he at first treated it with ridi
cule, premising that Spencer had been
reading some piratical stories, and then
amused himself with working upon Wales's
credulity. Considering it, however, to be
his duty to be on his guard, lest there
should be even a shadow of reality in the
scheme, Mackenzie directed his first lieu
tenant, Gansevoort, to watch Spencer nar
rowly, without, of course, seeming to do so.
In the course of the day, Lieutenant
Gansevoort gave information that Spencer
had been in the wardroom examining a
chart of the West Indies, and had asked
the assistant surgeon some questions about
the Isle of Pines, the surgeon replying
that it was a place much frequented by
pirates, and dryly asking him in return if
he had any acquaintances there. He
passed the day rather sullenly in one
corner of the steerage, as was his custom,
engaged in examing a small piece of paper
and writing on it with his pencil, and
occasionally finding relaxation in working
with a penkife at the tail of a devil-fish,
one of the joints of which he had formed
into a sliding-ring for his cravat. He had
endeavored, too, for some days, to ascertain
the rate of the chronometer, by applying
to Midshipman Rodgers, to whom it was
unknown, and who referred him to the
master. With boatswain's mate P. Crom
well, and Elisha Small, seaman, he was
seen in secret and nightly conferences, and
to both of these he had given money, as
well as to others of the crew ; he had dis
tributed tobacco extensively among the
apprentices, in defiance of reiterated
orders ; corrupting the wardroom steward,
he caused him to steal brandy from the
wardroom mess, with which Spencer not
only got drunk himself, but administered
it to several of the crew. Though servile
in his intercourse with Captain Mackeiwe,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

417

when among the crew Spencer loaded him
with blasphemous vituperation, and pro
claimed that if would be a pleasing task
to roll him overboard off the round-house.
At one time he drew a brig with a black
flag, and asked one of the midshipmen
what he thought of it; he repeatedly
asserted, in the early part of the cruise,
that the brig might be easily taken ; and,
a short time prior to the revelation of the
plot, he had examined the hand of Mid
shipman Rodgers, told his fortune, and
predicted for him a speedy and violent
death. These and various other circum
stances, determined Captain Mackenzie to
make sure at once of Spencer's person,
and, accordingly, at evening quarters, all
the officers were ordered to lay aft on the
quarter-deck, excepting the midshipman
stationed on the forecastle. The master
was ordered to take the wheel, and those
of the crew stationed abaft sent to the
mainmast. Captain Mackenzie now ap
proached Spencer, and said to him —

J&fjHuLei c4G*AM*~y^L

"I learn, Mr. Spencer, that you aspire
to the command of the Somers."
"Oh no, sir," replied Spencer, with a
deferential, but unmoved and gently smil
ing expression.
"Did you not tell Mr. Wales, sir, that
27

you had a project to kill the commander,
the officers, and a considerable portion of
the crew of this vessel, and to convert her
into a pirate ? "
" I may have told him so, sir, but it was
in joke."
"You admit, then, that you told him
so?" " Yes, sir, but in joke ! "
" This, sir, is joking on a forbidden sub
ject — this joke may cost you your life !
Be pleased to remove your neck handker
chief." "What have you done with the paper
containing an account of your project,
which you told Mr. Wales was in the back
of • your neck handkerchief ?" — nothing
being now found in it.
"It is a paper containing my day's
work, and I have destroyed it."
"It is a singular place to keep days'
work in."
"It is a convenient one," was the defer
ential and bland reply.
"You must have been aware that you
could only have compassed your designs
by passing over my dead body, and after
that the bodies of all the officers. You
had given yourself, sir, a great deal to do.
It will be necessary for me to confine you,
sir;" saying which, Captain Mackenzie
turned to Lieutenant Gansevoort with the
order — " Arrest Mr. Spencer, and put him
in double irons."
Lieutenant Gansevoort stepped forward,
and, taking Spencer's sword, ordered him
to be double ironed, and, as an additional
security, handcuffed. Lieutenapt Ganse
voort was directed to keep a constant watch
upon Spencer, to answer all his wants, but
to have him instantly put to death if
detected in speaking to or holding intelli
gence in any way with the crew.
On searching Spencer's locker, a small
razor-case was found, which he had re
cently drawn from the purser, with a
razor in it. Instead of the razor, the case
was found to contain a small paper, rolled
in another ; on the inner one were strange
characters, which proved to be Greek, a
language understood by Spencer. It for-

418

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

tunately happened that Midshipman Rod
gers was also acquainted with Greek, and,
on his converting the characters into En
glish, they exhibited well-known names
among the crew. The certain — the doubt
ful — those who were to be kept whether
they would join or not; — those who were to
do the work of murder in the various de
partments, to take the wheel, to open the
arm-chests — were arranged in separate
rows. The next day, the crew were inspected
at quarters, at ten o'clock, Captain Mac
kenzie taking his station abaft, with the
intention of particularly observing Crom
well and Small. The persons of both were
faultlessly clean. Cromwell stood up to
his full stature, his muscles braced, his
battle-axe grasped resolutely, his cheek
pale, but his eye fixed as indifferently, at
the oth'jr side, and he had a determined
and dangerous air. Small made a very
different figure ; his appearance was
ghastly ; he shifted his weight from side
to side, and his battle-axe passed from one
hand to the other ; his eye wandered irres
olutely, but never towards Captain Mac
kenzie. Cromwell was the tallest man
on board, Small the shortest.
From the known complicity of Cromwoll
in the plot, he was brought to the quarter
deck at night, where Captain Mackenzie
caused him to sit down, and, on question
ing him as to a secret conversation he had
held the night before with Spencer, he
denied its being him, and said, " It was
not me, sir, it was Small." Cromwell was
immediately ironed; and Small, thus
pointed out by an associate to increased
suspicion, was also sent for, interrogated,
and ironed. Increased vigilance was now
enjoined upon all the officers ; henceforward
all were perpetually armed; and either
the captain or his first lieutenant was
always on deck, and generally both of
them were. Several acts of disobedience
occurring among the ship's company, pun
ishment was inflicted upon the transgres
sors to the full extent of the law ; after
which, Captain Mackenzie took occasion to
address the crew, explaining to them the

general nature of Spencer's project, en
deavoring to divert the minds of the
slightly disaffeeted from the pictures of
successful vice which the piratical plot
presented, and informing them that the
majority of them, whatever might be their
inclinations, were to share the fate of the
officers. It is an interesting fact, that
every one of the officers of the Somers,
from the first lieutenant to the command
er's clerk, proved faithful, chivalrous, and
patriotic, from first to last.
The effect of the captain's address was
various, upon the minds of the crew. It
filled many with horror at the idea of what
they had escaped from ; it inspired others
with terror at the danger awaiting them
from their connection with the conspiracy;
but the whole crew was far from tranquil
lized. The most seriously implicated
began once more to collect in knots during
the night. Seditious words were heard
through the vessel, and an insolent and
menacing air assumed by many. Some of
the petty officers had been sounded by the
first lieutenant, and found to be true to
their colors. They were under the impres
sion that the vessel was yet far from safe,
and that an outbreak having for its object
the release of the prisoners was seriously
contemplated. This alarming state of disaffection, the
increased number who missed their muster,
repeated acts of insubordination, together
with other considerations, induced Captain
Mackenzie to have a thorough inspection
of the crew, the immediate arrest of those
principally suspected, and, on the thirtieth
of November, he addressed a letter to all
the officers on board, excepting the mid
shipmen, asking their opinion as to what
additional measures were necessary to the
security of the vessel. On receipt of this
letter, all the officers assembled in the
wardroom and commenced the examination
of witnesses.' The witnesses were duly
sworn, the testimony accurately written
down, and, in addition to the oath, each
witness signed the evidence which he had
given, after hearing it read over to him.
Without interruption and without food,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

419

the officers continued in their occupation a
whole day, and the unanimous result of
their deliberations was, that Spencer,
Cromwell, and Small should be put to
death. In the justice of this opinion Captain
Mackenzie at once concurred, and in the
necessity of carrying its recommendation
into immediate effect. The petty officers
were now mustered on the quarter-deck,
and they were each armed with a cutlass,
pistol, and cartridge-box, after which the
captain said to them,
" My lads ! you are to look at me — to
obey my orders — and to see my orders
obeyed ! Go forward ! "
The captain now gave orders that imme
diate preparations be made for hanging the
three principal criminals at the main yard-
arm; and all hands were called to witness
the punishment. The after guard and
idlers of both watches were mustered on
the quarter-deck at the whip intended for
Spencer; the forecastlemen and foretop-

men at that of Cromwell, to whose corrup
tion they had been chiefly exposed ; and
the maintopmen of both watches at that
intended for Small, who for a month or
more had filled the situation of captain of
the maintop. The officers were stationed
about the decks, and the petty officers
similarly distributed, with orders to cut
down whoever should let go the whip with
wen one hand or failed to haul on it when
ordered. The ensign and pennant being

bent on and ready for hoisting, Captain
Mackenzie put on his full uniform, and
proceeded to execute the most painful
duty that had ever devolved on an Ameri
can commander — that of announcing to
the criminals their fate. To Spencer he
said: " When you were about to take my life,
and to dishonor me as an officer wliile in
the execution of my rightful duty, without
cause of offense to you, on speculation, it
was your intention to remove me suddenly
from the world, in the darkness of the
night, in my sleep, without a moment to
utter one whisper of affection to my wife
and children — one prayer for their welfare.
Your life is now forfeited to your country ;
and the necessities of the case, growing
out of your corruption of the crew, compel
me to take it. I will not, however, imi
tate your intended example as to the
manner of claiming the sacrifice. If there
yet remains to you one feeling true to
nature, it shall be gratified. If you have
any word to send to your parents, it shall
be recorded, and faithfully delivered. Ten
minutes shall be granted you for this pur
pose." This intimation entirely overcame him.
He sank, with tears, upon his knees, and
said he was not fit to die. Captain Mac
kenzie repeated to him his own catechism,
and begged him at least to let the officer
set to the m.en he had corrupted and se
duced, the example of dying with decorum.
This immediately restored him to entire
self-possession, and, while he was engaged
in prayer, Captain Mackenzie went and
made in succession the same communica
tion to Cromwell and Small. Cromwell
fell upon his knees completely unmanned,
protested his innocence, and invoked the
name of his wife. Spencer said: "A3
these are the last words I have to say, I
trust they will be believed: Cromwell is
innocent ! " Though the evidence had
been conclusive, Captain Mackenzie was
staggered, and at once consulted Lieu
tenant Gansevoort, who said there was not
a shadow of doubt. He was told to con
sult the petty officers ; he was condemned

420

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

by acclamation by them all, as the one
man of whom they had real apprehen
sion. Spencer probably wished to save
Cromwell, in fulfillment of some mutual
oath; or, more likely, he hoped he
might yet get possession of the vessel,
and carry out the scheme of murder
and outrage matured between them.
Small alone, who had been set down
as the poltroon of the three, received
the announcement of his fate with com
posure. When asked if he had any
messages to send, he said, "I have
nooody to care for me but my poor old
mother, and I had rather she should
know how I have died." On Captain
Mackenzie returning again to Spencer, and
asking him if he had no messages to send
to his friends, he answered, " None that
they would wish to receive." Subse
quently he said :
" Tell them I die, wishing them every
blessing and happiness. / deserve death
for this and many other crimes. There
are few crimes that I have not committed.
I feel sincerely penitent, "and my only fear
of death is, that my repentance may be
too late. I have wronged many persons,
but chiefly my parents. This will kill my
poor mother ! I do not know what would
have become of me had I succeeded. I
fear this may injure my father. I will
tell you frankly what I intended to do,
had I got home — I should have attempted
to escape. I had the same project on
board the John Adams and Potomac. It
seemed to be a mania with me."
In reply to Spencer's question whether
the law would justify the commander in
taking life under such circumstances, Cap
tain Mackenzie assured him that it would ;
that he had consulted all his brother offi
cers, his messmates included, except the
boys, and their opinion had been placed
before him. He stated that it was just,
and that he deserved death. He asked
what was to be the manner of his death.
Captain Mackenzie explained it to him.
He objected to it, and asked to be shot.
He was told that no distinction could be
made between him and those be had cor

rupted. He admitted that this also was
just. He objected to the shortness of the
time for preparation, and asked for an
hour. No answer was made to this
request; but he was not hurried, and
more than the hour which he asked for
was allowed to elapse. He requested that
his face might be covered ; this was read
ily granted, and he was asked what it
should be covered with ; he did not care.
A handkerchief was sought for in his
locker ; none but a black one could be
found, and this was brought for the purpose.
It was now ordered that the other
criminals should be consulted as to their
wishes in this particular. They joined
in the request, and frocks were taken
from their bags to cover their heads.
Spencer asked to have his irons removed;
but this was not granted. He asked
for a bible and prayer-book; they were
brought, and others ordered to be fur
nished to his accomplices. He then
said to Captain Mackenzie, "I am a be
liever ! Do you think that any repent
ance at this late hour can be accepted ? "
In reply to this, the captain called to
his recollection the case of the penitent
thief who was pardoned upon the cross.
He then read in the bible, kneeled down,
and read in the prayer-book. He again
asked the captain if he thought that
his repentance could be accepted, the
time being so short, and he did not know
if he was really changed. In answer to
this, he was told that God, who was all-
merciful as well as all-wise, could not only
understand the difficulties of the situ
ation, but extend to him such a measure of
mercy as his necessities might require.
He said, " I beg your forgiveness for what
I have meditated against you." Captain
Mackenzie gave him his hand, and assured1
him of his sincere forgiveness.
More than an hour was occupied in this
scene. The petty officers had been as
signed, according to rank, to conduct the
several prisoners to the gang-way. At the
break of the quarter-deck was a narrow
passage between the trunk and pump-well.
Spencer and Cromwell met exactly on

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

421

"MMlKKWIu

either side. The captain directed
Cromwell to stop, to allow Spen-
| cer to pass first. At this mo-
§ ment Spencer himself paused,
I and asked to be allowed to see
f Mr. Wales. He was called, and
1 Cromwell now passed on, almost
| touching Spencer. When Mr.
| Wales came up, Spencer ex-
I tended his hand to him and said,
I "Mr. Wales, I earnestly hope
you will forgive me for tamper
ing with your fidelity ! " Spen
cer was wholly unmoved, Mr.
Wales almost overcome with emotion while he
replied, "I do forgive you from the bottom
of my heart, and I hope that God will forgive
you also!" "Farewell," exclaimed Spencer;
and Mr. Wales, weeping, and causing others
BWGLEAiE*as1tfk>if th'b^yabd-akm. to weep, responded "Farewell!"

422

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Spencer now passed on. At the gang
way he met Small. With the same calm
manner, but with a nearer approach to
emotion, he placed himself in front of
Small, extended his hand, and said, "Small,
forgive me for leading you into this
trouble." Small drew back with horror.
" No, by God ! Mr. Spencer, I can't for
give you ! " On a repetition of the re
quest, Small exclaimed in a searching
voice, " Ah, Mr. Spencer, that is a hard
thing for you to ask me ! We shall soon
be before the face of God, and then we
shall know all about it!" Captain Mac
kenzie went to Small, urging him to be
more generous — that this was no time for
resentment. He relented at once,, held
out his hand to take the still extended
hand of Mr. Spencer, and said with frank
ness and emotion, " I do forgive you, Mr.
Spencer ! May God Almighty forgive you
also ! " After some farewell words with
Captain Mackenzie, he said, turning to
those who held the ship, " Now, brother
topmates, give me a quick and easy death!"
He was placed on the hammocks forward
of the gangway, with his face inboard;
Spencer was similarly placed abaft the
gangway ; and Cromwell also on the other
side. About this time, Spencer sent for Lieu
tenant Gansevoort, and told him that he
might have heard that his courage had
been doubted ; he wished him to bear tes
timony that he died like a brave man. He
then asked the captain, what was to be the
signal for execution ; the captain said,
that, being desirous to hoist the colors at
the moment of execution, at once to give
solemnity to the act and to indicate by it
that the colors of the Somers were fixed to
the mast-head, it was his intention to beat
to call as for hoisting the colors, then roll
off, and at the third roll fire a gun. Spen
cer asked to be allowed himself to give the
word to fire the gun; this request was
granted, and the drum and fife were dis
missed. He asked if the gun was under
him, and was told that it was next but
one to him. He begged that no interval
might elapse between giving the word

and firing the gun. Captain Mackenzie
asked if they were firing with the lock and
wafer, which had always proved quick and
sure, but was told that they had a tube and
priming, and were prepared to fire with a
match. Some delay would have ensued
to open the arm chest and get out a wafer.
The captain ordered a supply of live coals
to be passed up from the galley, and fresh
ones continually supplied; then assured
Spencer there would be no delay.
Time still wearing away in this manner,
Small requested leave to address the crew.
Spencer, having leave to give the word,
was asked if he would consent to the
delay. He assented, and Small's face
being uncovered, he spoke as follows:
" Shipmates and topmates ! take warning
by my example. I never was a pirate. I
never killed a man. It's for saying I
would do it, that I am about to depart this
life. See what a word will do ! It was
going in a Guineaman that brought me to
this. Beware of a Guineaman." He
turned to Spencer and said to him, " I am
now ready to die, Mr. Spencer, are you ? "
Cromwell's last words were, " Tell my wife
I die an innocent man ; tell Lieutenant
Morris I die an innocent man ! " It had
been the game of this leading conspirator
to appear innocent.
Captain Mackenzie now placed himself
on a trunk, in a situation from which his
eye could take in everything, and waited
for some time; but no word came. At
length, the captain was informed that
Spencer said he could not give the word —
that he wished tlie commander to give the
word himself. The gun was accordingly
fired, and the execution 'took place! The
three conspirators against tlieir country,
their flag, their comrades and mankind,
swung lifeless in the air, from the yard-
arm ; — a fate richly deserved, at least by
him who had atrociously declared: "I am
leagued to get possession of the vessel,
murder the commander and officers, choose
from among those of the crew who are
willing to join me such as will be useful,
murder the rest, and commence pirating;
to attack no vessels that I am not sure to

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

423

capture ; to destroy every vestige of the
captured vessels ; and to select such of the
female passengers as are suitable, and,
after using them sufficiently, to dispose of
them." The crew were now ordered aft, and
were addressed by Captain Mackenzie,
from the trunk on which he was standing ;
after which, the crew were piped down
from witnessing punishment, and all hands
called to cheer the ship. Captain Mac
kenzie himself gave the order — " Stand by
to give three hearty cheers for the flag of
our country ! " Never were three heartier
cheers given. On the following Sunday,
after the laws for the government of the
navy had been read, as usual on the first
Sunday of the month, the crew were again
impressively addressed by Captain Mac
kenzie, and, in conclusion, he told them
that as they had shown that they could
give cheers for their country, they should
now give cheers to their God, — for they

would do this when they sang praises to
his name. The colors were now hoisted,
and, above the American ensign, the only
banner to which it may give place, — the
banner of the cross. And now, over the
vasty deep, there resounded that joyous
song of adoration, the hundredth psalm,
sung by all the officers and crew.
On the arrival home, of the Somers, the
tragedy was investigated by a court of
inquiry, consisting of Commodores Stewart,
Jacob Jones, and Dallas, and Captain
Mackenzie's course was fully approved.
A court-martial was also subsequently
held, at his personal request, of which
Commodore John Downes was president,
and the trial, which lasted forty days,
resulted in his acquittal. One of the
ablest reviews of this case, was that
by Mr. J. Fenimore Cooper, in which
Mackenzie's course was condemned; but
the popular opinion was greatly in his
favor.

XLVIII.
SUDDEN APPEARANCE OP A GREAT AND FIERY COMET
IN THE SKIES AT NOONDAY.— 1843.

It Sweeps Through the Heavens, for Several Weeks, with a Luminous Train 108,000,000 Miles in
Length. — Almost Grazes the Sun, and, after Whirling Around that Orb with Prodigious Velocity,
Approaches the Earth with a Fearful Momentum. — Its Mysterious Disappearance in the Unknown
Realms and Depths of Space. — Most Notable of all Comets. — First Visible in the Day-time.— Its
Conspicuous Aspect. — Strange and Threatening Motion. — Its Course Towards the Sun. — Their
¦ Supposed Contact. — Becomes Bed in Passing. — Becedes Straight to the Earth. — Watched with
Deep Concern. — The Magnetic Needle Agitated. — Wide Fears of a Collision. — Its Probable Result.
— Indian Terror and Prediction. — Triumphs of Astronomy. — Diameter of the Comet's Head.—
Measurement of its Tail. — Stars Seen Through the Train. — Appearance in the Equator.— Like a
Stream of Molten Fire.— Beautiful Ocean Reflection.— Doable Sweep of the Tail.— Other Comet-
ary Phenomena.

" A pathleat comet,
The menace of Ihe universe;
Still rolling on wi th innate force.
Without a sphere, without a course.'*

SUALLY, the name or word ' comet ' is applied to bodies which
appear in the heavens with a train, or tail, of light ; but it is
now not uncommon to apply the term to those heavenly bodies,
beyond the limits of the earth's atmosphere, which are nebulous
in their appearance, and with or without a tail. It is, however,
the class first named, which includes the most wonderful ex
amples of this phenomenon in modern times; and, in connec
tion with the splendid visitant of this kind that appeared in 1843, — almost rivaling, aa
it did, the splendor of the sun itself, — some notice will be appropriate of similar bodies
which, during the last century, have excited wonder and admiration.
Without dwelling upon the appearance of those comets which antedate the year
1800, or upon the corruscations, flickering and vanishing like northern lights, of the
comet of 1807, some mention may be made of that of 1811, the finest that, up to the
time of its appearance, had adorned the heavens since the age of Newton. It was
noted for its intense brilliancy, and was visible for more than three months in succes
sion to the naked eye, shining with great splendor — being, indeed, a comet of the
first class, in point of magnitude and luminosity. Its brilliant tail, at its greatest
elongation, had an extent of one hundred and twenty-three millions of miles, by a
breadth of fifteen millions ; and thus, supposing the nucleus of the comet to have been
placed on the sun, and the tail in the plane of the orbits of the planets, it would have
reached over those of Mercury, Venus, the Earth, and have bordered on that of
Mars. At its nearest approach to us, the comet was yet distant one hundred and forty-
one millions of miles, so that even had the tail pointed to the earth, its extremity

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

425

would have been eighteen millions of miles
away from its surface. Its appearance
was strikingly ornamental to the evening
sky, and every eye waited and watched,
intently, to gaze upon the celestial novelty,
as it grew into distinctness with the de
clining day. The elements of the orbit
of this comet were accurately computed by
Professors Bowditch, Farrar and Fisher.
The comet of 1843 is regarded as, per
haps, the most marvelous of the present
age, having been observed in the day-time
even before it was visible at night, — pass
ing very near the sun, — exhibiting an
enormous length of tail, — and arousing an
interest in the public mind as universal
and deep as it was unprecedented. It
startled the world by its sudden appari
tion in the spring, in the western
heavens, like a streak of aurora, streaming
from the region of the sun, below the
constellation of Orion. It was at first
mistaken, by multitudes, for the zodiacal
light ; but its aspects and movements soon
proved it to be a comet of the very largest
class. There were, too, some persons who,
without regarding it, like many of the
then numerous sect called Millerites, as
foretokening the speedy destruction of the
world, still could not gaze at it un
troubled by a certain nameless feeling of
doubt and fear.
From the graphic narrative of a Euro
pean traveling at that date in the wilds
of America, it appears that the Indians
around him viewed the comet of 1843 as
the precursor of pestilence and famine.
One of his companions, Tamanua, a young
Wapisiana, broke the silence with which
the whole party for some time stared at
the starry train of the ball of fire, with
the exclamation, " This is the Spirit of
the Stars, the dreadful Capis hi— famine
and pestilence await us!" The others
immediately burst into a torrent of vocif
eration, lamenting the appearance of the
dreadful Capishi, and raising, with violent
gesticulations, their arms towards the
comet. This comet was visible in Bo-
wgna, Italy, at noon, two diameters of the
«n's disc east of the sun, wliile passing

its perihelion, being then only ninety-six
thousand miles distant from that lumin
ary, and its speed three hundred and sixty
six miles per second ; so that, in twelve
minutes, it must have passed over a space
equal to the distance between the earth
and the moon. When its distance from
the sun allowed it to be visible after sun
set, it presented an appearance of extraor
dinary magnificence.
But the appearance of this strange
body, as observed at different points, by
various scientific observers, has been made
a portion of the permanent scientific his
tory of our country, by Professor Loomis,
of Yale college, to whose learned investi
gations in this department of human
knowledge, more than one generation is
largely indebted. In his admirable paper
on this magnificent comet, he states that
it was seen in New England as early as
half-past seven in the morning, and con
tinued till after three in the afternoon,
when the sky became considerably ob
scured by clouds andj haziness. The
appearance, at first, wa3 that of a lumin
ous globular body with a short train — the
whole taken together being found by
measurement about one degree in length.
The head of the comet, as observed by the
naked eye, appeared circular ; its light, at
that time, equal to that of the moon at
midnight in a clear sky; and its apparent
size about one-eighth the area of the full
moon. Some observers compared it to a
small cloud strongly illuminated by the
sun. The train was of a paler light,
gradually diverging from the nucleus, and
melting away into the brilliant sky. An
observer at Woodstock, Vt., viewed the
comet through a common three-feet tele
scope, and found that it presented a dis
tinct and most beautiful appearance, ex
hibiting a very white and bright nucleus,
and showing a tail which divided near the
nucleus into two separate branches.
At Portland, Me., Captain Clark meas
ured the distance of the nucleus from the
sun, the only measurement, with one ex
ception, known to have been made in any
part of the globe before the third of

426

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

March. He found that the distance of
the sun's farthest limb from the nearest
limb of the comet's nucleus, was four de
grees, six minutes, fifteen seconds. At
Conception, in South America, Captain
Ray saw the comet on the twenty-seventh
of February, east of the sun, distant about
one-sixth of his diameter. The comet was
seen at Pernambuco, Brazil, and in Van
Dieman's Land, on the first of March.
On the second, it was seen in great bril
liancy at St. Thomas, and by various
navigators in the equatorial regions. On
the evening of the third, it was noticed at
Key West, and excited much attention.
On the fourth, it was seen in the latitude
of New York by a few, and, on the even
ing of the fifth, it was noticed very gen
erally. From this date, until about the close of
the month, it presented a most magnificent
spectacle every clear evening, in the ab
sence of the moon. As seen near the
equator, the tail had a darkish line from
its head through f,he center to the end.
It was occasionally brilliant enough to
throw a strong light upon the sea. The
greatest length of tail, as seen there, was
about the fifth of March, sixty-nine de
grees as measured with the sextant, and
it was observed to have considerable curv
ature. One observer described it as an
elongated birch-rod, slightly curved, and
having a breadth of one degree. At the
Cape of Good Hope, March third, it was
described as a double tail, about twenty-
five degrees in length, the two streamers
making with each other an angle of about
a quarter of a degree, and proceeding from
the head in perfectly straight lines. In
the United States, the greatest length of
tail observed was about fifty degrees.
Professor Tuttle gives it, as seen through
the Cambridge telescope, at one hundred
and eighty millions of miles. The curva
ture of the tail upward, though very
noticeable, scarcely exceeded two degrees.
The first observation of the nucleus, with
the exception of the noonday observations,
is believed to have been made at the Cape
of Good Hope, on the third of March,

after which it was observed regularly
until its disappearance. At Trevandrun
in India, it was observed from the sixth •
at Cambridge, Mass., it was observed on
the ninth, and at numerous places on the
eleventh. The first European observation
of the nucleus was made on the seven
teenth, at Rome and Naples.
The comet nowhere continued visible
many days in succession. It was seldom
seen in Europe after the first of April.
The last observation at Naples was on the
seventh. On the fifteenth, at Berlin,
Professor Encke thought he caught a
faint glimpse of the comet, but it could
not be found again on the subsequent
evening. At Washington, D. C, the
comet was observed on the morning of
March sixth. Mr. Maury says concerning
it, that his attention was called to a para
graph in the newspapers of that date,
Monday, stating that a comet was visible
near the sun at mid-day with the naked
eye ! The sky was clear ; but not being
able to discover anything with the unas
sisted eye, recourse was had to a telescope,
though with no better result. About
sunset in the evening, the examination
was renewed, but still to no purpose. The
last faint streak of day gilded the west,
beautiful and delicate fleeces of cloud cur
tained the bed of the sun, the upper sky
was studded with stars, and all hopes of
seeing the comet that evening had van
ished. Soon after the time for retiring,
however, the comet was observed in the
west, — a phenomenon sublime and beauti
ful. The needle was greatly agitated;
and a strongly marked pencil of light was
streaming up from the path of the sun in
an oblique direction to the southward and
eastward ; its edges were parallel. Stars
could be seen twinkling through it, and no
doubt was at first entertained, that this
was the tail of the comet. Direction was
given to search the eastern sky with the
telescope in the morning, from early dawn
and before, till sunrise; but nothing
strange or uncommon was noticed. Tues
day was a beautiful day. The sun was
clear, gilding, as it sunk below tho hills,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

427

a narrow streak of cloud, seen through the
tree-tops beyond the Potomac. The tail
had appeared of great length for the first
time the evening before ; and the observ
ers expected, therefore, to find a much
greater length to it in the evening follow
ing. It was a moment of intense inter
est when the first stars began to appear.
The last rays of the sun still glittered in
the horizon; and at this moment, a well
defined pencil of hairy light was seen
pointing towards the sun. Soon after six
o'clock it grew more distinct, and then
gradually faded away.
Professor Loomis states that the most
complete series of observations on this
comet of 1843, in this country, were made
by Messrs. Walker and Kendall of Phila
delphia, where the comet was followed
until April tenth. A great many astron-

perihelion was prodigious. This was such
as, if continued, would have carried it
round the sun in two hours and a half ;
in fact, it did go more than half round the
sun in this time. In one day — that is,
from twelve hours before, to twelve hours
after perihelion passage, — it made two
hundred and ninety-one degrees of anom
aly ; in other words, it made more than
three-quarters of its circuit round the sun.
The head of this comet was exceedingly
small in comparison, with its tail. When
first discovered, many were unwilling to
believe it a comet, because it had no head.
The head was probably nowhere seen by
the naked eye after the first days of March.
At the close of March, the head was so
faint as to render observations somewhat
difficult even with a good telescope, while
the tail might still be followed by the

VIEW OF THE GREAT COMET WHEN NEAREST THE EARTH.

omers, however, computed the comet's
orbit, and obtained most extraordinary
results. The comet receded from the sun
almost in a straight line, so that it required
careful observations to determine in which
direction the comet passed round the sun,
and some at first obtained a direct orbit,
when it sh6uld have been retrograde. The
perihelion distance — that is, the least dis
tance from the sun, — was extremely small,
very little exceeding the sun's radius.
Some obtained a smaller quantity than
this, but such a supposition seems to in
volve an impossibility. It is nevertheless
certain, that the comet almost grazed the
sun; perhaps some portion of its nebu
losity may have come into direct collision
with it !
The velocity with which the comet
whirled round the sun at the instant of

naked eye about thirty degrees. Bessel
remarked that this comet seemed to have
exhausted its head in the manufacture of
its tail. It is not, however, to be hence
inferred, that the tail was really brighter
than the head, only more conspicuous from
its greater size. A large object, though
faint, is much more noticeable than a
small one of intenser light.
The nearest approach of the comet's
head to the earth was about eighty mil
lions of miles. The absolute diameter of
the nebulosity surrounding the head was
about thirty-six thousand miles. The
length of the tail was prodigious ; on the
twenty-eighth of February, it was thirty-
five millions of miles, and its greatest
visible length was one hundred and eight
millions, namely, on the twenty-first of
March. Stars were easily distinguishable

428

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

429

through the luminous train. The visible
portion of the tail attained its greatest
length early in March, remained nearly
stationary for some time, and during the
first week in April suddenly disappeared,
from increased distance, without any great
diminution of length. The tail was
turned nearly toward the earth on the
night of February twenty-seventh, in such
a direction, that had it reached the earth's
orbit, it would have passed fifteen mil
lions of miles south of us.
In regard to the extraordinary bril
liancy of this comet, on the twenty-eighth
of February, it was the opinion of Profes
sor Loomis — and no one's opinion could
have greater authority or weight than
his, — that this was due to the comet's
proximity to the sun. The day before,
it had almost grazed the sun's disc. The
heat it received, according to the computa
tions of Sir John Herschel, must have
been forty-seven thousand times that re
ceived by the earth from a vertical sun !
The rays of the sun united in the focus
of a lens thirty-two inches in diameter,
and six feet eight inches focal length, have
melted carnelian, agate and rock crystal.
The heat to which the comet was sub
jected must have exceeded by twenty-five
times that in the focus of such a lens.
Such a temperature would have converted
into vapor almost every substance on the
earth's surface ; and if anything retained
the solid form, it would be in a state of
intense ignition. Tlie comet on the
twenty-eighth of February was red hot,
and, for some days after its perihelion, it
retained a peculiar fiery appearance. In
t the equatorial regions, the tail is described
as resembling a stream of fire from a fur
nace. Such are some of the principal facts
concerning this most wonderful comet of
modern times, according to the investiga
tions made by Loomis, — also by Bond,
Walker, Mitchell, Joslin, Hitchcock, and
others, and which is significantly and de
servedly called "the Great Comet."
In 1847, another remarkable comet,
visible to the naked eye, made its appear

ance in the constellation Andromeda. In
the early part of February, it shone as a
star of the fourth magnitude, with a tail
extending about four degrees from the
nucleus. The distance of the comet from
the sun's surface, on the evening of March
thirtieth, was only about three and a half
millions of miles. The cometic nebulosity
was about sixty-five thousand miles in
diameter, and that of the more condensed
central part, eight thousand miles. The
length of tail was far less than that of the
comet of 1843. Of this comet, a full page
plate illustrates this article, showing, in a
peculiar manner, the supernal splendor
characterizing this mysterious order of the
heavenly bodies.
The comet of 1853 was clearly visible
to the naked eye, and had a well de
fined nucleus and tail. On investigation,
astronomers failed to identify this comet
with any previous one. Its brilliant
nucleus and long train made it very con
spicuous, — indeed, one of the largest and
most beautiful on record. The actual
diameter of the bright nucleus was eight
thousand miles, or about equal to that of
the earth. Its nearest distance to the
earth at any one time was sixty-eight
millions of miles.
In September, 1858, Donati's celebrated
comet made its appearance, and was for
weeks a wonder in the skies, at which the
whole nation gazed with deep and intense
interest. The great astronomers, Loomis,
Peirce, George P. Bond, William C. Bond,
Tuttle, Norton, Hubbard, Safford, and
Gould, made learned observations of the
celestial visitor. The nucleus was very
brilliant, the tail prodigious. A star of
the first magnitude might have rivaled
the illumination of this comet, but noth
ing less was worthy a comparison. The
tail had a curve like a scimitar; but its
end was shadowy, faint, tremulous, and
uncertain. The view from twilight until
deep dark, was magnificent. On the
twentieth of October, the first of a series
of extraordinary phenomena manifested
itself in the region contiguous to the nu
cleus. A crescent-shaped outline, obscure

430

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

and very narrow, was interspersed, like a
screen, between the nucleus and the sun ;
within this, instead of a softly-blended
nebulous light, indicative of an undis
turbed condition of equilibrium, the fiery
mass was in a state of apparent commo
tion, as though upheaved by the action of
violent internal forces. On the twenty-
third, two dark outlines were traced more
than half way round the nucleus, and on
the, next evening still another. Other
envelopes were subsequently formed, their
motion of projection from the nucleus
being evident from night to night. The
rapidity of their formation, and the enor
mous extent to which they were ultimately
expanded, constituted a remarkable feat
ure, difficult of explanation. The comet

TELESCOPIC VIEW OF THE COMET.
was nearest to the sun — fifty-five millions
of miles, — September thirtieth ; nearest
to the earth — fifty-two millions of miles,
— October twelfth. Its tail was fifty-one
millions of miles in length.
So sudden was the apparition of the
splendid comet of 1861, that though observ
ations made at Harvard college observa
tory, June twenty-ninth, failed to detect it,
it was, on the succeeding evening, the most
conspicuous object in the western sky. On

the second of July, after twilight, the
head, to the naked eye, appeared much
brighter than a star of the first magni
tude, — about the same in brightness as
the great comet of 1858. The aspect of
the tail was that of a narrow, straight
ray, projected to a distance of one hun
dred and six degrees from the nucleus,
being easily distinguishable quite up to
the borders of the milky way. The
boundaries, for the most part, were well
defined, and easily traced among the
stars. Further observations on the tail
made it evident that a diffuse, dim light,
with very uncertain outlines, apparently
composed of hazy filaments, swept off in
a strong curve towards the stars in the
tail of Ursa Major. This was evidently
a broad, curved tail, intersected on its
curved side at the distance of a few de
grees from the nucleus or head, by the
long straight ray, which, at the first
glance, from its greatly superior bright
ness, seemed alone to constitute the tail.
The whole issue of nebulous matter from '
the nucleus far into the tail was curiously
grooved and striated. On the second of
July, portions of three luminous en
velopes were visible. They rapidly faded,
or were lost in the surrounding haze, and
their places were filled by new ones. The
investigations of Messrs. Safford, Hall,
and Tuttle, show the diameter of the head
of this comet to have been variously esti
mated at from one hundred and fifty to
three or four hundred miles. On the
second of July, the breadth of the head
of the nucleus was one hundred and fifty-
six thousand miles, and the length of the
tail about fifteen millions of miles.

XLIX.
EXPECTED DESTRUCTION OP THE WORLD.— 1843.

Miller's Exciting Prediction of the Second Advent of Christ. — The Speedy Fulfillment of the Latter-
Day Bible Prophecies Boldly Declared. — Zealous Promulgation of His Views. — Scores of Thousands
of Converts. — Public Feeling Intensely Wrought Upon. — Preparations by Many for the Coming
Event. — The Passing of the Time. — Miller's Apology and Defense. — His Deism in Early Life. —
Studies History and Scripture. — Is Struck by the Prophecies. — Reads Daniel and John Critically. —
Calculates Their Time. — '• About 1843 " the Consummation. — Basis of these Conclusions. — Reluc
tantly Begins to Lecture. — Interesting Incident. — His Labors and Enthusiasm. — Three Thousand Lec
tures in Ten Years. — Secret of His Great Success. — Approach of the Final Day. — Cessation of Secular
Pursuits. — Encamping in the Fields, in Grave-yards and on Roofs. — Some Curious Extravagances.
—Rebuked by Miller. — Repeated Disappointments. — Misinterpretation of Texts. — MiUer, as a Man
and Preacher. — His Calm and Happy Death.

"Iconfess my error, and acknowledge my disappointment; yet I still believe that the day of the Lord is near, even at the door." — Mil
ler s Final Words to his Followers.

EW men have attained a wider
name or more rapid and remark
able note, in the American relig
ious world, than Rev. William
Miller, " the prophet," — as he was
familiarly called, — founder of the
sect called by his name, and also
known as " Second Adventists."
A sketch of the public career of
Mr. Miller, and of the biblical
grounds upon which he based his
earnest and confident prediction of
the end of the world about the
year 1843, together with some
account of the extraordinary
scenes which characterized that
exciting period, — participated in
by tens of thousands of ardent and

THE GREAT DAV PROPHESIED BY THE SECOND ADVENTISTS.
enthusiastic believers in Mr. Miller's views,— will be found in the following pages.
Mr. Miller was born in Pittsfield, Mass., in 1782, and, when he was four years of age,
his father removed to Low Hampton, in the state of New York. At the age of twenty
mo, he settled in Poultney, Vt., and was a deputy-sheriff for that county. Taking

432

OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

a military turn, he received from Governor
Galusha a lieutenant's commission, and, on
the breaking out of • the second war with
England, he was made captain, by Presi-
ident Madison. He remained in the
United States army until the declaration
of peace, taking a courageous part in the
action at Plattsburg, where the British
were so sorely worsted. After the close of
the war, he returned to his home, where
for several years he held the office of a jus
tice of the peace.
In the community where he lived, Mr.
Miller was regarded with much esteem, as
a benevolent, intelligent man, and a kind
neighbor. He had only a common school
education, but was a person of more than
ordinary talent. In his religious views,
Mr. Miller was an avowed deist, until
about his thirty-fourth year, when his
views and feelings experienced such a
change as led him to unite with the Bap
tist church. For many years he was a
most assiduous student of history and the
scriptures, in the study of which he be
came impressed with the conviction that
the fifth monarchy predicted by Daniel to
be given to the people of the saints of the
Most High, under the whole heaven, for
an everlasting possession, — as represented
in the seventh chapter of that prophecy —
was about to be consummated.
His views — though he at no time claimed
to be, in any sense, a prophet, — were sub
stantially as follows: That Jesus Christ
will appear a second time in 1843, in the
clouds of heaven ; that he would then raise
the righteous dead, and judge them
together with the righteous living, who
would be caught up to meet him in the
air ; that he would purify the earth with
fire, causing the wicked and all their
works to be consumed in the general con
flagration, and would shut up their souls
in the place' prepared for the devil and his
angels; that the saints would live and
reign with Christ, on the new earth, a thou
sand years; that then Satan and the
wicked spirits would be let loose, and the
wicked dead be raised — this being the
second resurrection, — and, being judged,

should make war upon the saints, be
defeated, and cast down to hell forever.
It becoming known that he entertained
these views, he was importuned by many
to write out his opinions, and afterwards
to go before the public with them. After
declining so to do for a long time, he at
length complied, by writing a series of
articles, in 1831, in the Vermont Tele
graph. In 1832, he sent forth a synopsis
of his views in a pamphlet, and subse
quently, in obedience to conscientious con
victions of duty, he commenced as a public
lecturer on prophecy.
He thus describes his reluctance to
appear in public, and the occasion of his
first attempt : "One Saturday, after break
fast, in the summer of 1833, I sat down at
my desk to examine some point, and as I
arose to go out to work, it came home to
me with more force than ever, 'Go and tell
it to the world.' The impression was so
sudden, and came with such force, that I
settled down into my chair, saying, 'I
can't go, Lord.' ' Why not ? ' seemed to '
be the response ; and then all my excuses
came up, my want of ability, etc. ; but my
distress became so great, I entered into a
solemn covenant with God, that, if he
would open the way, I would go and per
form my duty to the world. ' What do
you mean by opening the way?' seemed
to come to me. ' Why,' said I, ' if I should
have an invitation to speak publicly in
any place, I will go and tell them what I
find in the Bible about the Lord's coming.'
Instantly all my burden was gone, and I
rejoiced that I should not probably be thus
called upon, for I had never had such an
invitation. My trials were not known,
and I had but little expectation of being
invited to any field of labor. In about
half an hour from this time, before I had
left the room, a son of Mr. Guilford, of
Dresden, about sixteen miles from my res
idence, came in and said that his father
had sent for me, and wished me to go
home with him. Supposing that he wished
to see me on some business, I asked him
what he wanted. He replied, that there
was to be no preaching in their church the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

433

next day, and his father wished to have
me come and talk to the people on the
subject of the Lord's coming. I was
immediately angry with myself for having
made the covenant I had; I rebelled at
once against the Lord, and determined
not to go. I left the boy, without giving
him any answer, and retired in great dis
tress to a grove near by. There I strug
gled with the Lord for about an hour,
endeavoring to release myself from the
covenant I had made with him, but could
get no relief. It was impressed upon my

at the close of a lecturing tour in the spring
of 1843, Mr. Miller remarks in his journal,
that, up to that time, he had given three
thousand two hundred lectures !
An interesting reminiscence of Mr.
Miller's early career, is related by his
biographer as having occurred soon after
the publication of his views in pamphlet
form. As he was passing down the
Hudson river, in a steam-boat, a company
of men standing near him were conversing
respecting the wonderful improvements of
the day. One of them remarked, that it

SYMBOLICAL ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE SECOND ADVENT PROPHEOIEB.

conscience, 'Will- you make a covenant
with God, and break it so soon ? ' and the
exceeding sinfulness of thus doing over
whelmed me. I finally submitted; and
promised the Lord that if he would sustain
me, I would go, trusting in him to give
me grace and ability to perform all he
should require of me. I returned to the
house, and found the boy still waiting; he
remained till after dinner, and I returned
with him to Dresden." Such was the be
ginning. And yet, ten years after, namely,
28

was impossible for things to progress, for
thirty years to come, in the same ratio that
they had done; "for," said he, "man will
attain to something more than human."
Mr. Miller replied to him, that it reminded
him of Dan. 12: 4,— 'Many shall run to
and fro, and knowledge shall be increased.'
A pause* ensuing, Mr. Miller continued,
and observed that the improvements of the
present day were just what we should
expect at this time, in the fulfillment of
Daniel's prophecy. He then commenced

434

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

with the eleventh chapter of Daniel, and,
comparing the prophecy with the history,
showed its fulfillment — all listening with
close attention. He then remarked, that
he had not intended trespassing so long
on their patience, and, leaving them,
walked to the other end of the boat. The
entire company followed, and wished to
hear more on the subject. He then took
up the second, seventh, eighth and ninth
chapters of Daniel. His hearers wished
to know if he had ever written on the sub
ject. He told them he had published the
above pamphlet, and distributed among
them what copies he had with him. This
was one of his first audiences, and some
gentlemen of high standing listened to his
remarks. In 1836, a volume of Mr. Miller's lec
tures was published and widely circulated.
Early in 1838, a copy of these lectures fell
into the hands of Rev. J. Litch, a talented
minister of the Methodist Episcopal
church, who soon after published a pam
phlet entitled the Midnight Cry, proclaim
ing the second coming of Christ about the
year 1843. U«3 also commenced preaching
the same doctrine, with great success, and
published several works of marked ability.
Another prominent receiver of the doctrine
was Rev. J. V. Himes, an accomplished
preacher of the Christian Connection, and
whose writings on the newly promulgated
views evinced much power of reasoning
and scholarly research.
The volume of lectures by Mr. Miller
had a large circulation, as did also the
publication called the Signs of the Times.
In October, 1840, the first general confer
ence of Second Advent believers was held
in Chardon street chapel, Boston. During
the winter of 1841 — 1842, conferences
were numerous throughout New England,
and, in 1842, the standard was raised in
the city of New York, by a series of meet
ings in Apollo hall, Broadway, held by
Messrs. Miller and Himes. During the
summer of that year, public excitement
greatly increased, and multitudes of preach
ers and speakers were in the field. Finally,
a large tent was constructed, capable of

holding four thousand persons, in which
meetings were held at Concord, Albany
Springfield, Newark, and other places.
The work spread with a power unparal
leled in the history of religious move
ments ; and this, notwithstanding the ridi
cule and other weapons of opposition
wielded against it by almost all the lead
ing religious and secular journalists in the
principal cities, whose influence was very
great. Perhaps the simple secret of Mr.
Miller's wonderful success, was his bring
ing prominently forward a somewhat neg
lected but vividly important truth.
The number of believers had now
reached scores of thousands. The basis of
their expectation relative to the speedy
dissolution of the world was, that, accord
ing to the results of chronological research,
it appeared that the captivity of Manasseh,
the commencement of the " seven times,"
or 2520 years of Leviticus xxvi., was
B. C. 677, also the captivity of Jehoia-
kim, the commencement of the Great
Jubilee, or 2450 years, was B. C. 607;
also the decree to rebuild Jerusalem in the
seventh of Artaxerxes, the commencement
of the seventy weeks and 2300 days of
Daniel vm. and ix., was given B. C.
457 ; and also the taking away of pagan
ism in Rome, the commencement of the
1335 days of Daniel xii. Reckoning from
these several dates, it was believed that the
respective periods could extend only to
about the Jewish year 1843.
Thus, all the calculations of prophetic
time were understood by the Second Ad-
ventists to end in 1843. But what par
ticular time, in that year, was a matter of
uncertainty. Some supposed one day or
season, some another. It was Mr. Miller's
opinion, that the seventy weeks ended
with the crucifixion, in A. D. 33 ; conse
quently, that the whole time would end
with its anniversary, in 1843. Still, he was
not satisfied as to the exactness of the cal
culation, and hence, from the outset,
expressed himself, "about 1843;" indeed,
in the year 1839, he remarked that he was
not positive that the event. would trans
pire in the spring of 1843— he should

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

435

claim the whole of the Jewish year, until
March 21, 1844.
But in opposition to the views thus held
by Mr. Miller and his able co-laborers,
Himes, Litch, and other commentators, a
host of learned writers appeared, including
representatives of all the Christian denom
inations — though even among these, there
was no slight diversity of opinion as to the
scope and meaning of the prophecies, and,
in respect to the correctness of some of the
points held by Mr. Miller, no objections
were advanced. The usual strain of argu
ment used by the opponents of Mr. Mil
ler's rendering of the scriptures was as
follows : — That the Lord cannot come until
after the millennium, during which the
whole world is to be righteous, and the
lion eat straw like the ox, etc. ; that the
Jews must be brought in, and restored to
Palestine, before that day comes ; that it
is to come as a thief in the night — sudden,
unanticipated, unlooked for ; that the
world and the human race being as yet in
their infancy, so far as moral and material
development is concerned, it could not be
reasonably expected that the Lord would
come to destroy the world.
But the great opposing argument
brought to bear against the new views,
was, that the vision in the eighth chapter
of Daniel, has nothing to do with the
coming of Christ, or setting up of God's
everlasting kingdom; that Antiochus
Epiphanes, a Syrian king, is the hero
of Daniel's vision, in the eighth chapter,
¦and that the 2300 days are but half days,
amounting to 1150 literal days, all of
which were literally fulfilled by Antiochus,
—his persecution of the Jews, and dese
cration of the temple, about one hundred
and sixty years B. C.
The earliest date fixed upon by any of
the Adventists as a probable time for the
Lord's coming (as stated by Mr. Litch,
one of the ablest and most reliable author
ities), was February tenth, forty-five years
rrom the time the French army took Rome,
m 1798. The next point, and the oni
which was thought the more probable, was
February fifteenth, the anniversary of the

abolition of the- papal government, and the
erection of the Roman Republic. Viewing
this to be the termination of the 1290
days of Daniel xii. 11, they believed
forty-five years more would terminate the
1335 days of verse 12. Accordingly,
expectation with many was on tiptoe, fully
believing that the great day of the Lord
would then break upon the world. But
both those periods came and passed with
no unusual occurrence. At this result,
much thoughtless ridicule was indulged in
by some of the newspaper press, and exag
gerated accounts given of the believers in
the doctrine waiting in their white ascen
sion robes to be caught up in the air, or
going to the tops of the houses, or into the
grave-yards, to watch. Very few, however,
were so much shaken by their disappoint
ment in the passing of the time, as to go
back and give up the doctrine. Their
confidence, as well as their religious sin
cerity, was beyond suspicion.
The fifteenth of February passed, the
next epoch which presented itself as a
leading point of time, was the Passover,
the season of the year when the crucifix
ion took place. This was looked upon by
many as being a strongly marked era, on
account of its being the occasion when
God delivered his people from Egypt, four
hundred and thirty years from Abraham's
sojourn — and, because on that feast the
crucifixion took place. This latter event,
according to the belief of many, ended the
seventy weeks of Daniel ix. 24. Hence,
they argued, the 2300 days would termi
nate when the same feast arrived in 1843,
and the Savior would come. The four
teenth of April, therefore, was a point of
time anticipated with the deepest solici
tude by many. They had the fullest con
fidence that it would not pass without
bringing the expected crisis. Others,
again, looked forward to the season of the
Ascension, or Feast of Pentecost, as being
the most -likely time for the advent. But
disappointment attended these, as it had
previous, expectations. Still, the zeal of
the disciples did not fail them ; and, at the
east, west, and south, the same enthusiasm

436

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

was manifested by the promulgators of the
doctrine that " the end of all things is at
hand." As already stated, Mr. Miller's expecta
tions as to the time of the fulfillment of
the prophetic periods, extended to the
close of the Jewish year 1843, which would
be March twenty-first, 1844 ; and, on fur
ther reflection, gave considerable weight
"to the consideration that the tenth day of
the seventh month of the current Jewish
year, which, following the reckoning of the
Caraite Jews, fell on the twenty-second of
October, was the probable termination of
several prophetic periods, and, therefore,
would very likely usher in the great and
last day. Thus it was, that, on the sixth
of October, he wrote : " If Christ does not
come within twenty or twenty-five days, I
shall feel twice the disappointment I did
in the spring." With great unanimity, as
well as honestly and heartily, was this
view accepted by his followers. Indeed,
the feeling was everywhere intense, among
them. For some days preceding the time
designated, their secular business was, for
the most part, suspended ; and those who
looked for the advent, gave themselves to
the work of preparation for that event, as
they would for death, were they on a bed
of sickness.
In regard to the extravagances charac
terizing this movement, the published
accounts are declared by the friends of
Mr. Miller to have been, for the most part,
gross misstatements, and that hundreds of
reports relating to excesses, had no found
ation in fact. Even so generally fair and
discriminating a writer as Sir Charles
Lyell, who was traveling in America
while the advent excitement was at its
height, states that several houses were
pointed out to him, between Plymouth
(Massachusetts) and Boston, the owners
of which had been reduced from ease to
poverty by their credulity, having sold
their all toward building the Tabernacle,
in which they were to pray incessantly for
six weeks previous to their ascension.
Among other stories, also, industriously
circulated, was that of a young girl who,

having no money, was induced to sell her
necklace, which had been presented her
by her betrothed. The jeweler, seeing
that she was much affected at parting with
her treasure, and discovering the circum
stances and object of the sale, showed her
some silver forks and spoons, on which he
was about to engrave the initials of the
very minister whose dupe she was, and
those of the lady he was about to marry on
a fixed day after the fated twenty-second
of October.
While traveling in New Hampshire,
Lyell states that he was told by a farmer
in one of the country villages, that, in the
course of the preceding autumn, many of
his neighbors would neither reap their
harvest of corn and potatoes, nor let others
take in the crop, saying it was tempting
Providence to store up grain for a season
that could never arrive, the great catas
trophe being so near at hand. He adds,
that in several townships in this and the
adjoining states, the local officers, or se
lectmen, interfered, harvesting the crops
at the public expense, and requiring the
owners, after the twenty-third of October,
to repay them for the outlay. So bitter
was the opposition in some places, that
offensive missiles were thrown at the pub
lic speakers, and their names coupled with
those of such impostors as Matthias, Gal-
laway, Folger, Orr, etc.
That irregularities of one kind and an
other attended a religious movement so
wide-spread, intense and enthusiastic, as
this, is not to be wondered at; but it is
doubtless true that the majority of the
incidents thus circulated were the easy
inventions of opponents. The most nota-
able incident was that which occurred in
Philadelphia. In opposition to the earnest
expostulations of Mr. Litch and other
judicious and influential persons, a com
pany of about one hundred and fifty, re
sponding to the pretended " vision" of one
Georgas, on the twenty-first of October
went out on the Darby street road, about
four miles from Market street bridge, and
encamped in a field under two large tents,
provided with all needed comforts. The

i -

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

437

next morning, their faith in the vision
having failed, all but about a dozen re
turned to the city; a few days later, the
others returned. This act met the em
phatic disapproval of Mr. Miller, and of
the Adventists generally.
This day, too,— the only specific day
which was regarded by the more intelligent
Adventists with any positiveness, — also
passed, peaceful and quiet, as other days ;
as, likewise, did the time in September,
1847, which some fixed upon, on the ground
that chronologers differed three or four
years in the dates of this world's history.
In reviewing these facts and results of the
past, Mr. Miller wrote : " Were I to live
my life over again, with the same evidence
that I then had, to be honest with God
and man I should have to do as I have
done. I confess my error, and acknowl
edge my disappointment ; yet I still be
lieve that the day of the Lord is near,
even at the door."
The speedy coming of the Lord, and the
approaching end of all things, being so fre
quently and explicitly declared in scripture,
it is no wonder that there should continue
to be found a body of believers making
that important truth, and the duties grow
ing out of it, a primary point in their
religion. Though less numerous than
formerly, they are still to be found in con
siderable numbers, with many earnest
preachers ; their chief organ has been the
Advent Herald, published in Boston, and
conducted with much decorum and ability.
It is not surprising that a man of Mr.
Miller's strong and ardent temperament,
should live and die in the same belief
which he had promulgated with such evi
dent sincerity ; for, while acknowledging,
as events proved, the want of accuracy in
his chronological calculations —he still
claimed, to the end of his days, that the
nature and nearness of the crisis were sus
tained by scriptural evidence. He died
ft Peaceful and happy death, at the age
of sixty-eight; in the year 1849, and an
admirably fair and well-written biography
of him, from the pen of Mr. Himes, ap
peared soon after.

As a man, Mr. Miller is described as
strictly temperate in all his habits,
devoted in his family and social attach
ments, and proverbial for his integrity.
He was naturally very amiable in his tem
perament, affable and attentive to all,- — a
kind-heartedness, simplicity, and power,
peculiarly original, characterizing his
manner. He was of about medium stature,
a little corpulent; hair, a light glossy
brown; countenance full and round, with
a peculiar depth of expression in his blue
eye, of shrewdness and love.

As a preacher, Mr. Miller was generally
spoken of as convincing his hearers of his
sincerity, and instructing them by his
reasoning and information. All acknowl
edge that his lectures were replete with
useful and interesting matter, showing a
knowledge of scripture very extensive and
minute — that of the prophecies, especially,
being surprisingly familiar; and his ap
plication of the great prophecies to the
great events which have taken place in the
moral and natural world, was, to say the
least, ingenious and plausible. There was
nothing very peculiar in his manner; his
gestures were easy and expressive; his
style decorous, simple, natural, and forci
ble. He was always self-possessed and
ready; distinct in his utterance, and fre
quently quaint in his observations ; in the
management of his subject, exhibiting
much tact, holding frequent colloquies with
the objector and inquirer, supplying the
questions and answers himself in a very

438

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

apposite manner, and, although grave him
self, sometimes producing a smile upon
the faces of his auditors. Much blame
was cast upon Mr. Miller, by some of his
opponents, for not contenting himself with
a quiet and unostentatious avowal of his
views, instead of traveling over the whole
country, and inaugurating the " noisy and
boisterous system of camp-meetings" in
connection with so solemn a theme. But,
that these camp-meetings did not partake
of the obnoxious qualities thus charged,
will appear — from one example at least, —
by the following account, written by John
G. Whittier, one of the most enlightened
and impartial of observers : —
On my way eastward (says Mr. Whittier),
I spent an hour or two at a camp-ground of
the Second Advent in East Kingston (N.
H.) The spot was well chosen. A tall
growth of pine and hemlock thfew its mel
ancholy shadow over the multitude, who
were arranged on rough seats of boards and
logs. Several hundred — perhaps a thou
sand — people were present, and more were
rapidly coming. Drawn about in a circle,
forming a background of snowy whiteness
to the dark masses of men and foliage,
were the white tents, and back of them the
provision stalls and cook shops. When
I reached the ground, a hymn, the words
of which I could not distinguish, was peal
ing through the dim aisles ofthe forest. I
know nothing of music, having neither ear
nor taste for it — but I could readily see
that it had its effect upon the multitude
before me, kindling to higher intensity
their already excited enthusiasm. The
preachers were placed in a rude pulpit of

rough boards, carpeted only by the dead
forest leaves, and flowers, andtasseled, not
with silk and velvet, but with the green
boughs of the somber hemlocks around it.
One of them followed the music in an earn
est exhortation on the duty of preparing for
the great event. Occasionally, he was really
eloquent, and his description of the last day
had all the terrible distinctness of Anellis's
painting of the ' End of the World/
Suspended from the front of the rude
pulpit were two broad sheets of canvas,
upon one of which was the figure of a
man, — the head of gold, the breast and
arms of silver, the belly of brass, the legs
of iron, and feet of clay, — the dream of
Nebuchadnezzar ! On the other were
depicted the wonders of the Apocalyptic
vision — the beasts — the dragons — the scar
let woman seen by the seer of Patmos —
oriental types and figures and mystic
symbols translated into staring Yankee
realities, and exhibited like the beasts of a
traveling menagerie. One horrible image,
with its hideous heads and scaly caudal
extremity, reminded me of the tremendous
line of Milton, who, in speaking of the same
evil dragon, describes him as "Swinge
ing the scaly horrors of his folded tail."
To an imaginative mind the scene was
full of novel interest. The white circle of
tents — the dim wood arches — the upturned,
earnest faces — the loud voices of the
speakers, burdened with the awful sym
bolic language of the Bible— the smoke
from the fires rising like incense from
forest altars, — carried one back to the days
of primitive worship, when "The groves
were God's first temples."

AWFUL EXPLOSION OF COMMODORE STOCKTON'S
GEEAT GUN, THE "PEACEMAKER," ON BOARD
THE U. S. STEAMSHIP PRINCETON.— 1844.

The Secretaries of State and of the Navy, and Other Eminent Persons, Instantly Killed. — Miraculous
Escape of the President. — Sudden Transition from the Height of Human Enjoyment to the Extreme
of Woe. — Stockton's High Enthusiasm. — His Vast and Beautiful Ship. — Her Model and Armament.
—Styled the Pride of the Navy. — Invitations for a Grand Gala Day. — President Tyler Attends. —
Countless Dignitaries on Board. — Array of Female Beauty. — Music, Toasts, Wit and Wine. — Firing
of the Monster Gun. — Its Perfect Success. — " One More Shot ! " by Request. — A Stunning and Mur
derous Blast. — Bursting of the Gun, — Death all Around. — Frightful Shrieks and Groans. — Scattering
of Mangled Remains. — Agony of Woman's Heart. — Standing Place of the President. — Absent Just
One Moment.— The Dead in Union Flags.— Funeral at the White House.

"My tongue would fail me to expre&B, and my pen to portray, the agonizing heart-throes— the mingled wa.lings and *renn — of that
awful hout."-Pgssini!Ni Tylek.

ARELY is there found in the pages of a hun
dred years' history, the record of a
more awful catastrophe — shocking,
indeed, in all its circumstances,
concomitants, and results — than
that which occurred on board the
ship Princeton, Commodore Stock
ton, on the afternoon of February
twenty-eighth, 1844, whilst under
way, on the river Potomac, some
fifteeen miles below Washington.
This war steamer had just been
STOCKTON'S SKEAT GUN, -THE PEACEMAKER." , , -, ¦ , i •, , ™ .,
constructed in the city ot Phila
delphia, according to improved plans enthusiastically advocated by Captain Stockton,
who had also superintended the casting of the guns — on a new principle and of prodig
ious size and power — constituting the steamship's armament. It was principally to
exhibit the superiority of these new and formidable weapons of war, in the preparation
0 which Stockton had so long been engaged, and of the perfection of which he had, by
repeated tests and experiments, thoroughly satisfied himself, that he issued cards of
invitation to a large and brilliant company, of both sexes, to visit the magnificent ship
and go on an excursion down the river. He had on successive days, previously, extended
is courtesy to various congressional committees and other officials, but this was to be
e gala day on the decks of that most stupendous and beautiful ship ever beheld on the
waters of the Potomac.

'THE PEACEMAKER."

440

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Little did any one among that gay and
splendid throng anticipate a sudden trans
ition from the height of human enjoy
ment to the extreme of wailing, anguish,
and death !
The day was remarkably fine, the sun
rising clear and bright, and Washington
from early in the morning presented a gay
and busy scene. Nearly all the carriages
were engaged, and freighted with the love
liness, beauty and grace of the city.
About eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Mr.
Tyler, the president of the United States,
as chief guest, Mrs. Robert Tyler, Miss
Cooper, Mr. John Tyler, Jr., — all from the

executive mansion, — with a large number
of officers in glittering uniforms, all the
members of the cabinet except Mr. Spen
cer, many other high functionaries of state,
senators and representatives, quite a num
ber of attaches and secretaries of lega
tion, General Allmonte, minister from
Mexico (Sir Richard Packenham had been
invited, but declined,) and others, .to the
number of some four hundred, were assem
bled on the deck of one of the steamers
plying between Washington and Alexan
dria, fast bearing down for the latter place.
Opposite the navy yard, a boat load of
musicians were taken on board, who, as
the company approached Alexandria, and
the Princeton hove in sight, struck up
'Hail Columbia,' while the convoy was
describing a graceful curve under the bow

of the splendid war steamer, to view her
in all her pride of architectural model, 
the flags of every nation streaming in the
brightness of the meridian sun from every
mast, and her yards manned to return the
cheers that were uttered by the happy
guests as they neared her side.
They now approached the Princeton on
her larboard side, and came quite close to
her. A bridge was soon made from the
hurricane deck to the great steamship, and
the ladies and gentlemen received by the
officers on deck, and conducted to Captain
Stockton, who was in full uniform. The
band now struck up the ' Star Spangled
Banner,' the marines presented arms, and
as soon as the company were on board, a
salute of twenty-one guns was fired, the
band still playing national airs; and it
was quite amusing to see how many ladies
remained on deck to witness the naval
maneuvers and evolutions, although they
had been politely requested to step down,
so as not to be annoyed by the smell of the
powder, or the noise of the report. Sump
tuous, too, was the banquet spread before
this gay and brilliant company.
In the meanwhile, the Princeton hove
anchor and made sail, bearing down for
Fort Washington and Mount Vernon— her
sailing qualities being admired by all.
Past Fort Washington, where the Potomac
expands, presenting sufficient scope for
the power of the Princeton's big guns, the
forward gun was shotted and fired, the
ball striking the water and rebounding
five or six times, till the eye could no
longer follow its progress. An eye-witness
of this experiment — a newspaper corre
spondent—states, that, in order to observe
the effect of the shot, he posted himself on
the nearest larboard cannonade gun, and,
by the side of this, a kind of scaffolding
had been erected by the sailors, for the
ladies to stand on. One or two ladies had
taken their position there, and, close by,
stood Mr. Secretary Upshur, intent upon
witnessing the whole scene. The corre
spondent offered his place to the secretary,
but the latter declined, saying he preferred
to stand where he was— the precise spot

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

441

where, an hour afterward, he was torn to
pieces. Captain Stockton's great gun — called
ironically "the Peacemaker," — was now
again loaded with shot, and another trial
made of its strength and efficiency. The
gun was pointed to leeward, and behind it
stood Captain Stockton ; a little to the left
of him, Mr. J. Washington Tyson, assist
ant postmaster-general. By the side of
the latter, a little behind him, stood Mr.
Strickland, of Philadelphia ; and a little to
the right of, but behind him, Colonel
Benton, of Missouri, who had a lady at his
arm; and Judge S. S. Phelps, senator
from Vermont. To the leeward of the gun
stood Judge Upshur, the secretary of
state ; also Governor Gilmer, the secretary
of the navy, who had but a few days previ
ously entered on the duties of his office ;
and, a short distance behind them, the late
charge d'affaires to Belgium, Mr. Maxey,
of Maryland. By the side of him stood
Hon. Mr. Gardiner, of New York, and
Commodore Kennon, chief of one of the
navy bureaus.
On firing the gun, a murderous blast
succeeded — the whole ship shook and
reeled — and a dense cloud of smoke envel
oped the whole group on the forecastle ;
but when this blew away, an awful and
heart-rending scene presented itself to the
view of the hushed and agonizing specta
tors. The gun had burst, at a point three
or four feet from the breech, and scattered
death and desolation all around.
The lower part of the gun, from the
trunnions to the breech, was blown off,
and one-half section of it lying upon the
breast of the newspaper correspondent ; it
took two sailors to remove it. Secretary
Upshur was badly cut over the eye and in
his legs, his clothes being literally torn
from his body ; he expired in a very few
minutes. Governor Gilmer, of Virginia,
—under whose official directions, as secre
tary of the navy, the power of this great
gun was tested,— was found equally badly
injured; he had evidently been struck by
tne section of the gun before it had
reached Mr. Upshur. Mr. Sykes, member

of congress from New Jersey, endeavored
to raise him from the ground, but was
unable. A mattress was then procured,
and Mr. Gilmer placed on it ; but before
any medical assistance could be procured,
he was not among the living.
Mr. Maxey had his arms and one of his
legs cut off, the pieces of flesh hanging to
the mutilated limbs, cold and bloodless,
in a manner truly frightful. Mr. Gardi
ner, of New York (one of whose daugh
ters subsequently became the wife of Pres
ident Tyler), and Commodore Kennon,
lingered about half an hour ; but they did
not seem for a single moment to be con
scious of their fate, and expired almost
without a groan. The flags of the Union
were placed over the dead bodies, as their
winding-sheets. Behind the gun, the scene, though at
first equally distressing, was less alarming.
Captain Stockton, who was knocked down
and somewhat injured, almost instantly
rose to his feet, and, mounting upon the
wooden carriage, quickly and anxiously
surveyed the whole effect of the calamity.
All the hair of his head and face was
burnt off; and he stood calm and undis
mayed, but deeply conscious, over the
frightful wreck. Shrieks of woe were
heard from every quarter — death and deso
lation, blood and mangled remains, were
all around. In addition to the deaths
already mentioned, about a dozen sailors
were badly wounded ; one was dead, and,
behind him, Colonel Benton, Judge
Phelps, and Mr. Strickland, as if dead,
were extended on the deck. On that side,
by a singular concatenation of circum
stances, Mr. Tyson, of Philadelphia, was
the only person who stood his ground,
though a piece of the gun, weighing about
two pounds, had passed through his hat,
about two inches from his skull, and fallen
down by the side of him. A servant of
the president, a colored lad of about fifteen
years of age, was amongst the slain. Pres
ident Tyler himself was saved only by the
merest accident — having been temporarily
called back from where he stood, just a
moment before !

442

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Judge Phelps, of Vermont, had his hat
blown or knocked off, and the buttons of
his coat torn off. Mr. Strickland, of Phil
adelphia, immediately recovered his posi
tion. Miss Woodbury and Miss Cooper,
who, in company of Captain Reed, of the
army, and Mr. Welles, of Philadelphia,
had been standing on a leeward gun, were
not hurt ; but the first-named lady — the
beautiful and accomplished daughter of
Senator Woodbury, of New Hampshire, —
had her whole face sprinkled with blood,
from one of the unfortunate killed or
wounded. Judge Wilkins ,was only saved
by a rollicking bit of witticism of his.

He had taken his stand by the side of his
colleague in office, Secretary Gilmer, but
some remarks falling from the lips of the
latter, and perceiving that the gun was
about to be fired, exclaimed, suiting his
action to the word —
" Though secretary of war, I don't like
this firing, and believe that I shall run ! "
A most heart-rending scene was that
which transpired among some of the lady
guests. The two daughters of Mr. Gardi
ner, of New York, were on board, and
were piteously lamenting the death of
their father ; while Mrs. Gilmer, from
whom the company had in vain attempted
to withhold, for a time, the dreadful news
of the death of her husband, presented
truly a spectacle fit to be depicted by a
tragedian. Her agony was doubtless
aggravated by a peculiar incident. It

appears that, while President Tyler and
family, and a large number of ladies and
gentlemen in the cabin, were in the act of
leaving the banquet-table, to proceed to
the deck, the movement was arrested
for a moment, by a gentleman announcing
that one of the ladies would give a toast,
and but for which it is probable most of
the party would have been exposed to the
deadly missiles. Some of the ladies, how
ever, were upon deck, and near enough to
be dashed with the blood and mangled
remains of the victims. One of those
ladies was the wife of Secretary Gilmer,
and it was at her husband's special request,
that the gun on this occasion was fired,
in order that he might observe its quality
in some peculiar way. This gun was the
one called the ' Peacemaker ; ' the other,
of the same size on board, was called the
'Oregon.' Mr. Seaton, mayor of the city of Wash
ington, was one of the company, having
been invited by Mr. Gilmer, and would
have accompanied him to the deck to
witness the firing, but for a difficulty in
finding his cloak and hat at the moment.
A lady, standing upon the deck between
two gentlemen, one of whom had his hat,
and the other the breast of his coat .taken
off, escaped unhurt. The secretary of
state, Mr. Upshur, left a wife and daugh
ter, to mourn his untimely death ; Secre
tary Gilmer, a wife and eight children—
the eldest but fifteen. Commodore Kennon
left a young wife, and children by his first
wife. Mr. Maxey also left a wife and
children ; and Colonel Gardiner two accom
plished daughters, leading belles in the
society of the metropolis. The only cir
cumstance calculated to relieve the all-per
vading distress, was, that of the multitude
of ladies who were on board the ship, not
one was materially injured.
As illustrating the effect of such a phe
nomenon, upon those who were near
enough to have their sensations and emo
tions wrought upon to the highest degree,
without actual injury to their persons, the
experience of Senator Benton — certainly
one of the strongest-minded of men— is an

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

443

EXPLOSION OF THE GREAT GUN ON BOARD THE UNITED STATES STEAMSHIP PRINCETON.

interesting case in point. In that sena
tor's account of the occurrence, he says,
among other things: 'Lieutenant Hunt
caused the gun to be worked, to show the
ease and precision with which her direc
tion could be changed, and then pointed
down the river to make the fire — himself
and the gunners standing near the breech
on the right. I opened my mouth wide to
receive the concussion on the inside as well
as on the outside of the head and ears, so
as to lessen the force of the external
shock. I saw the hammer pulled back

— heard a tap — saw a flash — felt a blast in
the face, and knew that my hat was gone ;
and that was the last that I knew of the
world, or of myself, for a time, of which I
can give any account. The first that I
knew of myself, or of anything afterwards,
was rising up at the breech of the gun,
seeing the gun itself split open, — two
seamen, the blood oozing from their ears
and nostrils, rising and reeling near me—
Commodore Stockton, hat gone, and face
blackened, standing bolt upright, staring
fixedly upon the shattered gun. I bad heard

444

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

no noise — no more than the dead. I only
knew that the gun had burst from seeing
its fragments. I had gone through the
experience of a sudden death, as if from
lightning, which extinguishes knowledge
and sensation, and takes one out of the
world without thought or feeling. I think
I know what it is to die without knowing
it, and that such a death is nothing to
him that revives. The rapid and lucid
working of the mind to the instant of
extinction, is the marvel that still aston
ishes me. I heard the tap — saw the flash,
felt the blast — and knew nothing of the
explosion. I was cut off in that inappre
ciable point of time which intervened
between the flash and the fire — between

the burning of the powder in the touch-
hole, and the burning of it in the barrel of
the gun. No mind can seize that point of
time, no thought can measure it ; yet to
me it was distinctly marked, divided life
from death — the life that sees, and feels,
and knows, from death (for such it was for
the time), which annihilates self and the
world. And now is credible to me, or
rather comprehensible, what persons have
told me of the rapid and clear working of
the mind in sudden and dreadful catastro
phes — as in steam-boat explosions, and
being blown into the air — and have the
events of their lives pass in review before
them, and even speculate upon the chances
of falling on the deck and being crushed,

or falling on the water and swimming:
and persons recovered from drowning, and
running their whole lives over in the inter
val between losing hope and losing con
sciousness.' This account, written by Mr.
Benton, several years after the occurrence,
shows the vivid impression made upon his
mind. Of similar interest was the experience
of Judge Phelps, senator from Vermont,
who was nearer to the gun than any other
guest, and who had at his side a young
lady, Miss Sommerville, from Maryland.
The judge was prostrated, his hat and the
lady's bonnet disappeared, her dress was
also torn, and the judge's apparel rent and
demolished. The lady's face was scorched,
and she stood like a statue,
unconscious. 'I took a
glance at the scene,' says
the judge, writing to a
friend, 'caught her round
the waist, and carried her
below. I witnessed a scene
there which I shall not at
tempt to describe — it was
one of agony, frenzy — the
shrieks of a hundred fe
males — wives, daughters,
sisters — the beauty, the
loveliness of the land. The
imploring appeals to know
the fate of the nearest and
dearest objects of their af
fection can not be forgotten. ' Sir,' said
one, ' they will not tell me about my hus
band.' I knew her not, but she was at that
moment a widow — her husband was blown
to atoms ! You will hardly believe me
when I tell you I was calm — collected. It
was no time for trepidation. I felt as if
introduced in the presence of my Maker.
The scene was ^unearthly; every selfish
feeling vanished — even my own life was of
no account. I was taken to the portals of
eternity, and felt that I was surveying
not the paltry interests of time and sense,
but man's eternal destiny. The first tear
which started in my eye fell upon the
few lines which conveyed to my beloved
and devoted wife the assurance that she

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

445

was not a widow, nor her children father
less.' The first hours after the appalling catas
trophe were marked, as might be ex
pected, by high excitement. Astonish
ment, and a feeling of dismay, mingled
with intense and painful curiosity, seized
upon the entire community. All tongues
were busy in pressing or answering in
quiries. Men rushed out of doors, crowded
the resorts of public intelligence, gathered
in knots about the streets, and with eager
countenances turned to every new-comer
for further information.
The next day, crowds poured down to
the wharf where the bodies were expected
to be landed, and, though long disap
pointed, continued to wait, hour after
hour, till at length the minute-guns from
below announced the departure of the cof
fins from on board the steamer, and the
commencement of their melancholy route
up to the city.
As the boat which bore them approached
her landing-place, the surrounding shores
were covered with spectators, while a long
line of carriages stood in waiting to follow
in the train which bore the remains of the
dead. "Six hearses, in sad contiguity, stood
side by side, and received in succession
their mournful freight, as the coffins,
borne by seamen and followed each by an
escort of naval officers, were brought
along through an avenue of sympathizing
citizens, who opened to the right and
left to let them pass. Scores of carriages
followed to the presidential mansion,
whither the dead were carried by the
president's particular desire, and de
posited in the East room. That vast
apartment, so often the scene of brilliant
festivity — so often echoing the strains of
joyous music and the mingled voices of the
gay — was now converted, in the provi
dence of God, into a sepulchral chamber,
cold, silent, and dark.
Saturday was fixed upon for the funeral
ceremonies, and the city was filled with
those who came to witness the solemn
rites and pomp of the occasion, the bustle
of business being hushed at an early hour.

Before the bodies were removed from the
executive mansion, religious services were
performed by Rev. Messrs. Hawley,
Laurie, and Butler. The funeral proces
sion was then formed, and presented an
imposing coup d'ceil. Generals Scott and
Jones led the splendid military escort.
Among the distinguished pall-bearers
were Messrs. Archer, Morgan, Bolton,
Totten, Worth, Gibson, Aulick, Shubrick,
Crane, Towson, Kennedy, Hunt, Barnard,
Fish, Fendall, — all departments of the
government, legislative, executive, judi
cial, military and naval, being largely
represented in the vast and magnificent
procession. With these honors, accom
panied by minute-guns and tolling bells,
the bodies were borne to the congressional
burying-ground, where the military halted,
and, forming in line in front of the gate,
received the hearses with martial salutes
and dirges. Minute-guns were fired from
the west terrace of the capitol grounds,
from the navy yard, and from other points,
as the cavalcade proceeded on its route ;
religious services were again performed,
on depositing the coffins in the receiving
vault ; after which, the military, as usual,
closed the solemn pageant of outward
ceremonial, by firing volleys in honor of
the lamented dead.
By direction of the president, Hon.
John Nelson became, ad interim, secretary
of state ; and Commodore Warrington, in
like manner, secretary of the navy ; in
place of Messrs. Upshur and Gilmer.
Concerning the great gun used on this oc
casion, and of which Commodore Stockton
was the projector, it may be remarked that
it was manufactured in New York, and
was far superior in point of workmanship
to its companion, the ' Oregon,' which was
made in England. The 'Peacemaker'
was placed in the bow of the ship, on a
revolving carriage, so that it might be
fired from either side. An ordinary
charge of powder for it was thirty pounds.
It carried a ball weighing two hundred
and twenty-five pounds ; and such was the
precision with which it could be fired, as
ascertained from actual experiments, that

446

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

an object the size of a hogshead could be
hit nine times in ten, at a distance of
half a mile.
The gun being loaded, the first thing
was to ascertain the precise distance of
the object to be fired at, this being done
by means of an instrument, constructed
upon trigonometrical principles, the scale
on which indicated the distance at a
glance. The next thing was to give the
gun the proper elevation. This was done
by means of a self-acting lock, on an arm
of which was a scale that indicated the
precise elevation necessary to reach a
given distance with the ball. A spring
on top of the lock was then brought up
to the point indicated, the hammer pulled
back, and, at the very point of time when,

by the ship's motion, the gun reached that
point, and not before nor afterward, the
gun was of itself discharged.
The weight of the 'Peacemaker' was
ten tons ; its length, fifteen feet ; with a
bore of twelve inches. It had been tested
with a charge of forty-nine pounds of
powder; had frequently been fired with
thirty ; it exploded with twenty-five.
A few days before the exhibition of the
ordnance to the presidential party, there
was an interesting trial of the gun, — its
manner of working and its powers —
attended with most satisfactory results.
All the preparation for firing, with the

exception simply of putting the powder
and ball into the gun, was made by Com
modore Stockton personally. By means
of a tackle fixed to the breech, a motion
was given to the gun similar to that im
parted by a heavy swell, and when it
reached the point indicated it was dis
charged. The ball in this case traveled
about two miles before it hit the water,
and then bounded several times. The
Princeton went down the river as far as
Mount Vernon. In going down, the
' Peacemaker ' was discharged three times,
and, in returning, twice. On the fourth
fire, the ball struck on the land, and its
effect was lost sight of by those on board
— so that the party demanded another
fire, and respectfully requested the cap
tain to put in a little
more powder this time.
Before firing for the fifth
and last time, the captain
said he should take the
sense of the company.
" All those in favor of an
other fire will say, aye."
The air resounded, with
" aye ! " " All those op
posed to another fire will
say, no." Not a solitary
voice. " The ayes have
it," said the captain; "I
have the assent of con
gress, and I'll go ahead."
Probably fifty pounds of
powder went into the
'Peacemaker' this time. As before, the
gun was fired by the captain himself.
The ball went, probably, four miles before
it struck. It bounded fifteen times on the
ice, in the course of which it performed a
half circle.
Stockton was one of those persevering
and enlightened experimenters who, like
James, Rodman, Wade, Dahlgren, Ames,
Sawyer, Parrott, Hotchkiss, Gillmore, are
an honor to the cause of military science.
It was in 1839, while in England, that his
attention was attracted to the extraordi
nary and important improvements there
introduced in the manufacture of large

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

447

masses of wrought iron for objects requir
ing great strength, and he was thus led
to consider the question how far the same
material might be employed in the con
struction of cannon of large caliber.
Singular enough, when Commodore Stock
ton applied to a manufacturer to do the
job, he — the manufacturer — declared that

it could not be done ; and it was not until
Commodore Stockton had promised to pay
all the expense of an attempt out of his
own pocket, that the manufacturer would
consent to make a trial. In a short time,
the manufacturer, seeing that it was per
fectly practicable, became as great an en
thusiast in the matter as Stockton himself.

LI.
TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF FREE POPULAR EDUCATIOK-
1844.

An Experiment in Behalf of the Highest Civilization. — Condition of the Countiy Previous to such Efforts.
— Early Scenes and Customs. — Public Law Invoked and Applied. — Impulse Given to the Work. — Prog
ress and Results. — America in the Van. — Most Enlightened and Successful System in the World. —
Female Education. — Colleges, Universities, etc. — A Very Modern Idea. — No National System of Edu
cation. — Undertaken by the Individual States. — Effect of Wise Legislation. — State Vieing with State. —
School-houses in " ye olden time." — The East and the West. — Wonderful Changes in Public Opinion.—
Some Strange Contrasts. — Architectural Splendor of the Present Day. — Ingenious Helps and Appli
ances. — Congressional Grants in Aid of the Cause. — Government Bureau at Washington.— Grand Aim
and Scope. — Standard of Female Instruction Raised. — Principles and Methods. — The Higher Institu
tions of Learning. — Ideas and Plans at the Start. — Founding of Harvard, Yale, etc. — Then and Now.
—Nearly 400 Colleges in the U. S.— Some 8,000,000 Common School Pupils.

" No nation can expect to prosper if the education ofthe people be neglected."— Gbokqb Washington.

HE present year may be said to complete the period and exhibit the re-
|j|v suits of some two hundred years of free popular education, as established
and fostered by the law of the land, — the fact being, in this matter, that,
though no comprehensive system of national education, under national
law, exists in the United States at the present time,
the whole interest being within State or local juris
diction, the legislative assemblies of the colonies,
particularly those of Massachusetts and Connecti
cut, gave early attention to the subject, at least in
respect to its more immediate claims and necessi
ties. It is a decidedly modern idea, that the State
at large, and each man and woman in particular, is
responsible for the proper education of every child.
Those conspicuous figures in history, Alfred and
Charlemagne, seem to have had a glimmering of
that idea, but the times were too dark, too stern for
them. During the whole of the middle Ages, little
more is to be seen than priestly schools, chiefly in
tended for the education of the clergy, but opened in
Schools for the nation at large, and supported by
As late, even, as the seventeenth century,

THE SCHOOL-HOUSE AS IT WAS.

certain places for the laity also.
the nation at large, were not dreamed of.
the state of the lower and middle classes, so far as education was concerned, was
quite discouraging. There were church schools, town schools, private schools, scat-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

449

tered about here and there, — a few good,
some indifferent, most of them poor ; but
as to any efficient machinery that should
reach every locality, and benefit every
class, this was reserved to advancing gen
erations, — and magnificent indeed has been
the realization.
As already intimated, the sources of
education were opened up at an early pe
riod in the settlement of the country, and,
in spite of all difficulties that presented
themselves, the public feeling was that
the best should be done that the times
would permit. It may be said, however,
that not until 1644 — just two hundred

the laws provided for the schoolmaster
and the school, each township of fifty fam
ilies being bound to maintain a teacher of
reading and writing, while each of a hun
dred families was called upon to set up a
grammar school. According to the phra
seology of the legislative enactment by
Massachusetts —
" It is therefore ordered y' every towne-
ship in this jurisdiction after y" Lord hath
increased ym to y° number of 50 houshold-
ers shall then forthwith appoint one within
the towne to teach all such children as
shall resort to him to write and reade,
whose wages shall be paid either by ye

YALE COLLEGE IN 1784.

OLD KING'S COLLEGE.

Wn ago— did this public feeling assume
« effectively organized form, and, in a
short time, laws were enacted which so
shaped matters as to insure permanency
and progress. Thus, in Massachusetts,
29

FIKST HARVARD COLLEGE.

parents or masters of such children, or by
y" inhabitants in generall by way of sup
ply, as y° maior part of those y' order ye
prudentials of ye town shall appoint, pro
vided those y' send their children be not

450

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

oppressed by paying much more yn they
can have ym taught for in other townes."
The example thus set was generally
imitated in the various New England set
tlements, Connecticut being, in fact, in
the very van, or at least contemporaneous
with the most alert and earnest in the
good cause. Connecticut, too, laid the

of late years, by the organization of teach
ers' associations, teachers' institutes, etc.
Pennsylvania made early provision for
public schools, namely, in the latter part
of the seventeenth century, but it was not
until 1834 that a thorough and compre
hensive plan of popular education was
put in operation by legislative ordinance.

K0RTH-WE8TEBN UKIVERSITV.

foundations at an early period, of an am
ple school fund, by setting apart for that
purpose, in 1795, the income of the sale
of lands in Ohio which were the property
of the state, — reaching a value, in some
fifty years, of more than two million dol
lars. Rhode Island established a system
of free schools by legislation in 1800.
The common school system of Maine is
identical with that of Massachusetts, the
two states having been one until 1820.
New Hampshire and Vermont were not
behindhand in prescribing methods and
providing means of general education.
In the state of New York, a school fund,
now amounting to millions of dollars, was
commenced to be raised in 1805, from the
sale of some half a million acres of state
lands, and the present system of free edu
cation was founded in 1812. New Jer
sey's school system has greatly improved,

Maryland was much later in the field, pro
posing schools long before she established
them. The southern colonies were, for a
considerable period, lacking in activity in
behalf of education, but great improve
ments have taken place, and especially is
this true of late years, — a result in no
small degree attributable to the generous
fund contributed for this purpose by Mr.
George Peabody, and so ably administered
by Dr. Sears. South Carolina was amongst
the earliest to organize public schools,
namely, in the fore part of the eighteenth
century, but these, like the schools of
almost all the country, were of a very
limited design. In Kentucky and Vir
ginia, as also in Mississippi, advance steps
have been taken, within a comparatively
recent period, in this direction. In all
the western states, in addition to Ohio
already mentioned, liberal provision has

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

451

been made for a first class system of com
mon schools, with all needed auxiliaries.
It is about equally true of the different
sections of the country in early times, that
the system of instruction was extremely
scant, and the school-house accommoda
tions of the most impoverished character,
as compared with the present day. The

objectionable, as the standard of education
was correspondingly moderate. At the
west, in its earliest days, things could
scarcely have been much worse ; indeed,
many of those born and reared in that
section, in its formation period, had no
education at all, nor did they generally
feel much concern on the subject, — and,

NORMAL SCHOOL, NEW YORK ; FOR THE TRAINING OF TEACHERS.

school-house of "ye olden time" is de
scribed as, in fact, scarcely more than a
hut or cabin— a small, low building, barn
like in shape and appearance, made in
some cases of logs, and usually of stock
equally crude or rough, frequently without
clapboards or even shingles, and lighted
by perhaps two or more four-pane win->
dows,— a narrow door of rough boards at
one end; within, completely unfinished;
some low benches without backs, and a
chair or stool for the 'master,' constituting
the furniture.
It ,was also a general fact in respect to
those times, that, though the teacher
might be decidedly a gentleman of old
school perfection in his manners, and very
popular perhaps as a man, his scholastic
attainments were quite inconsiderable,— a
Point then not likely to render him very

among those who did pretend to afford
their children a knowledge of letters, the
difficulties to contend with were numerous,
not the least of which was the lack of
competent teachers. A frequent custom
in vogue, in sparsely inhabited neighbor
hoods, was, for some one of the farmers
best qualified for the task, to spend a few
weeks or months of the most leisure sea
son of the year, in teaching the children
of the vicinity, whose parents might
choose to send them, at a small expense,
say ten or twelve dimes a quarter, payable
in work or provisions. In this way, some
of them succeeded in obtaining such an
education as was thought to answer all
needed purposes for the masses. Girls
learned to spell and read imperfectly, and
the art of penmanship was a rare attain
ment among the native daughters of the

452

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

west, of that day, except in the larger
towns, and a few favored spots in the
older settlements. The education of a
boy was then considered sufficient, if he
could spell, read, write, and had ' ciphered
to the rule of three ' ; and if, by reason of
any superior privilege, there was added
to these a knowledge of grammar and
geography, he was considered exception
ally advanced. The following were the
principal items in the bill of expense for
the entire course of studies : one Child's
book, one Spelling book, one Reader, one
New Testament, one quire of foolscap
paper, one Arithmetic, one slate, and the
tuition fees of a few quarters. The pupil
gathered his pencils from the brook, and
plucked his quills from the wing of a ra
ven, or a wild goose, killed by the father's
rifle. Compare all this with the architectural
splendor of our modern school-houses, that
are to be found dotting the hills and val
leys of forty commonwealths, the cost of
these structures varying all the way from
five thousand to one hundred thousand
dollars, finished with almost palatial luxu-
riousness of beauty and convenience, and
furnished with every possible appurtenance
and appliance which ingenuity, so prolific
in this direction, has been able to devise.
Among the most important features in this
improved system of construction and ap
paratus, may be mentioned the loftiness
and amplitude of the apartments, and that
full and free ventilation so necessary for
the health and comfort of the pupils, to
gether with an abundance of light, so that
there is no straining of the vision. Of
school-house furniture and apparatus, this
country is distinguished for a variety and
perfection unexcelled, even if equalled, by
any other nation, — including, of course,
desks, seats, and benches, promotive of
comfort, convenience, and neatness ; col
ored counters, strung on horizontal wires,
in upright frames; black-boards, of wood
or mineral, some having movable slides, on
which letters and figures are arranged in
different orders ; blocks, demonstrating the
various geometrical figures; maps in al

most endless style and variety; atlases
globes, gymnastic contrivances; models
for representative teaching; geological
mineralogical, and botanical collections-
instruments for instruction in music; 
these, with hundreds of different text
books in every department or specialty,
from the primary to the classical, with the
letter-press made artistically attractive by
the most beautiful pictorial ornamentation,
fill up the foreground of this wonderful
contrast of the present with the past, and
the details of this comparison might here
be almost indefinitely extended, did space
permit. Foreigners, even the most judicious ob
servers, from European nations of the
highest advancement in matters of educa
tion, are stated, by Prof. Hoyt, to be of
one opinion in regard to the intelligent
zeal of the American people in educational'
affairs, and the readiness with which they
voluntarily tax themselves, that the bless
ings of intellectual culture may be free to
all ; the great liberality of the government
of the United States in freely giving of
the public domain for the support of
schools for the young, of universities, and
of technical schools for instruction and
training in the applications of science to
the practical arts ; the unparalleled mu
nificence of private gifts and bequests for
the founding of great schools, general,
technical, and professional; the superior
ity of our public school buildings in the
cities and villages, and of American school
furniture ; the great superiority of our
text-books, especially those for use in the
primary and grammar schools ; and, finally,
the extraordinary extent to which our
newspaper and periodical publications,
lecture courses, and other like instrumen
talities, supplement the work of the schools
by a general diffusion of knowledge among
all classes of the people
It is not saying too much, perhaps, that
the liberal grants of public lands made in
behalf of free education, have proved, in
many of the states, the chief means of
prosperity to the cause. The establish
ment, also, of a government Bureau of

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

453

Education, at Washington, is likely to ef
fect the greatest results for good. Though
clothed with no positive authority or con
trol, it aims to encourage the growth, in
the public mind, of the following princi
ples or features of a national school sys
tem, namely : —
The authority and duty of the state
legislature to establish, aid, support, and
supervise schools of every grade, and all
institutions and agencies of education, sci
ence, and the arts ; security against dimi
nution or diversion of educational funds
and benefactions ; the certainty of a min
imum rate of taxation, sufficient every
year to secure the elementary instruction
of all children within the state who shall

ponderance, sympathy with the wants of
different sections and occupations, and
independence of local or special influence ;
a system of inspection, administered by
the state board, intelligent, professional,
frequent, and independent of local or in
stitutional control, with the widest and
fullest publicity of results ; admission to
all higher institutions aided by the state,
only on fitness to enter and profit by the
same, ascertained by open competitive
examination ; a retiring fund, made up of
an annual allowance by the state, and an
equal payment by those who register to
secure its benefits, conditioned on pro
longed service in the business of teaching;
and an obligation on parents and guar-

VIEW IN YALE COLLEGE GROUNDS.

aPPtyj hy teachers professionally trained,
and in schools legally inspected and ap
proved; the distribution of all state ap
propriations derived from taxation or funds,
on such conditions and in such modes as
will secure local taxation or individual
contributions for the same purpose, a lively
municipal or public interest in the expend
iture of both sums, the constant co-opera
tion of parents at home in realizing the
work of the' school, and the regular at
tendance of pupils ; a state board of edu
cation, having supervision of all educa
tional institutions incorporated or aided
hy the state, ahd constituted in such way
as to secure literary, scientific, and pro
fessional attainment and experience, free
dom from denominational or party pre-

dians not to allow children to grow up in
barbarism, ignorance and vagrancy, — and
the exercise of the elective franchise, or
of any public officer, to be conditioned on
the ability of the applicant to read under
standing^ the Constitution and laws.
Of free public education for females, it
may fee said that the standard is now in
every respect as high and the opportunities
as complete and ample, as for the other
sex, and that this fact relates to all the
grades or graduated courses of instruction,
from the primary and grammar schools up
to the highest collegiate and university
institutions. Normal schools, too, for the
professional training of teachers, so as to
leave nothing wanting in respect to capac
ity and adaptation for this purpose, have

454

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

been established, under legislative auspices,
in a large number of the states, and the
principles and methods characterizing
these important adjuncts to the cause
cover the widest range. Besides these
training schools, which annually send forth
hundreds of the most accomplished gradu
ates, of both sexes, colleges exclusively for
females are to be found in different parts
of the land, conducted on a scale and with
a degree of success equal to the most re
nowned of those for males only. Collegiate
institutions designed for the joint educa
tion of the two sexes constitute another
feature of the advanced American system.
The fact seems almost incredible, that,
though there were but twenty-five colleges

times and the present — any considerable
pictorial views of the superb buildings
now so numerous, which have been erected
to meet the wants of these institutions
Harvard, Yale, and Columbia (or King's)
colleges are the most ancient and cele
brated in America, and may be considered
the mother, of all. From the smallest
beginnings, their prosperity and enlarge
ment have continued until the present
day. Harvard was founded in 1636, the
intention of its originators and benefac
tors being the preparation of young men
for the ministry and as teachers. Its' de
partments — academic, theology, law, medi
cine, science, etc., — are so complete as to
fairly represent the highest order of clas-

VIEW IN HARVARD COLLEGE GROUNDS.

in the United States in the year 1800, the
number had increased nearly fifteen times
during the three-fourths of a century suc
ceeding, these being manned by a profes
sorial corps of nearly four thousand, and
the number of students falling but little
short of fifty-seven thousand, — a remarka
ble fact, indeed, and of appropriate men
tion in connection with the statement that,
at the same period, the number of pupils
enrolled in the free public schools was
some eight millions.
The number of colleges and universities
being thus among the hundreds, renders
quite impossible any attempt to present —
except in a few instances, for the purpose
of showing the contrast between former

sical learning on this continent. Yale
college was founded in 1700, and its ad
vantages and reputation have always been
unexcelled. The same may be said of Co
lumbia, Brown, Princeton, Hamilton, La
fayette, &c, &c. Columbia college was
founded in 1754 ; the university of North
Carolina dates back to 1789 ; that of South
Carolina to 1801 ; the Ohio university to
1804 ; and the university of Virginia, in
the establishment of which Thomas Jeffer
son was so prominent and influential, was
organized in 1819.
The efforts put forth at the west, in this
direction, during the last half century m
especial, have been simply amazing — only
commensurate, however, with the magnifi-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

455

cent scale upon which all enterprises in
that vast, active, and prosperous region are
planned, and which thus so truly reflect
the intelligence, wisdom, moral and politi
cal genius, and wealth, of that great peo
ple. Nor has the activity in this splendid
field of educational achievement been con
fined to any particular race, party, or de
nomination, the various Christian bodies
¦of almost every name, in fact, being repre
sented — Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian,
Congregationalist, Roman Catholic, Chris
tian, Universalist, Unitarian, Episcopalian,
Lutheran, &c, &c.
The larger number of these institutions
are not only of comparatively recent origin,
but have reached a surprising degree or
•condition of prosperity, and in not a few
instances is this due to the princely endow
ments made by individuals. Kentucky
University will forever be associated with
the name of Bowman, Cornell with its
munificent founder, and so of many others,
not alone at the west, but in other sections
¦of the country as well. In Indiana, Mich
igan, Missouri, Illinois, Wisconsin, Missis
sippi, Iowa, Ohio, Minnesota, Kansas,
California, — in fact, throughout the whole
vast area of country which scarcely had
name or knowledge when the war for inde

pendence was being waged by the thirteen
colonies, — are found seats of learning from
which the four great professions are annu
ally recruited, to say nothing of the inde
pendent fields of literature, science and
art, in some leading specialty of which,
independent of the standard professions,
so many find their life's occupation and
achievements. In the opinion of some of the wisest
educators of the present day, — an opinion
also expressed by Prof. Hoyt, in one of
his invaluable papers on the conduct of
universities, — the question is one of great
importance, whether the cause of the
higher culture and the interests of educa
tion generally would not be better pro
moted by raising the standards of admis
sion and graduation quite above the usual
low level ; thus putting all truly prepara
tory work upon the high schools, acade
mies, and colleges, where it properly
belongs, and employing the whole instruc
tional force of the university in meeting
the demand for instruction in the higher
departments of learning. There would
seem to be no doubt, that, in a very large
sense, this question lies at the foundation
of the future of American university edu
cation — its character — its results.

LII.
DISCO YERY OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER AS A PRE-
YENTIYE OF PAIN.— 1846.

Performance of Surgical Operations Involving the Intensest Torture, During the Happy Unconscious
ness of the Patient. — Account of the First Capital Demonstration Before a Crowded and Breathless
Assembly. — Its Signal Success. — Thrill of Enthusiastic Joy — Most Beneficent Boon Ever Conferred
by Science upon the Human Race. — Instinctive Dread of Pain — Fruitless Search Hitherto for a Pre
ventive. — Terror of the Probe and Knife. — Heroes Quail Before Them. — Case of the Bluff Old
Admiral. — Discovery of the Long-sought Secret. — Sulphuric Ether the Prize. — Bliss During Ampu
tation. — Honor Due to America. — A Whole World Elated. — Medical Men Exultant. — Curious Relig
ious Objections. — Test Case in Surgery. — Startling and Romantic Interest. — Value in Public Hos
pitals. — War-Sufferings Ameliorated — Various Effects wliile Inhaling. — Amusing and Extraordinary
Cases.—" Thocht the Deil had a Grip o' her ! "—Odd Talk of an Innocent Damsel— Old Folks
Wanting to Dance — Awards to the Discoverers.

" The fierce extremity of suffering has been Bteeped in the waters of forgetfulnesB, and the deepest furrow in the knotted brow ol
agony bas been smoothed forever."— Prof. O. W. Holmes.

= UMANITY— even the hardiest
and bravest portions of it — in
stinctively shrinks, with dread,
from the pain attendant upon a
deliberate cutting of the living
flesh by surgical instruments.
The case is related of a bluff
old English admiral — one of the
stoutest hearts that ever beat, in
a service whose men of every
grade are, to a proverb, daunt-
eelievinq pain bv the cse of kther. less, — who, in the opening of his
distinguished career, had been engaged in cutting out an enemy's frigate. Prom the
gun-boat, he climbed up the ship's steep side, and, foremost of his crew, had reached the
bulwarks, when, receiving a stunning blow, he fell into his boat again, striking his
back with great violence. Years afterwards, a tumor had grown on the injured
part; and at length the admiral— gray, and bent in years— found it advisable that
this growth should be removed. The man that never feared death in its most ghastly
and appalling form, now shrank from the surgeon's knife ; the removal, contemplated y
the man of many battles with feeling almost akin to childish fear, was long deferred;
and at length, half stupefied by opium though he was, a most unsteady patient did e
prove during the operation.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

457

Numberless instances have there been,
too of women — mothers — who, for their
kindred, have been at any time ready to sac
rifice their lives,by watching and privation,
in loathsome and tainted chambers of infec
tious disease, but, when themselves be
came victims of that which they knew re
quired a surgical operation, and which,
without this, they were well assured must
miserably consume them away, — even
these noble minds, resolute in the prospect
of death, have yet quailed under the fear
of surgical suffering ; they have studiously
concealed their malady from their nearest
friends, and deliberately preferred the
misery of a fataj, and unchecked, and
gnawing cancer, ,to the apprehended tor
ture of an operation, temporary though it
be. This feeling has .been universal, in
all ages, among the victims of keen physi
cal suffering.
From time immemorial, means have
been sought, and with partial success, to
relieve and even to destroy pain, during
the manipulations of practical surgery.
For this purpose, opium, Indian hemp,
mesmerism, and nitrous oxide gas and
alcohol, have been employed, and all in
their turn abandoned, except that opium
in many cases, and mesmerism in a few,
still continued to be used with imperfect
success, and almost always with the subse
quent disadvantage of headache, feverish-
ness, or other general disorder.
It was reserved for the simple inhala-
, tion of a certain gas — pure sulphuric
ether — to achieve in surgery that for which
surgeons had for centuries labored, and
labored in vain !
This was in 1846. A certain old gentle
man, however,— as the case is narrated,—
was^ not altogether a stranger to the com
forting effects of this same anodyne pro
cess, some forty years previously. ' He had
discovered that the fumes of ether could
lull him into forgetfulness of the pains
and disquietude of a bustling and check
ered hfe. He was a man of research in
his way; curious in bedg) baths^ and pro_
jessing to understand disease and its cure
better by far than his fellows. But he

was loose in principle, as well as weak in
science, and no doubt, most deservedly,
had many roughnesses in life which he
could wish to rub away. His mode was
this : Obtaining an ounce or two of
ether, he leisurely sniffed up its vapor, sit
ting softly the wliile, and manifestly en
joying a time of calmness and repose,
greatly to his liking. Indeed, on being
interrogated, he was in the habit of
blandly answering, " soothing, sir, sooth
ing to an immeasurable degree." In this
oblivion to the disgusting harassments
of life, he was in the habit of indulging
many times a day. He had curiously dis
covered that the fumes of ether could
relieve, temporarily, from the pains of a
mind ill at ease ; but he was not to know
that it could still more wonderfully
assuage the body's worst suffering.
The divulgement of this most beneficent
boon to the world since man's moral re
demption — by which the most dreaded of
surgical operations can be performed dur
ing a happy unconsciousness of the patient
— not merely with little suffering, but ab
solutely with none — is due to three Ameri
cans, namely, Drs. Morton, Jackson, and
Wells ; but to which of these is due the
priority or chief merit of the discovery, is
a question long and bitterly discussed, and
still undecided. Certainly, however, the
proceedings of each of these gentlemen, in
connection with the discovery, show un
doubted scientific acuteness, ingenuity,
zeal and perseverance..
The enthusiasm with which the an
nouncement of this marvelous discovery
was received may well be described as
unbounded. Wafted across the Atlantic,
it was at once hailed with rapturous ex
ultation in England, and speedily adopted
in most of the large hospitals throughout
the kingdom — also, in the vast hospitals
of Paris, and in the numerous institutions
of like character in Germany, including
those so celebrated at Vienna and Berlin.
Still, there were not wanting those who
regarded the discovery with distrust, and
some of the public medical institutions
barred their doors against the new alle-

458

OUR EIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

viating agent. Objections based on relig
ious grounds were urged against the em
ployment of ether. Pain, it was argued,
was the natural and intended consequence
of the primal sin, and therefore any attempt
to do away with it must be wrong. These
objectors failed to see that their argument,
if it proved anything, proved too much,
since it held with equal cogency against
any and every remedial agency, in all
cases whatsoever. Others opposed the
anaesthetic on the ground that pain is sal
utary, and that its annihilation would be

this, it was alleged that the new agent
might be used for infamous purposes. " A
fatal habit," it was said, " had sprung up
of using ether, like opium, for purposes of
exhilaration, to all intents intoxication.
A burglar forced his way into a mansion
when all its occupants were in profound
slumber, and, applying ether to them, he
had the house all to himself." Frequent
accidents, moreover, resulted from the use
of impure ether by unskillful hands, so fre
quent, indeed, that prosecution was threat
ened for administering it at all.

V

/

Ho race We us
THE THKEE CLAIMANTS OF THE DISCOVERY OF PAINLESS SURGERY, BY ETHER.

hazardous to the patient. And an emi
nent physiologist expressed the doubt
whether there were a true advantage in
suppressing pain. " It is a trivial mat
ter," said this stoic, "to suffer, and a dis
covery whose object is the prevention of
pain is of slight interest."
Then, too, letters came pouring in upon
the discoverer from all over the civilized
world, upbraiding him with having an
nounced the claims of a humbug. He
also received constant visits from profes
sional gentlemen, who questioned the ac
curacy of the experiments. Worse than

But the domain of the grim demon,
Pain, having once been successfully in
vaded, humanity and science were ill-dis
posed to yield the vantage ground. One
of the most eminent professors of surgery
in America, Dr. 0. W. Holmes, said:
" The knife is searching for disease— the
pulleys are dragging back dislocated
limbs — nature herself is working out the
primal curse, which doomed the tenderest
of her creatures to the sharpest of her
trials; but the fierce extremity of her
suffering has been steeped in the waters
of forgetfulness, and the deepest furrow

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

459

in the knotted brow of agony has been
smoothed forever." So, too, that world-
renowned surgeon and anatomist, Dr.
John C. Warren, — grave, venerable, and
dispassionate, — exclaimed :
" Who could have imagined, that draw
ing the knife over the delicate skin of the
face might produce a sensation of un
mixed delight! — that the turning and
twisting of instruments in the most sensi
tive bladder might be accompanied by a
beautiful dream ! "
It was natural enough, certainly, that
benevolence should prompt the humane
surgeon to such utterances of congratula
tion, for it supplied to him a desideratum,
long sought, for the relief of the excrucia
ting pain they were necessarily obliged to
inflict in the practice of their profession.
For screaming, and struggles, and intense
suffering under the surgeon's knife, ether
ization substituted complete exemption
from pain, associated in some with the
quietude, mental and corporeal, of deep
sleep; in others, with pleasing dreams,
imaginary busy scenes, and sweet music ;
and in others, with a perfect consciousness
of surrounding objects and events. The
obstetrician finds in it the means of alle
viating that distress with which woman
has always been afflicted, when in the
act of becoming a mother. To the physi-,
cian it affords one of the most useful, as
it is one of his most prompt, remedies.
He, before, had no reliable means of re
lieving the spasms of tetanus ; he not
unfrequently failed to procure sleep, in
delirium tremens, when the question was
one of sleep or death ; his before pallia
tive remedy, opium, for the pain of colic,
too often purchased temporary relief at the
expense of an aggravation of the cause of
the disease, and of increased difficulties in
its cure ; and he occasionally witnessed
the breaking up of the system of a neu
ralgic patient, more as a consequence of
repeated large doses of opium, than of the
disease itself.
Heretofore, also, the shock of all serious
operations had been formidable. The
patient, however resigned and courageous,

was deeply impressed in system ; the
pulse became feeble, the surface cold and
pale, the eye dim, respiration troubled,
and the whole powers of life brought low.
With the use of ether, this is otherwise.
Parturition may take place, thighs may be
amputated, stones extracted, tumors re
moved, dentistry in all its branches per
formed ; the chief deviations from the nor
mal characters of health being, in all these
cases, such as are known to be the effects of
ether — and, accordingly, both manageable
and transient. In the army, it has been
found of incalculable service, in cases re
quiring the use of the probe and and knife,
— the sadly ample opportunity in this field
during the war in the Crimea, in Mexico,
and on the battle-grounds of the South,
adding fresh triumphs to the discovery.
It will be interesting to give, at this
point, an account of the first surgical
operation performed under the influence
of ether, the result of which so fully de
monstrated this glorious truth of science.
It occurred at the Massachusetts General
Hospital, the operator being Dr. Hayward.
In his own narration of the circum
stances of this deeply interesting and most
important occasion, Dr. Hayward says : "It
was my fortune to perform the first capital
operation on a patient rendered insensible
by the inhalation of sulphuric ether. It
rarely falls to the lot of a professional
man to be the witness of a scene of more
intense interest. The operating-room was
crowded ; many were obliged to stand.
Besides the class of students in attend
ance on the lectures, numbering more than
one hundred, and many of the principal
physicians and surgeons of the city and
neighborhood, there were present several
clergymen, lawyers, and other individuals,
from the various callings of life. When
I entered the theater, before the patient
was brought in, I found it, to my surprise,
filled in every part, except the floor on
which the table stood, with persons on
whose countenances was depicted the al
most painful anxiety with which they
awaited the result of the experiment they
were about to witness. I simply told them

460

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

that I had decided, with the advice of my
colleagues, to allow the patient on whom I
was to operate, to inhale an article which
was said to have the power of annulling
pain. The patient was then brought in.
She was a delicate looking girl of about
twenty years of age, who had suffered for
a long time from a scrofulous disease of
the knee-joint. It had at length sup
purated ; there were extensive openings
into the cavity of the joint ; the cartilages
were ulcerated, and partly absorbed ; the
bones carious, and symptoms of hectic
fever had already made their appearance.
As soon as she was well arranged on the
table I told her that I should let her
breathe something which I hoped would
prevent her from suffering much from the
operation, and that she need not be afraid
of breathing it freely." The critical
nature of this case can easily be appre
ciated, even by the unprofessional mind,
and the result is fraught with deep and
romantic interest.
It being desirable that the amputation
should be performed as rapidly as possible,
Dr. Hayward decided to accomplish it
by means of the flaji operation. One per
son was to compress the artery, another to
withdraw the flaps, a third to hand the in
struments, and a fourth to watch the pulse.
Dr. Hayward grasped the patient's limb
with his left hand, and held the amputat
ing knife behind him in his right, care
fully concealed from her view. The
mouth-piece of the inhaling instrument
was then put into her mouth, and she was
directed to take long inspirations. After
breathing in this way a short time, the
nostrils were compressed, so that all the
air that went into the lungs must first
pass through the machine, and of course
be mixed with the vapor of the ether.
She breathed with perfect ease, and with
out struggling, and in about three minutes
from the time the instrument was put
into her mouth, Dr. Morton said, ' She is
ready.' A death-like silence reigned in
the room ; no one moved, or hardly
breathed. The doctor passed the knife
directly through the limb, and brought it

out as rapidly as he could, and made the
upper flap. The patient gave no sign of
feeling or consciousness, but looked like
one in a deep, quiet sleep. Every other
person in the room took a full inspiration
that was distinctly audible, and seemed to
feel that they could now breathe again.
The second flap was then made, the bone
sawed, five arteries were tied, and as the
doctor was tightening the ligature upon
the sixth and last she groaned, being the
first indication of sensibility that had
been given. Nothing more was done than
to bring the flaps together, cover the
stump with cloths dipped in cold water,
and apply two or three turns of a roller to
keep them in place. Her consciousness
soon returned ; she was wholly ignorant
that the operation had been done! For
some time she would not believe it, and
said that she had felt nothing till the
doctor tied the last artery. The operation
lasted a minute and three-quarters.
The phenomena, or effects, produced by
the administration of ether, are extremely
various, depending much, of course, upon
the temperament, habits, and condition of
the patient. Sometimes the dream is ex
quisitely charming, and the patient seems
passed into another and a better world.
Sometimes the opposite state obtains, the
patient betraying manifest uneasiness
while in the trance, by restless, staring,
anguished eye-balls, by groaning, and by
wrestling movements of the body. And
these are not loath to emerge from the
effects of the drug, while the former part
with them grudgingly. One poor girl, for
instance, had struggled hard during an
amputation, yet felt no pain ; and, on com
ing to herself, thankfulness was expressed
in every feature, as well as by her blithe
tongue, for she "thocht the deil had a
grip o' her a' the time."
In some cases, the dreamer is falling from
a great height rapidly, down and down into
some unfathomable abyss. In other cases,
the dream is warlike; personal to the
dreamer ; or of by-gone days, implicating
some great military demonstration ; and
the crack of tooth-pulling has thus passed

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

461

off as the din of ordnance. Sometimes, in
ybuth, the dream has been " all fun ;" and
the dreamer has been anxious to be back
into the midst of his pleasant pastime
again, even at the cost of another tooth-
drawing. The patient, if a wanderer, and
then in a strange land, may dream pleas
antly of home — " she had been home, it
was beautiful, and she had been gone a
month;" so said one poor woman in the
midst of what, without the ether, would
have been agony.
Sometimes the dream passes steadily on
to completion, sometimes it is abruptly
closed by some critical procedure on the
part of the operator — the extraction of a
tooth, with a sudden wrench, for example.
A soldier dreams of guns and bayonets,
and strife, and clamor ; a sailor, of ships,
and storms, and grog ; an Irishman of
whiskey and shillalahs, and a " skrim-
mage ; " a boy of marbles, tops, and " lots
of fun ; " a mother, of home and children ;
a girl, of gala-days and finery.
A tippler fancies he is in the grog-shop,
and there he may enjoy himself hugely —
or he may dream "his wife came to fetch
him.'' Quarrelsome men grow pugilistic,
and coats may be doffed with appropriate
accompaniment of word and action.
Young men, having some one in their list
of female acquaintance dearer than the
rest, grow active lovers, and in lone walks,
earnest conversations, or soft whisperings,
seem to make rare progress in their suit.
The swearing and dissolute may indulge
in oaths and profane jests. The man of
fervent piety, who is habitually looking
heavenward, may not. only suppose himself
translated to the realms of bliss, but may
take part in imagined exercises there. A
patient of this class was known thus to
employ himself immediately after a pain
ful operation; four verses of a psalm were
sung by him very loudly, with his eyes
fixed, his body in a tremor, and intense
fervor shown in every movement; he
would not be interrupted, and could
scarcely be prevailed upon to leave the
operation-room, seeing that he found him
self so wonderfully happy there— said he

had been in heaven, and had seen his
Savior; on reaching his bed, he fell on his
knees and was rapt in prayer.
Not always, however, is the dream con
sistent with the character. Among the
instances showing this, is that of a young,
simpering and innocent damsel, who,
addressing a most amiable and excellent
dentist, knitting her brow into something
more than a frown, clenching her fist, and
scowling defiance, vowed in the most up
roarious tone and manner, that if he ven
tured near her with his profane touch,
"big blackguard, as he was, she'd knock
him down." And so, too, staid, demure,
elderly persons, have, in most abandoned
gayety, insisted on the operator forthwith
joining them in a joyous polka !
In plain language, as in plain fact — says
an English reviewer, whose interesting
resume is here quoted — the patient is
drunk. Sometimes the consciousness of
this condition is made apparent by the
sensations which are induced in the early
period of inhalation. " You'll have me
drunk ! " cried one ; " Oh, you rascals ! I
know what you are ; " evidently supposing
that he had fallen into loose society, and
that his companions had a design on him.
But it is on coming out of the trance, that
the intoxication shows most. The patient
sways as he tries to stand ; is garrulous,
sprightly, and humorous; and often in
sists on shaking hands with all and
sundry. The unsteadiness of gait, and
lightness of head, sometimes have an
inconvenient duration, as is illustrated in
the case of a most worthy lady, who, leav
ing the dentist too soon, had to grope her
way along the railing of the street, in
noonday, and ran no slight risk of losing
all reputation for sobriety.
Among the many amusing examples of
the effect produced by the administration
of the anaesthetic — in addition to its pri
mary quality of annulling pain — the follow
ing may be cited : An Irish woman, who
had never heard of ether previous to call
ing upon the dentist for the purpose of
having a large molar tooth extracted, took
it on being told that she would suffer no

462

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

pain, and would, probably, have an inter
view with her friends in the old country.
Just as its influence commenced, the
doctor remarked that he would like to
have her observe what occupation her
friends were engaged in, if she succeeded
in finding them. The tooth was drawn ;
she moved not a muscle of the face, but
remained as in a quiet sleep, for about one

machinery, declared herself unhurt by the
operation, and wished the doctor to see if
there was not " another tooth what wanted
to be drew."
Another example of this class, was that
of a middle-aged Irishman, who had sus
tained compound fracture of the leg. The
fracture had not united, in consequence of
the presence of a dead piece of bone, and

MONUMENT ERECTED IN HONOR OF THE DISCOVERY OF ETHER.

minute. Upon opening her eyes, she
exclaimed, " I have seen all my friends ;
they were engaged in spinning — and don't
I hear their wheels now, sure ? " She
said it appeared to her as though she had
been absent many months. She recol
lected that she went home in a steam
vessel, heard the noise of steam and

it became necessary to remove this by a
painful operation, in the following manner:
The patient was seated on a table, and
the inhalation was applied. At first, little
effect was produced, but after some min
utes, the patient fell backwards, as m a
swoon. The operator was then about to
proceed; but the man immediately ob-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

463

iected, saying that "he was not asleep, and
that he trusted nothing would be done
till he was asleep." For full twenty min
utes more the inhalation went on, the man
confused and talkative, but wide-awake,
and occasionally expressing very emphati
cally his conviction that " it would not do."
At length, however, while in this wakeful
state, the operation was begun. Incisions
were made on the shin, and flaps were dis
sected off so as to expose the bone beneath.
A portion of this was sawn and clipped
through, and then the dead bone was
removed. Only during the clipping of the
bone with strong straining pliers did any
sign of feeling escape from the patient,
who was busy inhaling all the while, and
now and then protesting that " it wouldn't
do." The operation occupied about ten
minutes, and, from the highly sensitive
nature of the parts involved, must have
been attended with excruciating suffering
under ordinary circumstances. After it
was over, the operator said to the patient —
"I suppose you won't let me operate
to-day ? "
"Certainly not," replied the patient,
"it won't do; I must be asleep. The
thing hasn't succeeded with me, and I am
sure it can't succeed with any one else, for
I did everything I could to get asleep, for
my own sake, and I'd do anything to plase
you." "Then you won't even let me make a
cut into the leg ? "
"No; I must be asleep ; we can try it
another time."
This plain proof of his utter unconscious
ness of the operation having been per
formed was acknowledged by the specta
tors in a hearty rourld of applause. The
patient then sat up, and, seeing the wound,
burst into an immoderate fit of laughter,
saying —
"No doubt there's blood, or something
very like it; but I haven't felt a single
thing done to my leg. That bates the
globe ! "
On being asked decidedly as to his
having felt anything, he repeatedly an
swered "Not a ha' porth." He got into

amazing spirits, and refused to leave the
room until he had told "all about the tol-
drums of the business." And then, with
the manner of a tipsy man, and very
happy, he kept surgeons and students in a
roar of laughter for some minutes with a
narrative of his condition during the in
halation, which, Irish-like, seemed to have
an interminable medley of imaginary
fights and "killings" going on around
him. It has already been stated, that Drs.
Jackson, Morton, and Wells, respectively,
claim the honor of having discovered this
great fact in chemical and medical science,
and the claim of each is supported by a
formidable army of names and evidence.
One of the most candid investigators of
the character and weight of these several
and conflicting claims, has presented the
case in this light, namely : That to Dr.
Wells unquestionably belongs the merit
of having first demonstrated the happy
idea of deadening sensibility in painful
operations, by using both nitrous oxide
and sulphuric ether ; that to Dr. Jackson,
the thanks of the world are due for lend
ing that influence which his well-earned
reputation qualified him to do, in estab
lishing confidence in the public mind in
the use of sulphuric ether, as a substitute
for the nitrous oxide ; and that, to Dr.
Morton's indefatigable exertions in secur
ing the attention of leading medical men
to the subject, was due the rapid adoption
of sulphuric ether in connection with the
practice of surgery. But, singularly
enough, though tho French Academy has
acknowledged, by pecuniary and honorary
awards, the indebtedness of mankind to
the American discoverers of this vast
blessing to humanity, the American gov
ernment has thus far failed to confer any
reward upon any one of the distinguished
claimants. A costly and superb monu
ment, designed and executed with con
summate skill by Ward, the eminent
sculptor, and erected at the cost of a
wealthy citizen of Boston, in honor of this
great discovery, now adorns the public
garden of that city.

LIII.
INTENTION OF THAT WONDROUS PIECE OF MECHANISM,
THE SEWING-MACHINE.— 1846.

Eomantic Genius and Perseverance Displayed in its Production — Toils of the Inventor in His Garret
— World-Wide Introduction of the Device.— Upwards of One Thousand Patents Taken Out in the
United States. — The Industrial Interests of the Country Affected to the Amount of 8500,000,000
Annually. — Tlie Humble Inventor Becomes a Millionaire. — The Main Principle Involved.— Compari
son with Hand-Sewing — How it was Suggested. — Listening to Some Advantage. — History of Mr.
Howe's Efforts —Ingenuity, Struggles, Triumphs. — Value of a Friend in Need— A Machine at Last
— Its Parts, Capabilities, etc. — Reception by the Public. — Doubt Succeeded by Admiration.— Great
Popularity and Demand. — Wearisome Litigation with Rivals. — Interesting Question of Priority.—
Decided in Howe's Favor. — He Rises to Affluence. — Improvements by Others. — Unique and Useful
Devices. — Number of Machines Produced. — Time and Labor Saved. — Effect Upon Prices.— New
Avenues of Labor Opened.

" The invention all fldmi red.
And each how he to be the inventor milled,
So plain it seemed once found— which yet un-found,
Molt would have thought impossible."

THE INVENTOR TOILING IN HIS GARRET.

IFFERENCE of opinion there may
be, with regard to the abstract
question, who first conceived the
~- peculiar principle involved in
sewing by machinery, and even
in respect to who was the original con
structor of a machine capable of fulfilling
this idea ; but, so far as actual demonstra
tion of its feasibleness and utility is con
cerned, and for the great results which
have followed that demonstration, the world
must be considered as indebted to Elias
Howe, Jr., a Massachusetts mechanic, born
and reared in obscure circumstances, and
at an early age thrown upon his own
resources of industrious endeavor, for simple sub
sistence. It may be remarked, as a general fact, that the
peculiar or original principle characterizing the
modern sewing-machine, consists in the use of two
threads, one being fed by a needle, and the other —

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

465

the wrong side thread, or, as it has been
termed, the auxiliary thread — being sup
plied by a shuttle and bobbin. The needle
is secured to a stock, whose movement,
caused by arms and levers, drives its point
through the material to be sewed; the
eye of the needle, at a moderate distance
from the point, carries the thread through
and then retires leaving a loop, through
which loop a shuttle is passed, on the
under side of the material to be sewed;
this shuttle carries a quantity of thread
upon a spool, which it supplies as the seam
progresses. The needle on retiring draws
up the loop, and thus closes the seam,
which on the upper or face side of the
work presents the appearance of what is
called a 'row of stitching,' and on the
under, a close resemblance, but differing
slightly. The return, or rotation of the
shuttle in its orbit, is a matter of course,
and the work thus goes on continuously
and with great rapidity.
The feed, or the progressive movement
of the material to be sewed under the
needle, is accomplished in various ways —
primarily, by means of the friction of a
feeding wheel, whose roughened surface
creates sufficient adhesion to move the
material forward at the requisite intervals.
This feed is effected by the ordinary
means of a racket-wheel and click, or paul,
the latter being capable of adjustment
through shifting levers, so as to give a
longer or shorter stitch, at the will of the
operator, or the requirements of the work.
These devices and arrangements, with
such improved modifications as experience
and ingenuity have suggested from time to
time, constitute the American sewing-
machine. Although the use of the sewing-machine
has become general only within a compar
atively recent period, the instrument is,
m a certain sense, an old invention. The
needle with the eye in the center, and
double-pointed, is beautifully employed in
the embroidery machine, which is an old
French device. This machine worked
upon cloth as many as sixty similar figures
ot flowers at the same time; the whole
30

being directed by one hand, who, by the
aid of a pentagraphic guide on a prepared
pattern, pointed the needles to their appro
priate place of entrance, and returned them
with unerring certainty and exactitude.
Tlie earliest form of stitch made use of
was the 'chain stitch,' which is still
employed for ornamental purposes, but is
not approved of where strength and dura
bility are required. The next stitch in
order was the ' running stitch,' and was
accomplished bj' means of a needle having
an eye in the middle and points at each
end ; this has been extensively used for
the cheaper kinds of work, but does not
insure durability. The next form of stitch
is that already described, as formed by
means of two threads, with a needle and
shuttle ; — and this opens up the wonderful
era of modern sewing-machines, beginning
with the introduction to the public of that
by Mr. Howe.
It would be impossible to follow Mr.
Howe through all the details of his varied
experience during his early years. Suffice
it to say, that it was at Boston, when in
his twentieth year, and after he had
learned the rudiments of his trade in one
of the machine shops of Lowell, and sub
sequently in Cambridge, working side by
side with Nathaniel P. Banks, that the
thought of sewing by machinery was first
suggested to his mind. As related by
Mr. Parton, in his admirable magazine
sketch of Howe, this singularly fortuitous
incident happened in this wise: — In the
year 1839, two men in Boston, one a
mechanic and the other a capitalist, were
striving to produce a knitting-machine,
which proved to be a task beyond their
strength. When the inventor was at his
wit's end, his capitalist brought the
machine to the shop of Ari Davis, to see
if that eccentric genius could suggest the
solution of the difficulty, and make the ma
chine work. The shop, resolving itself into
a committee of the whole, gathered about
the knitting-machine and its proprietor,
and were listening to an explanation of its
principle, when Davis, in his wild, extrava
gant way, broke in with the question —

466

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

" What are you bothering yourselves
with a knitting-machine for ? Why don't
you make a sewing-machine ? "
" I wish I could," said the capitalist :
"but it can't be done."
" Oh, yes, it can," said Davis ; " I can
make a sewing-machine myself."
" Well," said the other, " you do it,
Davis, and I'll insure you an independent
fortune." Among the workmen who stood by and
listened to this conversation — and in this
instance at least the old adage concern
ing listeners appears to have been reversed
— says Parton, was Howe ; and from that
time he was in the habit, in his leisure

moments, of meditating devices for sewing
by machinery. Having inherited a con
stitution hardly strong enough for the
work of a machinist, and burdened even
in his opening manhood with the care of a
growing family, his attention was more
and more concentrated upon the project
of building a machine which would furnish
him a livelihood more easily earned. In
December, 1845, upon a small capital, pro
vided by the generosity of an old friend,
he shut himself up in a garret at Cam
bridge, and set himself seriously to the
task of inventing a sewing machine.
After about six months of incessant labor

and reflection he produced the first ma
chine that ever sewed a seam, and he was
soon the wearer of a suit of clothes made
by its assistance. This first machine,
which is one of great beauty and finish, is
still in existence, an object of peculiar
interest to the curious who inspect it; and
it will sew ten times as fast as a woman
can sew by hand. Having patented the
machine, and finding the tailors of Amer
ica averse to its introduction, he went to
England, where he succeeded in selling
two machines ; but found so little encour
agement that he would have starved to
death but for the aid of friends, and he
resolved to return home, or at least to send
his family. So pinched was he,
while in London, that he fre
quently borrowed small sums of
his friend, Mr. Inglis — on one
occasion a shilling, with which he
bought some beans, and cooked
and ate them in his own room, —
and through him also obtained
some credit for provisions. Ar
riving home, after an absence of
about two years, he found that the
sewing-machine was a conspicuous
object of public attention ; doubt
had been succeeded by admiration
of its qualities ; and several ingen
ious men having experimented,
had finally improved upon the ma
chine as originally constructed.
A war of litigation ensued, and,
after several years, Mr. Howe's
claim to be the original inventor was
legally and irreversibly established, the
judge deciding that 'there was no evidence
which left a shadow of doubt that, for all
the benefit conferred upon the public by
the introduction of a sewing-machine, the
public are indebted to Mr. Howe.' To
him, therefore, all other inventors or
improvers had to pay tribute. From
being a poor man, Howe became, in a
few years, one of the most noted mil
lionaires in America ; and his bust, exe
cuted by Ellis, shows a man of marked
personal appearance and striking natural
endowments.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

467

But here the very singular circumstances
relating to the alleged priority of Mr.
Walter Hunt's invention, as described by
a graphic and well-informed writer in the
New York Galaxy, — showing how preca
rious, at best, is the basis upon which
even the most impartial of legal conclu
sions are arrived at, — may well be pre
sented, as exhibiting the trials of inventors
and public benefactors : It was between
the years 1832 and 1834, that Mr. Hunt,
in his own workshop in Amos street, New
York city, invented, built, and put into
full and effective operation a machine for
sewing, stitching, and seaming cloth.
This first machine was made principally
by the inventor's own hands. It was the
pioneer sewing-machine of America, and
the first really successful one of the world.
There had already been a French inven
tion, a tambour machine for ornamenting
gloves; but it was of very little general
utility. These machines of Walter Hunt
all contained the invention of the curved
needle with the eye near the point, the
shuttle and their combination, and they
originated the famous interlocked stitch
with two threads. Many samples of cloth
were perfectly sewn by these machines,
and many of the friends and neighbors of
the inventor came to see them work. At
length, one G. A. Arrowsmith was so well
satisfied with the working of the machines,
' that he bought them, in 1834, and there
with the right to obtain letters-patent.
But no sooner had Arrowsmith got this
right, than he became impressed both with
the vastness of the undertaking and with
the prejudice which any scheme appar
ently tending to impoverish poor seam
stresses would awaken. At the same time
he became involved in pecuniary disaster,
and for years did nothing with the
machine. Fortunately for Mr. Hunt's
feme, many persons had seen his machines
work, and had seen them sew a good,
»trong and handsome stitch, and form
seams better than hand-sewing. Of these,
no less than six directly testified to this
fact in a suit afterward brought, and
established the fact beyond question that

Walter Hunt invented the first sewing-
machine, and that it contained the curved,
eye-pointed needle at the end of a vibrat
ing arm with a shuttle. The case itself
was decided upon another point. Tliese
affidavits are still in existence. But this
was not all. Fifteen years after he had
sold his machines to Arrowsmith, who lost
a fortune and a name in not devoting him
self to their reproduction, Walter Hunt
from memory gave a sworn written de
scription of his first machine in every part,
and, to clinch the matter, afterward con
structed a machine from that description,
which was the counterpart of the machine
of 1834, and worked perfectly. Finally,
one of the original machines sold to Arrow-
smith in 1834, was and is, still preserved,
though in a dilapidated condition. Walter
Hunt then undertook to make a new
sewing-machine, which should be an oper
ative instrument, and should contain
all the parts which were preserved of
the old machine, with such others as were
necessary to present the machine in the
same shape that the original one pos
sessed. He did this successfully, and
the restored machine, still operative and
ready to sew good, strong seams, is yet in
existence. Without drawing further, however, from
this curiously interesting chapter in the
history of the machine, involving a ques
tion of the deepest interest to inventors,
it is time to describe the instrument — its
parts and peculiar features, and modus
operandi, — invented by Mr. Howe, and
which transformed him from an obscure
and struggling mechanic to one of the
foremost manufacturers and millionaires
in America Seating ourselves therefore
before this wonderful elaboration of artis
tic genius and skill, as it has come fresh
from the hands of the toilsome but at last
successful inventor, and witnessing its
weird and agile movement while its enthu
siastic proprietor essays to sew a seam, we
find that two threads are employed, one of
which is carried through the cloth by
means of a curved needle, the pointed end
of which passes through the cloth ; the

468

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

THE OLD AND NEW: SEWING BV HAND AND MACHINE.

needle used has the eye that is to receive
the thread within a small distance, say an
eighth of an inch, of its inner or pointed
end, the other or outer end of the needle
being held by an arm that vibrates on a
pivot or joint pin, the curvature of the
needle being such as to correspond with
the length of the arm as its radius.
When the thread is carried through the
cloth, which may be clone to the distance
of about three-fourths of an inch, the thread
will be stretched above the curved needle,
something in the manner of a bowstring,
leaving a small open space between the
two. A small shuttle, carrying a bobbin
filled with silk or thread, is then made to
pass entirely through this open space,
between the needle and the thread which
it carries ; and when the shuttle is re
turned, which is done by means of a picker
staff or shuttle-driver, the thread which
was carried in by the needle is surrounded
by that received from the shuttle ; as the
needle is drawn out, it forces that which
was received from the shuttle into the
body of the cloth ; and as this operation
is repeated, a seam is formed which has on

each side of the cloth the same appearance
as that given by stitching, with this pecu
liarity, that the thread sewn on one side
of the cloth is exclusively that which was
given out by the needle, and the thread
seen on the other side is exclusively that
which was given out by the shuttle.
Thus, according to this arrangement, a
stitch is made at every back and forth
movement of the shuttle. The two thick
nesses of cloth that are to be sewed, are
held upon pointed wires, which project out
from a metallic plate, like the teeth of »
comb, but at a considerable distance from
each other, — say three-fourths of an inch
more or less,— these pointed wires sustain
ing the cloth, and answering the purpose oi
ordinary basting. The metallic plate from
which these wires project has numerous
holes through it, which answer the purpose
of rack teeth in enabling the plate to move
forward, by means of a pinion, as the
stitches are taken. The distance to which
the said plate is moved, and, consequently,
the length of the stitches, may be regu
lated at pleasure.
One of the most formidable of Mr.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

469

Howe's competitors, as a successful in
ventor and manufacturer, was Mr. I. M.
Singer. His biographer speaks of him as
a mechanic of some ingenuity but of small
means, who, taking up with a casual sug
gestion made to him by a comrade, that a
sewing-machine capable of doing a greater
variety of work would be a profitable
thing, ceased all other labor, and, horrow-
ing forty or fifty dollars of his friend Mr.
Zieber, applied himself unremittingly to
the accomplishment of his task. He
worked, as he states, day and night, sleep
ing but three or four hours out of the
twenty-four, and eating generally but
once a day, knowing that he must get a
machine made for forty dollars, or not get
it at all. The machine was completed the
night of the eleventh day from the day it
was commenced. About nine o'clock that
evening the parts of the machine were
finally put together, and a trial commenced
with it. The first attempt to sew was
unsuccessful, and the workmen, who were
tired out with almost unremitting work,
left him one by one, intimating that the
thing was a failure. Singer continued,
however, trying the machine, with Zieber
to hold the lamp for him ; but, in the ner
vous condition to which he had become
reduced by incessant toil and anxiety, was
unsuccessful in getting the machine to
sew tight stitches. About midnight,
Singer started for the hotel where he then
boarded, accompanied by Zieber. Upon
the way, they sat down on a pile of boards,
and Zieber asked Singer if he had noticed
that the loose loops of thread on the upper
side of the cloth came from the needle.
It then flashed upon Singer's mind that
he had forgotten to adjust the tension upon
the needle thread ! They both started for
the shop again. Singer adjusted the ten
sion, tried the machine, and sewed five
stitches perfectly, when the thread broke.
The perfection of those stitches, however,
satisfied him that the machine was a
success, and he therefore stopped work,
went to the hotel, and had a sound sleep.
By three o'clock the next day, he had the
machine finished, and started with it to

New York, taking immediate steps to
secure a patent. It brought him, in a few
years, princely wealth. The peculiarity
of this machine is the chain stitch or
single thread device, but with the employ
ment of an eye-pointed needle, and other
appliances, so as to mako it admirably
adapted for the general purposes of sewing.
On a similar principle are the Ladd and
Webster, and Finkle and Lyon, machines.
Other improvements or modifications of
the machine have been patented by Messrs.
Grover & Baker, Blodgett, Lerow, Wilson,
Morey, Johnson, Chapin, Gibbs, Leavitt,
Watson, Clark, Weed, Arnold, McKay,
Langdon, and others, but which can only
be alluded to here. The principle of the
double - thread self- regulating machine
brought forward by Mr Martin, stopping
whenever the thread breaks or a loop is
missed, is claimed hy several parties. A
number of the machines patented after
Howe's, use needles of a different kind from
his, but produce the same stitch ; most of
these instruments are equally correct in
respect to mechanical principles, but differ
widely in certain particulars, one being
vertical and the other horizontal, one car
rying its own cloth and another requiring
that it should be carried by hand; with
other differences.
But one of the most ingenious and orig
in il devices in this line remains to be
mentioned, namely, a combination of the
sewing-machine and the melodeon, by
Wheeler and Wilson, and by them exhib
ited, on its completion, to an admiring
public. The apparatus had the appear
ance, externally, of a small parlor side
board or other similar piece of furniture.
On lifting the front, there was seen a
handsome set of piano keys. On closing
it, and turning back a hoop on the top,
there opened to the view a complete
sewing-machine, conveniently arranged.
Concealed below, within side doors, were
two pedals, one for the music, the other
for the sewing-machine. Thus, by the
use of one of these ingenious contrivances,
when the lady operating the machine
became tired of playing at sewing, she

470

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

could change her foot to the other pedal,
open the melodeon part, and discourse
music ! The 'rotating hook' and feeding
apparatus of the Wilson machine consti
tute an admirable feature ; and the same
may be said of the Grover & Baker or
' double loop ' stitch.
Though at first looked upon as of doubt
ful utility, the value of the sewing-machine
was in a short time abundantly demon
strated. Curiosity and doubt were suc
ceeded by admiration, and soon the demand
became extensive both at home and abroad,
until, at the present time, the annual pro
duction of machines is thought to approx
imate to half a million. Active minds
were also not slow to devise what they
deemed to be improvements in the ma
chine and its appurtenances ; and to this
end, the number of patent-claims filed up
to the present time does not vary much
from one thousand, though only an
extremely small proportion of these are of
any really practical importance.
Such a revolution in the processes and
results of national industry as that effected
by this machine could have entered into
no man's mind — not even the mind of one
given to the wildest romancing. Thus, in
the brief period of some dozen years
merely, from the time of the introduction
of the machine to the public, the value
and practical results of the invention may
be understood from the following facts,
which appeared in evidence in the contest
before tbe commissioner of patents, for the
extension of Howe's patent — namely :
At that time, the amount of the boot and
shoe business of Massachusetts was fifty-
five million dollars annually, and of this
amount, the ladies' and misses' gaiter-
boots and shoes involved one-half. About
one-eleventh of the sum total above named
was paid for sewing labor. From this
proportion it appeared that the annual
expenditure for sewing upon ladies' and
misses' gaiter-boots and shoes was two and
a half million dollars, and that it would
have cost four times as much if done by
hand, — so that the saving in a single year,
in one state, by this invention, in the man

ufacture of one special article only, was
nearly eight million dollars.
Similarly conclusive evidence was given
in regard to the making of shirts, by an
extensive manufacturer in Connecticut
who stated that his factory turned out
about eight hundred dozen per week ; that
he used four hundred sewing-machines,
and that one machine, with an attendant,
would do the work of five hand-sewers at
least, and do it better. He paid, at least,
four dollars per week ; but, reckoning it
at three dollars,- — the old price for sewing
before machines were introduced, — it
showed a saving, in this single manufac
tory, of two hundred and forty thousand
dollars. Allowing, then, the males of the
United States, at that time, to wear out
two shirts a year apiece, a proportional
saving would amount to the large sum of
between eleven and twelve million dollars
annually, in making the single article of
shirts. Another witness, representing the firm
of Brooks Brothers, of New York city,
manufacturers of clothing, stated that that
house alone did a business, at the period
named, of over a million dollars annually,
using twenty machines in the store,
besides patronizing those that others used,
and doing about three-fourths of all their
sewing by machines, and paying annually
for sewing labor about two hundred thou
sand dollars ; seventy-five thousand dollars
of this was saved by machines, — that is,
the machines saved seventy-five thousand
dollars on every two hundred thousand
paid for sewing labor. But the great
manufactures of this house did not consti
tute, at most, but one-hundredth part of
the machine-made clothing produced in
that city ; which fact, putting the propor
tion at one-hundredth part, made the busi
ness of manufacturing machine clothing in
the city of New York one hundred million
dollars per annum ; and thus, at the rate
paid by that house for sewing, it brought
the cost of sewing in that branch of the
business in that city, — even with the
assistance of the sewing-machines, — up to
twenty million dollars. Applying the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

471

same ratio to the estimated amount of this
branch of business in the United States,
the total would reach the sum of seventy-
five million dollars. All this, be it remem

bered, was in the comparative infancy of
the machine. Its pecuniary importance,
as a labor agent, is now estimated to reach
$500,000,000 annually.

LIY.
SPIRITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS.-1847.

Familiar Intercourse Claimed to be Opened between Human and Disembodied Beings. — Alleged Reve
lations from the Unseen World. — Singular and Humble Origin, in a Secluded N. Y. Village, of this
Great Modern Wonder. — Its Development among All Nations in All Lands. — Astonishing and
Inexplicable Character of the Manifestations. — First Rappings in Hydesville, N. Y. — Time, Manner,
Circumstances. — A Murdered Man's Spirit — How the Mystery was Solved. — Rappings, the Spirit
Language. — Its Interpretation Discovered. — Two Young Girls the " Mediums." — Their Harassed
Experience. — Public Efforts to Sift the Matter. — No Clue to any Deception. — The Family go to
Eochester. — Knockings Accompany Them — New Forms of "Manifestations." — Many Mediums
Spring Up — Things Strange and Startling. — Universal Wonder Excited. — Theories of Explanation.
— Investigations and Reports. — Views of Agassiz, Herschel, Etc. — Press and Pulpit DiscussionB. —
Different Opinions as to the Tendency ofthe Phenomena — Thirty Years' History.

"1 cannot dispose of another man's facts, nor allow him to dispose of mine."— Emerson.

OCHESTER, N. Y., one of the most
beautiful and thriving of Ameri
can inland cities, has long borne
the celebrity which attaches to
what are now known, the world
over, as " spiritual manifesta
tions," — knockings, rappings, ta
ble-movings, spirit communica-
HOOSE IN WHICH SPIRITUAL RAPPINGS ORIGINATED. tiOnS, aild the like. But, IU
reality, to the secluded and unambitious village of Hydesville, in the town of
Arcadia, Wayne county, N. Y., belongs the pre-eminent distinction of being the place
where originated, in a manner most casual, and seemingly insignificant for the time,
in respect to duration or results, this most mysterious, wonderful, and wide-spread
physico-psychological phenomenon since the world began. It was from Hydesville that
these manifestations were introduced — so to speak — in the city first named, and where,
by the great notoriety which soon characterized them, they came to be known,
universally, as the " Rochester Knockings."
The starting point of all, in the history of this astonishing movement— one which
has extended to the remotest bounds of the known world, which has challenged the
scrutiny and excited the wonder of monarchs, savants, popes, philosophers, 'divines,
councils and synods,— is the humble house in Hydesville, occupied, in 1847, by Mr.
Michael Weekman, who, at different times that year, heard rappings upon his door,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

47S

but on every occasion failed to discover
any person present, or any producing
source or cause, notwithstanding the
most vigilant watch was kept up and the
most industrious search instituted, by the
family and neighbors. Under these
strange and uncomfortable circumstances,
Mr. Weekman left the premises, which,
however, were soon tenanted by the family
of Mr. John D. Fox. But, so far from
a change of occupants being attended by
a cessation of the rappings, the very
reverse was the fact. From March, 1848,
the house was disturbed, from night to
night, by the same constantly recurring
sounds — rappings, tappings, knocks, and
even shuffling of furniture, — and which
could not be accounted for on the hypothe
sis of natural agency.
Nor were these knockings now con
fined to the door of the house, but per
vaded every part, depriving the inmates
of their regular sleep. In this state of
wakefulness, and the source of the noises
appearing to be in close proximity to the
hed occupied by two of the Fox girls, it is
related that one of them, some ten or
eleven years of age, thought she would
just try the experiment, sportively, of re
sponding to the raps by as close and
accurate a repetition of them as was pos
sible with her fingers. Her efforts were
so far successful as to elicit reciprocal
sounds from the invisible agency. In a
little while, the parties were enabled to
open a distinct communication, by means
of the following simple method, and with
the accompanying results, as narrated by
the Rev. Mr. Fishbough, an early investi
gator of the phenomena. After mutual
responses had been opened, one of the
girls said :
"Now do as I do ; count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,
6," at the same time striking her hands
together, the girl acting more in sport,
than in expectation of what really fol
lowed. The same number of raps re
sponded, and at similar intervals. The
mother of the girls then said: "Count
ten ; " and ten distinct raps were heard ;
"Count fifteen," and that number of

sounds followed. She then said, " Tell
us the age of Cathy (the youngest daugh
ter) by rapping one for each year," and
the number of years was rapped correctly.
Then, in like manner, the age of each
of the other children was by request in
dicated by this invisible agent. Startled
and somewhat alarmed by these manifes
tations of intelligence, Mrs. Fox asked if
it was a human being who was making
that noise, and if it was, to manifest the
fact by making the same noise. There
was no sound. She then said, " If you
are a spirit, make two distinct sounds."1
Two raps were accordingly heard. The
members of the family had by this time
all left their beds, and the house was again
thoroughly searched, as it had been be
fore, but without discovering anything
that could explain the mystery ; and after
a few more questions, and responses by-
raps, the neighbors were called in to
assist in further efforts to trace the phe
nomenon to its cause ; but these persons
were no more successful than the family
had been, and they confessed themselves
thoroughly confounded. For several sub
sequent days the village was in a turmoil
of excitement, and multitudes visited the
house, heard the raps, and interrogated
the apparent intelligence which controlled
them, but without obtaining any clue to
the discovery of the agent, further than
its own persistent declaration that it was
a spirit. About three weeks after these
occurrences, David, a son of Mr. and Mrs.
Fox, went alone into the cellar where
the raps were then being heard, and said,
" If you are the spirit of a human being,
who once lived on the earth, can you rap
the letters that will spell your name ?
and if so, rap now three times." Three
raps were promptly given, and David pro
ceeded to call the alphabet, writing down
the letters as they were indicated, and the
result was the name ' Charles B. Rosma,'
a name quite unknown to the family, and
which they were afterward unable to
trace. The statement was in like manner
obtained from the invisible intelligence,.
that he was the spirit of a peddler who had

474

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

been murdered in that house some years
previous. It is said that, at first, the raps
occurred in the house even when all the
members of the family were absent, but
subsequently they occurred only in tha
presence of the two younger daughters,
Catharine and Margaretta; and, on the
family removing, soon after, to the neigh
boring city of Rochester, the manifesta
tions still accompanied them ; the family
took up their abode with a married sis
ter, Mrs. Fish, who subsequently became
celebrated as a medium, through whom
the manifestations were exhibited.
The original method of communication
— the spirit language — it would appear,
consisted in conveying an affirmative by a

THE MISSES POX.

single rap (though perhaps emphasized
by more), and a negative was indicated by
silence. Five raps demanded the alpha
bet, and this could be called over by the
living voice, or else in a printed form laid
upon a table, and the finger or a pencil
slowly passed along it— when, on arriving
at the required letter, a rap was heard ;
the querist then recommenced, until words
and sentences were spelled out — upon the
accuracy or intelligence displayed in
which, depended, in a great degree, the
amount of faith popularly accorded to the
manifestations. It was with this key, the
conception of which as adapted to the
mastery of the strange phenomenon is
utterly incomprehensible, that the above

information was evoked from the mur
dered peddler, who also further stated that
the number of the years of his fleshly pil-
grimage had been thirty-one ; that he had
been murdered in that house, and buried
in the cellar ; and that the murderer was
alive, as were also the children of Eosma,
his victim.
Such revelations as these, which, as
soon as received by the interlocutors, were
freely given to the world, excited pro
digious interest, far and near. The cel
lar was dug to a great depth, to discover,
if possible, some evidence of murder hav
ing been committed ; the premises and
neighborhood examined with great thor
oughness ; and inquiries made in all
directions. But all these efforts
failed to elicit any disclosure of
fact or circumstance, bearing in the
slightest degree upon such a trans
action. At length, on the fourteenth of
November, 1849, in accordance, as
was said, with directions from ' the
spirits,' a public lecture on the
origin and character of the mani
festations was given in Corinthian
Hall, Rochester, at which the ' me
diums ' were present. Manifesta
tions were had, and a committee
was chosen from the audience to
make thorough examination into
their nature and origin, and report
at an adjourned meeting the next even
ing. Intense interest was felt in regard to
the result of this committee's proceedings,
and in due time their report was made to a
crowded and breathless assembly. In this
report, the committee stated that they
had made such investigations as seemed
necessary and practicable ; that the me
diums had apparently afforded every
facility for the most minute and ample
examination; but that they— the com
mittee—had utterly failed to discover in
what manner the mysterious sounds or
raps were produced, or what was their
cause or origin, there being no visible
agency whatever to which, by any process

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

475

of ordinary reasoning, the phenomena
could be attributed.
Other committees of gentlemen arrived
at the same conclusion ; whereupon a com
mittee of ladies was appointed, who took
the young lady mediums into a private
room of. a hotel to which they were
strangers, and there disrobed and searched
them. The mediums were then made to
stand on pillows, with handkerchiefs tied
tightly around their ankles. The raps
were repeated, and intelligent answers to
unpremeditated questions were rapped in
the usual way.
But the manifestations — ' spiritual '
manifestations, as they were now, and
have since continued to be, called — were
not long confined to the Fox family. In
deed, so rapid and wide-spread was the
development of the phenomena, that, in

D. D. HOME.

the short space of two or three years, it
was calculated that the number of recog
nized " media " practicing in various parts
of the United States, was not less than
thirty thousand.
Various theories continued td^be pro
pounded as from the first, though now
more learned and scientific, in explanation
of the moving of tables and other pon
derable substances and objects, as well as
the knockings. Concerning the latter, it
has been argued that, in spiritualism, it is
the mind of the person charging the
medium who exhibits all the intelligence—
or it may be some one en rapport after the
medium has been charged to that degree
that the electricity overflows in raps, and

these raps are of the same character as
detonations of electricity when a positive
and negative cloud meet in mid air and
produce thunder.
Another theory of the cause of the rap
pings is that of a too great redundancy of
electricity congregated upon the involun
tary nerves, through passivity of mind,
and thus imparting to them extraordinary
force. The theory presented with such philo
sophical ability by Professor Mahan, is,
that there is in nature a power, termed,
scientifically, the odylic or mesmeric force,
which is identical with the cause of all the
mesmeric and clairvoyant phenomena, on
the one hand, and with the immediate
cause of these manifestations, on the other ;
that by reference to the properties and
laws of this force as developed in the spirit
circles, and to its relations to the minds
constituting the same, every kind of spirit
phenomena can be most fully accounted
for, without the supposition of the presence
or agericy-of disembodied spirits ; and that
the entire real facts of spiritualism demand
the supposition' that this force, in the pro
duction of these communications, is con
trolled exclusively, for the most part
unconsciously, by the minds in the circles,
and not by disembodied spirits out of the
same. As indicating most clearly, according to
this theory, the presence and action of an
invisible but purely physical cause — a
cause connected with the organism of par
ticular individuals, its advocates do not
hesitate to cite all the various wonders of
spiritual manifestation, whether mental or
material, not excepting the astonishing
occurrences which transpired in Stamford,
Conn., in 1850, and which made the name
of the occupant of the house, Rev. Dr.
Phelps, for a long time so famous through
out the land. In this case, the phenomena
consisted in the moving of articles of fur
niture in a manner not only unaccounta
ble, but baffling all description.
By Professor Agassiz, the knockings
and rappings were, from the very first,
pronounced a delusion ; an opinion shared,

476

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

perhaps, by the whole body of learned
men in the country. Professor Faraday,
of England, claimed to demonstrate that it
is by physical power, and not by any mag
netic fluid, that tables move on being
pressed by the fingers. Herschel sug
gested that there might be a fluid which
served to convey the orders of the brain to
the muscles.
Suffice it to add, that, as no authority
in respect to these phenomena is held in
higher repute among the disciples of the
new system, than that of Mr. Andrew
Jackson Davis, the Poughkeepsie seer, his
opinion that the producing agencies, in the
moving of tables and other inorganic sub
stances by sjiirits, are terrestrial magnet
ism and electricity, may be cited as rep
resenting the views of a large portion,
probably, of the spiritualists in this
country. The variety of phenomena known by the
general term of ' spiritual manifestations,'
is very numerous. Some of the principal,
as enumerated by Mr. Ballou under five
several distinctions, and which is perhaps
as fair and complete an exposition as the
literature of spiritualism affords, are the
following : —
First— making peculiar noises, indica
tive of more or less intelligence, such as
knockings, rappings, jarrings, creakings,
tickings, imitation of many sounds known
in the different vicissitudes of human life,
musical intonations, and, in rare instances,
articulate speech. Some of these various
sounds are very loud, distinct, and forcible ;
others are low, less distinct, and more
gentle, but all audible realities.
Second — the moving of material sub
stances, with like indications of intelli
gence, such as tables, sofas, light-stands,
chairs, and various other articles, shaking,
tipping, sliding, raising them clear of the
floor, placing them in new positions, (all
this sometimes in spite of athletic and
heavy men doing their utmost to hold
them down ;) taking up the passive body of
a person, and carrying it from one position
to another across the room, through mid
air ; opening and shutting doors ; thrum

ming musical instruments ; undoing well-
clasped pocket-books, taking out their
contents, and then, by request, replacing
them again ; writing with pens, pencils,
and other substances, both liquid and solid
— sometimes on paper, sometimes on com
mon slates, and sometimes on the ceilings
of a room, etc.
Third — causing catalepsy, trance, clair
voyance, and various involuntary muscu
lar, nervous, and mental activity in medi
ums, independent of any will or conscious
psychological influence by men in the flesh,
and then through such mediums, speak
ing, writing, preaching, lecturing, philoso
phizing, prophesying, etc.
Fourth — presenting apparitions : in
some instances, of a spirit hand and arm ;
in others, of the whole human form; and
in others, of several deceased persons con
versing together ; causing distinct touches
to be felt by the mortal living, grasping
and shaking their hands, and giving many
other sensible demonstrations of their
existence. Fifth — through these various manifes
tations communicating to men in the flesh
numberless affectionate and intelligent
assurances of an immortal existence, mes
sages of consolation, and annunciations of
distant events unknown at the time, but
subsequently corroborated; predictions of
forthcoming occurrences subsequently ver
ified, forewarnings against impending
danger, medicinal prescriptions of great
efficacy, wholesome reproofs, admonitions,
and counsels, expositions of spiritual, theo
logical, religious, moral, and philosophical
truths appertaining to the present and
future states, and important to human wel
fare in every sphere of existence, some
times comprised in a single sentence, and
sometimes in an ample book.
It is taught by writers on spiritualism,
that it is a grand religious reformation,
designed and destined to correct theologi
cal errors, to remove sectarian barriers,
and to excite more warmly the religious
element among mankind. This claim is
denied by those opposed to the movement,
who charge it as aiming, or tending, to do

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

477

away with the Bible, to overthrow Chris
tianity, and destroy the Church and its
institutions, — indeed, to break up the
whole frame-work of society as at present
constituted. The discussion has engaged,
in the press and pulpit, and on either side,
the profoundest adepts in theology, science,
and philosophy ; and, though none dispute
that fraud and imposture have played their

their own thoughts, without any knowl
edge at the time, on his part, of either
ideas or subject ; the hand-writing of each
was unlike that of the other, and, though
both were written by Dr. Dexter's hand,
they were both wholly unlike his, and this
characterized the whole of the volumin
ous communications, according to these
authors' statement.

CORA L. V. HATCH.

A. J. DAVIS.

JUDGE EDMONDS.

part, in multitudes of instances, in con
nection with the matter, it is admitted
that the phenomena, under reputable
auspices, exhibit great, novel, and aston
ishing facts.
Since the initiation of the movement, or
phenomena, in 1847, by the Misses Fox,
the most distinguished mediums have been
A. J. Davis, D. D. Home, Mrs. Cora L. V.
Hatch, etc., etc.; the most widely cele
brated authors, A. J. Davis, Judge Ed
monds, and George T. Dexter, Adin Ballou,
and some others. The learned work bear
ing the joint authorship of Judge Ed

monds and Dr. Dexter is generally pro
nounced one of the ablest productions,
devoted to the philosophy of these modern
wonders. A notable feature in the con
tents of this work are the alleged communi
cations received from Swedenborg and Lord
Bacon, written, in their own hand-writing,
from the spirit world,— they using Dr.
Better's hand as the instrument to convey

The different kinds of mediums are
classified, by Judge Edmonds, into those
who disturb the equanimity of material
objects, without any intelligence being
necessarily or usually communicated
through them, for the purpose of address
ing to the human senses the idea of a
physical communion with a power out of
and beyond mere mortal agency; con
nected with this class, though with the
addition of an intelligent communion
between the mortal and the invisible
power, are the mediums for table-tippings ;
another class consists of those who write,

their hands being affected by a power
manifestly beyond their own control, and
not emanating from or governed by their
own will ; a fourth species are speaking
mediums, some of whom speak when in
the trance state, and some when in their

478

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

normal or natural condition, in which
cases the invisible intelligence seems to
take possession of the mind of the medium,
and compel the utterance of its ideas,
sometimes in defiance of the will of the
mortal through whom it is talking ;
impressible mediums are those who re
ceive impressions in their minds to
which they give utterance, either by
writing or speaking, their faculties be
ing entirely under their own control ; still
another class are those who see, or seem

to see, the objects presented to their con
sideration. In all the nations of Europe, Asia, and
Africa, the phenomena of spiritualism
have become widely prevalent ; and, only
ten years subsequent to the first develop
ment, its newspapers estimated the number
of its avowed adherents at one and a half
million, with one thousand public advo
cates, forty thousand public and private
mediums, and a literature of five hundred
different works.

LV.

VOYAGE OF THE UNITED STATES SHIP JAMESTOWN,
WITH A CARGO OF FOOD FOR THE STARVING IN
IRELAND.— 1847.

Famine, Pestilence, Woe and Death Sweep Frightfully Over That Land. — Appeal to the Sympathy of
Nations. — The Tale of Horror Borne Across the Atlantic. — Spontaneous Generosity of America. — A
Ship-of-War Converted Into a Ship of Peace, and Laden with Free Gifts for the Suffering. — Total
Failure of the Potato Crop. — A Universal Scourge. — Disease Added to Destitution. — Ghastly Scenes
on every Side. — Multitudes Perish in the Streets. — Parliament Grants $50,000,000. — The Message of
Humanity. — America's Ready Bounties. — Use of the JameBtown Granted. — Food Substituted for
Guns. — Interesting Bill of Lading. — Departure from Boston. — Enthusiastically Cheered. — Only Fif
teen Days' Passage. — Going up the Harbor of Cork. — Throngs of Famished Spectators. — Tumultu
ous Greetings on Arrival. — Public Welcomes and Honors. — A Tour of Inspection. — Indescribable
Horrors. — Distribution of the Cargo. — The Mission a Great Success.

" And thou, mighty ship, built by man to destroy,
Thou, the flrst of thy race, bear'at an errand of joy.''

WING to the failure of the potato crop in Ireland, in the year 1846, a great
famine fell upon that unfortunate land, and, during that and the succeeding
year, thousands perished with hunger. Notwithstanding the successive
grants of relief made by parliament, amounting in the aggregate to fifty
millions of dollars, together with the munificence of the wealthy, desti
tution, famine, and disease pervaded almost the entire population. Such,
indeed, was the fearful mortality in some of the towns; that one-third of
the inhabitants fell victims, their corpses being found, in frequent
instances, lying in the streets, uncoffined and unknown.
As illustrating the frightful character and circumstances
distinguishing this scourge, one of the official visitors to
these scenes of woe states that on entering one of the famine
hovels in Kennare, he found five or six of the
inmates lying in fever, huddled together on the
damp and cold ground, with scarce a wisp of straw
under them ; in another cabin, four or five unfor
tunate beings, just risen from fever, crouched over
a small pot of sea-weed boiling on the fire, that one
of them had crawled to the shore to collect for
their dinner. An equally ghastly case was that of
a poor fellow, whose mother lay beside him dead
two days ; he was burning with rage to think she
should have come to such an end, as to die of starv
ation. But a more distressing object still, was
sckse oi misery dubikoTthe famine. that of a sick mother, beside whom lay a child

480

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

dead, for the twenty-four hours previous ;
two others lay close by, just expiring, and,
to add to the horrors of the sight, a fam
ished cat got upon the bed, and was only
prevented by timely intervention from
gnawing the corpse of the deceased infant.
Perhaps the spread and extent of this
calamity can be best comprehended by the
manner in which it affected the Cork dis
trict. In the year 1840, under the law for
the relief of the poor, a work-house was
provided in Cork, sufficient to meet the
wants of some two thousand persons, and,
until the year 1845, such accommodation
was abundant. In 1846, however, things
began to alter, when the destruction of the
potato crop began to be experienced.
Soon, the work-house filled to overflowing.
Additional buildings were erected — they
too were filled. Accommodation was then
provided for twelve, and subsequently for
eighteen hundred people, in the neighbor
hood of the work-house. Every inch of
space was occupied, so soon as it was avail
able ; and yet the applicants for admission
crowded pantingly at the doors. They
were not repelled until more than five
thousand and three hundred human beings
were crowded into a space originally meant
to receive two thousand. As a necessary
consequence, a pestilence was generated,
which destroyed life to an extent unheard
of' — -and still the admissions went on!
The vacancies created by death or other
wise, were immediately filled, by eager
applicants, who, in their turn, and speed
ily, fell beneath the stroke of death. And
this pestilence, though of course raging
fiercest within the work-house, was not
confined to its precincts and beneficiaries ;
the guardians, chaplains, and physicians,
all shared in the visitation of the destroyer,
and the attendant frightful mortality. It
was a matter of inevitable necessity, to
crowd the fever patients together so
thickly, that they were forced to lie three
and four in one bed ; and frequently it was
necessary to administer the last consola
tions to the dying, in the very bed in
which lay a corpse. When it was thus in a
public institution supported and regulated

by law, imagination can readily picture the
scenes in those dreary cabins of the poor
that cover the land.
But the picturings of the imagination
merely, may well be spared, in view of the
gaunt array of awful facts which make up
this tragedy of human woe. Having placed
the miseries of Cork in the foreground of
this brief narrative, some reference is like
wise due to the condition of those districts
which, being mountainous and largely
populated, were exposed to a peculiar
intensity of privation, and of consequent
suffering. Among these districts — and it
furnishes simply a type of all the others
which might be cited, did space permit, —
was that of Kilworth, which comprises
that very extensive range of upland,
known as the Kilworth mountains, and
the small extent of low land attached to it.
Out of a total population of nine thousand
and eight hundred souls, there were at one
time over seven thousand in the greatest
state of misery and distress, and, of these,
five thousand had not, unless given them,
a single meal with which to satisfy their
hunger. This arose, as in the other dis
tricts, from the total failure of the potato,
upon which the people solely relied, to
gether with the additional misfortune of an
unproductive oat crop. Some were found
dead in the fields, others dropped down
dead by the side of the roads, and multi
tudes expired in their miserable cabins
from cold, hunger, and nakedness. Only
now and then was any coroner called, the
deaths being too numerous to admit of
formal investigation into each. At one of
the inquests, however, it appeared that a
poor man named James Carthy, in the
last stage of weakness and exhaustion,
having been given a small quantity of
meal took it home, where his unfortunate
wife was confined to her bed of straw by
want and fever. Having made a fire, he
attempted to cook some 'stir-about,' but
his strength failed him; he grew giddy,
and fell with his face into the fire. The
poor wife perceiving that he could not
extricate himself, in vain attempted to
leave her bed to assist him. She had not

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

481

the strength to move. She heard the
crackling of the fire, and she saw her hus
band writhe and expire. The effect upon
her mind and body was too much for her
to bear, and, in just an hour afterwards,
she also was a corpse. Such instances as
this, of terrible individual suffering, were
not at all peculiar or rare. Every day
furnished its sad tales, and the living
heard, and endeavored to drive from their
minds, as soon as they could, the horrify
ing particulars that were related.
And now it was, that, in the midst of
her four-fold horrors of destitution, pesti
lence, famine, and death, the cry of poor
Ireland, appealing to the charity of nations
and of individuals, winged itself across the
Atlantic, and enlisted the generous sympa
thies of fair Columbia. On the twenty-
second of February, 1847, certain Boston
merchants petitioned congress to lend one
of the national ships-of-war, for the pur
pose of carrying to Ireland*a cargo of pro
visions ; and on the third day of March,
the last stormy day of the session, when
the attention of every mind in congress
was taken up in the discussion of momen
tous questions pertaining to finance and
war, the people of the United States, be it
said to their honor, voted through their
representatives, the loan of the frigate
Macedonian to Captain George C. DeKay,
of New Jersey, and the loan of the sloop-
of-war Jamestown to Captain Robert Ben
nett Porbes ; and by a joint resolution of
both houses of congress, the president and
the secretary of the navy were authorized
to send these vessels at the expense of the
United States, or to put them into the
hands of the gentlemen named, for the
purpose indicated. The secretary of the
navy, Hon. John Y. Mason, in view of the
demand for all the resources of the gov
ernment to carry on operations against
Mexico, chose the latter alternative.
Much credit was due to the efforts of Hon.
Eobert C. Winthrop, in congress, for this
favorable result.
In view of the splendid success which,
fr<>m first to last, attended this grand
national charity, in connection especially

with the voyage of the Jamestown under
the gallant and honored Forbes, this sketch
will detail the circumstances attending
the career of that noble pioneer ship and
her distinguished commander, deviating as
little as possible from the official narrative.
Five days after the passage of the resolu
tion of congress, the secretary of the navy
ordered Commodore Parker, of the Charles
town navy yard, to prepare the Jamestown
by the removal of her armament, and
deliver her to Captain Forbes. This order
came to hand on the eleventh of March,
and on the seventeenth, being St. Patrick's!
day, the ''Laborers' Aid Society," of Bos
ton, composed principally, if not entirely,
of poor Irishmen, put their hands and
minds to the holy work, and in the course
of that day, one-seventh part of the cargo
was stowed away ; and by the twenty-
seventh, notwithstanding the interruption
by bad weather, the ship was full, drawing
nearly twenty feet, and having, with her
stores, about eight thousand barrels bulk,
of provisions, grain, meal, etc., on board, —
the voluntary, free and hearty contribu
tions, from all classes and sects, to the
suffering people of Ireland, — all intrusted
to the care of one of the truest men and
most skillful nautical commanders in all
America. The cargo thus in readiness, was in
voiced as "provisions, breadstuffs, and
clothing, shipped by the Boston relief
committee, on board the United States
Ship of Peace, Jamestown, R. B. Forbes
commander, and to him consigned." As
such a bill of lading, purely in the inter
ests of international charity, was probably
never before identified with the history of
a government naval vessel, the record of
its contents may well have a place in tliese
pages, to gratify the laudable curiosity of
the immane. But even this constitutes
but a portion — the first shipment only — of
the gifts of the citizens of New England
and the United States, namely : four hun
dred barrels pork; one hundred tierces
hams; six hundred and fifty-five barrels
corn meal ; two thousand five hundred and
one bags ditto, of one-half barrel each;

482

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

four hundred and seventy-five bags ditto,
of sixty pounds each; two hundred and
sixty bags ditto, of one-quarter barrel each;
one thousand four hundred and fifty-two
bags ditto, of one-eighth barrel each ; one
thousand four hundred and ninety-six
bags northern corn, one thousand three
hundred and seventy-five barrels of bread,
three hundred and fifty-three barrels beans,
eighty-four barrels peas, eight hundred
empty bags. The items thus enumerated
pertain to the Boston contributions sent
by the Jamestown ; the remaining schedule
of articles embraces gifts from other towns
in New England, namely : five hundred

CORN FOR THE LAND OF WANT AND WOE.
and thirty-three barrels of corn, one-half
barrel of pork, eighteen barrels corn meal,
one-half barrel oatmeal, ten barrels oat
meal, eighty-four barrels potatoes, one bag
ditto, five hundred and forty-seven bags
corn, one barrel flour, one barrel rye, ten
bags rye, one box rye, one barrel oats, one
box oats, three bags wheat, one tierce
dried apples, three tierces beans, one bag
beans, six boxes fish ; two hundred bags
meal, one-eighth barrel each; one-half
barrel meal, sixteen barrels clothing, one-
half-barrel ditto, nine boxes ditto, two
bundles ditto ; fifty barrels flour, one-half
barrel ditto, one hundred ditto rice, fifty

barrels corn meal, two barrels bread, sixty
barrels beans, one-half barrel ditto, four
barrels peas, four boxes clothing.
This was the bill of lading which cov
ered the freight of the Jamestown, — that
ark of charity, — commissioned, by a nation
possessed at the time of but few ships of
war, and at that very moment engaged in
a contest requiring all her disposable
naval force, to proceed to the city of Cork.
The last time the war-flag of America
floated in the British seas was in 1812.
England and the United States were then
in hostile collision. But in every encoun
ter of the latter power, in the guardianship
of her rights and the defense of her honor,
she showed that irrepressible character
which belongs to an energetic nation once
fairly roused; and, notwithstanding all
the unfavorable circumstances of a hurried
organization, defective vessels, wretched
equipment, and want of arsenals, docks,
system, combination, trained officers, and
naval discipline, England had never be
fore met with an enemy so destructive to
her trade as America proved. During the
first two years of privateering that fol
lowed the declaration of war, many hun
dred sail of British merchantmen were
captured. But now, all this is changed
and reversed. An American war vessel is
'sent to cruise up the Irish channel, but it
is on a cruise of mercy; though a "vessel
of wrath," fitted for the work of destruc
tion, she has been disarmed, and converted
into a ministering messenger of succor to
the famished. She bears no secret and
spying orders, but her mission is open as
day. Her caliber can be estimated from
the weight she bears of corn — not can
non ; her discharges are not to be of "iron
rain," but to descend in peaceful manna.
In a word, she goes laden with food to
those who are ready to perish ; and, having
consummated her great work, and having
achieved a nobler triumph than ever yet
crowned the most successful ship of prey
and blood, she will return with no red-
dyed pennon flaunting from her mast-head,
but, rather, with the grateful esteem and
affectionate attachment of one of the most

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

483

warm-hearted people on the face of the
globe, and with the gracious smile and
blessing of heaven.
On the twenty-seventh of March, Cap
tain Forbes gave a receipt for the ship
and her apparel, etc., the officers of the
navy yard having rigged her while the
cargo was being received. The outfit was
very complete, and on Sunday, March
twenty-eighth, at half-past eight o'clock in
the morning, the ship cast off, amid the
hearty cheers and fervent prayers of the
assembled crowd, and made sail on her
course. At three o'clock, the noble ship
had passed the Highlands of Cape Cod,
and was fairly launched on the broad
Atlantic, on a voyage full of hope and
pleasure. Forbes, the large-hearted, brave
and skillful commander — whose time and
services for the expedition were a free-will
offering to the cause of humanity, — said
that it was to him a day full of mingled
emotions of satisfaction, unalloyed by any
unhappy feeling, save that momentary and
easily forgiven weakness that comes over
a man when parting from his family !
Grand, noble-hearted Forbes !
Thus auspiciously under way, the ship
of peace, though three feet or more deeper
than her usual man-of-war trim, sailed and
worked admirably, and although her crew
proved very light and not altogether effi
cient, she sped on successfully, crossed the
Banks in forty-three and one-half degrees,
against the will of her navigators, with
south, south-east, and southerly winds,
and a dense fog, the thermometer, varying
several degrees in the air and water, indi
cating the proximity of ice,— and after a
succession of rainy, dirty weather, and
variable winds, the good bark cast anchor
in Cork, outer harbor, on the twelfth of
April, exactly fifteen days and three hours
from the navy yard at Charlestown, with
out having lost a rope yarn.
The Jamestown was very soon visited
by Lieutenant Commanding Protheroe, of
her majesty's flag-ship, the Crocodile,
under Hear Admiral Sir Hugh Pigot, who
came to say that everything would be
done, within the admiral's power, to expe

dite the delivery of the cargo, and for the
dispatch of the ship on her return to the
United States. Intimation was accord
ingly given, that the timely aid of a
steamer would be very acceptable, to take
the ship to the government warehouses at
Haulbowline. Unfortunately, no steamer,
belonging to the public service, was just
then at Cork or Cove, and it was therefore
necessary to wait patiently until Tuesday
afternoon, when the steam sloop Geyser
was expected to arrive ; but just after the
Jamestown had weighed anchors, in prep
aration, and no steamer coming, the
Sabrina, Captain Parker, came along, she
being a packet running, and then bound, to
Bristol. Captain Parker shaved the ship's
stern so close as to take off her spanker-
boom, and hailing, asked the commander
if he wished to be towed up ; a hearty
affirmative was the response. The Sabrina
forthwith towed her honored consort up to
the government stores at Haulbowline,
opposite the town of Cove, and seven or
eight miles below the city of Cork, forming
a truly beautiful harbor.
Meanwhile, the tidings of the approach
of the good ship, with her rich and weighty
freight of food for the perishing, was spread
far and wide, and many were they who
watched anxiously from the shore, the
form of that noble craft as she passed
along, and which was now their only hope.
Even before the anchor had fairly bitten
the soil, a deputation of the citizens of
Cove, consisting of all parties in politics
and all creeds of religion, waited on Cap
tain Forbes, with an address of welcome,
to which he promptly and handsomely
responded. The Cove Temperance Band
came and remained on board all day, dis
coursing sweet music, Yankee Doodle and
Lucy Long being performed with especial
frequency and vim. A plenty of men
came from the Crocodile to assist in
weighing the ship's anchors, and at night
the town of Cove was illuminated. As the
Jamestown passed up the harbor in tow of
the packet, she received the cheers of thou
sands who lined the hills and quay, and
innumerable ladies waved their handker-

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

- = \»~

- .«r

chiefs in token of delight. When parting
with Captain Parker and his very service
able packet, the crew and passengers of the
latter joined in a rousing salute to the
American visitors, which was answered
heartily and lustily from the Jamestown
as well as from the assembled throng.
On Wednesday, the fourteenth, the
work of discharging the cargo into the
government warehouses commenced, with
out any form of entry or detention other
wise. Captain Forbes called on the United
States consul, noted his protest, and then
went to Cork in company with that good
and great man, Theobald Mathew, and
his brother ; was by him introduced to the
collector, and to other gentlemen of note,
and had a very warm reception from all.
On Thursday, the fifteenth of April, the
citizens of Cove invited Captain Forbes to
a banquet. The brilliant company assem
bled at six o'clock, and, after the usual
regular toasts, — 'The Queen,' and 'Prince
Albert and the Royal Family,' — the chair
man, Hon. Mr. Power, introduced the
health of the guest, with some flattering
encomiums on the generosity of the people
of New England ; these courtesies were
acknowledged by Captain Forbes, in a
speech which elicited unbounded applause.
Great harmony and enthusiasm prevailed,

all classes in politics and religion in the
town uniting to do honor to the occasion
and the guest, for the name of Forbes had
everywhere become a household word of
honor and admiration, such as any prince
of the kingdom might envy.
An invitation having been extended to
Captain Forbes to meet the Temperance
Institute at Cork, on the nineteenth, — the
institute of which Father Mathew was
both parent and president, — Captain
Forbes accepted the same. The occasion
was one specially made for an expression
of gratitude to the people of America. In
consequence of the distress out of doors,
the regular soirees had been omitted ; but
at this time the hall was beautifully orna-
> mented with the flags of England, Ire
land, and the United States, and an
accomplished choir discoursed Yankee
Doodle, Lucy Long, Jim Crow, Hail
Columbia, and sundry national Irish mel
odies. The chairman and others presented
eloquent addresses, the ladies clapped
their gentle hands, and their kerchiefs
waved welcome and gratitude to America,
Captain Forbes made a brief reply, in
which he told the ladies, that, having vis
ited Blarney Castle and kissed the stone,
he had a great deal to say, but found Lis
feelings too much excited to admit of his
saying much. Father Mathew, after having
had his health proposed, made a short and
feeling address, appropriately conveying
to the people of America, the expressions
of deep and heartfelt thankfulness, "more
for the sentiment of remembrance than
for the intrinsic value of the gifts." The

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

485

ladies having been presented to Captain
Forbes, that gallant sailor was ever after
wards ready to vouch for the fact, that the
ladies of Cork do shake hands like men ; — ¦
no formal touching of the ends of the fin
gers, chilling the heart, but a regular
grip of feeling. It was at this assembly
also, that the commander of the James
town was presented by some of the city
artists with a finely executed likeness of
that ship, representing her as she ap
peared just after the Sabrina had cast off
the tow ropes, and a few moments before
the anchor was dropped at the government
dock-yard. From the ladies, too, Captain
Forbes was the recipient of numerous
poetical effusions laudatory of the James
town's humane mission, and they presented
him with some choice specimens of tlieir
liandywork, to carry as souvenirs to his
home. On Wednesday, the twenty-first
of April, — twenty-four days after leaving
Boston, — the cargo was out and the ship
ready for sea. On that day, Captain
Forbes was " at home " to the ladies and
gentlemen of Cork and Cove, by special
invitation, from twelve to three. The
company assembled, in large numbers, and
an entertainment, sui generis, was pro
vided by the host. Knowing that it
would be impossible for him to give such
a multitude a feast, and, indeed, not de
siring to do so in a time of famine, Cap
tain Forbes nevertheless determined to
give them something appropriate, and
accordingly displayed on the table a barrel
of best American bread, in the cask, flanked
on each side by a huge piece of Fresh
Pond ice,— which latter the host declared
was manufactured expressly for the occa
sion on the twenty-fifth of March. These
principal ingredients were helped out with
a plenty of ice water, iced lemonade, with
a httle sprinkling of champagne and
bread (baked on board but rivaling the
test), to say nothing of a box of Boston
gingerbread, which the ladies partook of
sparingly, but carried away with them in
dainty bits, to show at home what could
be done in Yankee land. The temperance
band played some of their choicest airs,

and, previous to breaking up, the ladies,
with their red-coated and blue-coated part
ners, sported the light fantastic toe, on the
spotless decks of the noble ship.
Among the deputations from tho dif
ferent municipalities received by Captain
Forbes, was a special one from the citizens
of Cork, who delivered to him a banner
for presentation to the city of Boston.
This was accompanied by an address
couched in the most appropriate language
of personal and public gratitude. Indeed,
the praises of free, happy, generous
America, were sounded by every tongue.
The arrangements made by Captain
Forbes for the distribution of the cargo
were with a committee of gentlemen of
the very highest character and represent
ing all shades of politics and all creeds in
religion, thus guaranteeing that the seed
would be sown to good account both in the
hearts and stomachs of the poor Irish, as
well as in the remembrance of the better-
off classes. That the necessities of Ire
land at this time were not at all exagger
ated by the cry and wassail that went
forth from her bosom, into the ears of
the civilized world, Captain Forbes fully
affirms from his personal routine of ob
servation. He states that, in company
with Father Mathew, he went, on a cer
tain day, only a few steps out of one of
the principal streets of Cork, into a lane ;
it was more than the valley of the shadow
of death, — it was the valley of death and
pestilence itself. Enough was to be seen
in five minutes to appall the stoutest
heart — hovels crowded with the sick and
dying, without floors, without furniture,
and with beds of dirty straw covered with
still more filthy shreds and patches of
humanity ; some called for water to Father
Mathew, and others for a dying blessing.
From this very small sample of the pre
vailing destitution, the visitors proceeded
to a public soup kitchen, under a shed,
guarded by police officers ; here a large
boiler containing rice, meal, and so forth,
was at work, while hundreds of specters
stood without, begging for some of this
soup, which Captain Forbes did not hesi-

486

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

tate afterwards to declare would be refused
by well-bred pigs in his own country !
With reference to the last observation,
however, it may be remarked that it was
made with not the least disrespect to the
benevolent who provided the means and
who ordered the ingredients. Indeed, the
demand for immediate relief was so great,
that, if the starving could be kept alive,
it was all that could be expected. The
energies of the poor had become so
cramped and deadened by want and suf
fering of every type, that they cared only
for sustenance, and they were unable to
earn it ; crowds flocked in from the coun
try to the city, and the hospitals and jails
and poor-houses were full to overflowing,
the numbers that died daily simply mak
ing room for those who were soon also to
die. Every corner of the streets was filled
with pale, care-worn creatures, the weak
leading and supporting the weaker, women
assailing the passer-by at every turn, with
famished babes, imploring alms — and woe
to the man who gave to them ! Captain
Forbes himself tried it ! He gave six
pences, with which to the extent of a pound
sterling he had provided himself ; occa
sionally, as pursued with Father Mathew
in company, he cast a sixpence back to the
crowd, and like the traveler who was pur
sued by hungry wolves, and who threw
out a little something to distract their
attention, the captain passed on at a
quicker pace until protection could be
found from the heart-rending appeals of
the poor creatures, by going into a store
and finally escaping by the back door ;
they, however, finding the man who thus
had silver to give, unearthed, renewed the
pursuit, and he finally took shelter on
board a steamer.
At half-past three, of the afternoon
of April twenty-second, the Jamestown
started from Cork, in tow of her majesty's
steamer Zephyr, on her return voyage,

which she accomplished by the fifteenth
of May, after an absence of seven weeks
and one hour from the navy yard, during
which time there were resting upon her
the best wishes and prayers of millions, 
and it seemed as if heaven particularly
smiled upon the noble, vessel, in her
speedy passage out and her safe return.
The mission must always be regarded as
one of the grandest events in the history
of nations, — one of the noblest charities
on record. In token of their gratitude
and esteem, the people of Cork and its
vicinity presented to Captain Forbes a
large and massy salver of solid silver,
measuring thirty inches in length by
twenty in breadth, a rich and most beauti
ful piece of workmanship, valued at nearly
one thousand dollars, and inscribed as
follows : ' Presented to Robert Bennett
Forbes, Esq., of Boston, United States,
by the Inhabitants of the County and
City of Cork, Ireland, in acknowledgment
of his philanthropic mission to their
country, and successful exertions for the
relief of their suffering fellow country
men during the fearful famine of 1846-7,
when, mainly through the instrumen
tality of Captain Forbes, large supplies
of food, the voluntary contributions of
the inhabitants of the United States,
more particularly of New England, were
carried to Ireland in the United States
ships-of-war Jamestown and Macedonian
(the former granted to him personally by
the American Government, although en
gaged in a Mexican war), the Reliance
and Tartar, and distributed amongst a
starving and grateful people.' Accom
panying this magnificent piece of plate,
was a Memorial Address, inclosed in a
splendidly ornamental frame, representing
the Irish Harp, and surmounted by the
American Eagle, the Irish and American
Flags, and a figure of the Jamestown, all
appropriately grouped.

LVI.
GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZU-
MAS, AS THE CONQUEROR OF MEXICO.— 1847.

General Taylor's Unbroken Series of Victorious Battles, from Palo Alto to Buena Vista. — Flight of
Santa Anna in the Dead of Midnight. — The Stars and Stripes Float Triumphantly from the Towers
of the National Palace. — First Foreign Capital Ever Occupied by the United States Army. — Peace
on the Invaders' Own Terms. — Original Irritation between the Two Powers. — Disputed Points of
Boundary. — Mexico Refuses to Yield. — General Taylor Sent to the Rio Grande. — A Speedy Collision.
—Declaration of War by Congress. — Santa Anna Leads the Mexicans. — Battles of Palo Alto and
Hesaca de la Palma. — Raging Fight at Monterey : Its Fall. — Santa Anna's War-like Summons — It is
Treated with Contempt. — His Awful Defeat at Buena Vista. — Doniphan's March of Five Thousand
Miles.— Vera Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, Churubusco, etc. — Scott's Order, "On to Mexico!" —
Huzzas and a Quickstep.— Terrific Storming of Chapultepec. — Scott Holds the Key to Mexico. —
The Last Obstacle Overcome. — Grand Entrance of the Victors. — Territorial Gain to the United States.

" Under the favor of God, the valor of this army, after man y glorious victories, has hoisted the flag of our country in the Capital of Mex-
ico, and oa the Palace of it9 Government."— General Scott to his aruy, September 14th.

^

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pfe;

owing

jy^rjpi^ HIEFLY, if not sol
to the annexation of Texas
to the United States, war broke out between
this country and Mexico, in 1846, under proc
lamation by President Polk, in pursuance of formal declar- -"^
ation of hostilities in May of that year, promulgated by
congress. Claiming Texas as a portion of its own domain,
¦Mexico had sturdily resisted its separation from her con
trol, either as an independent power, or as a portion of the
United States. But, being forced, finally, to yield these points,
esh troubles soon succeeded, arising from the disputed question of
Boundary. Mexico claimed to the Neuces, and the United States
to the Rio Grande del Norte. Santa Anna, then at the head of
Mexican affairs, insisted on the vigorous assertion of Mexico's

' ' ^c?\

Sn-m- *r

488

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

claims, and military force was brought into
requisition to this end. It was this pro
ceeding, as alleged, that induced counter
military movements on the part of the
United States, under the lead of General
Taylor, and in a short time collision and
open war followed, the belligerents putting
their best armies and officers into the field,
the contest finally culminating in the occu
pancy of the Mexican capital by a victori
ous army under General Scott, and in the
signing of a treaty by which the United
States came into possession — for a mere
nominal pecuniary equivalent — of the
whole of Texas, New Mexico, and Upper
California. The principal battles and other military
movements which rendered this conflict
memorable, were the siege of Fort Brown,

'^^oc^-ri^ 'c?C_

the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la
Palma, the fall of Monterey, the battle of
Buena , Vista, Doniphan's expedition to
Chihuahua and inarch of five thousand
miles, the reduction of Vera Cruz, the bat
tles of Cerro Gordo, Contreras, and Chu-
rubusco, the storming of Chapultepec, and
the entrance of Scott into the halls of
the Montezumas, as the conqueror of the
enemy's chief city,— the first instance of a
foreign capital being entered by the army
of the United States. The latter event,
and the battle of Buena Vista, formed the
most important movements during the
campaign, and have earned a conspicuous

place — as have also their heroes, Taylor
and Scott, — in American military history,
It was on the twenty-second of February
1847, that Taylor made those final dispo
sitions of his.troops that ended in the fa
mous victory of Buena Vista, and which,
in the brief lapse of three years thereafter,
carried the victor to the presidential chair,
as chief magistrate of the United States.
The first evidence directly afforded the
United States troops of the presence of
Santa Anna, was a white flag, dimly seen
fluttering in the breeze, and which proved,
on the arrival of its bearer, to be what the
Americans ironically termed a benevolent
missive from Santa Anna, proposing to
General Taylor terms of unconditional sur
render ; promising good treatment ; stat
ing that his force amounted to twenty
thousand men ; that the defeat of the
invaders was inevitable, and that, to
spare the effusion of blood, his propo
sition should be complied with.
But, strange to say, the American
general showed the greatest ingrati
tude ; evinced no appreciation what
ever of Santa Anna's kindness, and
informed him, substantially, that
whether his force amounted to twenty
thousand or fifty thousand, it was
equally a matter of indifference — the
terms of adjustment must be ar
ranged by gunpowder. Santa Anna's
rage at this response to his conceited
summons was at the boiling point.
Skirmishing continued until night
fall, and was renewed at an early hour the
next morning, the struggle deepening in in-'
tensity as the day advanced, until the battle
raged with great fury along the entire line.
After various successes and reverses, the
fortunes of the day showed on the side of
the Americans. Santa Anna saw the
crisis, and true to his instincts, sought to
avert the result by craft and cunning. He
sent a white flag to General Taylor, in
quiring, in substance, " what he wanted.
This was at once believed to be a mere
ruse to gain time and re-collect his men ;
but the American general thought fit to
notice it, and General Wool was deputed

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

489

to meet the representative of Santa Anna,
and to say to him that what was " wanted "
was peace. Before the interview could be
had, the Mexicans treacherously re-opened
their fires. The flag, however, had accom-

^Cyy^py^-—

plished the ends which its wily originator
designed — a re-enforcement of his cavalry
during the parley, — and, with his courage
thus restored, he determined to charge
Taylor's line. Under cover of their artil
lery, horse and foot advanced upon the
. American batteries, the latter, against all
disadvantages, nobly maintaining their po
sitions, by the most brilliant and daring
efforts. Such was the rapidity of their
transitions that officers and pieces seemed
empowered with ubiquity, and upon cav
alry and infantry alike, wherever they
appeared, they poured so destructive a fire
as to silence the enemy'.s artillery, compel
his whole line to fall back, and soon to
assume a sort of subdued movement, indi
cating anything but victory.
Again, the spirits of Taylor's troops rose
high. The Mexicans appeared thoroughly
routed; and while their regiments and
divisions were flying in dismay, nearly all
the American light troops were ordered
forward, and followed them with a most
terrible fire, mingled with shouts which
rose above the roar of artillery. The pur
suit, however, was too hot, and, as it
evinced, too clearly, the smallness of the
pursuing force, the Mexicans, with a sud

denness which was almost magical, rallied,
and turned back with furious onset. They
came in myriads, and for a while the car
nage was dreadful on both sides, though
there was but a handful to oppose to the
frightful masses so rapidly hurled into the
combat, and which could no more be re
sisted than could an avalanche of thunder
bolts. "All is lost!" was the cry — or at
least the thought — of many a brave Amer
ican, at this crisis.
Thrice during the day, when all seemed
lost but honor, did the artillery, by the
ability with which it was maneuvered, roll
back the tide of success from the enemy,
and give such overwhelming destructive
ness to its effect, that the army was saved
and the glory of the American arms main
tained. The battle had now raged with variable
success for nearly ten hours, and, by a sort
of mutual consent, after the last carnage
wrought among the Mexicans by the artil
lery, both parties seemed willing to pause
upon the result. Night fell. Santa Anna
had been repulsed at all points ; and ere
the sun rose again upon the scene, the
Mexicans had disappeared,' leaving behind
them only the hundreds of their dead and
dying, whose bones were to whiten their
native hills. The loss was great on both
sides, in this long, desperate, and sanguin
ary conflict, the force of the Mexicans be
ing as five to one of the Americans.
Santa Anna was bold and persevering,
and turned Taylor's left flank by the
mountain paths with a large force, when
all seemed to be lost. But the light artil
lery and the mounted men saved the day.
Throughout the action General Taylor was
where shots fell hottest and thickest, two
of which passed through his clothes. He
constantly evinced the greatest quickness
of perception, fertility of resource, and a
cool, unerring judgment not to be baffled.
One of the bravest deeds of this struggle
was that performed by Major Dix, who,
when the air was rent with shouts of
triumph from the enemy, over the inglori
ous flight of an Indiana regiment, dashed
off in pursuit of the deserters, and seizing

490

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

the colors of the regiment as he reached
them, appealed to the men to know
whether they had determined thus to turn
their backs upon their country ! He was
answered by three cheers. A portion of
the regiment immediately rallied around
him, and was reformed by the officers.
Dix, in person, then led them towards the
enemy, until one of the men volunteered
to take the flag.
Admiration and honor, were showered
upon Taylor, who had thus, with his little
army of between four and five thousand
men, met and completely vanquished
Santa Anna, the greatest of Mexican sol-

A J?^J^^

diers, with his army of twenty thousand.
It was a contest which, with his other vic
torious battles at Palo Alto, Resaca de la
Palma, and Monterey, covered the hitherto
almost unknown name of Taylor with a
halo of glory from one end of the land to
the other; gave immense prestige to
American arms ; and created, perhaps too
largely, the feeling that the conquering
party might now go on and overrun the
country, and dictate its own terms of peace.
But there were strong positions yet to be
mastered, and gory fields yet to be won,
before that most of all coveted achieve
ment — the capture and occupation of the
Mexican capital — was to crown the suc

cesses of the invaders and prove that the
enemy's country was at their mercy.
As events proved, the last named great
act in this military drama was reserved
for General Scott, who had been appointed
by the government at Washington, su
preme commander of the army in Mexico.
Taylor had led the way, by his splendid
movements and victories, for the accom
plishment of all that yet remained to be
done. Vera Cruz, the key to the Mexican
capital, with the almost impregnable fort
ress of San Juan de Ulloa, soon fell into
the hands of the Americans, after a terri
bly destructive cannonade. A similar fate
befell nearly all the principal ports.
Again was Santa Anna defeated on
the embattled heights of Cerro
Gordo, in which tremendous strong
hold he had attempted with fifteen
thousand men, but in vain, to op
pose Scott, who had only six thou
sand. To this succeeded the battle
of Contreras, in which the Mexi
cans, led by General Valencia, who
had an army of some eight thou
sand, were routed with terrible
slaughter, by Gen. P. F. Smith.
In a few months from this time,
the plains of Churubusco witnessed
another battle, the deadly carnage
and mortal results of which, no
pen could adequately portray, the
Americans taking possession of
every point, as triumphant victors.
The prize was not yet won, but orders
were in due time given by General Scott
to march to the capital. Deafening cheers
and a quickstep greeted this order, on its
promulgation. Two strong positions of
the enemy were, however, yet to be over
come, namely, that of Molino del Rey, and
the strong castle of Chapultepec, before
the city could be reached. The first-
named was captured by General Worth,
after a most bloody fight, and with the
loss of nearly one-fourth of his men, the
latter having at last found it necessary to
burst open an entrance, and with the bay
onet to meet the enemy hand to hand.
New and more terrible struggles were

CU

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

491

soon to take place. On the eleventh of
September, the cavalry were ordered to
make a movement on the sloping plains
above Chapultepec and Tacubaya, and
attack, if possible, the latter place. How
ever, the enemy kept a diligent look-out,
and no sooner did the cavalry begin to
move out of town than their scouts ap
peared upon the spot, and, soon after, a
small force appeared to dispute the ap
proach. On the twelfth, the cannon began to
roar again, south and west, at the garita
of San Antonio and Chapultepec, but it
soon became evident to them where the
real attack was intended, for on the south
side the fire was slackened, and after a

time it left off altogether — while, on the
west it grew more and more violent, until,
at about eight o'clock, the Americans
opened their battery of mortars upon the
castle, and began to throw shell with terri
ble precision.
General Pillow's approach, on the west
side, lay through an open grove, filled with
sharpshooters, who were speedily dis
lodged ; when, being up with the front of
the attack, and emerging into open space,
at the foot of a rocky acclivity, that gal
lant leader was struck down by an agoniz
ing wound. The broken acclivity was still
to be ascended, and a strong redoubt,
midway, to be carried, before reaching the
castle on the heights. The advance of the

brave men, led by brave officers, though
necessarily slow, was unwavering, over
rocks, chasms, and mines, and under the
hottest fire of cannon and musketry. The
redoubt now yielded to resistless valor.
Shout after shout rung wildly through
the victorious ranks of the assailants,
announcing to the castle the fate that
impended. The Mexicans were steadily
driven from shelter to shelter. The re
treat allowed no time to fire a single mine,
without the certainty of blowing up friend
and foe. Those who, at a distance, at
tempted to apply matches to the long
trains, were shot down by the Americans.
There was death below as well as above
ground. At length the ditch and wall of
the main work were reached, and the
scaling-ladders were brought up and
planted by the storming parties. Some of
the daring spirits in the assault were cast
down, killed or wounded ; but a lodgment
was soon made, streams of heroes followed,
all opposition was overcome, and several of
the regimental colors were flung out from
the upper walls, amid long continued
shouts and cheers. All this sent dismay
into the capital. To the Americans, no
scene could have been more animating or
glorious. General Quitman performed a distin
guished part in these movements, nobly
sustained by his officers and men.
Simultaneously with the movement on
the west, he gallantly approached the
south-east of the same works over a cause
way with cuts and batteries, and defended
by an army strongly posted outside, to the
east of the works. These formidable
obstacles had to be faced, with but little
shelter for troops or space for maneuvering.
Deep ditches, flanking the causeway,
made it difficult to cross on either side into
the adjoining meadows ; and these, again,
were intersected by other ditches. The
storming party, however, carried two
batteries that were in the road, took some
guns, with many prisoners, and drove the
enemy posted behind in support ; they
then crossed the meadows in front, under
a heavy fire, and entered the outer

492

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

493

inclosure of Chapultepec just in time to
join in the final assault from the west.
Captain Barnard, of the voltgeur regiment,
was the first to plant a regimental color.
During the period covered by tliese
exciting scenes, the firing in and about
the castle had three times apparently
reached its crisis or climax, and then
suddenly slackened, inducing the belief in
some quarters that the assault had been
beaten off; but, at about half-past nine
o'clock the Mexican flag suddenly disap
peared, a blue flag was shown, and directly
after the stars and stripes arose and waved
over the conquered fortress. Immediately
after having taken the place, the Americans
hauled down the light field-pieces from the
castle, and fired them upon the retreating
enemy, upon whose heels they closely
followed. The firing came nearer, and at
about two, o'clock in the afternoon, the
innermost intrenchments began to open
their fire, and balls to whistle in the town.
It was not long before the forces of
Worth and Quitman — the former proceed
ing by the San Cosme aqueduct, and the
latter along that of Belen. Scott joined
the advance of Worth, within the suburb,
and beyond the turn at the junction of the
aqueduct with the great highway from the
west to the gate of San Cosme. In a short
time, the troops were engaged in a street
fight against the Mexicans posted in
gardens, at windows, and on housetops —
all flat, with parapets. Worth ordered
forward the mountain howitzers of
Cadwallader's brigade, preceded by skir
mishers and pioneers, with pickaxes and
crowbars, to force windows and doors, or
to burrow through walls. The assailants
were soon in unequality of position fatal
to the enemy. By eight o'clock in the
evening, Worth had carried two batteries
in this suburb. There was but one more
obstacle, the San Cosme gate (custom
house), between him and the great square
in front of the cathedral and palace — the

heart of the city. There was a lull in the
firing, and already the inhabitants were
hoping to pass a quiet night, when
suddenly the dull roar of a heavy mortar
resounded close by the town, and shells
with fiery tails came with portentous
energy. The gallant Quitman pressed on,
regardless of gates, batteries, or citadels,
and compelled Santa Anna to break up in
the middle of the night and retreat with
all his force, leaving the city to the mercy
of the victors. He turned northward to
the villa of Gaudaloupe, and after a short
rest retreated on to San Juan de
Teotihuacan. On Tuesday morning, September four
teenth, 1847, the first American column
made its appearance in the streets of
Mexico, and came on in dense masses
through the principal avenues — Calle San
Francisco, del Correo, de la Professa, and
the two Plateros, in a straight line from
the Alameda up to the palace and Plaza-
Mayor. The Mexican colors now disap
peared from the palace, a regimental flag
took their place, and directly afterwards
the stars and stripes were flung out and
waved proudly from the Halls of the
Montezumas, — the first strange banner
that had ever floated from that palace
since the conquest of Cortez.
On entering the palace, one of General
Scott's first acts was to require from his
comrades-in-arms, their thanks and grat
itude to God, both in public and pri
vate worship, for the signal triumphs
which they had achieved for their coun
try ; warning them also against disorders,
straggling, and drunkenness.
Thus was the prowess of American arms
successfully asserted, the conquered nation
being also compelled to cede the immensely
valuable territory of New Mexico and
Upper California to the United States,
and accepting the lower Rio Grande, from
its mouth to El Paso, as the boundary of
Texas.

LVII. •
EXPEDITION TO THE RIVER JORDAN AND THE DEAD
SEA, BY LIEUT. W. F. LYNCH.— 1847.

The Sacred River Successfully Circumnavigated and Surveyed. — Twenty Days and Nights Upon the
" Sea of Death." — It is Explored, and Sounded, and Its Mysteries Solved. — Strange Phenomena and
Unrelieved Desolation of the Locality. — Important Results to Science. — Zeal in Geographical
Itesearch. — Interest in the Holy Land. — American Inquiry Aroused. — Equipment of Lynch's
Expedition. — On Its Way to the Orient. — Anchoring Under Mount Carmel. — Passage Down
the Jordan. — It is Traced to Its Source. — Wild and Impressive Scenery. — Rose Colored
Clouds of Judea. — Configuration ofthe Dead Sea. — Dense, Buoyant, Briny Waters. — Smarting of the
Hands and Face. — Salt, Ashes, and Sulphureous Vapors, etc. — Tradition Among the Arabs. — Sad
Kate of Former Explorers. — Temperature of This Sea. — Submerged Plains at Its Bottom. — Sheeted
with Phosphorescent Foam. — Topography, Width and Depth. — " Apples of Sodom" Described.—
The Pillar of Salt, Lot's Wife.

" But here, above, around, below,
in mountain or in glen.
Nor tree, nor shrub, nor flower,
Nor aught of vegetative power,
The wearied eye may ken ;
But al) itB rocks at random thrown,—
filaek waves,— bare crags,— and heaps of etone."

'1ELDING to the earnest desire of individuals and societies interested in the
advancement of geographical science, the United States government lent its
sanction and co-operative aid to the expedition planned in 1847, by Lieutenant
W. F. Lynch, an accomplished naval officer, for the exploration and
survey of the Dead Sea. The results of this expedition, so replete
with information of the most important and deeply interesting charac
ter concerning a spot so singular in its sacred and historic associations,
as well as mysterious in its physical peculiarities, fully justified the
zeal with which it was advocated and the high auspices under which it
embarked. The names of those whose services were accepted by the commander,
as members of the expedition, and whose qualifications were believed
to fit them peculiarly for the undertaking, were as follows: Lieu
tenant, John B. Dale ; passed-midshipman, R. Aulick ; herbarist,
Francis E. Lynch ; master's mate, J. C. Thomas ; navigators, Messrs.
Overstock, Williams, Homer, Read, Robinson, Lee, Lock-
^B> wood, Albertson, Loveland. At Constantinople, Mr. Henry
Bedloe associated himself with the expedition, and, on their
arrival at Beirut, Dr. H. J. Anderson became a member of the party, making the num
ber sixteen in all. The services of an intelligent native Syrian, named Ameung, were

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

495

also obtained at Beirut, who acted in the
capacity of interpreter, and rendered other
important aid.
By direction of the government at
Washington, the store-ship Supply was
placed at the disposal of Lieutenant Lynch,
and, as the vessel would otherwise be in
ballast, she was laden with stores for the
United States naval squadron, then in. the
Mediterranean. The Supply sailed ffom New York,
November twenty-first, and in about three
months anchored off Smyrna. From the
latter place, the officers of the expedition
proceeded to Constantinople in the
Austrian steamer, with the view of ob
taining from the Sultan, through the
American minister, permission to pass
through a part of his dominions in Syria,
for the purpose of exploring the Dead Sea,
and of tracing the Jordan to its source.
The reception by the young sultan was in
all respects favorable; the authorization
was granted, and the sultan expressed
much interest in the undertaking, request
ing to be informed of the results.
Thus armed with all necessary powers,
the oflicers returned to Smyrna, rejoining
the Supply. On the tenth of March, the
expedition sailed for the coast of Syria,
and, after touching at Beirut and other
places, came to anchor in the Bay of Acre,
under Mount Carmel, March twenty-
eighth. The explorers, with their stores,
tents, and boats, having landed, an en
campment was formed on the beach,
and the Supply departed to deliver to the
naval squadron the stores with which it
was laden, with orders to be back in time
for the re-embarkation of the exploring
party. The first difficulty of a practical nature
was how to get the boats across to the Sea
of Tiberias. The boats, mounted on
trucks, were laden with the stores and
baggage of the party, and all was arranged
most conveniently— only the horses could
"ot be persuaded to draw. The harness
was also found to be much too large for
the small Syrian horses; and although
they manifestly gloried in the strange

equipment, and voluntarily performed
sundry gay and fantastic movements, the
operation of pulling was altogether averse
to their habits and inclinations. At last,
the plan suggested itself of trying camels.
On being harnessed, three of the huge
animals to each truck, they marched off
with the trucks, the boats upon them,
with perfect ease, to the great delight of
the sojourners, and equal astonishment to
the natives.
All the arrangements being now
perfected, the travelers took their de
parture from the coast, on the fourth of
April. They were accompanied by a fine
old man, an Arab nobleman, called Sherif
Hazza, of Mecca, the thirty-third lineal
descendant of the prophet. As he ap
peared to be highly venerated by the
Arabs, Lieutenant Lynch thought it would
be a good measure to induce him to join
the party, and he was prevailed upon to
do so. Another addition to the party was
made next day in the person of a Bedouin
sheikh of the name of Akil, with ten well-
armed Arabs, or fifteen Arabs in all,
including servants.
But little information concerning the
Jordan could be obtained at Tiberias, and
it was therefore with considerable con
sternation that the course of that river
was soon found to be interrupted by
frequent and most fearful rapids. Thus,
to proceed at all, it often became necessary
to plunge with headlong velocity down the
most appalling descents. So great were
the difficulties, that, on the second evening,
the boats were not more than twelve miles
in direct distance from Tiberias.
The banks of the Jordan were found
beautifully studded with vegetation ; the
cultivation of the ground, however, not so
extensive as it might be, and as it would
be, if the crops were secured to the
cultivator from the desperadoes who scour
the region. The waters of the Jordan,
clear and transparent except in the im
mediate vicinity of the rapids and falls,
are well calculated for fertilizing the
valleys of its course. There are often
plenty of fish seen in its deep and shady

496

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

course. The wide and deeply-depressed
plain through which the river flows, is
generally barren, treeless, and without
verdure ; and the mountains, or rather,
the cliffs and slopes of the risen uplands,
present, for the most part, a wild and
cheerless aspect. The verdure, such as it
is, may only be sought on and near the
lower valley or immediate channel of the
Jordan. No one statement can apply to
the scenery of its entire course; but this
description given of the central part of the
river's course, is a fair specimen of the
kind of scenery which the passage of the
river offers.
Lieutenant Lynch describes the charac
ter of the whole scene of this dreary
waste as singularly wild and impressive.

Looking out upon the desert, bright with
reverberated light and heat, was, he says,
like beholding a conflagration from a
window at twilight. Each detail of the
strange and solemn scene could be ex
amined as through a lens. The moun
tains towards the west rose up like
islands from the sea, with the billows
heaving at their bases. The rough peaks
caught the slanting sunlight, while sharp
black shadows marked the sides turned
from the rays. Deep rooted in the plain,
the bases of the mountains heaved the
garment of the earth away, and rose
abruptly in naked pyramidal crags, each
scar and fissure as palpably distinct as
though within reach, and yet were far
distant. Toward the south, the ridges
and higher masses of the range, as they

swept away in the distance, were aerial and
faint, and softened into dimness by a pale
transparent mist. The plain that sloped
away from the bases of the hills was
broken into ridges and multitudinous cone
like mounds, resembling tumultuous water
at the meeting of two adverse tides, and
presented a wild 'and checkered tract of
land, with spots of vegetation flourishing
upon the frontiers of irreclaimable sterility.
A low, pale, and yellow ridge of conical
hills marks the termination of the higher
terrace, beneath which sweeps gently this
lower plain with a similar undulating
surface, half redeemed from barrenness by
sparse verdure and thistle-covered hillocks.
Still lower was the valley of the Jordan —
the sacred river ! — its banks fringed with
perpetual verdure ; winding in a thousand
graceful mazes ; the pathway cheered
with songs of birds, and its own clear
voice of gushing minstrelsy ; its course a
bright line in this cheerless waste.
Concerning an earlier portion of the
river's course, about one-third from the
lake of Tiberias, Lieutenant Lynch says,
that, for hours in their swift descent the
boats floated down in silence — the silence
of the wilderness. Here and there were
spots of solemn beauty. The numerous
birds sang with a music strange and
manifold; the willow branches were
spread upon the stream like tresses, and
creeping mosses and clambering weeds,
with a multitude of white and silvery little
flowers, looked out from among them ; and
the cliff swallow wheeled over the falls, or
went at his own will, darting through the
arched vistas, and shadowed and shaped
by the meeting foliage on the banks.
There was but little variety in the scenery
of the river; the streams sometimes
washed the bases of the sandy hills, at
other times meandered between low banks,
generally fringed with trees and fragrant
with blossoms. Some points presented
views exceedingly picturesque. The
western shore is peculiar from the high
calcarious limestone hills which form a
barrier to the stream when swollen by the
efflux of the Sea of Galilee, during the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

497

winter and early spring ; while the left
and eastern bank is low and fringed with
tamarisk and willow, and occasionally a
thicket of lofty cane, and tangled masses
of shrubs and creeping plants, gave it the
appearance of a jungle.
No less than twenty-two nights were
spent by the party upon the lake. During
this time the whole circuit of it was made,
including the back-water at the southern
extremity, which had never before been
explored in boats. Every object of in
terest upon the banks was examined ;
and the lake was crossed and recrossed in
a zigzag direction through its whole
extent, for the purpose of sounding. The
figure of the lake, as sketched by the
party, is somewhat different from that
usually given to it. The breadth is more
uniform throughout ; it is less narrowed
at the northern extremity, and less
widened on approaching the peninsula in
the south. In its general dimensions it
is longer, but is not so wide as usually
represented. Its length by the map is
forty miles, by an average breadth of
about nine miles. The water, a nauseous
compound of bitters and salts.

A fresh north wind was blowing as they
rounded the point. They endeavored to
steer a little to the north of west, to make
a true west course, and throw tho patent
log overboard to measure the distance ;
but the wind rose so rapidly that the
boats could not keep head to wind, and it
became necessary to haul the log in. The
sea continued to rise with the increasing
wind, which gradually freshened to a
gale, and presented an agitated surface of
foaming brine ; the spray, evaporating as
it fell, left incrustations of salt upon the
voyagers' clothes, as also their hands and
faces ; and, while it conveyed a prickly
sensation wherever it touched the skin,
was, above all, exceedingly painful to the
eyes. The boats, heavily laden, struggled
sluggishly at first ; but when the wind
increased in its fierceness, from the density
of the water it seemed as if their bows
were encountering the sledge-hammers of
the Titans, instead of the opposing waves
of an angry sea. Finally, such was the
force of the wind, that it was feared both
boats must founder. Knowing that they
were losing advantage every moment, and
that with the lapse of each succeeding one

VALLEY OF THE JOItDAM AND DEAD SEA.

After giving a sketch of the sights and
scenes attending the bathing of the pil
grims in the Jordan, Lieutenant Lynch
saysthatthe river, where it enters the sea,
is inclined towards the eastern shore ; and
there is a considerable bay between the
Wer and the mountains of Belka, in
Ammon, on the eastern shore of the sea.
32

the danger increased, they kept away for
the northern shore, in the hope of being
yet able to reach it, — their arms, clothes
and skin, coated with a greasy salt, and
their eyes, lips and nostrils, smarting ex
cessively. But, although the sea had assumed a
threatening aspect, and the fitted

498

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

mountains loomed terrific on either side,
and salt and ashes mingled with its sands,
and fetid sulphureous springs trickled down
its ravines, the explorers did not despair.
Awe struck, but not terrified, fearing the
worst yet hoping for the best, preparations
were made to spend a dreary night upon
the dreariest waste ever seen. There is a
tradition anions the Arabs that no one

the exact topography of its shores, as
certained the temperature, width, depth,
and velocity of its tributaries, collected
specimens of every kind, and noted the
winds, currents, changes of the weather,
and all atmospheric phenomena. The
bottom of this sea consists of two sub
merged plains, an elevated and a depressed
one. Through the northern, and largest

RIGHT BANK OF THE DEAD SEA.

can venture upon this sea and live, and the
sad fates of Costigan and Molyneux are
repeatedly cited to deter such attempts.
The first one spent a few days, the last
about twenty hours, and returned to the
place from whence he had embarked
without landing on its shores. One was
found dying upon the shore ; the other
expired, immediately after his return, of
fever contracted upon its waters.
The northern shore is an extensive mud
flat, with a sandy plain beyond, the very
type of desolation ; branches and trunks of
trees lay scattered in every direction-
some charred and blackened as by fire,
others white with an incrustation of salt.
The north-western shore is an unmixed bed
of gravel, coming in a gradual slope from
the mountains to the sea. The eastern
coast is a rugged line of mountains, bare
of all vegetation — a continuation of the
Hauran range, coming from the north, and
extending south beyond the scope of
vision, throwing out three marked and
seemingly equi-distant promontories from
its south-eastern extremities.
Lieutenant Lynch fully sounded the sea,
determined its geographical position, took

and deepest one, in a line corresponding
with the bed of the Jordan, is a ravine,
which also seems to correspond with the
Wady el-Jeib, or ravine within a ravine, at
the south end of the sea.
At one time, the sea was observed to
assume an aspect, peculiarly somber. Un
stirred by the wind, it lay smooth and
unruffled as an inland lake. The great
evaporation inclosed it in a thin transpar
ent vapor, its purple tinge contrasting,
strongly with the extraordinary color of
the sea beneath, and, where they blended
in the distance, giving it the appearance
of smoke from burning sulphur. It seemed,
a vast caldron of metal, fused but motion
less. The surface of the sea was one wide
sheet of phosphorescent foam, and the
waves, as they broke upon the shore, threw
a sepulchral light upon the dead bushes
and scattered fragments of rocks. The
exhalations and saline deposits are as un
friendly to vegetable life as the waters are
to animal existence; that fruit can be
brought to perfection there, may therefore
well be considered improbable.
The celebrated "Apples of Sodom," so
often spoken of by ancient and moders

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

499

writers, are peculiar to this locality. The
plant is a perennial, specimens of which
have been found from ten to fifteen feet
high, and seven or eight feet in girth. It
has a gray, cork-like bark, with long and
oval leaves. The fruit resembles a large
smooth apple or orange, and when ripe is
of a yellow color. It is fair to the eye,
and soft to the touch, but when pressed,
it explodes with a puff, leaving in the
hand only the shreds of the rind and a few
fibers. It is, indeed, chiefly filled with
air like a bladder, which gives it the round
form, while in the center is a pod contain
ing a quantity of fine silk with seeds.
When green, the fruit, like the leaves and
the bark, affords, when cut or broken, a
thickish, white milky fluid. This plant,
however, which from being in Palestine
found only on the shores of the Dead Sea,
was locally regarded as being the special
and characteristic product of that lake, is
produced also in Nubia, Arabia, and Persia.
Thus, this assumed mystery of the 'Sea of
Death ' is a simple phenomenon of nature,
easily explained; as is also that of the
alleged fire and smoke of the lake, being,
as already described, simply mist and
phosphorescence. In regard to the pillar of salt into which
Lot's wife was turned, — one of the most
remarkable facts recorded in holy writ, —
'and the continued existence of which has
always been asserted by the natives, as
well as by many travelers, Lieutenant
Lynch asserts that a pillar is there to be
seen; the same, without doubt, to which
the reports of the natives and of travelers
refer. But that this pillar, or any like it,
is or was that into which Lot's wife was
transformed, cannot, of course, be demon
strated. It is a lofty, round pillar, standing ap
parently detached from the general mass,

at the head of a deep, narrow, and abrupt
chasm. Immediately pulling in for the
shore, the lieutenant in company with Dr.
Anderson, went up and examined it. The
beach was a soft, slimy mud, encrusted
with salt, and a short distance from the
water, covered with saline fragments, and
flakes of bitumen. They found tho pillar
to be of solid salt, capped with carbonate
of lime, cylindrical in front and pyramidal
behind. Tho upper or rounded part is
about forty feet high, resting on a kind of
oval pedestal, from forty to sixty feet above
the level of the sea. It slightly decreases
in size upwards, crumbles at the top, and is
one entire mass of crystallization. A prop
or buttress connects it with the mountain
behind, and the whole is covered with de
bris of a light stone color. Its peculiar
shape is attributable to the action of the
winter rains. Lieutenant Lynch gives no
credit to the representations that connect
this pillar or column with Lot's wife.
And this is true of most travelers who have
visited the spot, though Montague gives it,
as his opinion, that Lot's wife having lin
gered behind, she, while so lingering, be
came overwhelmed in the descending fluid,
and formed the model or foundation for
this extraordinary column ; a lasting me
morial of God's punishing a most deliber
ate act of disobedience.
After an absence of a little more than a
year, Lieutenant Lynch returned, with his
companions, to the United States, the ex
pedition having been highly successful in
accomplishing the purpose for which it
was planned ; comparing most favorably
in this respect with the results of explora
tions made by other parties, and receiving
the highest encomiums of English review
ers, some of whose comments, throwing
additional light on various points involved
in the subject, are here presented.

LVIII.
DISCOVERY OF GOLD AT SUTTER'S MILL, CALIFOR
NIA.— 1848.

Widely Extended and Inexhaustible Deposits of the Precious Metal. — The News Spreads like Wild-fiie
to the Four Quarters of the Globe. — Overwhelming Tide of Emigration from All Countries. — Nucleus
of a Great Empire on the Pacific. — California Becomes the El Dorado of the World and the Golden
Commonwealth of the American Union. — First Practical Discovery of the Gold. — On John A. Sutter's
Land. — Found by J. W. Marshall. — Simple Accident that Led to It. — Marshall's Wild Excitement-
Shows Sutter the Golden Grains. — A Dramatic Interview. — The Discovery Kept Secret. — How it
was Disclosed. — A Real Wonder of the Age. — Trials of the Early Emigrants. — Their Bones Whiten
the Soil. — All Professions at the Mines — Impetus Given to Commerce. — Life Among the Diggers. —
Disordered State of Society. — Crimes, Outrages, Conflagrations. — Scarcity, Fabulous Prices. — Mining
by Machinery.— Order and Stability Beached.— Population in 1857, 600,000.— Gold in Ten Years,
$600,000,000. " Gold to fetch, and gold to Bend,
Gold to borrow, and gold to lend.
Gold to keep, and gold to spend.
And abundance of gold injnturo*

Il m

MINISG OPERATIONS IN CALIFORNIA.

ITHOUT any exaggeration, it
may be asserted that no modern
event has been the cause of so
much romance in real life, — no
branch or sphere of trade, even though perfected by long
experience, has called into employment so many of the
means and instrumentalities of diversified human industry
and commercial intercourse, — indeed, nothing within the
memory of man, except the achievements of steam and the
electric telegraph, approaches so nearly to magic, as the
discovery of gold, in luxurious deposits, on the shores of the
Pacific, and that, too, in the soil of a territory which, by
conquest and purchase, had but just fallen, like fruit golden
ripe, into the lap of the Great Eepublic. This
discovery occurred at Sutter's mill, in Coloma
county, California, in February,
1848. Here, however, it deserves to
be stated as a matter of histori-
. cal interest, that gold placers
were worked in certain portions
of California, long before the
discovery just mentioned. The

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

501

evidence of this appears in a letter ad
dressed by Abel Stearns, of Los Angeles,
to Louis R. Lull, secretary of the Califor
nia Society of Pioneers. Mr. Stearns, who
went to California from Mexico in 1829,
states that on the 22d of November, 1842,
he sent by Alfred Robinson — who returned
from California to the states by way of
Jlexico — twenty ounces California weight,
or eighteen and three-fourths ounces mint
weight, of placer gold, to be forwarded by
him to the United States, mint at Phila
delphia; the mint assay was returned
August 6, 1843. This gold was taken
from placers first discovered in March,
1842, by Francisco Lopez, a Californian,
at San Francisquito, about thirty-five miles
north-west from Los Angeles. It appears
that Lopez, while resting in the shade with
some companions, during a hunt for stray
horses, dug up some wild onions with his
sheath knife, and in the dirt discovered a
piece of gold. Searching further, he found
more pieces, and on returning to town an
nounced his discovery. A few persons,
mostly Sonorians, who were accustomed to
placer mining in Mexico, worked in the
San Francisquito placer from this time
until the latter part of 1846 (when the
war with the United States disturbed the
country), taking out some six thousand to
eight thousand dollars in value, per annum.
The United States mint certificate for the
assay made for Mr. Stearns in 1843, is now
in the archives of the " Society of Califor
nia Pioneers."
Before the great event which made the
year 1848 so memorable, the influence of
the United States had already become con
spicuous ii> the affairs of California, and
had iij a degree prepared the way for what
was to follow. In the words of a British
writer, the United States spread her actual
influence long before she planted a flag as
the sign of her dominion. For two years
previous to the capture of Monterey, in
1846, her authority had been paramount in
California. At length, toward the close of
the summer of 1845, Fremont appeared in
the neighborhood of Monterey, whose park

like

scenery — trees scattered in groups

over grassy hills, wide sloping fields, plan
tations of oak and fir, red-tiled houses,
yellow-washed church, and white cottages
— showed in pleasant contrast to the deso
late region of the Rocky mountains he had
left. He was accompanied by some of his
trappers — men of muscle and daring,
dressed in deer-skin coats, with formidable
rifles, and mounted on tall, spare horses.
They rode in Indian file through the out
skirts ; tlieir leader viewed the town, and
they vanished. Soon again he appeared,
with an ominous array of thirty-five fol
lowers, encamped on a woody height ; was
commanded to depart, was driven to the
hills, pursued, and again lost sight of.
An American ship then sailed into the
harbor. Fremont was again at Monterey.
The Californians foresaw the probable
progress of events, and perhaps secretly
desired the fostering protection of tlie
great republic. While balancing between
that and independence, two United States
vessels simultaneously entered the harbors
of Monterey and San Francisco, and in
July, 1846, the whole of California came
under the rule of America. A new era
was again opened. An immediate change
appeared. Industry was revived ; deserted
villages were repeopled ; neglected lands
were again cultivated ; decaying towns
were renovated; and the busy hum of
toil broke that silence and lethargy which
brooded over an ill-governed country.
But another and greater change was at
hand, to turn the tide of her fortunes into
a new, a wider, and more diffusive channel,
and to raise California from the condition
of a wild and isolated territory, to be the
very focus of the world's attention, — the
spot where innumerable streams of emigra
tion from the four quarters of the world,
from barbarous and civilized countries,
pouring across the Rocky Mountains, or
brought over the sea, from distant shores,
were to meet in tumultuous confluence,
and, flowing upon each other, form an
eddying whirlpool of excitement, such as
few countries on the globe, in any period
of their history, could present to the ob
servation of mankind.

502

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

What is the character of this region,
independently of its newly- discovered
treasures, at the period mentioned ? It
is wealthy in many natural resources. Its
extent is great. From Cape Mendocino,
at the borders of the United States, to the
root of the peninsula, is seven hundred
miles, and Lower California thrusts out
its vast tongue to an almost equal dis
tance. The old region is for the most
part a broken, hilly, and barren tract of
land ; but occasional plains of rich fertility
alternate with the less favored tracts, and
these formed the sites of the old Jesuit
missions. Alta California extends from
the coast to the provinces of New Mexico.
Of the interior desert basin, little is known,
except that it is a wild, rocky, and woody
territory, watered- by a few rivers, and
lakes, rising periodically from the earth,
and peopled by wandering Indian hordes.
The Sierra Nevada, or snowy range, di
vides the gold region from the great des
ert basin ; and between this and the sea
lies another line of mountains, forming a
valley five hundred miles in length, wa
tered by the Sacramento and the San
Joachim. These streams, forming a junc
tion in the center of the valley, diverge
toward the sea, and pour in an united
current into the harbor of San Francisco
— one of the noblest on the globe. The
aspect of the country is diversified, and
full of beauty. Green valleys, glittering
lakes, and verdant hills, extend along the
interior borders, backed by the rounded
spires of the snowy range, whose deep ra
vines and caverns are just now peopled by

toiling gold-hunters ; and these are drawing
more wealth from the bleakest, most bar
ren, and most neglected spots, than a hus
bandman in the course of many years could
derive from the most luxuriantly cultivated
land. Along the river banks, light grassy
slopes alternate with stony, broken, sandy
expanses, honey-combed as it were by
time, but now swarming with amateur
delvers. However, the country, as a
whole, is fertile ; producing readily grains,
vegetables, and fruits, with fine timber,
whilst immense pasture grounds afford
nourishment to the flocks and herds that
once formed the principal wealth of Cali
fornia. Up to the year 1847, so comparatively
small were the gatherings of gold, in
various sections of the globe, that in

SUTTER'S MILL, WHERE OOLD WAS FIR8T DISCOVERED, ITf 1848.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

503

reckoning the average produce of the pre
cious metal, of all parts of the New and
Old World for a series of years previous to
1847, it .did not amount to the annual
value of twenty-five million dollars.
It was in September, 1847, that Captain
John A. Sutter, the great pioneer settler
in California, commenced an undertaking

JOHN A. SUTTER.

which led, by a very simple and ordinary
circumstance, to the first practical dis
covery of the prodigiously valuable gold
mines of California — the long-sought El
Dorado of ancient and modern times.
This undertaking consisted in the erection
of a saw-mill at Coloma, on a mountainous
spot about one thousand feet above the
level of the valley,- where the Rio des los
Americanos pours down from the Sierra
Nevada to swell the united streams of the
Sacramento and San Joachim.
Such an enterprise, in such a region, at
a time when the political and social con
dition of the country was so unsettled and
uncertain, indicated a mind of energy and
executive capacity, on the part of the
projector. And it was even so, in full
measure, in the case of Captain Sutter.
He is described, by his biographers, in the
annals of San Francisco, as an intelligent
Swiss emigrant, who sailed for and reached
New York, in July, 1834; but finally
settled and for several years resided in
Missouri. The wild west had always
possessed a charm for him, and he had re
moved thither ; but now his adventurous
spirit looked still further towards the setting

sun, and roved along the waters that sped
their unknown way to the Pacific. Leav
ing family and home, in company with Sir
William Drummond Stewart, he joined a
party, under the charge of Captain Tripps,
of the American Fur Company, and start
ed for the broad valleys of California,
where he knew that rich and fertile lands
only awaited an industrious cultivator, and
where Providence had even a still richer
yielding field that he knew not of. He
left the trappers at their rendezvous on
the Wind river among the Kansas Rocky
mountains, and with a new party of six
decided on proceeding to their destination
by way of Oregon. Crossing the valley of
the Willamette, he finally arrived at Fort
Vancouver, and there ascertained that
innumerable delays must elapse before he
could reach California. Nothing daunted,
and apparently urged, like Columbus, to
accomplish his object despite of fate,
Captain Sutter sailed for the Sandwich
Islands, hoping to embark thence direct
for the Spanish coast. But when he
arrived there, no vessels were about to sail
in that direction. Again he threw down
the gauntlet to fate, and re-embarked for
Sitka Island, in Russian America, and
from that immense distance at last reached
Yerba Buena, July second, 1839. Not
permitted to land here, he again embarked,
and was finally allowed to set foot on
California soil at Monterey. Having suc
ceeded in overcoming the Spanish opposi
tion to foreign settlers, he obtained the
permission of Governor Alvarado to locate
himself in the valley of the Rio del Sacra
mento ; more readily granted, perhaps,
because it was then the abode of savage
Indians. He explored the Sacramento,
Feather and American rivers, and in
August, 1839, about eighteen months after
he commenced his journey, permanently
established himself on the latter river,
with a colony of only three whites and
eight Kanakas. In a short time, he re
moved to the location afterwards known as
Sutter's Fort, and took possession of the
surrounding country under a Mexican
grant, giving to it the name of New

504

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Helvetia. From this point he cut a road
to the junction of the Sacramento and
American rivers, where he established a
quay or landing-place, on the site of which
has since been built the city of Sacramento.
Here he remained for several years, becom
ing possessor of a large amount of land,
and rapidly carrying on various and ex
tensive improvements. At one time he
had a thousand acres sown in wheat, and
owned eight thousand neat cattle, two
thousand horses and mules, as many sheep,
and a thousand swine. He was appointed
alcalde of the district by Commodore
Stockton, and Indian agent by General
Kearney ; and with all his sympathies
with this country, his earnest wish was to
see California brought into the American
Union. Among the followers of Sutter was
James W. Marshall, who emigrated from
New Jersey to Oregon in 1843, and a year
later went to California. By trade he
was a carpenter, and to him Captain
Sutter intrusted the erection of the saw
mill at Coloma, where good water-power
and plenty of lumber had determined its
location. It was this enterprise which led
to the most famous discovery of gold ever
known in the history of the globe. How
this happened, has been differently related
by different authorities, but perhaps by
none more authentically than by Mr.
Dunbar, president of the Traveller's Club
of New York. The saw-mill was com
pleted in January, 1848, and they had
just commenced sawing lumber, when, on
the night of February 2d, Marshall
appeared at Sutter's Fort, his horse in a
foam and himself presenting a singular
appearance — all bespattered with mud,
and laboring under intense excitement.
And now ensued a scene which can
scarcely be exceeded in its elements of
dramatic representation. Marshall imme
diately requested Captain Sutter to go
with him into a room where they could be
alone. This request was granted, and,
after the door was closed, Marshall asked
Captain Sutter if he was sure they would
not be disturbed, and desired that the

door might be locked. Captain Sutter did
not know what to make of his actions, and
he began to think it hazardous to lock
himself in the room with Marshall, who
appeared so uncommonly strange. Mar
shall being satisfied at last that they
would not be interrupted, took from his
pocket a pouch from which he poured
upon the table about an ounce of yellow
grains of metal, which he thought would
prove to be gold. Captain Sutter inquired
where he got it. Marshall stated that in
the morning, the water being shut off from
the saw-mill race, as was customary, he
discovered, in passing through the race,
shining particles here and there on the
bottom On examination, he found" them
to be of metallic substance, and the
thought flashed over him that they might
be gold. How big with events was this
point of time! Marshall stated that the
laborers — white and Indian — had picked
up some of the particles, and he thought
a large quantity could be collected.
Captain Sutter was at first quite
incredulous as to these particles being
gold, but happening to have a bottle of
nitric acid among his stores, he applied
the test, and, true enough, the yellow
grains proved to be pure gold. The great
discovery was made!
The account given above agrees sub
stantially with Captain Sutter's own
narrative of the event, namely: That
Marshall had contracted with him for the
building of a saw-mill for producing
lumber, on the south fork of the American
River, a feeder of the Sacramento. In
the course of his operations, Marshall had
occasion to admit the river water into the
tail-race, for the purpose of widening and
deepening it by the strength of the
current. In doing this, a considerable
quantity of mud, sand, and gravel, was
carried along with the stream, and
deposited in a heap at the foot of the tail-
race. Marshall, when one day examining
the state of his works, noticed a few
glittering particles lying near the edge of
the heap. His curiosity being aroused,
he gathered some of the sparkling objects;

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

505

and he at once became satisfied of their
nature and the value of his discovery. All
trembling with .excitement, he hurried to
his employer and told his story. Captain
Sutter at first thought it was a fiction, and
the teller only a mad fool. Indeed, he
confesses that he kept a sharp eye upon
his loaded rifle, when he, whom he was
tempted to consider a maniac, was eagerly
disclosing the miraculous tale. However,
his doubts were all at once dispelled when
Marshall tossed on the table before him
some of the shining dust.
Not less interesting is the account given
of the manner in which the discovery
became public — owing, as appears by Mr.
Dunbar's statement, to that which extracts
both wit and wisdom, as well as folly, from
the brain of man. After some examin
ation, Captain Sutter became satisfied that
gold in considerable quantities would be
found in that neighborhood ; and while the
reflections of Marshall were probably con
fined to the idea of rapidly acquired
wealth for himself, Captain Sutter realized
at once how impossible it would be to hold
his laborers to their work in carrying on
his improvements, gathering his crops, and
avoid being overrun by new-comers,
should the gold prove abundant and the
discovery be promulgated. He therefore
begged the laborers to say nothing about
the gold for six weeks. His grist-mill and
some other improvements would then be
completed, and his crops all gathered.
The laborers promised to comply with his
request, and Captain Sutter returned home
on the fifth of February. But the great
secret could not long be retained. A
bottle of whiskey made it known. A
teamster, whom Captain Sutter had dis
patched to the saw-mill with supplies,
heard of the discovery of gold, and
managed to obtain some of the precious
grains. On returning to the fort, he
immediately went to the neighboring
store, kept by a Mormon, and demanded a
bottle of whiskey. This was a cash article
m tnat country, and, as the teamster was
P°or pay, the trader refused to sell him
the whiskey. The man declared he had

plenty of money, and exhibited some
grains of gold. The astonished trader, on
being satisfied that these were gold, gave
his customer the bottle of whiskey, and
earnestly inquired where he got the gold.
The teamster refused to make known the
secret till he had imbibed considerable of
the liquor, when his tongue was loosened,
and he told all about the discovery of gold
at Sutter's mill. The wonderful tale
spread like wild-fire throughout the
sparsely inhabited territory of California.
It ran up and down the Pacific coast,
traversed the continent, reached the
Atlantic shores, and in a short time the
story of California's golden treasures had
startled the whole civilized world.
Naturally enough, the first rumors, as
they spread abroad, were lightly tossed

JAMES W. MARSHALL.

aside ; but confirmation gave them
strength, and as each transmission of
intelligence to the United States carried
fresh accounts of new discoveries, an
enthusiastic ardor was awakened, and
within four months of that eventful day,
five thousand persons were delving on the
river's banks, on the slopes, amid the
ravines, hollows, and caverns in the valley
of the Sacramento.
And now, from the vast population of
the great republic, new streams of emigra
tion broke at once to swell that current
which for years had set noiselessly toward
the valleys of California. Gradually, the
knowledge of the auriferous soil was borne
to the four quarters of the world, and from

506

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

all the ports of all nations sails were
spread toward the coasts of that wealthy
region. As by a magnetic impulse, the
sands of the Sacramento attracted popula
tion. Lawyers, clergymen, physicians,
hotel-keepers, merchants, mechanics,
clerks, traders, farmers, left their occupa
tions, and hurried with basket and spade
to the land that glittered. Homes and
houses were closed ; the grass threatened
to grow over whole streets ; deserted ships
swung on their anchors in silent harbors.
The garrison of Monterey abandoned arms
and took up the pickaxe and the shovel.
Trains of wagons constantly streamed
from the coast to the interior. Stores and
sheds were built along the river bank,
and crammed with provisions to be sold at
more than famine prices; whole towns of
tents and bushy bowers sprang up as if
by magic ; every dawn rose upon a motley
toiling multitude, swarming in every nook
and corner of the modern El Dorado, and
every night was illuminated by the flames
of a thousand bivouacs.
Half-naked Indians, sharp-visaged Yan
kees in straw hats and loose frocks, groups
of swarthy Spanish-Americans, old Dons
in the gaudy costume of a dead fashion,
gigantic trappers with their rude prairie
garb, and gentlemen traders from all the
States of the Union, with crowds of
Californian women, jostled in tumultuous
confusion through the gold district.
Every method, from the roughest to the
most ingenious, was devised for the rapid
accumulation of gold ; and the strange
spectacle was presented of a vast popula
tion, without law, without authority, with
out restraint, toiling together in amicable
companionship. But the duration of this
condition of things was brief. Outrages
were perpetrated, robbery commenced,
blood was shed, and anarchy in its most
hideous form appeared. But the United
States government soon laid the founda
tions of order, and prepared a system of
regular legislation for California. A
severe code was established; thieving in
curred the heavy penalty of a brand on
the cheek, with mutilation of the ears :

other crimes were punished with similar
rigor. Within a period of Ave months, the
population of the territory had run up to
one hundred thousand, having just quad
rupled during that time. Of these, some
forty-five thousand arrived in the nine
thousand wagons that traversed the over
land route, and four thousand on mule-
back, while the remainder came via
Panama, and round Cape Horn. One-
third of this multitude was composed of
farmers, another of tradesmen and me
chanics, and the rest of merchants, pro
fessional men, adventurers, and gamblers.
The vast emigrant armies acted as pioneers
on their various routes, hewing down
trees, filling up chasms, leveling the
grounds, and bridging torrents. But the
sufferings endured in these colossal cara
vans were severe and terrible. Many
perished on the route ; many became in
sane, or wasted away, through lack of food
and water. The scourge of cholera also
overtook the early emigrants, before they
were fairly embarked on the wilderness;
the frequent rains of the early spring,
added to the hardships and exposure of
their travel, prepared the way for its
ravages, and the first four hundred miles
of the trail were marked by graves, to
the number of about four thousand.
Many also suffered immensely for want
of food. Bayard Taylor, in his narrative
of what befell these pioneer emigrants, says
that not only were they compelled to kill
their horses and mules to keep themselves
from starvation, but it was not unusual for
a mess by way of variety to the tough mule
steaks, to kill a quantity of rattlesnakes,
with which the mountains abounded, and
have a dish of them fried for supper.
And still the tide of emigration rolled
onward, as the richness of the gold
product, over so vast a region of territory,
became a confirmed fact. Notwithstand
ing the oft-told story of deprivation,
famine and death, parties and companies
daily went forth to El Dorado, the golden
land. Some took the perilous inland route
across the Rocky mountains; some went

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

507

round Cape Horn; and multitudes took
the Panama route. The tens of thousands
who thus went, having no other object
than to get gold, had neither means nor
inclination to grow their own food nor to
manufacture their own necessaries ; and
hence arose a field of enterprise which the
commercial world did not neglect. Valu
able cargoes were dispatched to San Fran
cisco to be there sold in exchange for
gold dust, and that place in time became a
populous, busy, thriving city, distinguished
also for reckless speculation, fabulous
prices for real estate, excesses of all kinds,
and disastrous conflagrations. During
one week in 1850, gold dust to the value
of three million dollars was shipped and
exported from San Francisco. In August
of the same year the monthly shipment
had reached about eight million dollars.
On September 15, 1850, there were in that
port six hundred and eighty-four vessels,
belonging to twenty-one different nations ;
some of these vessels, small in size, had
crossed the whole breadth of the Pacific
from Australia and New Zealand, to ex
change their produce for gold dust. In
the first two weeks of October, in the
same year, ninety-four vessels arrived at
San Francisco, not including the regular
steamers. But the most strange and wonderful
spectacle of all, was that exhibited by
the money-diggers at their avocation.
Men with long-handled shovels delved
among clumps of bushes, or by the side of
large rocks, never raising their eyes for an
instant; others, with pick and shovel,

worked among stone and gravel, or with
trowels searched under banks and roots
of trees, where, if rewarded with small
lumps of gold, their eyes suddenly kindled
with pleasure, and the search was more
intently pursued. In the water, knee, or
even waist deep, regardless of the shiver
ing cold, others were washing the soil
in the tin pans or the common cradle rocker,
whilst the sun poured a hot flood upon their
heads. The common rocking machine
for separating the gold was at first in great
demand, but this was soon superseded by a
cradle of ingenious construction ; then
came crushing mills, of various kinds, for
pounding the auriferous quartz ; and in
time, machinery of the most effective
adaptability was universally introduced.
This operated powerfully to regulate min
ing operations, and to give order and
stability to affairs generally throughout
the territory. Society assumed the most
advanced organization, churches every
where dotted the land, education was
fostered, and the political institutions of
the country patterned after those of the
older states. Agricultural, industrial,
and commercial pursuits were entered upon
largely and with great success ; California
was admitted as a state into the Union in
1850 ; and in only ten years from Mar
shall's curious and accidental discovery of
gold at Sutter's mill, in 1848, the gold
product of California had reached a total
of six hundred million dollars, and the
population had increased from between
twenty and thirty thousand souls to six
hundred thousand 1

LIX.
ASTOR PLACE OPERA-HOUSE RIOTS, NEW YORK— 1849.

Terrible Culmination of the Feud Between Macready, the English Star Actor, and Forrest, the Great
American Tragedian. — Macready Commences to Perform, but is Violently Driven from the Stage. —
A Mob of Twenty Thousand Men Surrounds the Theater, and Thunders at its Doors. — Attempt to
Fire and Destroy the House — Charge of tlie Military. — Lamentable Loss of Life. — Fame of these Great
Actors. — Their Former Mutual Friendship — Macready's Tour in this Country. — Forrest Performs
in Europe. — Professional Jealousies Aroused. — Open Rupture at Last. — Macready Again in America.
— Engages to Play in New York. — Opposition to Him There. — Appears on the Stage, May 8th — Fierce
Tumult in the House. — Groans, Hisses, Insults. — He Stands Undismayed. — Flight of the Audience.
— Reappearance, May 10th. — The House Filled to the Dome. — Riotous Yells and Cries. — " Down
with the British Hog ! " — Heroic Demeanor on the Stage. — Threats of the Raging Mob.;— Its Bloody
Dispersion — Macready Leaves the Country.

"It often falls in course of common life,
That right lonjr time U overborne ot wrongt
But justice, tho' her doom she.doth prolong.
i et, at the last, she will her own cause right."

ROFESSIONAL rivalry, based principally upon circumstances arising from
different nationality, had gradually produced feelings of
deep personal antagonism between Mr. Edwin Forrest, con
fessedly the greatest of American tragedians, and Mr. W.
C. Macready, the most brilliant and powerful actor upon
the English stage ; and this alienation was shared in a still
greater degree of intensity by the numerous friends and
partisans of the respective individuals, finally culminating
in a tragedy of blood and death that shook New York to its
center and engrossed the attention of America and Europe
alike. Mr. Forrest and his friends complained chiefly of Mr.
Macready's conduct in his own country, in relation to Mr.
Forrest, during the visit of the latter to England, in 1844,
— his inhospitality, his crushing influence, his vindictive
opposition, and his steadfast determination to ruin the pros
pects of Mr. Forrest in Europe. Mr. Macready had previ-
ForatEsT, as sPARTActJs. ously been in America, and, accompanied by Miss Cushman,
played engagements in all the large cities, realizing therefrom fame and fortune. But
instead of returning this kindness, he acted openly towards Mr. Forrest as his deter
mined foe. In Paris, the two tragedians met. Mr. Forrest was anxious to appear on
the French boards, but Macready threw obstacles in the way ; this was the first time

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

509

that the parties were enemies, — they had
in by-gone years been friends. Forrest's
subsequent success in London aroused
Macready's bitter hostility, and he deter
mined to put him down. It was said at
the time that he or his friends actually
hired men to visit the theater and hiss
Forrest off the stage, and Forrest was con
sequently received with a shower of hisses
before he was heard. This conduct was
followed up by the press, by which both
Forrest and his country were assailed.
Forrest and Macready next met in Edin
burgh, and from this city were sent forth
bitter charges against Forrest, the chief of
which was, that he had hissed Macready
for dancing and throwing up his handker
chief across the stage, in one of the parts
which he was then enacting.
Criminations and recriminations were
thus indulged in, without measure, each
party claiming to be the one aggrieved,
and the quarrel enlisted the warm and
active interest of the public, on both sides
of the Atlantic. In 1848, Mr. Macready
again made a professional visit to the
United States, and, after performing in
various parts of the country, commenced a
farewell engagement at the Astor Place
Opera-House, New York, in May, 1849,
in the character of Macbeth, under the
auspices of Messrs. Hackett and Niblo.
Here the anti-Macready party deter
mined to silence him by mob violence.
The seventh of May was the time appointed
for him to commence this engagement, —
with what result, the accounts given by
the press of that city will show, as follows :
As soon as the doors were opened, a very
large number of persons, of the male sex,
entered the theater, and took their seats in
different parts of the house. They were
followed by many others, among whom
were probably fifty or sixty ladies. Long
before the curtain rose, the house was well
filled, the gallery and parquette being quite
crowded. It now began to be whispered about,
that the reception of Mr. Macready would
"Ot be favorable on the part of a portion
°i the auditory; and the appearance of

Mr. Matsell, the chief-of-police, and a very
strong body of the force under his orders,
seemed to strengthen the rumors which
were prevalent. The house was, however,
perfectly quiet until the curtain rose upon
the first scene, when the appearance of
Mr. Clarke, who personated the character
of Malcolm, elicited three loud and en
thusiastic cheers from the parquette and
gallery. From this moment, the cheer
ing, hissing, whistling, and other ex
pressions of feeling began, and not a
syllable was heard during the remain
der of the scene, and the succeeding, till
the entrance of Macbeth, passing in dumb
show. When Macbeth and Banquo en
tered in the third scene, the uproar was
deafening. A perfect torrent of groans
and hisses assailed Mr. Macready, and a
deluge of assafcetida was discharged upon
him from the gallery, filling the whole
house with its pungent and offensive odor.
A rotten egg was projected against him,
but missing the face of the eminent trage
dian, bespattered the stage at his feet.
The friends of Mr. Macready, who ap
peared rather to outnumber those opposed
to him, now manifested their feelings by
cries of "shame!" "shame!" cheers, and
waving of handkerchiefs, provoking a re
sponse in the form of renewed groans,
hisses, and half a dozen rotten potatoes,
on the part of the others. " Three cheers
for Edwin Forrest!" were called for by
some one in the pit, and were given with
great enthusiasm by those unfriendly to
Mr. Macready. Then came the cry of
" Three cheers for Macready ! " which was
responded to with equal enthusiasm by the
opposite side of the house.
The scene which followed beggars de
scription. Hisses, groans, cheers, yells,
screams, all sorts of noises, in the midst of
which Mr. Macready still maintained his
position in the center of the stage.
" Off! " " off! " shouted one party. " Go
on!" "go on!" screamed the other. Mr.
Macready approached the lights. He was
greeted by roars of ironical laughter, and
reiterated hisses and groans. A banner
was at this moment exhibited in front of

510

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the amphitheater, bearing on its side, "No
apologies — it is too late ! " and on the
other, "You have ever proved yourself
a liar ! " The appearance of this banner
was the signal for a perfect tornado of
uproarious applause, laughter, cheers, and
groans, in the midst of which an old shoe
and a cent piece were hurled at Mr.
Macready, who picked up the copper coin,
and, with a kingly air, put it in his bosom,
bowing, at the same time, with mock
humility, to the quarter of the gallery
from which the visitation had descended.

Lady Macbeth, who was represented on
this occasion by Mrs. Coleman Pope — a
very beautiful and queenly-looking woman
— fared little better than her lord. Not a
syllable of her part was audible. With
great calmness, and without the least
wavering, however, this lady made a show
of going through her part. All on the
stage fared alike. It was evident that
there was a fixed and settled determina
tion on the part of that portion of the
auditory which occupied nearly one-third
of the parquette, and the greater portion
of the gallery, between whom a communi
cation was kept up throughout the even
ing) °y means of signals and exclamations,

not to permit the performance to proceed.
Several of Mr. Macready's friends now
became much excited, and shouted to him
to " go on," and " not to give up the ship,"
which elicited tremendous groans, hisses,
and cries of " Three groans for the codfish
aristocracy" which were responded to with
marked enthusiasm. Cries of " Down with
the English hog ! " — " Take off the Devon
shire bull!" — "Remember how Edwin
Forrest was used in London ! " — and sim
ilar exclamations, were loud and frequent.
Thus passed the whole of the first and
second acts, the uproar not ceas
ing for a moment.
When the curtain fell, in the
second act, the tumult was fiercer
than ever, and it was quite ap
parent that something still more
serious was approaching. Yet
the greater portion of the audi
tory opposed to Mr. Macready
seemed in excellent humor.
They chanted snatches of the
witches' choruses, and amused
themselves by asking repeated
ly, "Where's Macready?" —
" Where's Elisa Brown ? " — and
other interrogations of that char
acter. One gentleman in the
parquette, amongst those who
were hostile to Mr. Macready,
ogled the house through a stu.
pendous eye-glass, large enough
for a horse collar ; and others
threw themselves into a variety of atti
tudes more peculiar than becoming.
" Three cheers for Macready, Nigger
Douglass and Pete Williams," were now
called for, and given with vehemence.
At length the curtain rose on the third
act ; and, in dumb show, Banquo, advanc
ing to the lights, commenced, but not
a syllable was audible. Then Macbeth
reappeared, and the uproar was greater
than ever. Smash came a chair from the
gallery, nearly grazing the head of a
member of the orchestra, and strewing
the stage with, its fragments, within a few
feet of Mr. Macready. He bowed and
smiled. Another chair fell at his feet,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

511

with a crash which resounded all over the
house. Some of the ladies started from
their seats, and grew quite pale. The
shouts, and groans, and hisses, were
redoubled. Mr. Macready stood quite
unmoved — not the slightest tremor visible
—not the least bravado, either, in his
manner. Another chair was hurled on the
stage, and the curtain suddenly fell. The
ladies hurried from the boxes — all but a
few, who betrayed not the slightest alarm.
Still the uproar continued, and there was
loud talking in the lobbies. A great
crowd outside thundered at the doors, and
threatened to break into the theater. Mr.
Matsell and a strong party of his policemen
barricaded the entrances. The ladies were
hurried out by one of the doors that open
in Eighth street, and in a few minutes
afterwards, Mr. Macready, in a close car
riage, was driven rapidly and safely away.
No person on the stage was injured by any
of the missiles thrown during the evening,
but almost all of the actors received a copi
ous allowance of the fetid liquid which
was discharged from the gallery. Some
of the ladies expressed their feelings in
favor of Mr. Macready by waving their

handkerchiefs; and many of the male
audience who were most enthusiastic in
favor of Mr. Macready, were Americans.
During the pantomime upon the stage,
the American actors playing with Macready
were frequently warned by the people in

the gallery to "go off the stage," or expect
similar treatment hereafter. In conse
quence of these warnings, after the play
was suspended, Mr. C. W. Clarke appeared
in front of the curtain, as an apologist ;
he remarked that his family was depend
ent on his exertions for a maintenance,
and he pleaded this fact in justification of
himself for having consented to play with
Mr. Macready. Mr. Clarke's explanation
was cordially received ; and when it was
found that the performance had been
effectually interrupted, and that Mr.
Macready had abandoned the effort to
proceed with the play, the vast and excited
crowd, within and without, began to dis
perse, and, about twenty minutes past ten
o'clock, the whole scene was perfectly
quiet. But the end was not yet. Another cur
tain was to rise, and a tragedy — not in
pantomime, but in dread reality — was to
be enacted to the bloody end. Regretting
the abandonment of his engagement by
Mr. Macready, and especially deprecating
the violence which led to that determina
tion on his part, a large number of the
leading gentlemen of New York, headed
by Washington Irving, addressed a note
to Mr. Macready, urging the fulfillment of
his original plan, and assuring him that the
good sense and respect for order character
izing the community would sustain him.
This request was acceded to, and the
evening of May tenth appointed for the
performance. Unfortunately, the publica
tion of this correspondence was regarded
as an open challenge to the other party ;
placards were circulated that the crew of
the Cunard (English) steamer America
were resolved to sustain their countrymen
with arms ; and the calling out of the mil
itary by the mayor on Thursday afternoon,
as a measure of precaution for the evening,
added fuel to the flame. It became evi
dent throughout the day that there would
be a serious collision between the rioters
and the military, in the event of the
former attempting to execute their threats
against Mr. Macready.
As early as half-past six o'clock, pereons

512

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

began to assemble around the theater;
and, at about seven, crowds were seen
wending their way to the theater from all
parts of the city. By half-past seven,
there was a multitude in the streets, in
front of the opera-house, and the rush to
get admittance was tremendous. Tickets
for a sufficient number to fill the house
were soon sold, and the announcement
made on a placard that no more would be
sold. Meantime, the crowd outside was
tremendous, and increasing' every minute.
Every avenue to the theater soon became
densely crowded. Astor Place was occu
pied by an immense assemblage, almost all
of whom had apparently been attracted
by curiosity. The portion of the Bowery
adjoining the theater was also crowded,
and, in Broadway, which had at that point
been opened for the purpose of construct
ing a sewer, hundreds of persons were seen
crowded together on the top of the mound
of earth thrown up from the center of the
street. The house itself was filled to the dome.
A great portion of the assemblage in the
theater consisted of policemen, who had
been distributed all over the house in de
tached parties. There was not any appear
ance of an organized party of rioters in
the house. When the curtain rose, there
was an outburst of hisses, groans, cheers,
and miscellaneous sounds. The opening
scenes, however, were got through with
after a fashion, several persons who hissed
and hooted having been seized by the
police, and immediately conveyed to an
apartment underneath the boxes, where
they were placed in confinement. Mac
ready's appearance was the signal for a
great explosion of feeling. Hisses, groans,
shouts of derision, assailed him, intermin
gled with loud cries .of " Out with him ! "
" Out with him ! " Large numbers of the
auditory started to their feet, and called
on the police to eject the individuals who
had expressed their disapprobation, and
several arrests were made in the manner
already described, each arrest being fol
lowed by loud cheers and applause all over
the house.

Thus the play proceeded through the
first two acts. There had been a great
deal of trepidation behind the scenes, but
the heroism with which the actors and
actresses sustained themselves on the
stage, elicited much praise. The manner
of Mrs. Pope, the Lady Macbeth of this
melancholy night, was especially com
mended. It was, indeed, a trying scene.
Mr. Macready repeatedly expressed to
Mr. Hackett, his wish to desist, and his
desire to avoid any further collision with
those who were opposed to his appearance ;
but, amid the shouts, groans, hisses, and
arrests by the police, the play went on,
much of it in dumb show, but portions of
it without material interruption. It was
supposed, at this moment, that the tumult
would be effectually quelled, for the dis
turbance in the house became less and
less, and even some passages of Mr.
Macready's part were heard with a tolera
ble degree of order.
The first persons arrested in the par
quette were four young men, who were
locked up in the temporary prison under
the boxes. In this apartment was a gas
light burning, and the prisoners, pulling
up some shavings and pieces of wood, set
fire to them. When the policemen opened
the door, the place was full of smoke, but
the officers speedily extinguished the fire.
The prisoners who had attempted this
atrocious crime were immediately put in
irons. At this moment a shower of stones
assailed the windows of the theater; and
news soon came in from the street, that a
man named Judson was heading the mob
outside, and calling upon them to stone
the building. The chief-of-police at once
ordered his arrest, which was promptly
effected. In the meantime, the assault
upon the doors and windows was continued,
volley after volley of large paving stones
being discharged against them. The
glass was, of course, in a few moments,
broken to atoms ; but, having been barri
caded, the windows resisted the attack for
some minutes. Yielding at last, however,
— the fragments of glass, and blinds, and
barricades, being driven with violence into

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

513

the body of the house, — great alarm 'began
to pervade the audience. Rumors of all
kinds— that the house was to be fired, —
that it was to be blown up, — and so on,
were circulated. The ladies, seven in
number, who were present, and who, with
a heroism creditable to their sex, had till
this moment preserved their equanimity,
now became alarmed, and shifted their
seats to the least exposed positions.
And now, the scene being enacted was
most exciting. In front and rear, the fierce
assaults of the mob, as they thundered at
the doors, resounded all over the theater,
whilst the shouts and yells of the assail-

utes afterwards, two troops of cavalry, of
the first division of the state militia, and
a battalion of the national guards, were
seen approaching the place of the riot.
A troop of horse now turned from
Broadway into Astor Place, and rode
through the crowd to the Bowery, receiv
ing showers of stones and other missiles,
on tlieir way. The horses became unman
ageable, and the troop did not again make
its appearance on the ground. In a few
minutes afterwards, the national guard,
one of the independent volunteer compa
nies of the city, made their appearance on
the ground, and attempted to force a pas^

ASTOB PLACE OPEBA-HOUSB KIOTS.

ants were terrific. Inside, however, all
was comparatively quiet. The police
arrested summarily the leading rioters in
the house, and, making sorties among the
crowd outside, secured many of the ring
leaders of the mob.
As the mob increased in magnitude
and in the ferocity with which they assailed
the building, the cry arose, " Where are
the military?" "Can nothing be done to
disperse the rioters?" "Where's the
mayor?" Several dispatches were sent
to the City hall, where the military were
stationed. At length, about nine o'clock,
the sound of a troop of cavalry coming up
Broadway was heard ; and in a few min-
33

sage through the crowd to the theater.
The mob hissed and hooted at them, and
finally attacked them with stones, which
were at hand in consequence of the build
ing of the sewer in the vicinity. The com
pany were at this period thrown into dis
order by the attack made upon them, and
retired to Broadway, where they rallied,
and made another attempt to reach the
theater. They were hissed and pelted as
before, with stones, but they succeeded in
gaining the desired point. They then
endeavored to form in line on the sidewalk,
and while doing so, five or six of them,
including the captain of the company, were
felled to the ground by paving stones, and

514

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

taken insensible into the theater. The
next officer in command then said to the
sheriff, who was on the ground, that if
orders did not come to fire, he and his
men would abandon the streets. Accord
ingly, the officer directed the company to
fire around over the heads of the people,
which was done, but without effect. The
multitude continued to pelt them with
paving stones, as before. An order was
then given to the company to fire at the
crowd, and it was done, two men falling,
one shot in the arm, and the other through
the right cheek. The first was sent to the
hospital, but the other was found to be
dead. After the volley, the mob re
treated a short distance, but rallied and
renewed the attack with greater vigor than
before. Paving stones and other missiles
were discharged at them in great quanti
ties ; and while the mob was going on,
another volley was fired by the military,
killing and wounding several more.
After this volley, the crowd retreated
again, and the military and the police took
advantage of it to form a line across the
street at both ends of Astor Place, so as to
prevent any connection between Broadway
and the Bowery. General Sandford then
issued an order for more troops and two
brass pieces loaded with grape to be
brought to the scene immediately, as it
was rumored that the crowd intended to
arm themselves and renew the attack.
Before the volleys were discharged, Gen
eral Sandford several times called out to
the crowd, that they must hold back, or
the troops would fire ; and, on the sheriff
at last giving the order, General Hall
exclaimed, " Fire over their heads." The
order to fire was repeated by General
Sandford and Colonel Duryea, and the
men fired over the heads of the mob,
against the walls of a house. A shout was
then made by the mob, " They have only
blank cartridges — give it to them again!"
and another volley of stones followed
instantly. The troops were then ordered

by General Sandford and Colonel Duryea
to fire again, General Hall saying, "Fire
low," and then, for the first time, the mob
began to give way. The troops thereupon
moved forward and crossed the street,
driving the crowd before them, until the
troops got near to the corner of Lafayette
Place. The mob rallied at the corner of
Lafayette Place on one side, and at the
corner of the theater and broken ground
at the opposite side, and advanced again
with fresh showers of stones on the troops.
Several of the military were hurt severely
by this second attack, and orders were
given to the troops to fire, one-half
obliquely to the right, and one-half ob
liquely to the left, on those two bodies.
This was done, and the crowd fell back to
Lafayette Place, and beyond the broken
ground behind the theater. There was no
firing after this by the troops, but the
mob kept up constant attacks.
The number of lives lost in this terrible
occurrence was twenty-two, and a large
number were wounded. The whole number
of military engaged in the conflict was
about two hundred and ten, one-half in the
line of Broadway, and the other in the
line towards the Bowery. The mob was
estimated by some as high as twenty thou
sand ; but, on account of the street lights
having been put out, it was exceedingly
dark, and nothing could be seen but a
dense mass of people, swaying and surg
ing like a troubled sea, while hoarse
shouts and wild cheers and curses rent
the air.
The element of personal animosity
between these two distinguished histrionic
characters, had, beyond all question, ob
tained deep root, and, in addition to this,
appeal was made -by their friends, respec
tively, to the prejudices of nationality, and
thus the reception accorded Mr. Macready
differed widely from that which greeted
him on his previous visit to America. Mr.
Macready, soon after this tragedy, left for
England.

LX.
AWFUL VISITATIONS OF THE "ANGEL OF DEATH."— 1849.

Yellow Fever and Cholera Epidemics at Different Periods. — Frightful Mortality and Panic in 1849. —
Business Abandoned, Churches Closed, Streets Barricaded, Cities Deserted. — Proclamation by the
President ofthe United States. — Tlie Virtues, Passions, and Vices of Human Nature Strikingly Illus
trated. — Tens of Thousands Swept at Once from the Face of the Earth. — Various Eras of American
Epidemics. — Wide and Ghastly Ravages. — Self-Preservation the First Law. — Social Intercourse Sus
pended. — Ties of affection Sundered — Parents Forsake Children. — Husbands Flee from Wives — Rich
Men Buried like Paupers. — Money and Rank Unavailing. — Rumble ofthe Dead-Carts. — ActivUy in the
Grave-yards. — They Look as if Plowed Up. — Women in Childbirth Helpless. — Their Scrtams for
Succor. — Care of a Lunatic Patient. — The Tender Passion Still Alive. — Courageous Marriages.
—Death in the Bridal Chamber. — Anecdotes of the Clergy. — Crime, Filth, and Disease. — Quacks and
Nostrums Rife. — The Celebrated " Thieves' Vinegar."

'Bring out your deadl"— Cht of the Dead-Cart Drivers.

1 UAKER order, cleanliness, and temperance, so characteristic of the
"city of brotherly love," did not save Philadelphia from being vis
ited, at an early period after the founding of the republic, by one of
,¦ the most direful scourges that ever was known in the western world.
This was the yellow fever, or "plague," in 1793, an epidemic which,
from its remarkable nature and development, is entitled to
the first mention in an article like this, and reminiscences of
which — deeply interesting and indeed in some instances
almost tragical — will be found in the highest degree
readable, at the present day.
Following this, was the malignant spotted
fever, in which the patient had large red spots
. here and there ; it broke out in Massachusetts,
in 1806 and continued until 1815, in the various
northern states. In 1812, the United States
army in New York and Vermont suffered se
verely from it. In the latter state, it was the
| most alarming disease ever known. It usually
attacked persons of the most hardy and robust
constitution, and often proved fatal in a few
hours ; not uncommonly, the patient was a
corpse before a physician could be brought to his
assistance. In 1822, the yellow fever appeared again in
New York, with great virulence, after an inter-

"TBtTCK WITH THE CBOLEKA.

516

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

mission of some seventeen years, and
though the mortality was much less exten
sive than previously, the panic was even
sharper, — the city south of the park being
fenced off and nearly deserted, families,
merchants, banks, and even the city gov
ernment removing to a distance. But in
1833-5, the disease was far more virulent.
In 1832, the Asiatic cholera, or cholera
asphyxia, made its appearance in the
United States for the first time, coming
by way of Canada. Following the course
of the large rivers, it soon reached Buffalo,
and then spread irregularly, occurring in
towns and cities at distances from each
other, without affecting intervening dis
tricts till a subsequent period. In the
city of New York, it appeared June 27th,
and continued two months, during which
period there were three thousand four hun
dred deaths. In Albany, it showed itself
at the same time as in New York ; and
while its fury was abating in the latter
place, it began to appear in its most for
midable shape in Philadelphia, and in a
few weeks a thousand fell victims. About
the same mortality occurred in Baltimore
and Washington, which cities the con
tagion soon reached. It commenced in
Cincinnati in July, became epidemic in
September, and continued through most
of the summer of 1833. In the southern
states, it made great havoc amongst the
slave population, who fell ready and easy
subjects of its power. Fatal, beyond all
precedent, was the malady, in New Orleans
and St. Louis. The middle states never
before knew so terrible a visitation.
From the north, the disease also ex
tended itself along the borders of the
great lakes, and soon its ravages began at
Detroit. The six eastern states escaped
with only a few cases, principally in the
port towns of Massachusetts, Rhode Island,
and Connecticut.
And now again, this awful scourge re
appeared, in 1849, to blast the land with
death on every side, carrying terror to
every home and heart, and sweeping tens
of thousands into the grave. In New
Orleans, it broke out about the middle of

December, 1848, and continued through
the winter. So frightful were its devasta
tions, that it is estimated to have deci
mated the inhabitants that remained in
some wards of the city. The raging pesti
lence appeared in New York in May, and,
so violent was its spread, that during the
week ending July 21st, more than seven
hundred deaths occurred ; the mortality
that week was the greatest that had ever
taken place in any city in the United
States, the deaths by all diseases number
ing more than fourteen hundred. In
Boston, the deaths from cholera, during
June, July, August, and September, were
rising six hundred. But it was far more
terrible in Cincinnati and St. Louis, the
victims in each of these cities being up
wards of six thousand. Over all the mid
dle and western states, this Angel of Death
spread his destroying wings, and in many
parts of New England. The third day of
August, 1849, was, in view of the terrible
scourge thus stalking mightily over the
broad land, appointed by the president of
the United States as a day of fasting and
prayer, that God would " avert the pesti
lence that walketh in darkness and the
destruction that wasteth at noonday."
Again, in 1853, terror and panic seized
the land, from another visitation of the
yellow fever or plague. It spent its chief
force upon that oft-doomed city, New Or
leans, where, in the short space of three
months, ten per cent, of the whole popu
lation fell victims.
Concerning the origin, or producing
causes, of these epidemics, authorities
have differed so widely, that little of a
conclusive character, on these points, can
be presented ; and the same may be said
respecting the modes of treatment. Much,
however, that is interesting as well as
profitable, relative to these awful visita
tions, may be learned from the various
phenomena and incidents that accompa
nied them.
In no other place, perhaps, were the
manifestations and effects of a deathly
epidemic upon human conduct exhibited
more strikingly than in the city of Phila-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

517

delphia. The dread of the contagion drove
parents from their children, and even
wives from their husbands. All the ties
of affection and consanguinity were rent
asunder, and humanity was left to mourn
over its own selfishness, in the ardor of
self-preservation. Such was the degree of consternation,
dismay and affright, which possessed
people's minds, that, according to Mr.

were afraid to allow the barbers or hair
dressers to come near them, as instances
had occurred of some of them having
shaved the dead, and many having en
gaged as bleeders. Some, who carried
their caution pretty far, bought lancets
for themselves, not daring to allow them
selves to be bled with the lancets of the
bleeders. Many houses were scarcely a
moment free from the smell of gunpowder,

MOHUMENT TO THE VICTIMS OF CHOLEBA.

Carey, the historian of that period, most
of the inhabitants who could, by any
means, make it convenient, fled from the
c'ty. Of those who remained, many shut
themselves up in their houses, being afraid
to walk the streets. The smoke of tobacco
oemg regarded as a preventive, many
persons, even women and small boys, had
segars almost constantly in their mouths.
Others, placing full confidence in garlic,
«ewed it almost the whole day; some
kePt it in their pockets and shoes. Many

burned tobacco, sprinkled vinegar, etc.
Churches, libraries, and other places of
public resort, were closed. Those persons
who ventured abroad had handkerchiefs,
or sponges, impregnated with vinegar or
camphor, at their noses ; some had smell
ing bottles full of thieves' vinegar. Others
carried pieces of tarred rope in their hands
and pockets, also camphor bags tied around
their necks. The corpses of the most re
spectable citizens, even of those who had
not died of the epidemic, were carried to

518

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-JL876.

the grave on the shafts of a chair, the horse
driven by a negro, unattended by a friend
or relation, and without any sort of cere
mony. People uniformly and hastily shift
ed their course at the sight of a hearse
coming towards them. Many never walked
on the foot-path, but went in the middle
of the streets, to avoid being infected in
passing houses wherein people had died.
Acquaintances and friends avoided each
other in the streets, and only signified
their regard by a cold nod. The old
custom of shaking hands fell into such
general disuse, that many recoiled with
affright at even the offer of a hand. A
person wearing crape, or having any other
appearance of mourning, was shunned like
a viper; and many congratulated them
selves highly on the skill and address with
which they got to windward of every
person whom they met. "When, too, the
citizens, summoning sufficient resolution,
walked abroad to take the air, the sight of
the sick-cart conveying patients to the
hospital, or the hearse carrying the dead
to the grave, — which were traveling al
most the whole day, — soon damped their
spirits, and caused them to retrace tlieir
steps and seek seclusion. These manifest
ations and characteristics prevailed alike
during the yellow fever and the cholera.
Consternation was carried beyond all
bounds. Men of affluent fortunes were
abandoned to the care of any stranger,
black or white, who could by entreaty be
procured. In some cases, no money or
influence could procure proper attendance.
With the poor, the case was, of course,
immeasurably worse than with the rich.
Many of them perished, without a human
being to hand them a drink of water, or
to perform any medical or charitable office.
Some of the horrible and heart-rending
occurrences, which transpired during these
visitations of yellow fever and cholera,
will suffice better than any discussions of
symptoms and treatment, or any mere
general representations of the public ter
ror and panic, to show the nature of the
calamities that thus swept over the land,
carrying desolation and anguish to so

many happy homes. The following are
some of the instances referred to, as rela
ted by Carey, Simpson, and others.
An old grave digger, named Sebastian,
who had long lost the sense of smelling
fancied he could not take the disorder, and
therefore followed his business without
apprehension. A husband and his wife,
who lay sick together, wished to be in
terred in the same grave. Their deaths
happened within a few days of each other.
When the latter of the two was to be
buried, Sebastian was employed to dig
open the other's grave. He struck upon
and broke the coffin, and in stooping down,
inhaled such an intolerable and deadly
stench, that he was taken sick immedi
ately, and in a day or two died.
A man and his wife, once in affluent
circumstances, were found lying dead in
bed, and between them was their child, a
little infant, who was sucking its mother's
breast. How long they had lain thus, was
uncertain. Peculiar in its sadness, was the case of
a woman, whose husband had just died of
the disease ; she was seized with the pains
of parturition, and had nobody to assist
her, as the women in the neighborhood
were afraid to go into the house. She lay,
for a considerable time, in a condition of
anguish truly indescribable ; at length,
she struggled to reach the window, and
cried out for assistance. Two men, pass
ing by, went up stairs ; but they came at
too late a stage — for she was even then
striving with death — and actually, in a
few minutes, expired in their arms.
Another woman, whose husband and two
children lay dead in the room with her,
was in the same situation as that of the
woman just described, — without a mid
wife, or any other person to aid her. Her
cries at the window brought up one of the
carters employed for the relief of the sick.
With his assistance she was delivered of
a child, which died in a few minutes,
as did the mother, who was utterly ex
hausted by her labor, on account of the
disorder, and by the dreadful spectacle
before her. And thus lay, in one room,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

519

no less than five dead bodies, an entire
family, carried off within a few hours.
Before arrangements could be madeand
carried out, by the public authorities, to
mitigate the severities of the scourge,
many fell victims, whose lives would oth
erwise, probably, have been saved. A
servant girl, belonging to a family in
which the malady had prevailed, becom
ing apprehensive of what might be her
own fate, resolved to remove to a relation's
house, some distance in the country. She
was, however, taken sick on the road, and
returned to town, where she could find no
person willing to receive her. One of the

inquired into the state of affairs. The
other, to indulge the contemptible pro
pensity of hoaxing, told him, that a coffin-
maker, who had been employed by the
committee for the relief of the sick, had
found such a decrease of demand two
weeks before, that he had a large supply of
coffins on hand ; but that the mortality
had again so far increased, that he had
sold all, and had seven journeymen em
ployed day and night. Alarmed at this
information, the merchant and his family
instantly turned back.
Several instances occurred, of the drivers
of the hospital wagons, on their arrival to

HORRORS OF THE GREAT EPIDEMIC.

guardians of the poor provided a cart, and
took her to the almshouse, into which she
was refused admittance. She was brought
back, but the guardian could not procure
her a single night's lodging ; and at last,
after every effort to procure some kind
of shelter, the unfortunate creature abso
lutely expired in the cart.
Of the various incidents partaking of
the extravagant and farcical, much might
be related, A merchant of Philadelphia,
who had been absent for several weeks,
was returning to the city in the second
week of November, having heard that the
danger was no more. He met a man on
the road going from the city, and naturally

deliver up their charge, finding, to their
amazement, the wagons empty. A lunatic,
who had the malignant disorder, was ad
vised, by his neighbors, to go to the fever
hospital. He consented, and got into the
cart; but soon changing his mind, he
slipped out at the end, unknown to the
carter, who, after a while, missing him,
and seeing him at a distance running away,
turned his horse about, and trotted hard
after him. The other doubled his pace,
and the carter whipped his horse to a gallop ;
but the agile lunatic turned a corner, and
adroitly hid himself in a house, leaving the
mortified carter to return, and deliver an
account of his ludicrous adventure.

520

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

The wife of a man who lived in Walnut
street, Philadelphia, was seized with the
disease, and given over by the doctors.
The husband abandoned her, and next
night lay out of the house for fear of catch
ing the infection. In the morning, taking
it for granted, from the very low state she
had been in, that she was dead, he pur
chased a coffin for her; but on entering
the house, what was his astonishment to
find her much recovered. He himself,
however, fell sick shortly after, died, and
was buried in the very coffin which he had
so precipitately bought for his wife. An
other example under this class, though
with one or two important points of differ
ence, is the following : A woman, whose
husband died, refused to have him buried
in a coffin provided for her by one of her
friends, as too paltry and mean ; she there
fore bought an elegant and costly one, and
had the other laid by in the yard. In a
week she was herself a corpse, and was
buried in the very coffin she had rejected.
The powers of the god of love might be
imagined to lie dormant amidst such scenes
of distress as were exhibited at the hos
pitals, during this period. But his sway
was felt there with equal force as any
where else. Thus it was, that John John
son and Priscilla Hicks, two patients in
the public hospital, who had recovered,
and then officiated as nurses to the sick,
were smitten with each other's charms,
and, procuring leave of absence for an hour
or two, went to the city, were joined in the
bands of matrimony, and returned to their
avocation at the hospital. Another adven
ture of the same kind, was that of Nassy,
a Portuguese mulatto, who took to wife
Hannah Smith, a bouncing German girl,
employed, like himself, as a nurse. An
instance of similar attachment is related as
having occurred in New Orleans, when
the epidemic was at its height, and the
whole city was sunk in grief and mourn
ing. A smiling happy couple appeared
one morning before a Catholic clergyman,
and requested him to proclaim the bans of
their marriage the next day. The rever
end gentleman was surprised that any

persons should desire to get married at
such a time of general misery and distress,
and urged the couple that they should
postpone it until the epidemic was over.
But they declined doing so, and the priest,
indignant at what he considered ill-timed
levity, turned away, and positively refused
to officiate in their behalf, stating that he
was too busy attending the sick and ad
ministering the last consolations to the
dying. The impatient pair next proceeded
to the clergyman of St. Patrick's, who
exhibited a like surprise at the urgency of
the parties, and at first refused to sanction
such a marriage, but yielded at last to
their importunities. After due publica
tion of the bans they were married, and
retired to their new home to spend the
honeymoon. In a few days, the bridal
chamber presented a solemn and affecting
spectacle. The dead body of the husband
lay on a couch, and the young and lovely
bride writhed in agony on the bed ; she
quickly followed him, and their honeymoon
was passed in another world. *
Notwithstanding the devotedness and
self-sacrifice of the clergy, generally speak
ing, during these calamities, and the
number who thus lost their lives, there
was occasionally an exception. An anec
dote, illustrating this fact, used to be
related by the Hon. Edward Livingston,
who was mayor of New York, wliile Ihe
plague raged in that city, and which will
bear repetition : The violence of the epi
demic was beginning to abate ; its attacks
were indeed not less numerous than before,
but the proportion of its victims was daily
diminishing. I had a few minutes at my
own disposal (says Livingston), and I had
gone one evening, in a carriage, a short
distance from the city, to breathe the pure
air of the country, when I met on the road,
at the very moment when I was about to
return toward the city, a protestant minis
ter — married, and the father of a numerous
family. He, like the rest of his co-laborers,
had fled the fatal contagion. He was a
man truly pious, of exemplary life, and
presenting in his own person to his flock
an example of the Christian virtues which

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

521

he preached to them with sincerity and
eloquence. And yet, in the hour of
danger, he had not remained, but had fled,
—not for himself, — he had been carried
away by the panic with which his family
were seized. He asked —
" What is going on in town, Edward ?
Is the sickness abating ? "
" We are doing all we can, my reverend
friend. We are taking care of the sick.
The physicians are discharging most nobly
their glorious mission — but what can we
do for men's souls? The proper material
succors abound, for never was charity more
lavish of its offerings ; but the bread of the
Word is wanting. The wretched ask in
vain for those physicians of the mind dis
eased, whose consolations can cure the
wounds of the spirit and rob death of its
terrors. Well — what do you say ? Here
is room for you in my carriage. Come in !
— the ripe harvest is falling to the ground,
and there are no reapers to gather it."
The reverend gentleman pressed Liv
ingston's hand — pointed to his wife and
children who were at the door of a small
house near the road — and walked away in
silence. Had he belonged to any other
profession, his anxiety for his family
might well have excused him for sharing
in that feeling of terror which, seizing
like a panic upon all hearts, bid fair to
depopulate the city. It was, indeed, a
spectacle of sadness calculated to appal the
stoutest heart — the mournful gloom of
those empty streets, their silence broken
only by the rumbling of the dead-cart and
the driver's hoarse cry, " Bring out your
dead!"— those houses left open and fully
furnished, from which the owners had fled
—that forest of shipping, deserted and
silent as those of the western wilds,— the
heart recoiled from such sights and con
tacts. On the masts of some of these ves
sels hung still the unfurled sail. On the
wharves, too, might often be seen the bales
of merchandise which terror had left there.
There was no danger of their being carried
on. Death was uppermost in men's
minds; business was forgotten ; the grave
yards looked like ploughed fields.

But the anecdote of Livingston and the
clerical friend is well offset by one related
of the Rev. Mr. Whitall, a well-known
Episcopal clergyman of New Orleans.
Walking on the levee in pursuit of objects
of charity, one day at noon, during the
epidemic period, he was attracted to a
number of laborers collected around some
object. Elbowing his way through the
crowd, Mr. Whitall found a poor laborer
lying on the ground, violently siek with
the prevailing disease, exposed to the
sun, and suffering extremely. The crowd,
though pitying his condition, appeared to
be either too much frightened to render
him any aid, or ignorant of how they
could relieve him. But the experienced
Samaritan did not long consider llis duty
on such an occasion. Seizing one of the
wheelbarrows used in carrying bales of
cotton from the wharves to the ships, he
rolled it up alongside the sick man, and
laying him gently in it, wheeled his poor
patient to the nearest hospital, and there
secured for him such attendance as finally
led to his recovery.
As is usual, in times of threatened epi
demic, the authorities of most of the prin
cipal cities made due provision to avert its
approach, by stringent sanitary regula
tions, or, failing in this, established hospi
tals for the sick, retreats in the suburbs
for those residing in the infected districts,
and liberal appropriations of food and
money for the thousands of persons thrown
out of employment at such a crisis. In
some instances, these resolute proceedings
were objected to. A few persons refused
to go, and one man, who had been forcibly
removed, returned clandestinely and sjiut-
himself in his house ; his foolish obstinacy
was not discovered until he was found dead
in the place he was so unwilling to leave.
Several merchants, too, laughing at the
precautions of the authorities, persisted in
visiting their counting-houses situated in
the dangerous localities; their death
atoned for their rashness.
Among the women, the mortality was
not so great as among the men, nor among
the old and infirm as among the middle-

522

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

aged and robust. Tipplers and drunkards,
as well as gourmands, were very suscepti
ble to the disorder ; of these, many were
seized, and the recoveries were very rare.
To men and women of illicit pleasure, it
was equally fatal ; the wretched, debilitated
state of their constitutions, produced by lust
and excess, rendered them an easy prey to
epidemic disease, which very soon termi
nated their miserable career. A vast num
ber of female domestics likewise fell victims.
Dreadful was the destruction among the
poor ; indeed, it is computed that at least
seven-eighths of the number of the dead
were of that class. The occupants of
filthy houses severely expiated their neg
lect of cleanliness and decency. Whole
families, in such houses, sunk into one
silent, undistinguishing grave. The mor
tality in confined streets, small alleys, and
close houses, debarred of a free circulation
of air, greatly exceeded that in the large
streets and well-aired houses.
Of the committee appointed in Phila
delphia for the relief of the sick, it is
related by one of their number, as a fact
of peculiar physiological interest, that sev
eral of its members declared that some of
the most pleasurable hours of their exist
ence were spent during the heighth of the
fever. They were released from the cares
of business ; their committee duties fully
occupied their minds, and engrossed their
attention for the entire day ; they went to
the state-house — the place of meeting — in
the morning, after an early breakfast ;
took a cold collation there at dinner-time,
the materials of which were constantly
spread on a sideboard ; and there they
remained till night, when they returned
to their families ; custom robbed the situ
ation of its terrors. The only interruption
to this state of their feelings, arose from
the death of some friend or intimate ac
quaintance, or of some person whom they
had perhaps seen alive a few hours or a
day before. But even these sad impres

sions, though for the time strong and
afflictive, soon wore away, and the tran
quil state returned.
Empiricism and quackery were not in
active, even in times like these ; and the
cholera was no exception among those
" ills to which flesh is heir," for the cure
of which charlatans had their " unfailing
specific." But of all the nostrums thus
brought forward, the " Vinegar of Four
Thieves " was the most universal. A
story was tied to its tail which gave it a
popularity : Centuries ago, a dreadful
plague raged in Marseilles. The people
fled ; the city was visited by no one
except four thieves, who daily entered,
robbed the houses, and carried their plun
der to the mountains. The astonished
citizens, who had hid themselves in the
dens and caves of the earth, for fear of the
plague, saw them daily pass aud re-pass
with their ill-gotten gear, and wondered
most profoundly why the plague did not
seize them. In process of time, however,
one of these thieves was captured; they
were just going to break him on the wheel,
when he said if they would spare his life
he would teach them to make the vinegar
of four thieves, by means of which they
had escaped the plague when robbing the
city, — a request which was granted. The
" secret " thus imparted, modern quacks
claimed to make use of in the preparation
of a panacea for the cholera ! Of course
the venders got rich, for, during the epi
demic, multitudes credulously believed in
the efficiency of smelling thieves' vinegar,
and treated their noses accordingly.
Terribly as some of the cities of the
United States have suffered from epidem
ics, they bear no comparison in this
respect to the devastations by cholera in
the cities of London and Paris, — in the
latter of which, with true French sensibil
ity, the people have erected one of the
finest monuments commemorative of the
unfortunate victims.

LXI.
MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAN, A NOTED MILLION
AIRE OF BOSTON, BY PROF. JOHN W. WEBSTER, OF
HARVARD COLLEGE.— 1849.

High Social Position of the Parties. — Instantaneous Outburst of Surprise, Alarm, and Terror, in the
Community, on the Discovery of the Deed. — Remarkable Chain of Circumstances Leading to the
Murderer's Detection — Solemn and Exciting Trial — Account of the Mortal Blow and Disposal of the
Remains. — Similar Case of Colt and Adams. — Parkman's Wealth and Fame — Mysterious Disappear
ance, November 23. — Appointment with Professor Webster, that Day. — Their Unhappy Pecuniary
Relations. — Search for the Missing Millionaire. — Webster's Call on Parkman's Brother. — Explains
the Interview of November 23. — No Trace of Parkman after that Date. — The Medical College
Explored. — Scene in Webster's Rooms. — The Tea-Chest, Vault, and Furnace. — Human Remains
Found There. — Identified as Dr. Parkman's. — Arrest of Webster at Night. — Attempt at Suicide on
the Spot.-rBehavior in Court. — His Atrocious Guilt Proved. — Rendering the Verdict. — He Boldly
Addresses the Jury. — Asserts His Entire Innocence. — Final Confession of the Crime — Hung near the
Spot of His Birth. — The Similar and Tragical Case of John C. Colt, Murderer of Samuel Adams.

" It doth seem ton blondy.
First, to cut off the head, then hack the limbs;-
Like wrath in death, and malice afterwards."

EMORABLE, almost beyond a parallel, in the crim
inal annals of America, is the great crime which
finds its record in the following pages. The posi
tion of the parties, in their social and professional
relations, the nature of the proof, and, indeed, all
the circumstances of the case, invest the deed with
a universal and permanent interest.
On Friday, the twenty-third of November, 1849,
Dr. George Parkman, one of the wealthiest and best
known citizens of Boston, of an old family, and
highly respected, one of the founders of the Massa
chusetts Medical College there, about sixty years of
tbof. Webster's MURDER appliances, age, of rather remarkable person and very active
habits, was walking about the city, and transacting business as usual— one of his last
acts, on that day, being the purchase of some lettuce for the dinner of his invalid daugh
ter; the only other members of his family being his wife, and one son, who was then
traveling on the continent of Europe. Being one of the most punctual of men, his
absence from the family table at half-past three o'clock excited surprise ; and on the
evening of the same day there was serious apprehension, his absence still continuing
unexplained. It was thought best to postpone all public search until Saturday after-

524

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

noon ; at two o'clock, therefore, there being
no tidings of him, a most vigorous and
minute search was instituted by his
friends, with the aid of the police force of
Boston and of advertisements offering
large rewards for such intelligence as
should lead to his discovery. He was
described as sixty years of age, about five
feet and nine inches high, gray hair, thin
face, with a scar under the chin, light com
plexion, and usually a rapid walker; he
was dressed in a dark frock coat, dark pan
taloons, purple silk vest, dark figured black
stock, and black hat. The search was
continued without intermission until the
following Friday, men being sent in all
directions for fifty or sixty miles, on all
the railroads, to all the towns on the coast ;
they searched over land and water, and
under water.
It was known the next Sunday follow
ing his disappearance, that on the previous
Friday, at half-past one o'clock, Doctor
Parkman had, by appointment, met with
Dr. John W. Webster (Professor of Chem
istry in Harvard University, and Lecturer
on Chemistry in the Medical College, Bos
ton,) in his rooms at the Medical College,
and no further trace could be found ; the
fact of this interview having been first
communicated by Professor Webster.
The nature of this interview, and the
circumstances under which it took place,
may be here stated. In 1842, Doctor Park-
man had lent Professor Webster, on his
promissory note, four hundred dollars, and
in 1847 a further advance was made to
Professor Webster by Doctor Parkman and
some other parties, in acknowledgment of
which there was a promissory note given
Doctor Parkman for two thousand four hun
dred and thirty-two dollars, payable by
yearly installments in four years ; a balance
due on a former note, to the amount of
three hundred and thirty-two dollars,
heing included. Doctor Parkman had held
two mortgages ; one to secure the four
hundred dollar note, which was given in
1842, and another which secured that note,
and the other large note given in 1847.
The mortgage which was given in 1847,

covered all Professor Webster's household
furniture, his books, and all his minerals,
and other objects of natural history. That
cabinet, however, he secretly disposed of,
so that all that was left to secure that
mortgage was the household furniture, and
what books he may have had. From a
memorandum, prepared in April, 1849, it
was shown that the amount of Professor
Webster's debt to Doctor Parkman was, at
that time, four hundred and fifty-six dol
lars, being made up of three items due at
different times. Doctor Parkman had for
some time pressed urgently for the balance
due to himself, and there were frequent
and by no means friendly communications
between the parties on the subject.
The account given by Professor Web
ster to the Rev. Dr. Francis Parkman —
with whom he was on intimate terms,
having formerly been a member of his
congregation, and having very recently
received from him pastoral offices, — of the
last interview with his missing brother,
was, that he called upon Doctor Parkman
at half-past nine o'clock on the morning of
Friday, November twenty-third, and ar
ranged that the doctor should meet him at
the college at half-past one ; that Doctor
Parkman came at that hour, having some
papers in his hand, and received from
Professor Webster four hundred and
eighty-three dollars, and some odd cents,
upon which Doctor Parkman took out one
of the notes, and hurriedly dashing his pen
across the signature, went away in great
haste, leaving the note behind him, saying,
as he left the room, that he would have the
mortgage canceled. On the last interview
between them in the presence of any
witness, and which took place in the col
lege on the previous Monday, Doctor Park-
man indignantly complained to Professor
Webster that the cabinet of minerals, which
was mortgaged to him in security of the
advances he made, had been afterwards
fraudulently sold to his brother-in-law, Mr.
Robert G. Shaw ; and to another person
he made some very severe remarks in rela
tion to this transaction, substantially, if
not in express terms, charging Professor

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

525

Webster with dishonesty. At parting, Doc
tor Parkman is reported to have said with
much energy, "something must be done
to-morrow!" The following day, Profes
sor Webster sent a note to Doctor Park-
man, in response to which the doctor went
out to Cambridge, on Thursday, to Profes
sor Webster's house.
Every clue discovered led the searchers
back to the medical college in Boston, and
there ended; no person being to be found
who had spoken with Doctor Parkman
after his interview with Professor Webster.
Along with other buildings, the college
vas searched ; first on Monday — slightly,
and merely by way of excuse for searching
other houses in the neighborhood, — and
again upon Tuesday, but with no serious
suspicions and with no discovery, Profes
sor Webster cheerfully accompanying the
officers through Tiis own apartments.
In the meantime, another investigation
had been going on in the hands of Little
field, the janitor of the college, who had as
early as Sunday evening begun to enter
tain suspicions, which all his subsequent
assiduous watching increased, and which
led to the discovery, upon Friday, in the
laboratory, and in a vault connected with
it, of certain human remains, believed to
be those of Doctor Parkman, and to the
apprehension and ultimately to the trial of
Professor Webster on the charge of
murder. It was a case, in comparison
with which, those of Hare, Avery, Robin
son, Strang, Ward, Washburn, Thomas,
and Rogers, appear but ordinary.
The premises in the medical college used
by Professor Webster, consisted of a lec
ture-room in front; an upper laboratory
behind the lecture-room, furnished with a
stove, water and a sink, and a small room
adjoining, where chemical materials were
kept These were on the first floor. On
the basement story there was a lower lab
oratory, reached by a staircase from the
upper one; this contained an assay fur
nace, was provided with water and a sink,
had a store-room adjoining, and a private
closet, with an opening into a vault at the
hase of the building, into which vault the

sea-water had access through the stones of
the wall, which had been some years
before slightly pushed out of their original
position. Into this vault there was no
opening except that in the private closet.
After all the other parts of the college had
been repeatedly searched without success,
the janitor resolved to make an examina
tion of this vault, which he effected by
secretly breaking a hole through the brick
and lime wall, at a point almost directly
under the private closet, taking care to
work only during Professor Webster's
absence.

£ 4 €tSl~^>.

On the afternoon of Friday, the thirtieth
of November, exactly a week after Doctor
Parkman's disappearance, the opening was
made ; and there were discovered, lying in
the vault, parts of a male human body.
These consisted of the pelvis or hip bones,
the right thigh from the hip to the knee,
and the left leg, from the knee to the
ankle. In consequence of this disclosure, Pro
fessor Webster was immediately appre
hended; and a more careful search was
made in the laboratory on the next and
the following days, which resulted in fur
ther discoveries. Buried among tan in a
tea-chest, and covered with specimens of
minerals, there were found a large hunt
ing-knife ; a thorax or chest, with both
clavicles and scapulae attached, and having
a perforation in the region of the heart ;
and a left thigh, to which a piece of string

526

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

was fastened. In the ashes of the furnace,
also, were found grains of gold, a pearl
shirt button, a human tooth, blocks of
mineral teeth, and about fifty fragments
of bone belonging to the skull, face, and
other parts of the human body. There
was also found in the laboratory a large
double-edged sheath-knife — called also a
Turkish knife — a small saw, a hammer,
and some other articles.
In arresting Professor Webster, three
of the Boston police proceeded at night,
under the direction of Mr. Clapp, in a
coach, to his residence in Cambridge, on
knocking at the door of which and inquir
ing fo." the professor, the account of what
transpired is as follows : That he came for
ward to see what was wanted ; we told him
that we wanted him to go with us and as
sist at one more search of the medical col
lege. He said something about its hav
ing been searched two or three times
before, but was very willing to accompany
us, and putting off his slippers, drew on
his boots, and came cut. Just as we
started, he remarked that he had forgotten
his keys, and would go back and get them ;
he was told that they had keys enough to
unlock all the rooms in the college, and it
would not be necessary for him to go back
after them — he said it was very well, and
got into the coach. The driver turned
toward Boston, and on the way Professor
Webster conversed on indifferent subjects.
The conversation finally fell upon the dis
appearance of Doctor Parkman. Profes
sor Webster remarked that a Mrs. Bent,
of Cambridge, had seen Doctor Parkman
at a very late hour on the Friday evening
when he disappeared, and he said as she
lived near the bridge, it might be well to
call and see her ; this was declined, with
the reply that they could go some other
time. On the party coming over the bridge,
Professor Webster asked if anything fur
ther had been done in the search for the
doctor ; he was told that the doctor's hat
had been found in the water at Charles
town, and that the river had been dragged
above and below the bridge. As the coach

went along, the driver passed beyond the
street leading to the college, and directed
his way up towards the jail. Professor
Webster remarked that he was going in a
wrong direction. To this, policeman Clapp
made reply, that the coachman was a new
hand and somewhat green, but he would
doubtless discover and rectify his mistake.
This reason satisfied him. The coachman
still drove on, and shortly after arrived at
the jail. Clapp got out of the coach and
went into the jail, to see if there were any
spectators there — found there were not,
and then went back and said to those in
the coach, "I wish, gentlemen, you would
alight here for a few moments." The ofli
cers got out of the coach, and the professor
followed. They passed into the outer
office, and Clapp then said, "Gentlemen,
I guess we had better walk into the inner
office." Looking strangely at Clapp, Pro
fessor Webster said —
" What is the meaning of all this ? "
" Professor Webster," replied Mr. Clapp,
" you will perhaps remember that in com
ing over Cambridge bridge, I told you that
the river above and below it had been
dragged ; we have also been dragging in
the college, and we have been looking for
the body of Dr. Parkman. You are now
in custody, on the charge of being his mur
derer ! "
On hearing this announcement, he ut
tered two or three sentences which were
not distinctly understood, but which were
supposed at the time to refer to the nature
of the crime with which he was charged;
he finally spoke plainly, and said he would
like his family to be told of his arrest.
Mr. Clapp replied, that if his family were
informed, as he requested, it would be a
sad night to them, and advised him far
ther — as he was beginning to talk — that
he would better not say anything to any
body at that time. On afterwards carry
ing the prisoner to the college and labora
tory, he was greatly agitated, and looked
as though he did not know what was going
on about him. He appeared to act pre
cisely as some persons are known to when
i& delirium tremens ; some one handed

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

527

him water, but he could not drink, and
snapped at the glass like a mad dog.
Concerning this period, Professor Web
ster states, in his own words : ' When I
found the carriage was stopping at the
jail, I vvas sure of my fate. Before leav
ing the carriage I took a dose of strych
nine from my pocket and swallowed it. I
had prepared it in the shape of a pill be
fore I left my laboratory on the twenty-
third. I thought I could not bear to sur
vive detection. I thought it was a large
dose. The state of my nervous system
probably defeated its action partially.'
After a long investigation of the case,
the grand jury found an indictment against

the prisoner for the murder of Doctor
Parkman, which came on for trial at Bos
ton, before Chief Justice Shaw and three
associate justices, Wilde, Metcalf, and
Dewey, of the supreme judicial court of
Massachusetts, upon the nineteenth of
March, 1850. Some time before the
judges took their places upon the bench,
Professor Webster,— until now the inti
mate companion of senators, judges, di
vines, men of literature and science —
entered, and immediately took his seat in
the felon's dock. His step was light and
elastic, in crossing towards his place, and
his countenance betrayed a marked degree
of calm and dignified composure. On sit
ting down, he smiled, as he saluted several
of his friends and acquaintances, to some

of whom he familiarly nodded ; and a
stranger would have taken him for an or
dinary spectator. He wore his spectacles,
and sat with ease and dignity in the dock,
occasionally shaking hands with friends.
The countenance of Professor Webster in
dicated strong animal passions, and irasci
ble temperament. The cheek-bones high,
and the mouth, with compressed lips, be
trayed great resolution and firmness of
character. The forehead inclined to an
gular, rather low, and partially retreating.
Standing below the middle height, and by
no means a man of muscular strength, his
general appearance made no very favorable
impression. On the reading of the indict
ment, by the clerk, the prisoner stood up
in the dock and listened with marked at
tention. Almost every eye was turned
towards him at this time, but he exhibited
the same self-possession and determined
control as from the first, pleading 'Not
Guilty,' in a strong and emphatic tone of
voice. Ex-Governor Clifford was his sen
ior counsel.
The trial lasted during eleven days,
there having been no fewer than one hun
dred and sixteen witnesses examined —
forty-seven of them being called on behalf
of the accused, including his professional
friends and neighbors, Presidents Sparks
and Walker, Professors Peirce, Bowen,
Hosford, Palfrey, and Wyman. Scientific
testimony was also given by Prof. 0. W.
Holmes, and others ; and the court sat
eight or nine hours each day. The testi
mony was of a most deeply interesting
and exciting character. The various parts
of the body found in the vault, furnace,
and tea-chest, were, by the marvelous and
beautiful science of anatomy, under the
skillful hand of Prof. Jeffries Wyman, re
integrated, and found to constitute a
body, positively recognized by some of
Doctor Parkman's intimate associates as
his. Doctor Keep identified the mineral
teeth as the set made by him for the doc
tor. The general figure and appearance
indicated by the remains, including a very
peculiar hairiness of the back, corresponded
perfectly with Doctor Parkman's; the

528

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

height, which, on the evidence of the anat
omists examined, 'could be determined
certainly within half an inch,' was just
the same ; the form of the lower jaw, too,
shown by four fragments of the right half,
implied a rising chin, which was so promi
nent a feature of the doctor. Every cir
cumstance brought forward tended to show
that Doctor Parkman's last known where
abouts was at the medical college, on the
day when he was there to meet Professor
Webster ; that the remains found in the
apartments of the latter were those of the
doctor; that the professor, during the
week succeeding the day of Doctor Park-
man's disappearance, was locked in his
laboratory at unusual hours ; that during
that week, intense fires had been kept up'
in the furnace, and water was used in pro
digious quantities. So overwhelming was
the evidence substantiating these and kin
dred facts, and so strong and unbroken the
chain of circumstances which connected
Professor Webster's movements with the
great and awful deed, that the verdict of
guilty seemed inevitable, when the ques
tion should be finally passed upon by the
jury. But, through all the protracted
trial, the prisoner maintained perfect com
posure, even when facts and objects were
disclosed which would have made most
men tremble. He also had the hardihood
to address the jury, previous to the charge
from the bench, explaining away the evi
dence against him, and asserting his en
tire innocence.
At the conclusion of the judge's charge,
the case was committed to the jury, and
in about three hours they returned to de
liver their verdict. Professor Webster also
soon appeared in the charge of an officer ;
he moved with a quick, nervous step, and
took his place in a chair beside the prison
er's dock, which he soon after changed for
the arm-chair in the iron picket inclosures.
His appearance was pale and thoughtful,
with a serious dejectedness which was ap
parent in the contraction of the muscles
about the mouth. The profound and
death-like stillness was now broken by the
clerk, who said —

" Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed
on a verdict ? "
" We have," was the response.
" Who shall speak for you, gentlemen ? "'
" The foreman," answered some of the
jury- " John W. Webster, hold up your right
hand," said the clerk.
The prisoner rose and looked steadily
and intensely upon the foreman; and the
clerk then continued —
" Mr. Foreman, look upon the prisoner.
Prisoner, look upon the jury."
Professor Webster still maintained his
fixed and intense look of inquiry upon the
foreman, trying to gather from his coun
tenance some indication of the sentiments
of the jury upon which depended life or
death to him.
" What say you, Mr. Foreman, is John
W. Webster, the prisoner at the bar, guilty,
or not guilty ? " demanded the clerk.
" Guilty ! " was the solemn response.
When the foreman pronounced the word
Guilty, the prisoner started, like a person
shot ; and his hand, which had hitherto
been held erect, fell to the bar in front of
him with a dead sound, as if he had sud
denly been deprived of muscular action.
He soon sat down ; his chin drooped upon
his breast. He put his hand up to his
face, but his nerves trembled so that he
appeared to be fumbling with his fingers
under his spectacles, and, shutting his
eyes, he gave a deep, heart-breaking sigh,
which spoke of the inexpressible anguish
of his soul. All eyes were fixed in sad
ness upon the doomed man. On the en
suing Monday he received his sentence to
be hung.
Subsequently, proceedings were taken,
but unsuccessful, on the part of Professor
Webster, to set aside the trial, on the
ground of some alleged technical informal
ities; and a petition to Governor Briggs,
— likewise unavailing — for a commutation
of the sentence, on the ground that the
killing, now confessed by Professor Web
ster, was done in the heat of excessive
provocation. In this confession, Professor
Webster states, as follows, the manner in

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

529

which the murder was committed : — Doc
tor Parkman agreed to call on me as I
proposed. He came, accordingly, between
half-past one and two o'clock, entering at
the lecture-room door. I was engaged in
removing some lecture-room glasses from
my table into the room in the rear, called
the upper laboratory. He came rapidly
down the step, and followed me into the
laboratory. He immediately addressed
me with great energy — 'Are you ready
for me, sir ? Have you got the money ? '
I replied, ' No, Doctor Parkman ; ' and I
was then beginning to state my condition
and my appeal to him, but he would not
listen to me, and interrupted me with
much vehemence. He called me a scoun
drel and a liar, and went on heaping on

obtain the object for which I sought the
interview, but I could not stop him, and
soon my own temper was up ; I forgot
everything, and felt nothing but the sting
of his words. I was excited to the highest
degree of passion, and while he was speak
ing and gesticulating in the most violent
and menacing manner, thrusting the letter
and his fist into my face, in my fury I
seized whatever thing was handiest, (it
was a stick of wood,) and dealt him an
instantaneous blow with all the force that
passion could give it. I did not know, or
think, or care, where I should hit him, nor
how hard, nor what the effect would be.
It was on the side of his head, and there
was nothing to break the force of the blow.
He fell instantly upon the pavement.

PHOU'ESSOK WEBSTER'S CELL IN PRISON.

me the most bitter taunts and opprobrious
epithets. While he was speaking, he drew
out a handful of papers from his pocket,
and took from among them my two notes,
and also an old letter from Doctor Hosack,
written many years ago, congratulating
him on his success in getting me appointed
Professor of Chemistry. 'You see,' he
said, 'I was the means of getting you into
your office, and now I will get you out of
it' He put back into his pocket all the
papers except the letters and the notes.
1 cannot tell how long the torrent of
threats and invectives continued, and I
can recall to memory but a small portion
« what he said; at first I kept interpos-
mg. trying to pacify him, so that I might
34

There was no second blow; he did not
move. I stooped down over him, and he
seemed to be lifeless. Blood flowed from
his mouth, and I got a sponge and wiped
it away. I got some ammonia and ap
plied it to his nose, but without effect.
Perhaps I spent ten minutes in attempts
to resuscitate him, but I found he was ab
solutely dead. In my horror and conster
nation I ran instinctively to the doors and
bolted them, the doors of the lecture-room,
and of the laboratory below. And then,
what was I to do ? It never occurred to
me to go out and declare what had been
done, and obtain assistance. I saw noth
ing but the alternative of a successful
movement and concealment of the body on

530

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the one hand, and of infamy and destruc
tion on the other. The first thing I did,
as soon as I could do anything, was to
draw the body into the private room ad
joining, where I took off the clothes and
began putting them into the fire, which
was burning in the upper laboratory.
They were all consumed there that after
noon. The painful details of the separation
and disposal of the parts are then described
by Professor Webster, — the body dismem
bered ; the head, viscera, and some of the
limbs thrown into the fire of the furnace,
' and fuel heaped on ; ' and the remainder
of the body put in two cisterns with water,
one of which was under the lid of the lec
ture-room table, and the other in the lower
laboratory, into the latter of which a
quantity of potash was at the same time
thrown. In continuation of this ghastly narrative,
Professor Webster says : — When the body
had been thus all disposed of, I cleared
away all traces of what had been done. I
think the stick with which the fatal blow
had been struck, proved to be a piece of
the stump of a large grape-vine — say two
inches in diameter, and two feet long. It
was one of several pieces which I had
carried in from Cambridge long before,
for the purpose of showing the effect of
certain chemical fluids in coloring wood,
by being absorbed into the pores. The
grape-vine, being a very porous wood, was
well adapted for that purpose. Another
longer stick had been used as intended,
and exhibited to the students. This one
had not been used. I put it into the fire.
I took up the two notes either from the
table or the floor ; I think the table, close
by where Doctor Parkman had fallen. I
seized an old metallic pen lying on the
table, dashed it across the face, and
through the signatures, and put them in
my pocket. I do not know why I did this
rather than put them in the fire, for I had
not considered for a moment what effect
either mode of disposing of them would
have on the mortgage, or my indebtedness
to Doctor Parkman and the other persons

interested, and I had not yet given a sin
gle thought to the question as to what
account I should give of the object or re
sult of my interview with Doctor Park-
man. I left the college to go home as late
as six o'clock. I collected myself as well
as I could, that I might meet my family
and others with composure.
It was on Sunday that Professor Web
ster, according to his own assertion, for
the first time made up his mind what
course to take, and what account to give
of the appointed meeting between him and
Doctor Parkman; that on the same day
he looked into the laboratory but did noth
ing; on Monday, after the officers' visit
of search to the college, he threw the parts
which had been under the lecture-table
into the vault, and packed the thorax into
the tea-chest ; the perforation of the tho
rax was made by the knife ; and at the
time of removing the viscera on Wednes
day, he put on kindlings, and made a fire
in the furnace below, having first poked
down the ashes ; some of the limbs were
consumed at this time. This, he says,
was the last he had to do with the remains.
The fish-hooks, tied up as grapples, were
to be used for drawing up the parts in the
vault. On the very night of the murder,
he and his family made a neighborly call
at Professor Treadwell's, passing the even
ing" in social conversation and playing
whist ! It was that baneful feature in
American society — extravagance — which
alone brought Webster to calculate the life
of his creditor and benefactor, and which,
in so many other eminent examples, like
those of Huntington, Ketchum, Edwards,
Schuyler, and Gardiner, took the shape of
gigantic frauds and peculation.
So plain were the facts involving Pro
fessor Webster's terrible guilt, however,
that no efforts to palliate his atrocious
crime had the least effect upon the public
mind in lightening the crushing weight
of infamy from his name, nor did the arm
of retributive justice for a moment swerve
or falter. Upon a scaffold, in the same
quarter of his native city where he and his
victim first breathed the breath of life, and

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

531

in full view of the classic halls of Harvard
College, John White Webster paid the
extreme penalty of the law, and his form
now lies interred in one of the sequestered
dells of Mount Auburn, not far from the
spot where rest the shattered remains of
the ill-fated Parkman. Professor Webster
owed his appointment at Harvard Univer
sity to the influence of Doctor Parkman
and the eminent and honored Dr. Cas
par Wistar, of Philadelphia, president of
the American Philosophical Society.
No such deep and wide-spread excite
ment had, for many years, attended any
other of the numerous murders committed
for pecuniary motives, excepting, perhaps,
the cold-blooded killing of Samuel Adams,
a highly respected printer, by John C.
Colt, author of the system of book-keeping
and penmanship bearing his name, and
brother of the well-known inventor of the
revolver. This deed occurred in the city
of New York, in September, 1841. Colt
had for some time owed Adams a bill for
printing, which he was unprepared to pay.
The final call made by Adams, at Colt's
room on Broadway, for a settlement of
the account, resulted in a tragedy rarely
equaled in the annals of crime.
Por some days, the mysterious absence
of Mr. Adams was the subject of universal
comment in the newspaper press. The
discovery of the murder was made through
the instrumentality of Mr. Wheeler, who
occupied a room adjoining that of Colt.
About four o'clock, p. m., on the day of
Mr. Adams's disappearance, Mr. Wheeler
thought he heard an unusual noise in
Colt's room, and was induced to go to the
door and rap. Not receiving any answer,
he looked through the key-hole, and saw
two hats standing upon a table, and Colt
kneeling upon the floor, as if scrubbing it.
After waiting a little while, Mr. Wheeler
peeped into the key-hole again, and saw
Colt still engaged in the same operation.
This excited his suspicions, and he caused
a person to watch at the door all night.
In the morning, Colt was seen to take a
hox, about four feet long and two high,
down stairs. The box was directed to

somebody in St. Louis, via New Orleans.
Mr. Wheeler gave information of these
facts to the mayor, who immediately insti
tuted search for the box; it was found,
after some difficulty, on board of the ship
Kalamazoo, and in it the body of Mr. Ad
ams, wrapped up in sail-cloth and sprinkled
with salt and chloride of lime.
Colt was at once arrested, and an indict
ment for willful and deliberate murder
found against him. His trial resulted in
his conviction ; and, notwithstanding the
efforts of numerous and powerful friends,
and the lavish use of money, in his behalf,
the fatal day arrived when he was to pay
the extreme penalty of the law for his
great crime. The scaffold was erected —
the whole city surged with excitement —
the crowd gathered around the prison was
immense. At eleven o'clock, Rev. Dr. Anthon vis
ited Colt's cell, in company with Colt's
brother, for the purpose of marrying the
murderer to his mistress, Caroline Hen
shaw. The ceremony was performed, Colt
manifesting a deep interest in their child.
He also handed a package containing five
hundred dollars for its benefit to Doctor
Anthon, who proffered to become sponsor
for it, which was eagerly accepted by Colt.
About one o'clock, Colt's brother, Sam
uel, again arrived, and entered the cell.
Colt was still engaged in conversation with
his wife, who was sitting on the foot of the
bed, convulsed with tears. At Colt's re
quest, John Howard Payne and Lewis Gay
lord Clarke then went into the cell to take
their leave of him. Colt appeared exceed
ingly pleased to see them, shook them cor
dially by the hand, and conversed with ap
parent cheerfulness with them for five
minutes, when they bade him farewell, both
of them in tears. Colt's wife, and his
brother Samuel, also soon left, both deeply
affected. The wife could scarcely support
herself, so violent were her feelings and
acute her sufferings. She stood at the
door of the cell for a minute — Colt kiss
ing her passionately, straining her to his
bosom, and watching intensely her reced
ing form, as she passed into the corridor.

532

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

Here she stood and sobbed convulsively,
as though her heart would break, until led
away by friends.
Colt now desired to see the sheriff, who
went into his cell. Colt then told him
emphatically that he was innocent of the
murder of Adams, and that he never in
tended to kill him ; he also said that he
had hopes that something would intervene
to save him from being hung, and begged
the sheriff not to execute the sentence of
the law upon him. The sheriff told him
to banish all hope of that kind, for he
must die at four o'clock. He then asked
to see Doctor Anthon, who went into his
cell, and remained in prayer with him
about ten minutes. At the close of this,
Colt again sent for the sheriff, and said to
him, " If there are any gentlemen present
who wish to see me, and take their leave
of me, I shall be happy to see them."
This was announced by the sheriff, and
all present, with one or two exceptions,
passed up to his cell door, shook him by
the hand, and took their leave of him.
To one gentleman connected with the
press, he said: "I've spoken harshly of
some of the press, but I do not blame you
at all ; it was all my own fault. There
were things that ought to have been ex
plained. I know you have a good heart,
and I forgive you from my soul freely;
may God bless you, and may you prosper."
He then requested the keeper, Mr.
Greene, to let him be left alone until the
last moment: This was about two o'clock.
His cell was closed, and he was left alone
till twenty minutes to three, when some
friends of the sheriff, apprehending that
an attempt at suicide might be made by
Colt, desired deputy sheriff Hillyer to go
to Colt's cell door, and request to wish him
'good bye.' Colt was then walking up

and down his cell, but turned around on the
door opening, smiled on Hillyer, shook him
by the hand and kissed him, as he did sev
eral of those who had just previously bid
him farewell in this life. He said to Hill
yer, " God bless you, and may you prospei
in this life, which is soon to close on me.';
From this time, the excitement around
the prison increased tremendously, and the
feelings of those in the prison were also
worked up to a pitch of great intensity.
No one, however, entered his cell till pre
cisely five minutes to four o'clock, at which
time Sheriffs Hart and Westervelt, dressed
in uniform, and accompanied by Doctor
Anthon, proceeded to the cell. On the
keeper opening the door, Doctor Anthon,
who was first, threw up his hands and eyes,
to Heaven, and uttering a faint ejaculation,
turned pale as death and retired. "As I
thought," said the keeper. " As I thought,"
said others. And going into the cell, there
lay Colt on his back, stretched out at full
length on the bed, quite dead, but not
cold. A clasp knife, like a small dirk
knife, with a broken handle, was sticking
in his heart. He had stabbed himself
about the fifth rib, on the left side. His
temples were yet warm. His vest was
open, the blood had flowed freely, and his
hands, which were lying across the stom
ach, were very bloody; he had evidently
worked and turned the knife round and
round in his heart after stabbing himself,
until he made quite a large gash. His
mouth was open, his eyes partially so, and
his body lay as straight on the bed as if
laid out for a funeral by others. Most
strange to say, just at this moment, the
large cupola of the prison was discovered
to be on fire, and burned furiously. The
scene and circumstances were tragical to a
degree altogether indescribable.

LXII.
THE UNITED STATES GRINNELL EXPEDITIONS OF 1850
AND 1853, TO THE ARCTIC SEAS.— 1850.

Search for Sir John Franklin, the Lost Navigator. — Traces of His Melancholy and Mysterious Fate.—
Dr. Kane's Discovery of an Open Polar Sea, Three Thousand Square Miles in Area. — The " Great
Glacier," a Lofty and Dazzling Ice- Wall of Boundless Dimensions. — The "Stars and Stripes" Car
ried Farther North than any other Flag. — Origin of this Undertaking. — Franklin's Bold Enterprise.—
No Tidings of him for Years. — Vessels Sent in Search. — Lady Franklin's Warm Appeal. — Mr. Grin-
nell's Noble Response — Fits out DeHaven's Expedition. — Sailing of the Advance and Rescue. — Frank
lin's Winter Quarters Found. — DeHaven Imbedded in Ice. — Eighty Days of Polar Darkness. — Fruit
less Efforts : Return Home. — Renewed Search by Dr. Kane. — At the Extreme Solitary North. — Its Ter
ror and Sublimity. — Mercury and Whiskey Freeze Solid. — No Sunlight for Five Months. — A Vast
Crystal Bridge. — It Connects Two Continents. — Kane Ice-Bound : Awful Perils. — One Thousand Three
Hundred Miles Traveled in Sledges — Final Escape : Arrival Home. — Dr. Hayes's Heroic Adventures.

" Waste and wild the view I
An endless desert, where extreme of cold
Eternal sits, as in his native seat,
in wintry hills of never-thawing ice."

I0YAGES and expeditions of discovery to the Arctic waters, on the
part of European nations, have been quite numerous, in modern
times ; but it was not until the year 1850, that the epoch of Arctic
adventure commenced in the United States. The main object of the
enterprising expedition of Polar discovery which sailed from Amer
ica, in May, of the year just named, was to search for Sir John
Franklin, the celebrated English explorer of that ice-bound region,
who sailed from the Thames, in the spring of 1845, in command of the ships Erebus
and Terror, but, not returning, his probable fate absorbed the minds of the whole Brit
ish public to the highest degree, — every theory being discussed which would account
for his prolonged absence, and every means brought into requisition, by which succor
could be rendered. Several expeditions were sent out from England, in quest of the
gallant Franklin, but without any more positive result than the finding of a few distinct
though unproductive traces of his melancholy and mysterious fate. Lady Franklin
equipped an expedition at her own expense ; and also made an affecting appeal to the
United States government, to lend its aid in furthering the search. This was responded
to, with a hearty good-will, by the American people ; and called forth the munificent
offer of ten thousand dollars from Mr. Henry Grinnell, a wealthy and honored merchant
and philanthropist, of New York, in behalf of an expedition that should sail under the
American flag, for the far-off region of the lost adventurers. This offer was accepted
and the enterprise soon asumed a definite character. Mr. Grinnell supplying the

534

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

vessels and means, and the national gov
ernment the men and the discipline. On
account of this union of governmental and
individual patronage, the enterprise was
called " The United States Grinnell Expe
dition in Search of Sir John Franklin."
On the 23d of May, this expedition em
barked from New York. It consisted of
two brigs, the Advance and Rescue,
manned by thirty-eight men. They were
placed under the command of Lieut. E. J.
DeHaven ; and Doctor E. K. Kane was
appointed surgeon and naturalist to the
expedition. The other principal officers
were Messrs. Griffin, Murdaugh, Carter,
Lovell, Brooks, and Vreeland. All hands,
officers and men, were thoroughly equipped
for Arctic duty.
On the beginning of July, the vessels
were in Baffin Bay, struggling on amidst
icebergs and ice-floes, which increased in
number and perplexity as Melville Bay

/y^^sj

"L

was approached. The passage of the lat
ter was an arduous affair, and so tedious
that little hope was entertained of reach
ing Barrow Strait before the close of
the season; but, much to their surprise,
they entered Wellington Sound on the
26th of August, 1850, and were among the
first to explore Cape Riley and Beechey
Island, where they struck upon unmistak
able evidence of Franklin's first winter
quarters — three graves with inscriptions
on wooden head-boards, dating as late as
April, 1846; their inmates, according to

these inscriptions, were of his crew two
being from the Erebus and one from the
Terror. There were, besides, fragments
of canvas, articles of clothing, wood and
cordage, undoubted proof of a large and
long encampment,— but affording no indi
cations which would serve as guides to the
searchers or give assurance to hope.
After several ineffectual efforts to con
tinue the search, which were frustrated by
the great accumulation of ice, Lieutenant
DeHaven determined on returning home,
but found that they were locked in, near
the mouth of Wellington's Channel. And
now commenced the wonderful ice-drift,
the account of which reads more like ro
mance than reality. In battling with the
ice the Rescue became disabled, and all
her crew were removed to the Advance.
By force of the northern ice-drift they
were helplessly drifted to 75° 25' north
latitude, and thence drifted again into
Lancaster Sound. The agitation of the
ice elevated the Advance some seven feet
by the stern, and keeled her nearly three
feet starboard. In this position she re
mained, with some slight changes, for five
consecutive months. It was while im
bedded in their huge ice cradle that they
were carried up Wellington Channel to
the degree of latitude already named, and
there they saw land to the north-west to
which the name of Grinnell was given.
While in the midst of their ice island,
which was five miles long and three broad,
the depth of winter was around them, in
all its frozen terrors. The polar night fell
upon them, and for eighty days no ray of
solar light broke upon their vision. The
thermometer ranged forty degrees below
zero, and sometimes sank to forty-six.
They every moment expected the embrac
ing ice would crush the vessel to atoms,
and consequently stood prepared, sleeping
in their clothes, with knapsacks on their
backs, to try their chances on the ice, mid
storm, and terror, and night. They were
then ninety miles from land. The scurvy,
too, broke out, only three men escaping
an attack; but it finally yielded to a bev
erage composed of a sort of apple tea and

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

535

lemon juice. The stores, materials, and
cordage, were stowed away in snow-houses
erected on the ice, where the party formed
a sort of encampment.
But this situation of peril and awe was
not wholly without its attractions. Auro
ras, parhelia — mock suns, and mock moons
— of the most vivid luster, succeeded one
another without intermission, and as day
approached, the twilights, streaking the
northern horizon, were vividly beautiful.
At length, the orb of day showed his
golden face, and was hailed with three
hearty American cheers. Gradually his
influenoe was felt, and the waxen-like color
of the complexion, which the long night
had superinduced, gave place to freckles
and tan. The Rescue was re-occupied on
the 13th of May.
The disruption of the ice was sudden
and appalling. In twenty minutes from
its first moving, the vast field, as far as
the eye could reach, became one mass of
moving floes, and the expedition once more
drifted southward. On the 10th of June,
having passed the perils of Lancaster
Sound and Baffin Bay, they emerged into
open water, *a little south of the Arctic cir
cle, being thus released from an imprison
ment of almost nine months, during which
they helplessly drifted nearly eleven hun
dred miles. While in Lancaster Sound,
the roar of the rolling water and tumbling
ice exceeded all earthly tumult, and was
sometimes so loud and stunning as to ren
der both voice and hearing useless.
Once more in open water, and the ves
sels being in good order, the gallant com
mander determined to renew the search
for Franklin. Bearing northward, the
vessels reached Baffin Island, July llth,
and entered through vast masses of loose
ice. By the eighth of August, the expedi
tion became completely entangled in floes
and bergs, and again encountered perils
of the most alarming kind. The floating
ice broke in the bulwarks, and covered the
decks in broken masses; but against all
this, the vessels showed themselves proof,
and, by the nineteenth of August, were safe
w an open road. Finding, however, the

north and west already closed against them
by the impassable ice, and being warned
by the fast-waning season, that, to persist
longer in the trial would be to run the risk
of spending another winter like the last,
the commander determined to set sail
homeward, and the expedition arrived at
New York, September 30, 1851, without
the loss of a single man.
The equal ill success thus far attending
the English and American efforts to dis
cover Franklin's fate, instead of discourag
ing, tended rather to stimulate fresh exer
tions, and, foremost among the hopeful
spirits in this country, was Dr. E. K. Kane,
one of the most intrepid members of the
American exploring party under DeHaven.
In the month of December, 1852, there
fore, he was commissioned by the United
States government to conduct an expedi
tion to the Arctic seas, in renewed search
of the lost navigator. The combined lib
erality of Mr. Grinnell and Mr. George
Peabody placed the Advance at Doctor
Kane's disposal, and the national authori
ties co-operated in this final effort in the
interests of humanity and science.
On the thirtieth of May, 1853, Doctor
Kane sailed from New York, in his stout
little craft, the Advance, a brig of about
one hundred and fifty tons, and manned
with picked men, among whom were those
intrepid spirits, Hayes, Godfrey, McGary,
Bonsall, Morton, and Goodfellow. His
plan was to enter Smith Sound at the
top of Baffin Bay, and thus to reach, if
possible, the northerly open sea, which
was supposed to exist, and where he hoped
to obtain a clue to the missing navigators.
Great success attended the expedition dur
ing the first summer. The party reached
the headland of Smith Sound as early as
August 6th, 1853, when further progress
became difficult on account of the great
accumulation of ice. The vessel was, how
ever, warped through the pack, and the
expedition finally gained the northern face
of Greenland, at a point never before
reached. Here the ice froze around the
vessel, and compelled them to seek a win
ter asylum, in which they experienced a

536

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

degree of cold much below any previous
registration. Whiskey froze in November,
and for four months in the year the mer
cury was solid daily. Of course, the ne
cessity of protection against such a temper
ature was critical and unceasing. An
observatory was erected, a thermal regis
ter kept hourly, and magnetic observations
recorded. But, with enterprising forecast, Doctor
Kane sent out parties, — in the conduct of
which, Messrs. Brooks, Ohlsen, Petersen,
Hickey, and Sontag, were conspicuously
useful, — to establish provision depots to
the north, to facilitate researches in the
spring. Three of these depots were thus
provided, the most distant being in lati
tude 79° 12 '. These operations, however,

THE ADVANCE ASD RESCUE.
were arrested by darkness, in November,
and the crew prepared to spend one hun
dred and forty days without the light of
the sun ! The thermometer fell to sixty-
seven degrees below zero. Chloroform
froze, and chloric ether became solid. The
twenty-second of December brought with
it the midnight of the year; the fingers
could not be counted a foot from the eyes.
The men kept up their spirits like heroes ;
but most of the dogs died of diseases of the
brain brought on by the depressing influ
ences of the darkness.
In the ensuing spring the search was
commenced, Doctor Kane heading a party
in March, along the north coast of Green
land, which was followed until progress
became arrested by a stupendous mass of
ice rising in lofty grandeur to a height of

five hundred feet abutting into the sea. 
the Great Glacier of Humboldt. Kane's
description of this grand spectacle speaks
of it, in substance, as a solid glassy wall 
its curved face, sixty miles in length from
Cape Agassiz to Cape Forbes, vanishing
into unknown space at not more than a
single day's railroad travel from the Pole.
The interior with which it communicated,
and from which it issued, was an unsur
veyed ice-ocean, to the eye of boundless
dimensions. "It was in full sight," con
tinues Doctor Kane, " the mighty crystal
bridge which connects the two continents
of America and Greenland ; for Green
land, however insulated it may ultimately
prove to be, is strictly continental. Its
least possible axis, measured from Cape
Farewell to the line of this glacier, in the
neighborhood of the eightieth parallel,
gives a length of more than twelve hun
dred miles, or not materially less than that
of Australia from its northern to its south
ern cape. Imagine now the center of such
a continent, occupied through nearly its
whole extent by a deep unbroken sea of
ice, that gathers perennial increase from
the water-shed of vast snow-covered moun
tains and all the precipitations of the at
mosphere upon its own surface. Imagine
this, moving on like a great glacial river,
seeking outlets at every fiord and valley,
rolling icy cataracts into the Atlantic and
Greenland seas, and, having at last reached
the northern limit of land that has borne
it up, pouring out a mighty frozen torrent
into unknown Arctic space." This ingen
ious theory of the Great Glacier is still
further argued by Doctor Kane, in his
usual intelligent and enthusiastic manner.
The glacier in question must be consid
ered, until satisfactory proof can be fur
nished to the contrary, as the only obstacle
to the insularity of Greenland, or, in other
words, the only barrier between Greenland
and the Atlantic. It appears, however to
be an effectual barrier to exploration. But
in spite of the difficulty of falling bergs,
Doctor Kane followed this glacier out to
sea, the party rafting themselves across
open water spaces upon masses of ice ; m

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

537

this way they succeeded in traveling
eighty miles along its base, and traced it
into a new northern land.
But the most memorable achievement
of the expedition was the discovery of the
open, polar sea. This great water-course
embraced an area of three thousand square
miles entirely free from ice. It washed a
bold and mountainous coast, which was
charted as high as latitude 82° 30'. This
discovery was due to the perseverance of a
party in charge of William Morton. From
the high point of observation to which this
intrepid adventurer attained, not a speck
of ice could be seen. "There, from a
height of four hundred and eighty feet,
which commanded a 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 further progress." Mor
ton gave to the cape which arrested his
progress, the name of Kane, in honor of
his commander ; but the latter, with char
acteristic modesty, changed it to Cape
Constitution. The land attached to Green
land by ice was named Washington ; and
that to the north and west of the channel
leading out of Smith Sound, was called
Grinnell. The second winter was one of great suf
fering — scurvy attacked the party, and at
one time every man of the expedition, ex
cept Doctor Kane and Mr. Bonsall, was
laid up by that disease. To aggravate
their misfortunes, there was a deficiency
of fuel, and they were even obliged to
adopt the habits of the Esquimaux, and
eat raw walrus flesh. To encounter a third
winter, would, it was thought, involve the
destruction of the party, and of course in
no manner advance the search for Frank
lin. Ice-ribbed and solitary, in that vast
and cheerless region, Doctor Kane at last
concluded that the only safety of the party
lay in an abandonment of the brig and an
attempt to escape by crossing the southern
Jce on sledges, — a conclusion heartily
adopted by all the members of the party.
This was in May, 1855, and the parting
Scene, as narrated by Doctor Kane, was

one of peculiar solemnity. A brief memo
rial of the facts leading to the abandon
ment of the brig, was prepared and read
by the commander, after which it was fixed
to a stanchion near the gangway, where it
would attract the notice of any who might
come at a future time. They then went
upon deck; the flags were hoisted and
hauled down again; and the party walked
once or twice around the brig, looking at
her timbers and exchanging comments
upon the scars which reminded them of
every stage of her dismantling. When all
hands were read}', they scrambled off over
the ice together, and on reaching the place
of muster, each man was provided with a
woolen underdress and an Esquimaux suit
of fur clothing, with boots made by the
party themselves — that is, one pair made
of canvas faced with walrus hide, and
another inside made of the cabin Brussels
carpet. In addition to this, each carried a
' rue-raddy ' adjusted to fit him comforta
bly, a pair of socks next his skin, and a
pair of large goggles for snow blindness,
made Esquimaux fashion by cutting a
small slit in a piece of wood. Some of
them had gutta percha masks fitting
closely to the face. Excluding four sick
men, who were unable to move, and Doc
tor Kane, who had to drive the dog-team
and serve as common carrier and courier,
they numbered twelve men. The routine
established consisted of daily prayers both
morning and evening, all hands gathering
round in a circle and standing uncovered
during the short exercise ; regulated
hours ; fixed duties and positions at the
track lines and on the halt; the cooking
to be taken by turns, the captains of the
boats alone being excused. Doctor Hayes
had charge of tlie log, and Mr. Sontag of
the running survey. To boatswain Brooks
was assigned the command of the boats
and sledges ; the party under him was mar
shaled at the rue-raddies as a single gang,
but the messes were arranged with refer
ence to the two whale-boats, and on com
ing afterward to the open water the crews
were distributed in the same way.
Thus organized, they set out on their

538

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

long and perilous march. They spent
their first night in an inlet in the ice.
Sometimes they would sail through creeks
of water for many hours ; then would fol
low days of weary tracking through alter
nate ice and water. During a violent

^/c^ '^ <z>^ jfc-^.

storm, they dragged the boats upon a nar
row shelf of ice, and found themselves
within a cave which myriads of eider had
made their breeding ground. They re
mained three days in this crystal retreat,
and gathered three thousand eggs. On
the eleventh of June, they doubled Cape
Dudley Digges, and spent a week at Provi
dence Halt, luxuriating on a dish composed
of birds sweeter and juicier than canvas-
backs, and a salad made of raw eggs and
cochlearia. The keen relish with which
the party ate of these unexpected dainties
may be judged of, when it is considered
that, in arranging for their fare, before
starting, provision-bags were made of sail
cloth rendered impervious by coats of tar —
into these the bread was pressed by beat
ing it to powder with a capstan-bar; and
the tallow and pork fat were melted down
and poured into other bags to freeze.
For eighty-four days, the party contin
ued to travel with their boats and sledges,
enduring great privations and narrowly
escaping with their lives, until, on the
ninth of August, 1855, they reached Uper-
navik, a north Danish settlement in Green
land, having traveled, in the open air, thir

teen hundred miles ! Meanwhile, so great
was the anxiety felt for the safety of the
expedition at home, on account of the long
period of time that elapsed without any
tidings of them coming to hand, that the
United States government dispatched two
vessels under command of Captain
Hartstene, to their relief, in the spring
of 1855; this expedition penetrated
as far as 78° 32', beyond which prog
ress was found impossible. On return
ing, they had the good fortune to find
Doctor Kane and his party on the
Greenland coast, and arrived home
with them in October. The death of
two of his men, Baker and Schubert,
was to Doctor Kane the saddest fact
in the history of the expedition.
Although Doctor Kane's expedition
failed to accomplish its chief purpose,
it was not without important results in
the interests of geographical science, as
related to that mysterious and wonder
ful region — the Arctic. These results, as
enumerated by Doctor Kane, were, in brief,
as follows :
First, the survey and delineation of the
north coast of Greenland, to its termina
tion by a great glacier. Second, the sur
vey of this glacial mass, and its extension
northward into the new land named Wash
ington. Third, the discovery of a large
channel to the north-west, free from ice,
and leading into an open and expanding
area equally free. Fourth, the whole em
braces an iceless area of four thousand two
hundred miles. Fifth, the discovery and
delineation of a large tract of land, form
ing the extension northward of the Amer
ican continent. Sixth, the completed sur
vey of the American coast to the south
and west as far as Cape Sabine, thus con
necting the survey with the last determined
position of Captain Inglefield, and complet
ing the circuit of the straits and bay here
tofore known at their southernmost open
ing as Smith Sound.
To the above gratifying summary of the
laboriously earned results of the expedi
tion, is to be added another honorable item,
namely, that it carried the stars and stripe*

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

539

of the young republic further north than
any other flag had ever been borne. But
this, together with the other chronicles
and reminiscences of the expedition are
related in full by its historian, Doctor
Kane, — a deeply interesting work, far ex
ceeding in thrilling incident the works of
Defoe and Riley, and possessing like the
narratives of Wilkes, Featherstonaugh,
Brackenridge, Marcy, Parker, Hayes, Hall,
etc., a permanent value. This work, com
pleted by Doctor Kane only a short time
preceding his early and lamented demise,
is appropriately dedicated '•' To Heney
Gkinnell, the Author, and Advocate, and
Patron of the United States Expedition in
Search of Sir John Franklin."
One of the most heroic journeys of ex
ploration, undertaken in connection with
Doctor Kane's great expedition, was that
headed by Dr. Isaac J. Hayes, who, with
eight adventurous companions, were absent
from the Advance from August to Decem
ber, 1854. As related by that accom
plished traveler and man of science, in his

them included more than a thousand miles
of ice and water. For the first eight days,
the party were occupied in dragging their
boat — a whale-boat, twenty-four feet long
and five and a half feet beam — from the
brig to the open water, a distance of about
fifteen miles. Having reached the open
water, they set out upon their dangerous
navigation. On the second day, they ran
into the pack, a dangerous position even
for full-sized ships ; their only resource
to drag the boat and its cargo on to the
largest floe they could find, and wait until
it was imbedded in a field of ice which
was likely, for a time at least, to remain
moderately steady. Whilst entangled in
the pack, they approached the place where
Doctor Kane had left an iron life-boat on
his passage out. Three of the party, of
whom Doctor Hayes was one, set off across
the ice to reach the life-boat, and having
found it in a little cove on a small island,
passed a most dreary night there, Doctor
Hayes and one of the men running up and
down all night long to avoid freezing.

VIEW OF THE ARCTIC REGIONS.

wonderful volume, "An Arctic Boat Jour
ney, ' it appears to have been one of the
most extraordinary exhibitions of hardi
hood and endurance ever recorded.
Starting with stores calculated to last
for four or five weeks, the journey before

And now, barely outliving a terrible storm
which overtook them, they reached a point
about sixteen miles south of Cape Parry,
and probably more than two hundred
south of Rensselaer Harbor, where were
Doctor Kane and the brig. Difficulties

540

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

beset them at every step. For example, on
one occasion, whilst the rest of the party
were sleeping, one of them was deputed to
cook in a small tent erected for the purpose.
The cooking apparatus consisted of a lamp
over which a kettle was boiled. The party
had tasted nothing for eighteen hours, and
it took no less than six more to prepare a
stew of fox and sea-gull, for the lamp was
constantly blown out just as the pot was
beginning to boil, and before it could be
relighted — which operation with damp tin
der and a flint and steel once occupied half
an hour — the stew was frozen over.
The prospects of Doctor Hayes's party,
when their hopes of getting further south
were finally abandoned, were excessively
gloomy. They had the winter before them,
and their provisions and fuel were barely
sufficient for two weeks ; whilst the fuel,
though capable of cooking their food and
melting the ice for water, was not suffi
cient to warm the men themselves. Their
first necessity was to provide themselves
with some sort of shelter, and the only one
which they could procure was a kind of
hut, of which two rocks formed two sides,
and the other sides were made of walls of
stones, the crevices being stuffed with
moss and sand, both of which had to be
obtained from under the snow, by shovel
ing with a tin dinner-plate. It was the
work of some weeks. But there was now
only a scanty allowance of food, and the
party grew thin and weak. They suc
ceeded in trapping two or three foxes, and
they were obliged to eke out their small
stock of provisions by eating rock lichen.
The only additional resource which the
party had to look to was that of occasionally
obtaining provisions from the Esquimaux
who casually visited them, and sometimes
sold them lumps of walrus meat, or sea-
fowls, in return for pieces of wood. By
degrees, however, the savages came to un
derstand their true position. They saw that
the white men were starving, and that upon
their death their property would be left be
hind them without the necessity for any
purchase. They, therefore, refused to sell
any dogs, or to undertake, though pressed

to do so, to convey the party in dog-sledges
either to Doctor Kane or to Upernavik.
This state of things at last became un
bearable, and Doctor Hayes, with charac
teristic courage, determined on a desperate
effort to save the lives of himself and his
companions. Having with great difficulty
procured some dogs and contrived a sledge,
they set out, but after a journey of a few
miles, most of them were so exhausted,
that they could progress no farther. On
returning, two of the party, after a short
rest, set out again, and reached the vessel
in safety. The remainder staid behind,
in hopes of their return, but soon after a
large party of Esquimaux with several
sledges and teams of dogs came to visit
them, and again refused either to sell or to
lend the means of conveyance.
The opportunity which this visit offered
could not, however, be neglected. They
were coaxed into good humor by jokes and
presents, and a pot of soup was prepared
for them, into which Doctor Hayes emp
tied a vial of laudanum. Whilst they
were asleep, the party went out, loaded
the sledges, harnessed the dogs, and set
off at full gallop towards the brig !
The dogs, however, being but little better
than wolves, were very wild and extremely
restive, so that one team fairly broke loose,
and carried the sledge back to the hut.
The others, however, passed over a consid
erable part of the journey towards the brig
before the Esquimaux recovered from the
effects of the laudanum and pursued them.
At last, however, they were overtaken!
Thereupon, relying on their guns, and on
the influence which their moral and intel
lectual power confers upon civilized men,
Doctor Hayes and his party declared that
they must and would return to the brig,
and that the Esquimaux must take them.
Ultimately they succeeded; and, after a
frightful journey, during which they trav
eled one hundred and fifty miles in forty
hours in a temperature of forty-eight de
grees below zero, they reached the brig in
safety. The Esquimaux were well re
warded for their services, and went back
in high spirits.

LXIII.
BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND, TLIE
"SWEDISH NIGHTINGALE."— 1850.

This Queen of Song Comes under the Auspices of Mr. Barnum.— Twenty Thousand Persons Welcome
Her Arrival.— Transcendent Beauty and Power of Her Voice. — A Whole Continent Enraptured With
Her Enchanting Melodies.— Pleasant Exhilaration of Feeling Throughout the Land by the Presence
of the Fair Nightingale.— Honors from Webster, Clay, and Other Dignitaries.— Her Praises Fill the
Wide World.— The Vocal Prodigy of the Age.— In Opera, " The Daughter of the Regiment."— Bar-
num's Happy Conception. — Proposes to Her this American Tour. — His Generous Terms Accepted. —
She Reaches New York. — Sunny and Joyous Outburst. — A Real " Jenny Lind " Era — First Concert at
Castle Garden — Tempest of Acclamation. — Encores, Showers of Bouquets. — Public Expectation
Exceeded— Jenny's Complete Triumph. — All the Receipts Given to Charity. — Equal Enthusiasm
Everywhere —Beautiful Incidents.— She is a Guest at the White House.— Henry Clay at Her Con
cert—Webster and the Nightingale.— A Scene " Not Down on the Bills."— Ninety-Five Concerts
Yield $700,000.

" So soft, so clear, yet in so sweet a note,
It seemed the music melted in her spirit."

EALOUSLY watching, with a practiced professional eye, every opportu
nity to cater to the ever-varying tastes of a pleasure-loving public, Mr.
Barnum, the "prince of showmen," conceived the felicitous idea of
inviting the renowned Swedish songstress, Jenny Lind, whose praise
filled the wide world as that of a very divinity, to enter into an engage
ment with him to visit the United States, on a prolonged musical tour,
under his managing auspices ; and this enterprising design, the accom
plished showman in due time brought successfully about, — its consum
mation forming one of the most brilliant, joyous and exhilarating
episodes, viewed from whatever aspect, in the experience of the American nation, — an
outburst of sunny excitement and delight, all over the land, at the presence of that tran
scendent musical genius, that wonderful vocal prodigy, of modern times.
But before proceeding to the details of this splendid and triumphant tour, some
account of the distinguished songstress, in respect to her fascinating personal history
and previous public career, will be in place, — derived and condensed from authentic
sources, — presenting, as it does, such peculiar points of interest.
Ihe " Swedish nightingale " — the " divine Jenny," — as she came to be called, as her
powers of song were developed, was born at Stockholm, in 1821, and her taste for music
was indicated while yet in her third year. At nine or ten, her parents, who were in
reduced circumstances, suffered her to go upon the stage, where her success in juvenile
characters was astonishing. But when she had reached her twelfth year, after receiving

542

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

instruction from some of the first music
masters, she lost her voice. Loving music
for its own sake, the " nightingale " was
bitterly afflicted at this calamity, the more
especially as her voice had become a source
of comfortable existence. At sixteen,
however, it returned, to her infinite joy,
under the following peculiar circumstances.
At a concert, in which the fourth act of
Meyerbeer's Robert le Diable had been
announced, it was suddenly discovered that
a singer to take the part of Alice was
wanting. A short solo being all that
Alice has to sing in this act, none of the
professionals were found desirous of under
taking the character. So trifling a part,
her teacher thought, would not be marred,
even by Jenny Lind, and accordingly she
was intrusted with the execution of the
insignificant solo. As, from the most arid
spot in the desert, water, sparkling and
fresh, will sometimes gush forth, so broke
out, on this occasion, the rich fountain of
song which had so long been latent in the
humble and hitherto silent nightingale.
Her voice returned with all its pristine
sweetness, and with more than its early
power, and the most overwhelming ap
plause followed the unexpected discovery
of this mine of melody.
All doubt as to her lyrical excellence
was now gone, and towards the winter of
1838, she made her first appearance on the
stage as a singer, in the character of
Agatha, in Der Frieschutz. Her exquisite
singing, and her acting, abounding in
point and originality, created a deep sen
sation; and she won new laurels by her
representation of Alice, in the spring of
1839, and fully established her fame by
her subsequent performance of Lucia, in
Lucia di Lammermoor. She afterwards
visited Paris, to receive lessons from
Garcia, the father and instructor of the
ill-fated Madame Malibran, — a vocalist
who, like Jenny Lind, carried with her the
hearts of her auditory. The reception
which that eminent composer gave her
was, at first, rather discouraging. After
hearing her sing, he said —
"My dear young lady, you h«ve no

voice ; you have had a voice, and will lose
it ; you have been singing too early or too
much, and your voice is worn to ruin. I
cannot instruct you — I cannot give you
any hope at present. Sing not a note for
three months, and then see me again."
This counsel she followed, and when
she re-appeared before Garcia, he thought
there was some hope of her, and gave her
the instructions which she coveted ; but it
is remarkable that Garcia should never
have had sufficient penetration to discover
her innate genius. Soon after this, she
made the acquaintance of Meyerbeer,
whose discrimination was more searching.
A rehearsal was given, with a full orches
tra, at the grand opera, where the per
formance of Jenny Lind so gratified the
composer, that he at once offered her an
engagement at Berlin.
At the close of 1842, she returned to
Stockholm, where her popularity contin
ued to increase. Her fame, however,
extending beyond the limits of Sweden,
she was induced to make a professional
visit to Germany, where public opinion
confirmed that high estimate of her abili
ties which had been sanctioned at home.
But it was in England, that her success
first touched the marvelous and sublime ;
and there it was, that the tribute appro
priated by Shakespeare to one of his beau
tiful creations — " She sings like one immor
tal " — became fact, applied to the Swedish
nightingale. Her Majesty's theater was
the first arena of her triumphs in England,
Queen Victoria, by her presence on the
opening night, offering her a flattering
and graceful tribute. On the evening of
May fifth, she made her first essay before
an English audience, in the character of
Alice. The uproar excited by her appear
ance on this occasion was tremendous.
The whole crowded mass displayed an
astounding power of lungs, and hats and
handkerchiefs waved from all parts. Peo
ple came prepared to admire, but they
admired beyond the extent of their prep
aration. The delicious quality of the per
formance—the rich, gushing notes, were
something entirely new and fresh. The

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

543

auditors did not know what to make of it.
They had heard singers over and over
again; but there — that wondrous thing!
— a new sensation was actually created.
The sustained notes swelling with full
richness, and fading down to the softest
piano, without losing one iota of their
quality, being delicious when loud, deli
cious when whispered, which dwelt in the
public ear and reposed in the public heart,
— these were the wonder-exciting phenom
ena. The impression made as an actress
was no less profound ; and even in Vienna,
the most exacting critics applauded her
performance of The Daughter of the Reg
iment, in Donnizetti's renowned opera,
as they also did in other cities.

On returning to Stockholm, in 1848,
she entered into an engagement with the
royal opera, to give a series of concerts.
On the evening of her first performance,
the newspapers of the city published a
note signed by the renowned cantatrice, in
which she stated that, in order to give her
native country a souvenir that might last
heyond her existence as an artist, she had
determined on devoting the whole profits
of her performance to the establishment of
a school for poor young persons of both
sexes, born with happy dispositions, in
which they should be gratuitously taught

music and the dramatic art. This genor-
osity excited to the wildest pitch, the
public enthusiasm, and on the time arriv
ing for the sale of tickets for the next day,
the place was densely crowded. This
state of things continued to increase, until
about eleven o'clock, when the multitude
was such that the police interfered, and
made the people form en queue. This was
accomplished quietly enough ; but a little
after midnight a compact mass of people
suddenly made an irruption from the
neighboring streets, rushed on the said
queue, broke it, and besieged the theater.
The first crowd now returned, attacked
their aggressors, and in a few minutes a
desperate fist and foot combat ensued.
The police proved una
vailing, and several de
tachments of infantry
arrived ; these also were
formidably opposed, and
only with great trouble
did they succeed in keep
ing order. Tickets were
paid for as high as one
hundred dollars. And'
thus it was, indeed, in all
the cities where the great
melodist held forth in
her discourse of song, —
the favor shown her in
creasing and accumulat
ing with her progress
from place to place.
"") And, certainly, all this
success and fame was as
much a matter of surprise to herself as to
anybody else ; for, even in 1845, remarking
on her intended performance in Copenha
gen, at which city she had just arrived, she
said, with characteristic modesty —
" I have never made my appearance out
of Sweden. Everybody in my own land is
so affectionate and loving to me. If I
made my appearance here, and should be
hissed ! I dare not venture on it."
But the persuasions of Boumonville, the
ballet-master, eventually prevailed, and
gained for the Copenhageners the greatest
enjoyment they ever had. At one concert

544

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

she sang her Swedish songs. They were
so peculiar and so bewitching, that, uttered
by such a purely feminine being, their
sway was absolutely enrapturing. Her
singing was a new revelation in the realm
of art. The fresh young voice found its
way into every heart. In her truth and
nature reigned; everything was full of
meaning and intelligence. She was the
first artist to whom the Danish students
gave a serenade. Torches blazed around
the villa, when the serenade was given,
and she appeared and expressed her thanks
by singing one of her native songs ; after
which, she was observed to hasten back
into the darkest corner of the room and
weep for emotion.
In the history of the opera, her advent
marked a new and striking epoch. She
showed the art in all its sanctity. Miss
Bremer, writing to Hans Andersen, said :
"We are both of us agreed as to Jenny
Lind as a singer. She stands as high as
any artist of our time well can stand. But
as yet you do not know her in her real
greatness. Speak to her of her art, and
you will wonder at the expansion of her
mind. Her countenance is lighted with
inspiration. Converse with her upon God,
and of the holiness of religion, tears will
spring from those innocent eyes. She is
a great artist, but she is still greater in
the pure humanity of her existence."
Indeed, according to Andersen himself,
who was familiar with the in-door life of
the winsome Swede, nothing could lessen
the impression made by Jenny Lind's
greatness on the stage, save her personal
character in her own home. Her intelli
gent and child-like disposition exercised
there a singular power ; and there she was
happy, belonging no longer to the world.
Yet she loved art with her whole soul.
She felt her vocation. Her noble and
pious disposition could not be spoiled by
homage. On one occasion only, says
Andersen, did she express, in his hearing,
her joy and self -consciousness in her talent,
and this occurred as follows : She heard of
a society, the object of which was to
encourage the rescue of unfortunate chil

dren from the hands of their parents, by
whom they were compelled to beg or steal
and place them in better circumstances.
Benevolent people subscribed annually for
their support, yet the means for this
excellent purpose were but small. "I
have an evening disengaged," said Jenny
Lind ; " I will give a performance for these
poor children, but we must have double
prices." Such a performance was given,
and returned large proceeds. When she
heard the amount, her countenance lit up,
and tears filled her eyes. "It is, however,
beautiful," said she, " that I can sing so."
Having performed in almost all the
principal cities and towns in Europe, to
vast crowds who were almost frantic in
their demonstrations of delight, as well as
in the presence of almost every crowned
head on the continent, winning their
admiring homage, and gaining a fame wide
as the world and as bright and pure as the
stars, Jenny Lind's inclination appeared to
be to retire, at least for a while, on tlie
conclusion of her engagement in England,
to the tranquillity of home life.
It was at this point in her wonderful
career, that Mr. Barnum, through his spe
cially commissioned agent, proposed the
most liberal and honorable terms to Jenny
Lind, to give a series of concerts in the
United States. The proposals made by
Mr. Barnum were so generous, and char
acterized by such delicate and gentlemanly
consideration, in every respect, that, not
withstanding several parties, were likewise
attempting, at the same time, to negotiate
with her for an American tour, she unhes
itatingly decided to treat with Mr. Bar
num, who was, on his own bidding, to
assume all the responsibility, and take the
entire management and chances of the
result upon himself. The manner in
which that sagacious and accomplished
gentleman carried on an enterprise of such
vast magnitude,— nearly one hundred con
certs, in all parts of the land, from Boston
to Louisiana, and involving more than
seven hundred thousand dollars in total
receipts, — was a monument alike to his
genius and to his superlative executive

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

545

abilities ; — a statement, the truth of which
will be found abundantly confirmed in the
history of this enterprise, as written by
Mr. Barnum himself, and from which
some of the facts and incidents given below
are collated.
On Wednesday morning, August twenty-
first, 1850, Jenny Lind and her two pro
fessional companions, Messrs. Benedict
and Belletti, sailed from Liverpool in the
steamer Atlantic. It was expected that
the steamer would arrive on Sunday, Sep
tember first, but, determined to meet the
songstress on her arrival, whenever it
might be, Mr. Barnum went to Staten
Island on Saturday night, to be in readi
ness to greet the fair stranger. A few
minutes before twelve o'clock on Sunday
morning, the Atlantic hove in sight, and,
immediately afterwards, Mr. Barnum was
on board the ship, and had taken Jenny
Lind by the hand. After a few moments'
conversation, she asked him —
" When and where have you heard me
sing?" "I never had the pleasure of seeing you
before in my life," replied Mr. Barnum.
" How is it possible that you dared risk
so much money on a person whom you
never heard sing ? " she asked in surprise.
UI risked it," answered Mr. Barnum,
''on your reputation, which in musical
matters I would much rather trust than
my own judgment."
Thousands of persons covered the ship
ping and piers, and other thousands con
gregated on the wharf, to see her, the
wildest enthusiasm prevailing as the noble
steamer approached the dock. So great
was the rush on a sloop near the steamer's
berth, that one man, in his zeal to obtain
a good view, accidentally tumbled over
board amid the shouts of those near him.
Jenny witnessed this incident, and was
much alarmed. He was, however, soon
rescued. A superb bower of green trees,
decorated with beautiful flags, was ar
ranged upon the wharf, together with two
triumphal arches ; upon one of the latter,
was inscribed, " Welcome, Jenny Lind ! "
and the other, surmounted by the Ameri-
35

can eagle, bore the inscription, " Welcome
to America ! " Jenny Lind was escorted
to Mr. Barnum's private carriage at once,
by Captain West. The rest of the musi
cal party entered the carriage, and, mount
ing the box at the driver's side, Mr.
Barnum directed him to the Irving House.
As a few of the citizens had probably seen
Mr. Barnum before, his presence on the
outside of the carriage aided those who
filled the windows and sidewalks along the
whole route in coming to the conclusion
that Jenny Lind had arrived ; and a ref
erence to the journals of that day will
show, that seldom before had there been
such enthusiasm in the city of New York,
or indeed in America.

^7/^

Within ten minutes after their arrival
at the Irving House, not less than ten
thousand persons had congregated around
the entrance in Broadway. At twelve
o'clock that night, she was serenaded by
the New York Musical Fund Society,
numbering on that occasion two hundred
musicians. They were escorted to the
Irving House by about three hundred
firemen in their red shirts, bearing torches.
At least twenty thousand persons were
present. The calls for Jenny Lind were
so vehement, that Mr. Barnum led her
through a window to the balcony; and
now, the loud cheers from the throng lasted
several minutes, before the serenade was
permitted again to proceed.
For weeks afterwards, the excitement
was unabated. Her rooms were thronged

546

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

by visitors, including the magnates of the
land, both in church and state, and the
carriages of the beau monde were to be
seen in front of her hotel, at all fashiona
ble hours. Presents of all sorts were
showered upon her. Milliners, mantua-
makers, and shopkeepers, vied with each
other in calling her attention to their
wares, of which they sent her many valua
ble specimens, delighted if in return they
could receive her autograph in acknowl
edgment. Songs, quadrilles, and polkas,
were dedicated to her, and poets wrote in
her praise. There were Jenny Lind
gloves, Jenny Lind bonnets, Jenny Lind
riding hats, Jenny Lind shawls, mantillas,
robes, chairs, sofas, pianos — in fact, every
thing was " Jenny Lind." Her move
ments were constantly watched, and the
moment her carriage appeared at the door,
it was surrounded by multitudes, eager to
catch a glimpse of the fair " nightingale."
Jenny Lind's first concert was fixed to
come off at Castle Garden, Wednesday
evening, September eleventh, and most of
the tickets were sold at auction on the
previous Saturday and Monday. Genin,
the hatter, purchased the first ticket at
two hundred and twenty-five dollars. The
arrangements of the concert room were
very complete. The great parterre and
gallery of Castle Garden were divided by
imaginary lines into four compartments,
each of which was designated by a lamp of
a peculiar color. The tickets were printed
in colors corresponding with the location
which the holders were to occupy, and
there were one hundred ushers, with
rosettes, and bearing wands tipped with
ribbons of the same hue ; and, though five
thousand persons were present, their en
trance was marked by the most perfect
wder and quiet.
The reception of Jenny Lind on this
tar first appearance, in point of enthusi
asm, was probably never before equaled in
the world. As Mr. Benedict led her
towards the foot-lights, the entire audience
rose to their feet and welcomed her with
three cheers, accompanied by the waving
of thousands of hats and handkerchiefs,

and the casting of bouquets before her.
This was by far the largest audience that
Jenny had ever sung in the presence
of. She was evidently much agitated, but
the orchestra commenced, and before she
had sung a dozen notes of "Casta Diva,"
she began to recover her self-possession,
and long before the scene was concluded,
she was calm as if sitting in her own
drawing-room. Towards the last portion
of the cavatina, the audience were so com
pletely carried away by their feelings,
that the remainder of the air was drowned
in a perfect tempest of acclamation. En
thusiasm had been wrought to its highest
pitch, but the musical powers of Jenny
Lind exceeded all the brilliant anticipa
tions which had been formed, and her tri
umph was complete. At the conclusion
of the concert, Jenny Lind was loudly
called for, and was obliged to appear three
times before the audience could be satis
fied. They then called vociferously for
" Barnum," who reluctantly responded to
their demands ; and, on his concluding by
saying that the whole proceeds of the con
cert were to go to charitable objects, it
seemed as though the audience would go
frantic with applause.
From New York, Jenny Lind went to
Boston, Providence, Philadelphia, Balti
more, Washington, — to all the chief cities
in the Union, east, west, north, and south;
vast audiences everywhere awaiting her,
— municipal, musical, and other deputa
tions, tendering their honors,— and, during
every performance, there was a constant
succession of hurrahs, encores, and other
demonstrations of intense delight. In
Boston, the highest price paid for a ticket
was six hundred and twenty-five dollars,
by Ossian E. Dodge ; in Providence, six
hundred and fifty dollars, by Col. William
C. Ross ; in Philadelphia, six hundred and
twenty-five dollars, by M. A. Root; in
New Orleans, two hundred and forty dol
lars, by Mr. D'Arcy ; in St. Louis, one
hundred and fifty dollars, by the keeper
of a refreshment saloon; in Baltimore,
one hundred dollars, by a daguerreotypist.
It was in one of the beautiful environs

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

547

I of Boston, that Jenny
I took her first out-door
walk in America. Her love for the
charms of nature was always intense, as
the following incident which occurred on
another occasion, as related by a stage-
driver, will show. A bird of brilliant
plumage perched itself on a tree near, as
they drove slowly along, and trilled out
such a complication of sweet notes as per
fectly astonished her. The coach stopped,
and, reaching out, Jenny gave one of her
finest roulades. The beautiful creature
arched his head on one side, and listened
deferentially; then, as if determined to
excel his famous rival, raised his graceful
throat and sang a song of rippling melody
that made Jenny rapturously clap her
hands in ecstasy, and quickly, as though
she were before a severely critical audience,
delivered some Tyrolean mountain strains,
that set the echoes flying; whereupon
little birdie took it up, and sang and
trilled and sang, till Jenny, in happy
flight, acknowledged that the pretty
woodland warbler decidedly outcaroled the
"Swedish nightingale."
Jenny Lind's generosity was unbounded.

To say nothing of her
numerous heavy bene
factions to societies and individuals, —
amounting to some fifty thousand dol
lars, during her brief stay in America, —
here is an illustration of her sweet tender
ness. One night, while giving concerts in
Boston, a girl approached the ticket-office,
and laying down three dollars for a ticket,
remarked, "There goes half a month's
earnings, but I am determined to hear
Jenny Lind sing." Her secretary heard
the remark, and in a few minutes after
wards, coming into Jenny's room, he
laughingly related to her the circumstance.
" Would you know the girl again ? " asked
Jenny, with an earnest look. Upon re
ceiving an affirmative reply, she placed a
twenty-dollar gold coin in his hand, and
said, " Poor girl ! give her that, with my
best compliments."
While in the same city, a poor Swedish
girl, a domestic in a family at Roxbury,
called on Jenny. Jenny detained her vis
itor several hours, talking about "home"
and other matters, and in the evening
took her in her carriage to the concert,
gave her a seat, and sent her back to Rox-

548

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

bury in a carriage at the close of the per
formance. Doubtless the poor girl carried
with her substantial evidences of her
countrywoman's bounty.
On the morning after her arrival at
Washington, President Fillmore called,
and left his card, Jenny being out. She
returned his call the next day, and
subsequently, by presidential request,
passed an evening at the White House,
in the private circle of the president's
family. Both concerts in Washington were
attended by the president and his family,
and every member of the cabinet. It hap
pened that, on the day of one of these
concerts, several members of the cabinet
and senate were dining with Mr. Bodisco,
the Russian minister, whose good dinner
and choice wines had kept the party so
late that the concert had progressed quite
far when Webster, Crittenden, and others,
came in. Whether from the hurry in
which they came, or from the heat of the
room, their faces were a little flushed, and
they all looked somewhat flurried. After
the applause with which these dignitaries
were received had subsided, and silence
was once more restored, the second part of
the concert was opened by Jenny Lind,
with " Hail Columbia." At the close of
the first verse, Webster's patriotism boiled
over. He could stand it no longer, and
rising like Olympian Jove, he added his
deep, sonorous, bass voice to the chorus.
Mrs. Webster, who sat immediately be
hind him, kept tugging at his coat-tail to
make him sit down or stop singing ; but it
was of no earthly use. At the close of
each verse, Webster joined in ; and it was
hard to say whether Jenny Lind, Webster,
or the audience was the most delighted.
At the close of the air, Mr. Webster arose,
hat in hand, and made her such a bow as
Chesterfield would have deemed a fortune
for his son, and which eclipsed D'Orsay's
best. Jenny Lind, sweetly blushing at
the distinguished honor, courtesied to the
floor; the audience applauded to the very
echo. Webster, determined not to be out
done in politeness, bowed again ; Jenny

Lind re-curtesied, the house re-applauded •
and this was repeated several times.
And so, in the case of Mr. Clay.
Scarcely had the overture been half played
through, than a murmur was heard from
the end of the building. It was hushed
instantly, and the overture was played to
its close. And now burst out a long and
loud shout of applause. For a moment,
Benedict, the conductor, looked around,
somewhat astonished. He, however, saw
immediately that this applause had not
been called forth by the orchestra. The
tall, slim, thin figure of an aged man —
with a grayish blue eye, vivid and spark
ling, and a capacious, broad mouth — was
slowly advancing up the room. It was
Henry Clay. As he moyed on, the shouts
and applause redoubled. He, bowing on
every side, continued his path feebly, and
somewhat cautiously. At length he
reached his seat, and the applause ceased
for a moment. Then a voice at the upper
end of the hall cried out, " Three cheers
for Harry Clay ! " The building almost
rocked with the vehemence of the re
sponse. While in Washington, Jenny Lind was
called on by hosts of the eminent men of
the land, including Mr. Webster, Mr.
Clay, General Cass, and Colonel Benton.
And, indeed, wherever she went, from one
end of the country to the other, the same
scene presented itself, of distinguished
honors to this Divinity of Song,— admiring
and enthusiastic communities turning out
to welcome, — and crowded audiences rap
turous under the overpowering enchant
ment of her voice. Jenny Lind's net
avails of the ninety-five concerts given by
her under Mr. Barnum's auspices, in the
short space of eight months, were little
short of $177,000, or nearly double the
amount, per concert, named in their origi
nal contract. Subsequently, she gave a
few concerts on her own account. In
February, 1852, she was married, in
Boston, to Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, a young
German composer and pianist, who had
studied music with her in that country,
and who played several times in her Amer-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

549

ican concerts. Shortly after her marriage,
they left for Europe. Her professional
tour in America was far more brilliant and
successful than that of any other performer,
male or female, musical, theatrical, or
operatic, who ever appeared before an
American audience. The names of Kem-
ble, Malibran, Celeste, Ellsler, Tree, Kean,
Garcia, Ole Bull, Paganini, Rossini, Julien,
Eistori, Rachel, Parepa, Alboni, Dean,
Phillips, Kellogg, Sontag, Wood, Gotts-
chalk, etc., etc., all pale before that of the
fair Swede.
Describing Jenny Lind's voice scientific
ally, it should be spoken of as a soprano,
embracing a register of two and a half
octaves. Clear and powerful, susceptible
of the greatest variety of intonation, it
met all the demands of the composer with
the greatest facility to its possessor. No
difficulties appalled her ; a perfect musi

cian, she suffered herself to revel in all the
roulades of which the time and occasion
admitted. Her upper notes filled tlie
vastest area with an effect to which noth
ing but the striking of a fine-toned bell
could be compared, while her most gentle
and subdued passages were audible at the
greatest distances. In a word, there was
a rare combination of qualities which
raised her above all other singers ever
heard. Her voice — sweet, powerful, mel
low, resonant, faultless in tone, and full of
sympathetic emotion ; her execution —
ready and facile ; her manner — earnest not
only in the expression of every word, but in
her looks, her air, her abstraction from ev
ery surrounding object ; — to have seen and
heard this, even once, was, in the language
of one who had been thus favored, " a treat
to last until we go to heaven, ivhere, and
where alone, such music can be heard."

LXIY.
REIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE IN CALI
FORNIA.— 1851.

Revolution in the Administration of Justice. — Powerlessness and Indifference of the Regular Authori.
ties. — Robbery, Arson, and Murder, Alarmingly Prevalent. — The Committee's Secret Chamber of
Judgment. — Sudden Seizure and Trial of Noted Criminals. — Solemn Tolling of the Signal Bell.—
Swift and Terrible Executions. — Renovation of Society. — Swarming of Desperate Felons. — England's
Penal Colonies Emptied. — Organized Society of " Hounds." — A Band of Cut-throats — Society at
Their Mercy. — Harvests Reaped by Them — Corrupt Courts and Officers. — The Vigilance Commit
tee Formed. — Prompt, Resolute, Powerful. — The Criminals Taken Unawares. — Instant Summons to
Death. — A Gallows at Midnight. — Extraordinary Horrors. — Confessions by the Victims. — Astound
ing Revelations — Magistrates Implicated. — Warnings by the Committee. — A Double Execution. —
Thousands of Spectators. — Wild Shouts of Approval. — The Lawless Classes Terrified. — The Results
of the Movement.

M We are determined that no thief, burglar, incendiary, assassin , ballot-box atufler, or other disturber of the peace, ahall escape punish
ment, either by the quibbles of the law, the insecurity of prisons, the carelessness or corruption of the police, or a laxity of those who pretend
to administer justice."— Address of the Vigilance Committee.

; IGILANCE committees, and "lynch law," are terms of similar and famil
iar meaning, in the American vocabulary. But nowhere else
within the borders of the great republic has the operation of this
summary method of dealing with offenders who would otherwise
go "unwhipped of justice," been so resolute, so frequent, and so
effective, as in California. Nor, perhaps, has it ever been more
excusable, as an extreme public necessity. Such was the
unsettled condition of society in that remote territory,
during the earlier years of its mining history, so multi
plied and daring the crimes against life and property,
and so inefficient as well as glaringly corrupt, the courts
and judges, that, for a time, robbery, murder, arson, and
violence were completely in the ascendant, so that every
man not actually in league with the perpetrators
of these outrages, was put on the defensive, — car
rying his weapons by day, and sleeping on them
at night. Bold and defiant in their successful
career of crime, numbers of these outlaws
formed themselves into a mutual organiza
tion, with regular head-quarters, and assumed
the name of " hounds." They swarmed the
city and the country, and, in their skilled arts
of villainy, as thieves, pickpockets, gamblers,
incendiaries, and assassins, numbered their
double execution ih san FRANcisno. victims by hundreds. In addition to this,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

551

large numbers of felons found their way
to California, from the convict islands of
Van Dieman's Land and New South
Wales, and there, under the existing lax
ity of law and audacity of crime, reaped a
rich harvest.
Such, then, was the condition of affairs
throughout the state, when, goaded and
outraged beyond endurance, the well-dis
posed citizens determined to become a law
unto themselves, and to administer that
law in the interests of justice and self-pro
tection, with promptness and decision. Ex
amples were not long wanting for the exe
cution of their purpose ; and, in pursuance
of the same end, the citizens of San Fran
cisco soon found their wrongs being re
dressed by a powerful voluntary organiza
tion of the most influential men in the city,
styled the Vigilance Committee, who, in
the constitution of their association, de
clared that they thus united themselves
together, " to preserve the lives and prop
erty of the citizens of San Erancisco, —
binding themselves, each unto the other,
to do and perform every lawful act for the
maintenance of law and order, and to sus
tain the laws when faithfully and properly
administered, — but determined that no
thief, burglar, incendiary, or assassin, es
cape punishment, either by the quibbles of
the law, the insecurity of prisons, the care
lessness or corruption of the police, or a
laxity on the part of those pretending to
administer justice."
The first, and one of the most exciting
of the cases growing out of this extraor
dinary organization, occurred in San Eran
cisco, in June, 1851, when a Sidney con
vict was caught in the act of carrying
away a small safe which he had stolen.
The man, a desperate character, was seized
by some members of the vigilance commit
tee, who conducted him forthwith to their
head-quarters, where he was tried in the
presence of about eighty members of the
association sitting with closed doors, by
them convicted, and sentenced to be hung
m Portsmouth Square, that night. Dur
ing tbe progress of the trial, the citizens
bad assembled in large numbers about the

building and in Portsmouth Square, the
bell on the engine-house at the latter local
ity having rung tlie pre-arranged signal,
to give notice of the proceedings going on.
Though very much excited, the populace
were not disorderly. Some disapprobation
was manifested at the secrecy of the com
mittee's doings ; but when the result was
known, there was a very general acquies
cence, although there were many who
deemed the punishment too severe for the
offense, and others thought he should be
executed in broad daylight. As soon as
the sentence was passed, the bell on the
California Engine House, near by, com
menced to toll the funeral knell of the
wretched man. This was at one o'clock,
midnight. Captain Ray, of the police
force, applied at the door of the commit
tee's room, and demanded the prisoner,
but was refused several times, and al
though others of the police force were on
the ground, they saw it was of no use to
attempt a rescue.
Some person climbed the liberty pole to
rig a block for the execution, but a loud
shout of "Don't hang him on the liberty
pole" arose from all quarters. Voices
screamed out, "To the old adobe," and a
rush was made for that edifice, upon the
corner of the square, formerly occupied as
the custom-house. At the end of the build
ing, a block was rigged, and a long rope
run through it. In the meantime, a num
ber of the police who were on the ground,
made several attempts to obtain possession
of the prisoner, whose arms were tightly
pinioned and who was closely surrounded
by an armed and resolute body of the com
mittee, but they were sternly prevented ;
had they persisted, they would have been
riddled with balls. Several citizens de
nounced the execution, and sought to aid
the police.
The prisoner by this time was nearly
dead with fear and rough handling, when
a rush was made toward him, a noose
thrown over his head, the rope manned by
twenty ready hands, who ran backwards,
dragging the wretched man along the
ground, until, raising him swiftly to the

552

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

beam, the heavy form of the convicted
felon dangled from the block. A few fear
ful struggles, a quiver of the hempen cord,
a few nervous twitches, and the crowd
gazed upon the lifeless corpse of him upon
whom such speedy and terrible vengeance
had been executed by an outraged people.
At six o'clock, the city marshal cut down
the body and consigned it to the dead-
house. Thus ended the first execution which
ever took place in San Francisco, where
more crime had been committed during
the year past than in any other city of the
same population in the Union, without
one single instance of adequate punish
ment. Of the guilt of Jenkins there was
no doubt. He had long been known to
the police as a desperate character from
the English penal colonies, where he had
passed many years as a transported con-

SEAL OF THE CALIFORNIA VIGILANCE COMMITTEE.
vict. A profound impression was produced
throughout California, as also in every
other-section of the country, by these ex
traordinary but imperative proceedings.
Only a month elapsed from this time,
when another and similar scene of horror
was enacted. This was the case of James
Stuart, one of a regular gang of thieves
and murderers, and who, from his own
confession, had committed almost every
known crime and outrage. He was delib
erately tried on various charges by the
vigilance committee, found guilty, and
sentenced to be hung, all of which he ac
knowledged to be just. At nine o'clock in
the morning, July eleventh, the bell of the

Monumental Engine Company's house on
the plaza, attracted everybody's attention
— known, as it was, to be a signal of the
vigilance committee, — and people soon be
gan to throng down in the direction of the
committee's quarters. The bell tolled for
about half an hour, guns were fired from
a brig in the harbor, and many of the ves
sels in the harbor had their flags displayed.
About half-past one o'clock, some one came
out of the "chamber of judgment," and
read a portion of Stuart's confession, and it
was stated that he would be hung in an
hour, — a proposition which the crowd sanc
tioned almost unanimously. The news
spread, and the crowd increased im
mensely. The committee now came down
stairs, and formed three abreast; there
were hundreds of them, principally com
posed of the oldest, best known, and most
prominent citizens. Previous to this, a
clergyman had been sent for, who remained
with Stuart two hours.
A gallows of plain uprights and a cross
beam had been erected, a block with a rope
in it, and the noose ready made. On the
way down, Stuart appeared perfectly cool
and collected. On reaching the gallows,
the rope was placed around his neck, and,
with the exception of a slight paleness,
there was no change in his appearance, no
trembling, no agitation. He appeared to
feel as though he was satisfied with his
sentence and did not desire to live longer.
The immense crowd remained breathless,
and Stuart, when under the gallows, said,
" i" die reconciled ; my sentence is just."
The rope was pulled, and in a moment he
was swinging in the air. As he went up,
he closed his eyes and clasped his hands
together. He had previously requested
that his face might not be covered. He
scarcely gave a struggle ; and although the
knot was on the back of his neck, appeared
to suffer but little pain. A slight contrac
tion of the lower limbs, and a strained
heaving of the chest for a moment, were
all the symptoms of approaching death.
After hanging about five minutes, his hat
blew off, and exposed to view the ghastly
features of the murderer and robber.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

553

When he had hung about twenty minutes,
he was cut down by the coroner. There
was no attempt at a rescue, and everything
was conducted with perfect order, but the
greatest determination. Stuart's confes
sion was one unvarying record of daring
crimes, showing, in a startling manner,
the dangers of California life and prop
erty. A large number of persons, some of
them holding office, and of reputable stand
ing, were implicated in Stuart's confession,
— it appearing that the association of
thieves, burglars, and assassins, to which
Stuart belonged, extended throughout the
entire state — that judges and public prose
cutors were in some places in league with
the association — that subornation of per
jury was one of the commonest expedients
to achieve the impunity of the criminal,
and to baffle the working of the law —
that the burning cf San Francisco was
several times resolved upon in revenge — ¦
and that life was not regarded at a straw's
value when money was to be obtained by
murder. Determined to be thorough in their work
of purification, the committee served no
tices upon every vicious or suspected per
son, whose name could be obtained, with a
warning to depart forthwith. This, with
the swift and terrible executions already
witnessed, caused multitudes to flee for
their lives. Crime rapidly diminished,
and now, for the first time, almost, for
years, citizens felt secure in their persons
and possessions.
But the vigilance of the committee did
not for a moment relax, and, in a few
weeks after the disposal of Stuart, they
had in their hands two notorious robbers
and incendiaries, named Whittaker and
McKenzie. They were tried, found guilty,
and condemned to the gallows. They'
themselves confessed their guilt, and a day
was fixed for their execution. In the
meantime, Governor McDougall issued a
w«t of habeas corpus, which was handed
to Sheriff Hayes, commanding him to take
the bodies of Whittaker and McKenzie,
and bring them into court, to be dealt with
according to law.

Colonel Hayes and some of his deputies
immediately repaired to the rooms of the
committee, having declined a posse of police
offered to accompany them. The police,
however, followed, with some stragglers
who wished to see the result. The sheriff
and Mr. Caperton walked up stairs and
entered the room, unresisted. Mr. Caper-
ton advanced to the room in which the
prisoners were confined, announced him
self to be the deputy sheriff, and called on
the two men, Whittaker and McKenzie,
to accompany him, Colonel Hayes mean
time guarding the door. When the party
was about to leave, one of the committee
laid his hand upon the sheriff's shoulder
and attempted to push him from the door,
but Colonel Hayes told him he was there
to do his duty and was obliged to do it;
to prevent bloodshed, they were allowed to
proceed. Two of the members of the com
mittee, suspecting treachery, had at the
same time . let themselves down from the
windows, and at once gave the alarm by
ringing the bell.
This was a little before the break of day,
and immediately the members came pour
ing in from all directions. Amid intense
excitement, the meeting organized, and
the circumstances were detailed. The
person who had charge of the room was
bitterly denounced. Various propositions
were made, but no action taken. The se
quel was yet to come.
It was about half-past two o'clock on
Sunday afternoon, August 24th, that the
bell of the Monumental Engine Company
commenced tolling in a very rapid manner,
and the news soon spread like wildfire, that
the prisoners, Whittaker and McKenzie,
had been taken out of the county jail by
some members of the vigilance committee !
The manner of the rescue was as follows :
About quarter-past two o'clock, the prison
ers were taken out of their cells to attend
the usual Sunday services conducted by
Rev. Mr. Williams. Soon after they were
called out, the attention of Captain Lam
bert, keeper of the jail, was called to the
gate, by the sentry who was on the roof,
and instantly the doors were burst opnn, u

554

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

rush made, and Captain Lambert thrown
upon the ground and held. The prisoners
were at the same moment seized and car
ried out. A carriage was outside, in which
the criminals were placed, and a pair of
fine, dashing gray horses sprang at the
word in the direction of Dupont street.
At this juncture, the bell of the Monu
mental was rung in quick, sharp strokes.
The excitement and uproar were terrific,
the multitude surging now this way, now
that, as the carriage dashed fiercely along.
Pistols were held at the heads of the cap
tives while they rode along, and almost
before the crowd realized what had hap
pened, the prisoners were safe in the com
mittee's chamber of judgment. The pris
oners were taken by about forty armed
persons, just as the sermon in the prison
had been concluded, and resisted to the
utmost the strong arm of the capturers,
weapons being presented with deadly aim
on both sides.
From every ward in the city, and from
the most remote suburban parts within the
sound of the Vigilance bell, people came
flocking, breathless and excited, to the
scene of execution. The streets presented
a scene of furious, mad disorder. Living
masses surged down the by-ways, through
the thoroughfares, and over the planked
roads, until the tramp and roar of the mul
titude sounded like the beating of the
ocean waves upon a stormy shore. Mont
gomery street poured its tide of human
masses into California street, and the lat
ter emptied its living contents, like a
mighty river, upon the spot where the
prisoners had been taken by their captors,
namely, the vigilance committee's cham
bers — two large frame-houses, ranged side
by side, of two-story construction, their
gable ends fronting Battery street, in the
block between California and Pine streets.
The lower floors of these buildings were oc
cupied as stores — the upper apartments as
the Vigilance chambers, each having heavy
double doors, opening upon Battery street,
above which projected timbers and pulleys,
such as are used in store-lofts for the pur
pose of hoisting goods from the ground.

And now an outcry and huzza rent the
air, and was borne up from the rooms of
the committee far into the city, until ten
thousand throats seemed to join in a gen
eral cheer and shout of congratulation.
The committee were prepariny to execute
justice upon the criminals! A carriage
dashed round the corner and up California
street. It was greeted with cheer after
cheer. The driver stood up in his box,
waved his hat, and huzzaed in reply.
This was the carriage in which the prison
ers had been carried off from the county
jail, and which was now returning from
the committee rooms. It was drawn by
gray-white horses, whose sides were reek
ing with foam and perspiration.
In the southern chamber, a rope had
been 'reeved' through the block attached
to the beam above the left door. When
the door of the northern chamber opened,
a few members appeared without their
coats, and addressed a few words to the
masses below, announcing the capture of
the prisoners. Cries of " hang them up ! "
"now and here! " ensued, and the tumult
each moment grew greater. " We have
them — never feai  it is all right," re
sponded the committee ; and a thundering
shout of wild congratulation went up from
the surging mass. A few of the commit
tee then smashed out the glass above the
door of the southern chamber, and one of
their number mounted into the opening,
holding one end of a rope. Dexterously
clinging to the clapboards on the outside,
he managed to pass the rope through the
block, and returned with the two ends to
the floor. Both doors of the committee
rooms were then closed — the fatal ropes
inside. Seventeen minutes had now been spent
in rescuing the prisoners from the jail,
conveying them to the rooms, and com
pleting the preliminaries of their execu
tion. The great, dense, agitated crowd
that covered the roofs, and clung by doz
ens to the sides of all the adjoining houses,
and packed the streets, darkened the walls,
and filled the rigging and boats along the
docks, presented an awful and imposing

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

555

spectacle of excited, impatient and resolute
manhood. Ten thousand faces were up
turned, when the doors of both chambers
were simultaneously jerked open, present
ing to view each of the prisoners, half sur
rounded at each door by committee men.
A terrific shout rent the air.
The multitude tossed to and fro— above
all, amid all, calmly but sternly stood the
band of vigilants, and in their hands the
fainting, drooping, gasping criminals, their
arms pinioned and their feet secured.
The rope was about their necks, their
coats having been removed, and they stood
aghast and trembling in the brief second
of lifetime allowed them to confront the
stormy sea of human beings below. An
other second of time, and they were tossed
far out into space, and drawn like light
ning to the beam's end. Both were exe
cuted at one and the same instant, the
signal being given throughout the cham
bers, and the members rushing back with
the rope until the culprits each had been
lagged to the block, and hung almost
motionless by the neck. Then a few con
vulsive throbs, and all was over. McKen-
2>e was attired in gray pants and coarse
shirt, and was hung from the beam in front

of the northern room ; while
being dragged to the fatal spot from the
further end of the room, he manifested the
most overwhelming fright and terror,
and the countenance he exhibited, when
brought up to the door, was one never to
be forgotten by those who looked upon it —
his face was pallid, his eyes upturned, his
hair appeared to stand out from the scalp,
and every fiber of his flesh quivered and
seemed to clutch existence. Whittaker
was more indifferent and unmoved ; but he
was cleanly dressed, and was much the bet
ter looking man of the two.
Such terrible and repeated examples of
swift justice at the hands of the commit
tee, proved effective, to a great degree, in
cleansing San Francisco from the horde of
criminals with which it had so sorely been
infested, and, for a long time after, the
citizens ceased to live in terror of burglars,
robbers, assassins, and incendiaries. In
Sacramento, too, where similar scenes of
retribution had been enacted, resulting in
the summary execution of those noted fel
ons, Roe, Robinson, Gibson, and Thomp
son, the work of reformation seemed well-
nigh effectual. Indeed, the occupation of
a vigilance committee appeared to be over

556

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

— and it existed, therefore, for years, as
scarcely more than a nominal organization.
In 1856, however, crime had again be
come so rampant and stalked abroad with
such impunity, that the vigilance com
mittee once more took justice into its own
hands, with an iron and uncompromising
sway, though this time not without a fearful
struggle with the constituted authorities.
The great exciting provocation to the
resumption of the committee's work, at
this period, was the deliberate and cold
blooded murder of James King of William
(an appellation which he carried with him
from Virginia), editor of the Evening Bul
letin, by James P. Casey, editor of the
Sunday Times, both of San Francisco.
Mr. King was one of the earliest emigrants
to California, and was a man universally
respected and admired for his probity and
independence. He began the publication
of the Bulletin with the avowed purpose
of denouncing the political and moral cor
ruption which had gained for San Fran
cisco such an unenviable reputation. The
manliness and courage with which he pur
sued this work of reform gained for him
the friendship of right-minded people of
every class, and, as a matter of course, the
enmity of the dishonest and criminal.
Casey, the murderer, was, both in private
character and habits and in his connection
with municipal politics, a man of the class
to whom Mr. King was most likely to be
obnoxious. On the fourteenth of Maj*-, Mr. King,
in a rejoinder to an attack made upon him
in the Times, stated that the editor of that
journal, Casey, had been an inmate of
Sing Sing prison, and had secured his
election to an office in San Francisco by
fraud. Casey called on King for satisfac
tion, failing to obtain which, he at once
watched for him on the street, and, at five
o'clock on the evening of the same day,
the two met in public. With hardly a
word of warning — giving his victim no
time for defense, — Casey drew a revolver,
and shot Mr. King through the left breast.
The latter lingered for a few days and
died on the 20th.

The murder was followed by the arrest
of Casey, and he was conveyed to jail
amidst intense popular excitement his
immediate execution being demanded by
the infuriated multitude. A party of men
numbering several hundred, got together
armed themselves, put several small can
non on drays, and were on the point of
starting to attack the jail, but finally de
sisted. It soon became evident that noth
ing could be done without an organization,
now deemed imperative. A horde of mur
derers and other notoriously "bad men had
collected in the city, and had long gone
unpunished and unterrified. The next
morning, therefore, the members of the
old vigilance committee met, and began to
admit new members. For three days they
sat in almost constant session secretly.
About twenty-five hundred members, old
and new, were admitted, these binding
themselves to obey a committee of fifty,
who alone knew what was to be done.
On the following Sunday morning, the
committee were ordered to assemble, and
be armed with a musket and revolver each.
They were divided off into companies, and
officers appointed. A six-pounder cannon
was provided, and at ten o'clock they
marched to the jail, which they sur
rounded. The cannon was loaded, and
every musket was loaded with ball and had
a fixed bayonet. At one o'clock, Casey,
at his own request, — desirous, as he said,
to prevent bloodshed, — was surrendered to
the committee, who conducted him in a
carriage to their chambers. Subsequently
they took Charles Cora, the murderer of
General Richardson, United States mar
shal, unconvicted on account of the jury
disagreeing, and lodged him in one of their
rooms. All this took place amidst the
most perfect silence and order; the forces
of the committee marched to the jail with
out bugle or drum, and hardly a word was
spoken, even by the thousands of specta
tors who witnessed the scene.
The funeral of Mr. King was marked by
every manifestation of popular respect for
the deceased. Stores were closed, bouses
were hung with black, men wore crape on

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

557

their arms, bells were tolled, and flags
were displayed at half-mast. Meanwhile,
Casey and Cora's crimes had been adjudged
worthy of death, and, notwithstanding the
great gathering at the funeral, the rooms
of the committee were surrounded by about
twenty thousand people, who had got an
intimation that the committee, fearing a
rescue, had determined to hang the crimi
nals forthwith.
A most formidable guard was arranged
by the committee, numbering about three
thousand stand of muskets and two field-
pieces. The streets in the immediate vi
cinity of the rooms were cleared by the
soldiers, and the bristling bayonets that
were displayed in every direction made the
scene one of great solemnity.
At about one o'clock, the workmen were
seen preparing the gallows in front of the
committee rooms, — now located in a two-
story granite building, — a platform being
extended from each of two front windows
of the second floor, extending about three
feet beyond the line of the building, and
provided with a hinge at the outer line of
the window sill, the extreme end being
held up by means of a cord attached to a
beam, which projected from the roof of the
building, and to which the fatal rope was
also attached.
Soon the prisoners were brought to the
windows, in view of the multitude, dressed
in their usual garments, and mounted the
platform, having their arms pinioned.
They both appeared to be firm, and but
little affected by the dreadful fate that
awaited them. Before placing the rope
upon their necks, an opportunity was given

them to speak to the people assembled.
Casey made a few remarks, but Cora did
not speak. At twenty minutes past one
o'clock, everything being ready, the signal
was given, the cord that held up the outer
end of the scaffolds or platforms was cut
upon the roof of the building, and the doom
ed men were both launched into eternity.
The work of death being ended, the
body of armed men who had acted as
guards, were all drawn up in line, and
reviewed by the superior officers ; after
which, they countermarched down to the
rooms, and, entering one door, stacked
their arms, filed out at another door, and
mingled with the citizens.
Extending its operations throughout the
state, the committee determined to effect
a complete renovation of society, — to break
up and drive from the state the bands of
felons with which it was infested, — and to
awe into submission the political bullies
who so largely controlled the elections.
After executing some four criminals, and
transporting or banishing many more,
thus securing comparative quiet and order,
the committee relinquished its administra
tion of justice ; the same was the case in
Sacramento, Stockton, San Jose, and other
places, where crime, unawed and unpun
ished by courts, had been thus summarily
and sternly dealt with by an outraged
community. The committee on no occa
sion denied the illegality of their acts ;
they defended their course solely on the
ground that there was no security for life
.or property either under the regulations of
society, as then existing, or under the laws
as then administered.

LXV.
VICTORIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT "AMERICA," IN THE
GREAT INTERNATIONAL REGATTA.— 1851.

She Distances, by Nearly Eight Miles, the Whole Fleet of Swift and Splendid Competitors, and Wins
" the Cup of all Nations." — Grandest and Most Exciting Spectacle of the Kind Ever Known.— Queen
Victoria Witnesses the Match. — Universal Astonishment at the Result. — Admiration Elicited by the
" America's " Beautiful Model and Ingenious Rig. — Scenes at the " World's Exhibition " at London —
Grand Finale Yet to Come Off — Championship of the Sea. — England Sensitive on this Point.— Her
Motto, " Rule Britannia!" — George Steers Builds the America. — Commodore Stevens Takes Her to
England — His Challenge to All Countries — An International Prize Race. — Eighteen Yachts Entered.
— The Scene on Wave and Shore. — All Sails Set : The Signal. — Every Eye on " the Yankee."— Her
Leisurely Movements. — Allows Herself to be Distanced — Her Quality Soon Shown. — No " Bellying "
of Canvas. — Amazing Increase of Speed. — All Rivals Passed, One by One. — They Return in
Despair. — Great Odds for the America. — Is Visited by Queen Victoria.

On every aide was heard the hail, "Is the America first? "—The answer, *' Yes I" — " What's second ?"— The reply, "Nothing I"— LoH-
DON TlMIIS.

RATIFYING-, in the highest degree, to the pride of every American, was the
announcement that, in the great and exciting international yacht
race, — which formed, in an important sense, the grand
finale of the " Exhibition of the Industry of All
Nations," held in London, in 1851, — the victory had
been won by the clipper yacht America, of one
hundred and seventy tons, built by Mr. George
Steers, of Brooklyn, N. Y., and commanded by
Commodore John C. Stevens, also of New York.
The prize was no less than "The Cup of all Na
tions." Making but an indifferent show of contributions
to the various departments of art, science, and
manufactures, at that renowned exposition, the
conclusion had become universal, that the United
States would gain but little eclat in that magnifi
cent congress of the industries of civilization. One
trial of championship, however, was yet to be made
and determined,— the supremacy, in respect to
architectural model, equipment, nautical skill, and power of speed, upon that element,
the dominion of which has ever been the coveted achievement of every maritime coun-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

559

try and of England in particular, — the
high claims put forth by the latter being
well understood.
How happily it was reserved for the
United States to take this honor to her
self, in a manner, too, undreamed of by
any compeer or rival, will appear from the
following history of the great fact, as given
at the time by the press of both England
and America. Indeed, in respect to the
English journals and the English public,
it can truly be said, that fair play and
¦manly acknowledgment of a fair beat
were never more honorably exhibited. And
this last-named fact is all the more credit
able, when all the circumstances of the
case are considered. A large portion of
the British peerage and gentry left their
residences and forsook their usual diver
sions, to witness the struggle between the
yachtsmen of England, hitherto unmatched
and unchallenged, and the Americans who
had crossed the Atlantic to meet them.
All the feelings of that vast population
swarming in British ports and firmly
believing in " Rule Britannia," as an arti
cle of national faith ; all the prejudices of
the nobility and wealthy aristocracy, who
regarded the beautiful vessels in which
they cruised about the channel and visited
the shores of the Mediterranean every
summer as the perfection of naval archi
tecture, were roused to the highest degree ;
and even the Queen of England did not
deem the occasion unworthy of her pres
ence. Until the very day, August twenty-
second, 1851, of this celebrated contest, no
Englishman ever dreamed that any nation
could produce a yacht with the least pre
tensions to match the efforts of White,
Camper, Ratsey, and other eminent build
ers; and in the pages of the Yacht List
for that very year (1851), there was an
assertion which every man within sight of
sea water from the Clyde to the Solent
would swear to, namely, that " yacht build
mg was an art in which England was
unrivaled, and that she was distinguished
pre-eminently and alone for the perfection
oi science in handling them." Of the sev

enteen yacht clubs in various parts of the
united kingdom, not one of them had ever
seen a foreigner enter the lists in the
annual matches. It was just known that
there was an imperial yacht club in St.
Petersburg, maintained, it was affirmed,
by the imperial treasury, to encourage a
nautical spirit among the nobility, and
that a few owners of yachts at Rotterdam
had enrolled themselves as a club ; but,
till the America came over, the few who
were aware of the fact that there was a
flourishing club in New York did not
regard it as of the slightest consequence,
or as at all likely to interfere with their
monopoly of the glory of the manliest of all
sports. The few trial runs made by the
America, on her arrival in English waters,
proved her to be of great speed, and satis
fied the English critics that her owners
were not so little justified as at first they
had been thought, in offering to back an
untried vessel against any other yacht
for the large sum of fifty thousand dollars,
or for a cup or piece of plate. An inter
esting reminiscence or two, in this connec
tion, related by Colonel Hamilton, a mem
ber of the club, may here be given,
namely :
There had previously been some talk
among the members of the New York
yacht club, of a race with the yachts of
England, and Mr. W. H. Brown, the well-
known and skillful ship-builder, had under
taken to build a schooner that should out
sail any other vessel at home or abroad,
and he agreed to make the purchase of her
contingent upon her success. His offer
was accepted by the yacht club. And
now, to the master hand and brain of that
accomplished architect, George Steers,
was confided the task of furnishing the
model of this — to be — nautical wonder.
The America was built. Failing, however,
in repeated trials, to beat Commodore
Stevens's yacht Maria, the club were not
bound to purchase. But the liberality of
the original offer was so great, in assuming
all risk, and the vessel in fact proved her
self so fast, that several gentlemen, the
commodore at the head, determined to buy

560

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

her and send her out. She was accord
ingly purchased, and sent to Havre, there
to await the arrival of the members of the
club, who were to sail her, they following
in a steamer.
Everything being made ready and com
pleted at Havre, they sailed thence to
Cowes, a seaport of the Isle of Wight — the
scene of the contemplated regatta. Their
arrival was greeted with every hospitality
and courtesy, not only by the noblemen
and gentlemen of the royal yacht club, but
by the officers of government. Lord
Palmerston issued an order that the Amer
ica should be admitted in all the English
ports on the footing of English yachts;
the custom-houses were all made free to
her; and the admiral of the station at

GEOKGE STEERS.

Portsmouth offered every assistance and
civility. The Earl of Wilton, and the
veteran Marquis of Anglesea, the latter
eighty years of age, were among the first
visitors on board.
When the time for the regatta came,
which was to take place on the most dan
gerous course possible for a stranger — in
the waters of the Isle of Wight, with their
currents and eddies, familiar only to those
accustomed to the water — great solicitude
was naturally felt by the Americans, as to
the pilot to be employed. Warnings of
all sorts, from various quarters, reached
them, not to rely too much on any pilot
that might offer ; and the commodore was
naturally perplexed. But here again the
English admiral, with an intuitive percep
tion of the difficulty — of which no men

tion, nevertheless, had ever been made to
him — told Commodore Stevens that he
would furnish him with a pilot for whom
he himself would be answerable. The
offer was as frankly accepted as it was
honorably made. The pilot came on
board, and never, for a moment, was there
a suspicion on any mind that he was not
thoroughly honest and reliable. Yet, so
strong was the distrust among Americans
outside, that even after the pilot was in
charge, the commodore was warned, by
letter, not to trust too much to him, and
urged to take another pilot to overlook
him. But the commodore's own loyalty
of character would not entertain such a
proposition — he gave his confidence to
the pilot the admiral sent him, and it was
completely justified.
The London Times said that never, in
the history of man, did Cowes present such
an appearance as on the eventful day
appointed for this race. Upwards of one
hundred yachts lay at anchor in the roads ;
the beach was crowded ; and the esplanade
in front of the club swarmed with ladies
and gentlemen, and with the people inland,
who came over in shoals, with wives, sons,
and daughters, for the day. Booths were
erected aU along the quay, and the road
stead was alive with boats, while from
sea and shore arose an incessant buzz of
voices mingled with the splashing of oars,
the flapping of sails, and the hissing of
steam, from the excursion vessels prepar
ing to accompany the race. Flags floated
from the beautiful villas which stud the
wooded coast, and ensign and bargee, rich
with the colors of the various clubs or the
devices of the yachts, flickered gayly out in
the soft morning air. The windows of the
houses which commanded the harbor were
filled from the parlor to the attic, and the
"old salts " on the beach gazed moodily on
the low black hull of " the Yankee," and
spoke doubtfully of the chances of her
competitors. Some thought "the Vo-
lante " might prove a teaser if the wind
was light; others speculated on "the
Alarm " doing mischief, if there was wind
enough to bring out the qualities of that

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

561

large cutter in beating up to windward
and in tacking ; while more were of the
opinion that the America would carry off
the cup, "blow high — blow low." It was
with the greatest difficulty the little town
gave space enough to the multitudes that
came from all quarters to witness an event
so novel and interesting. Among the vis
itors were countless strangers — Frenchmen
en route for Havre, Germans in quiet won
derment at the excitement around them,
and Americans already triumphing in the
anticipated success of their countrymen.
Eighteen yachts were entered, and were
moored in a double line from Cowes castle,
the Beatrice being nearest that point, the
America about midway, and the Aurora
farthermost. The mist which hung over
tlie fields and woods from sunrise was car
ried off about nine o'clock by a very gentle
breeze from the westward, which veered
round a little to the south soon afterwards,
and the mornieg became intensely warm.
At five minutes before ten o'clock, the
preparatory gun was fired from the club
house battery, and the yachts were soon
sheeted from deck to topmast with clouds
of canvas, huge gaff topsails and balloon
jibs being greatly in vogue, and the Amer
ica evincing her disposition to take advan
tage of her new jib by hoisting it with all
alacrity. The whole flotilla, not in the
race, were already in motion, many of
them stretching down towards Osborne
and Ryde, to get a good start of the clip
pers. Of the yachts that entered, fifteen
started, seven of these being schooners
and eight cutters.
Precisely at ten o'clock, the signal gun
for sailing was fired, and before the smoke
had well cleared away the whole of the
beautiful fleet was under way, moving
steadily to the east, with the tide and a
gentle breeze. The start was effected
splendidly, the yachts breaking away like
a field of race-horses ; the only laggard
was the America, which did not move for
a second or so after the others. Steamers,
shore-boats, and yachts, of all sizes, buzzed
a,°ng on each side of the course, and
8pread away for miles over the rippling
3fi

sea — a sight such as the Adriatic never
beheld in all the pride of Venice — such,
indeed, as was never before known in the
annals of yachting. Soon after they
started, a steamer went off from the roads
with the members of tlie sailing committee
— Sir B. Graham, Bart., commodore, of
the royal yacht squadron, and other distin
guished gentlemen. The American minis
ter, Hon. Abbott Lawrence, and his son,
Colonel Lawrence, attache to the American
legation, arrived too late for the sailing of
the America, but were accommodated on
board the steamer, and went round the
island in her.
The Gipsey Queen, with all her canvas
set and in the strength of the tide, took
the lead after starting, with the Beatrice
next, and then, with little difference in
order, the Volante, Constance, Arrow, and
a flock of others. The America went
easily for some time under mainsail, (with
a small gaff-topsail of a triangular shape,
braced up to the truck of the short and
slender stick which served as her main-top
mast,) foresail, fore-staysail and jib ;
while her competitors had every cloth set
that the club regulations allowed. She
soon began to creep upon them, passing
some of the cutters to windward. In a
quarter of an hour she had left them all
behind, except the Constance, Beatrice,
and Gipsey Queen, which were well to
gether, and went along smartly with the
light breeze. Once or twice the wind
freshened a little, and at once the Amer
ica gathered way, and passed ahead of the
Constance and Beatrice. Another puff
came, and she made a dart to pass the
Gipsey Queen, but the wind left her sails,
and the little Volante came skimming past
her with a stupendous jib, swallowing up
all the wind that was blowing. The glo
rious pageant, passing under Osborne-
house, formed a pageant surpassingly fine,
the whole expanse of sea, from shore to
shore, being filled as it were with a count
less fleet, while the dark hull of the Ven
geance, eighty-four, in the distance at
Spithead, towered in fine relief above the
tiny little craft that danced around her ;

562

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the green hills of Hampshire, the white
batteries of Portsmouth, and the pictur
esque coast of Wight, forming a fine
frame-work for the picture.
As the Volante passed the America,
great was the delight of the patriotic, but
the nautical knowing ones shook their
heads, and said the triumph would be
short-lived ; the breeze was freshening,
and then the sprightly cutter must give
way, though she was leading the whole
squadron at the time. At half-past ten,
the Gipsey Queen caught a draught of

densely crowded. But the America was
forging ahead, and lessening the number
of her rivals every moment. The Sand-
heads were rounded by the Volante
Gipsey Queen, and America, without any
perceptible change in point of time, at
eleven o'clock, the last being apparently
to leeward. Again, the wind freshened,
and the fast yachts came rushing up before
it, the run from the Sandheads being most
exciting, and well contested. Here one of
the West India mail steamers was ob
served paddling her best, to come in for

YAOHT AMERICA : J. 0. STEVENS, COM.

wind and ran past the Volante, — the Con
stance, America, Arrow, and Alarm, being
nearly in a line ; but in fifteen minutes,
the breeze freshened again for a short
time and the America passed the Arrow,
Constance, and Alarm, but could not shake
off the Volante nor come up to the Gipsey
Queen, and exclamations were heard of
" Well, Brother Jonathan is not going to
have it all his own way," etc.
Passing Ryde, the excitement on shore
was very great, and the vast pier was

some of the fun, and a slight roll of the
set inwards began to impart a livelier
motion to the yachts, and to render excur
sionists, whether male or female, ghastly-
looking and uncomfortable.
The yachts Volante, Freak, Aurora,
Gipsey Queen, America, Beatrice, Alarm,
Arrow, and Bacchante, were timed- off
Norman's Land buoy; the other six were
staggering about in the rear, and the
Wyvern soon afterwards hauled her wind,
and went back towards Cowes.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

563

At this point, the wind blew somewhat _
more steadily, and the America began to
show a touch of her quality. Whenever
the breeze took the line of her hull, all the
sails set as flat as a drumhead, and, with
out any careening or staggering, she
" walked along " past cutter and schooner,
and, when off Brading, had left every
vessel in the squadron 'behind her, with
the exception of the Volante, which she
overtook at half-past eleven, when she
very quietly hauled down her jib, — as
much as to say she would give her rival
every odds, — and laid herself out for the
race round the back of the island. The
weather showed signs of improvement, as
far as yachting was concerned ; a few sea
horses waved their crests over the water,
the high lands on shore put on their fleecy
"nightcaps" of cloud, and the horizon
looked delightfully threatening ; and now
"the Yankee" flew like the wind, leaping
over, not against, the water, and increasing
her distance from the Gipsey Queen,
Volante, and Alarm, every instant. The
way her sails were set evinced superiority
in the cutting which the English makers
would barely allow, but, certain it was,
that while the jibs and mainsails of her
antagonists were " bellied out," her canvas
was as flat as a sheet of paper. No foam,
but rather a water-jet rose from her bows ;
and the greatest point of resistance — for
resistance there must be somewhere —
seemed about the beam, or just forward of
her mainmast, for the seas flashed off from
her sides at that point every time she met
them. While the cutters were thrashing
through the water, sending the spray over
their bows, and the schooners were wet up
to the foot of the foremast, the America
was as dry as a bone. She had twenty-one
persons on her deck, consisting of the
owners, the crew, cook, and steward, a
Cowes pilot, and some seamen. They
nearly all sat' aft, and, when the vessel did
not require any handling, crouched down
on the deck by the weather bulwarks.
The Gipsey Queen, when a little past
Brading, seemed to have carried away her
foresail sheets, but even had it not been

so, she had lost all chance of success. The
America, as the wind increased, and it was
now a six-knot breeze, at least, hauled
down her wee gaff-topsail, and went away
under mainsail, foresail, and fore-staysail,
so that it required the utmost the steamer
could do to keep alongside of her. This
was her quickest bit of sailing, for on
rounding the east point of the island it
was necessary to beat to the westward, in
order to get along the back of the Wight.
At 11:37, the Arrow, Bacchante, Con
stance, and Gipsey Queen, stood away to
the north, to round the Nab, imagining
that it was requisite to do so, as the usual
course was to go outside the lightship,
though the cards did not specify it on this
occasion. The America and most of the
other yachts kept their course round the
Foreland and by Bembridge. She ran
past the white and black buoys at a tre
mendous rate, and, at 11 : 47, tacked to the
west, and stood in towards the Culver cliffs,
the nearest yacht being at least two miles
to leeward or astern of her. She was not
very quick in stays on this occasion, and
it would seem she was not very regular in
that maneuver, sometimes taking a minute,
sometimes thirty seconds, to perform it.
At 11 : 58, she stood out again to the south
east, and, having taken a stretch of a mile
or so, went about and ran in towards San-
down. The breeze died off at this point,
and to keep the cutters and light craft off,
the America hoisted her gaff-topsail and
jib once more. Under Shanklin Chine the
set of the tide ran heavily against her, but
still there was nothing to fear, for her
rivals were miles away, some almost hull
down. While running under Dunnose, at 12 : 58,
her jib-boom broke short off; it was
broken by mismanagement on the part of
the men when straining on it with the
windlass, and did not snap from the action
of the sail. This accident threw her up in
the wind, and gave the advantage of about
a quarter of an hour to her opponents,
while she was gathering in the wreck.
But it was of little use to them. Looking
away to the east, they were visible at

564

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

great distances, standing in shore, or
running in and out, most helplessly astern
— the Aurora, Freak, and Volante, in spite
of light winds and small tonnage, being
two or three miles behind The wind fell
off very much for more than an hour, and
it was but weary work stretching along
the coast against a baffling tide, every
moment making the loss of her jib of
greater consequence to the America.

" OUP OP ALL HATIONS," WOU BT THE AMERICA.
At about 3 : 20, the breeze freshened,
and the America, still some miles ahead,
slipped along on her way, making tacks
with great velocity, and standing well up
to windward. Her superiority was so
decided that several of the yachts wore,
and went back again to Cowes in despair ;
and, for some time, the America increased
her distance every second, the Aurora,
Freak, and Volante, keeping in a little
squadron together — tack for tack— and

running along close under the cliffs. This
was rather unfortunate in one respect for
in going about, the Freak fouled the
Volante and carried away her jib-boom-
and the boatman's pet became thereby
utterly disabled, and lost the small glimpse
of fortune which the light winds might
have given her.
Meanwhile, minute after minute, "the
Yankee " was gaining ground, and at 3 : 30
was flying past St. Lawrence towards Old
I Castle, while the Bacchante and Eclipse,
which had been working along honestly
and steadily, were about two and a half
miles to leeward behind her. Further
away still, were visible five or six yachts,
some hull down, some dipped further still,
digging into the tideway as hard as they
could, and lying into the wind as well as
their sails might stand it.
By this time, the America had got the
wind on her quarter, having gone round
Rocken-end, and thus having a tolerably
fair course from the south to north-west,
up to the Needles, the wind being light
and the water somewhat broken. The
persons on board the steamers were greatly
astonished at seeing ahead of the America,
after she had rounded Rocken-end, a fine
cutter with a jib and foresail together —
"two single gentlemen rolled into one,"
bowling away with all speed, as if racing
away for her life, and it was sometime
before they could be persuaded she was
inot the Aurora ; but she was in reality tlie
j Wildfire, forty-two tons, which was taking
a little share in the match to herself, and
¦had passed the End at 3 : 40. The Amer
ica, however, bore straight down for the
cutter, which was thoroughly well-sailed,
and passed her after a stern chase of more
than an hour, though the Wildfire, when
first sighted, was reckoned to be some two
and a half miles ahead.
At 5 : 40, the Aurora, the nearest yacht.
was fully seven and one-half miles astern,
the Freak being about a mile more distant,
and the rest being "nowhere." The
America was at this time close to the
Needles, upon which she was running with
a light breeze all in her favor.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

565

Two of the excursion steamers ran into
Alum Bay, and anchored there to see the
race round the Needles. While waiting
there in intense anxiety for the first vessel
that should shoot round the immense pil
lars of chalk and limestone which bear the
name, the passengers were delighted to
behold the Victoria and Albert, with the
royal standard at the main, and the Lord
Admiral's flag at the fore, steaming round
from the north-west, followed by the
Eairy, and the little dock-yard tender.
Her majesty, Prince Albert, and the royal
family, were visible by the aid of a glass
from the deck of the steamers. The royal
yacht went past the Needles, accompanied
by the Fairy, at 5 : 35, but quickly re
turned, and at 5 : 45 lay to, off Alum Bay.
The Fairy was signaled to proceed round
the Needles, to bring tidings of the race,
and at once started on her errand.
But all doubt and speculation, if any
there could have been, was soon removed
by the appearance of the America hauling
her wind round the cliff, at 5 : 50. The
breeze fell dead under the shore, and the
America lowered out her foresail and fore-
staysail so as to run before it. All the
steamers weighed and accompanied her,
giving three cheers as she passed, a com
pliment which owners and crews acknowl
edged with uncovered heads and waving
hats. At 6 : 04 the Wildfire rounded the
Needles, and bore away after the schooner,
which by this time had got almost in a
line with the Victoria and Albert; and,
though it is not usual to recognize the
presence of her majesty on such occasions
as a racing match — no more, indeed, than
a jockey would pull up his horse to saluto
the queen, when in the middle of his
stride, — the America instantly lowered her
ensign, blue with white stars, the commo
dore took off his hat, and all his crew, fol
lowing his order and example, remained
with uncovered heads for some minutes,
till they had passed the royal yacht. The
steamers, as she passed on, renewed their
cheering. On turning towards the Needles, at
«:30, not a sail was in sight, but the

breeze was so very light that all sailing
might be said to have finished ; and it was
evident that the America had won the
cup, unless some light cutter ran up with
a breeze in the dusk and slipped past her.
The steamers returned towards Cowes, and
the royal yacht, having run close by the
America under half-steam for a short dis
tance, went on towards Osborne. Off
Cowes were innumerable yachts, and on
every side was heard the hail, "Is the
America first?" — The answer, "Yes."
"What's second?"— The reply, "Noth
ing." As there was no wind, the time con
sumed in getting up from Hurst Castle to
the winning flag was very considerable,
the America's arrival first not having
been announced by gunfire till 8 : 37. The
Aurora, which slipped up very rapidly
after rounding the Needles, in consequence
of her light tonnage and a breath of wind,
was signaled at 8 : 45 ; the Bacchante at
9 : 30 ; the Eclipse at 9 : 45 ; the Brilliant
at 1 : 20 a. m., August 23d. The rest were
not timed. Thus the America made good
all her professions, and to Commodore
Stevens was presented, by the royal yacht
squadron, the well-won cup.
On the evening after the race there was
a splendid display of fire-works by land
and water along the club-house esplanade,
at which thousands of persons were pres
ent. A re-union also took place at the
club-house, and the occasion was taken of
the Hon. Abbott Lawrence's presence to
compliment him on the success of his
countrymen ; to which his excellency made
a suitable reply, humorously remarking
that, though he could not but be proud of
his fellow-citizens, he still felt it was but
the children giving a lesson to the father
— and if the America should be purchased
by English friends, the Yankees would
nevertheless try to build something better
in New York, so as to beat even her !
The queen having intimated her desire
to inspect the America, the latter sailed
from Cowes to Osborne, where the Victoria
and Albert also dropped down. As the
queen, with Prince Albert, and suite, neared

566

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the America, the national colors of that
vessel were dipped, out of respect to her
majesty, and raised again when she had
proceeded on board. The queen made a
close inspection of the vessel, attended by
Commodore Stevens, Colonel Hamilton,
and the officers of the yacht, remaining
half an hour on board, and expressing
great admiration of the famous schooner.
Indeed, the America's beautiful and ingen
ious model, and her remarkable sailing
qualities, were the astonishment of every
body. The triumph of the America was due
alike to her superior model and to the
unique cut and fit of her sails. The first
thing that met the eye, whether the vessel
was afloat or in dock, was the position of
the greatest transverse sectiion — in ap
pearance situated at about ten-seventeenths
of her whole length from forward; at this
section, the bottom was nearly straight for
several feet out from the keel, while the
two sides included an angle of about one
hundred degrees. At the forepart, her
appearance contrasted strangely with the
observances of modern ship-building,

namely, the avoidance of hollow water-
lines, hers being very concave, and her
forefoot exceedingly short, or, in other
words, the lower part of the stem and
gripe forming a long curve, and therefore
only a small rudder being needed ; in con
sequence of this, there was, in steering,
but little impediment opposed to her pas
sage through the water ; the great draught
of her water aft, eleven feet four inches,
with only six feet forward, added also to
her facility in steering. Any defect that
might be expected to result from this in
sailing on a wind, was quite avoided by
her great depth of keel, — two feet two
inches amidships. The copper was placed
upon her bottom with great care, and
every possible projection avoided, in order
to diminish the friction in passing through
the water. But by far the most distin
guishing feature of the America was the
set of her sails. The bellying of the sails
of yachts universally — not only when
running free, but also when sailing on a
wind — was, in the case of the America,
avoided to a very great extent, and from
this arose much of her superiority.

LXVI.
FRIGHTFUL CATASTROPHE IN A NEW YORK FIVE-
STORY PUBLIC SCHOOL-HOUSE CONTAINING
1,800 PUPILS.— 1851.

Panic Caused by a Call for " Water." — Furious Rush of the Little Ones Throughout the Vast Building,
to Escape the Supposed Fire. — The Stair Railing Breaks, and they are Precipitated to the Bottom, in
Helpless Agony. — Nearly Fifty Children, in Their Beauty and Innocence, Suffocated to Death. — Hun
dreds of Families in Mourning. — Slight Source of all this Horror. — Sudden Illness of a Teacher. —
Cries of " Help !" for Her. — Heard in the Other Rooms. — Fatal Misapprehension. — Instant and Awful
Fright.— Vain Attempts to Escape — They all Pour Forth at Once. — The Street-Door Locked ! —
Bewildered Crowds. — Their Headlong Descent. — A Pile of Bodies, Fourteen Feet Square. — Their
Sighs and Writhings. — Arrival of the Firemen. — Entrance Effected by Them. — Thousands Waiting
Outside — Indescribable Excitement. — Anguish of Parents. — Rescuing the Sufferers. — Scenes Among
the Little Ones. — Sweet and Tender Devotion — Burial of the Innocents.

1 when Hfe is old,

— — ^— WI1CI1 111C IB UIU,
And many a scene forgot, the heart will hold
Its memory of this.

!£

JESSONS and examples of wholesale casualty, almost
without number, and of appalling character, checker
the history of a hundred years, showing the uncer
tainty of even the most forecasting prudence and judg
ment, and illustrating, with frightful impressiveness, the precarious tenure
of human life. But seldom, if ever before — be it gratefully said— has such
a calamity as the one now to be narrated befallen any community ; sel
dom, if ever before, in modern times, has there been realized to the actual
experience of so many hearts and homes, the anguish of those oft-repeated
words, " the slaughter of the innocents," of which, sages, poets, and
divines have discoursed, through the long lapse of ages.
It was about two o'clock in the afternoon of Thursday, November 20,
1851, that the city of New York was agitated by the report of a most
dreadful catastrophe at Ward School No. 26, in Greenwich avenue, near
Jefferson market. At first, by a singular reversion of the usual form of rumor, not
half the truth was told ; it was reported down town that the stairs of the school-house
nad given way and that a dozen children were killed. This was enough to startle all
the residents of that section of the city who were away from home, and all sorts of vehi
cles were at once summoned to convey them to the scene of the disaster. The building
was a lofty, four-story brick and stone structure, having a basement, on a level with the

>•»

568

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

street, paved with flag-stones, and which
constituted the play-room of the scholars.
The primary department occupied the sec
ond floor ; the third floor was used by the
more advanced scholars ; and the front
served as a lecture-room and for school
examinations. The slight cause from which flowed this
great stream of horror, agony, and death,
appears to have been that Miss Harrison,
principal of the female department, had
been slightly indisposed for a few days,
but still considered herself equal to going
on with her arduous duties. But, on this
afternoon, while hearing the recitations of
a large class, in a room in the rear of the
third story, she was attacked with a mo
mentary paralysis of the tongue ; she tried
to speak, but only made an unintelligible
noise. In her effort to articulate, her face
was drawn into disagreeable contortions,
which alarmed her pupils, who, supposing
she had fainted, rushed to the door open
ing into the large room adjacent, and which
was occupied by several hundred pupils,
and screamed for " water." The children
in that room, supposing the water was
wanted to put out a fire, sprang towards
the outer door in a mass, crying "Fire!"
"Fire!" with frightful energy. This
cry attracted the attention of Miss Whit
ney, principal of the primary department,
on the second floor, who opened the door
to see what was the matter, — doing which,
so contagious was the terror, she was in
stantly swept by the hurrying mass of
pupils behind her mto the hall, eddied
into the current descending from the story
above, and carried, against all her powers
of resistance, down to the bottom of the
steps at the basement; and she had
scarcely been there two seconds before
the railing by the side of the stairs began
to give way. After Miss Whitney had
been thus forced from the primary school,
the children, en masse, took the alarm, and
forced their way from the various apart
ments. And now a scene of the most horrible
description presented itself, one which no
imagination can adequately conceive nor

language describe. The children came
rushing impetuously down the stairs in
constantly accumulating throngs, until the
stairway was choked up; the outer door
communicating with the street being
locked, according to custom, during school
hours. The balusters which guard the
staircase became broken by the pressure
first near the bottom, and then the adja
cent rails, being proportionably weakened,
gave way from step to step, and stair to
stair, and were precipitated with the poor
distracted, struggling, and half-gasping
creatures who were crushed against them
headlong into the pit beneath, already
crowded to suffocation with those who had
been first to reach the bottom of the stairs,
in tlieir — alas ! — vain attempt to escape to
the street. Unappalled by the spectacle
before them, the children from above —
tliere were one thousand eight hundred and
fifty-one in the building, precisely the
number of years since the birth of Him
who first proclaimed to " these little ones,"
that "of such is the kingdom of heaven"
— still came pouring down from above,
crowding those before them off the stair
case into the area below, which was rapidly
filling with the bodies of the wounded, the
suffocating, the dying, and the dead.
Many of them struck their heads against
the rough corners of the steps as they fell,
— the stairway leading by a series of short
stairs and landings to the top of the build
ing, making a right-angled instead of a
spiral staircase, and forming a sort of well,
about ten feet square, from the roof to the
basement floor.
The sight of all these horrors seemed
only to aggravate the terrors and despera
tion of those who witnessed' them ; and
before any check could be given to the
furious tide of panic-stricken little ones
and the accompanying flood of agony and
death, the well or area was in two minutes
filled with human bodies, one on top of the
other, from the basement to the third step
of the stairs rising from the second floor.
There lay full fourteen square feet of lit
tle bodies, writhing, struggling, shrieking,
perishing with bruises and suffocation,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

569

which only a few minutes before were
animated by childhood's cheerful and
happy hearts !
But there was more than one gate of
death, through which these hapless inno
cents were doomed to pass. Many, find
ing their escape through the front door
cut off, tried to escape by the back way,
where also, by suffocation, death followed.
Others leaped from the windows and were
dangerously wounded. An alarm soon
spread through the streets that the school-
house was on fire, — the fire bell rang out
its ominous peals, — and an engine com
pany was promptly on the spot, with a
large body of police. The front door was
opened, and there was presented to their

open window, urging him to jump to the
pavement, and calling to some person
to "catch brother Tommy." "Jump,
Tommy," said he, "jump, and I'll jump,
too ! " A gentleman, looking up, had
just time to raise his hands and make an
effort to catch the boy as he leaped from
the window. Fortunately, he succeeded
in catching him, and then his brother fol
lowed, whom he also caught.
Such an example, once set, had ready
followers, and so the little fellows, to the
number of twenty, were thus caught as
they jumped. They probably would, un-
frightened, have hesitated to jump one-
quarter of the distance; but, almost terri
fied to death, they thought not of the dan-

80HOOL-HOU8E ON GREENWICH AVENUE, N. V., THE SCENE OF THE AWFUL PANIC.

eyes the avalanche of sighing, screeching,
terror-stricken humanity, and the yawn
ing sepulchre of the multitude now stifled
in death. As it was impossible, however,
to get up the stairway until the bodies
were removed, as many as could assist at
this sad office proceeded to convey the
wounded and the dead to the station-house
near by,
Under this fatal impression that a fire
had occurred, and might be raging in some
part of the building, others of the firemen
fixed their ladders to the walls and strove
to effect an admission to the windows.
Even here they were met by the inmates
striving to make a desperate escape to the
street. Their attention was at once at
tracted "to a small boy, who, holding a
younger brother by the hand, stood in an

ger before, in their distracted desire to
escape the awful abyss behind them, into
which so many of their classmates had
been driven. But one of the nineteen or
twenty thus liberated uttered a single
word as he was placed in safety. One, as
he was caught, exclaimed "good bye," and
started for home. When, at last, order
was restored, and the children up stairs
were released, there was upon every face
that passed out of the building an almost
unearthly look — a wild, bewildered stare,
as though they had been wrested from the
very jaws of death.
Many of the children who were taken
out alive were badly injured, and numbers
of others were taken out quite dead, some
from the effects of the fall, and some from
suffocation. About forty were at once

570

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

taken from the mass quite dead, and some
others died immediately after being re
leased. The news spread like wildfire
throughout the whole neighborhood — thou
sands of persons rushed to the spot — and
mothers and fathers, frantic with grief,
ran wildly from place to place, to find their
children. One beautiful but frantic young
mother was seen looking up to heaven in
despair, and crying " My child ! my child ! "
as she stood before the fair form and most
lovely countenance of her little boy of
seven sweet summers, now cold in death.
At the station-house, the sight was truly
appalling. Mothers were rushing in by
scores and hundreds, wringing their hands,
and calling their children by name, and
when one was recognized among the dead,
the mother's anguish gave vent, in many
instances, to the most piercing and irre
pressible cries. One poor woman went
into the station, and, after running about
wildly from place to place, found two of
her children dead ; her shrieks and lamen
tations were the most piteous that human
ears ever listened to. Even the stern
bearing of a father gave way, in mournful
demonstrations, to the anguish of his
heart, on beholding, as was the case in
several instances, his only child a corpse.
The oflicers, too, and the reporters for the
press, who were present, were far from
being unconcerned witnesses of the melan
choly scene ; few if any dry eyes, indeed,
were there visible.
During the height of the excitement,
thousands upon thousands of people col
lected in the neighborhood of the building,
all intensely agitated, and wrought up to
the highest pitch of apprehension. The
mayor, the chief of police, the recorder,
judges, police captains, and all the promi
nent officers and citizens in that part of
the city, were on hand at the earliest mo
ment, rendering the most efficient service.
A number of physicians were also promptly
in attendance, to render such professional
aid as could be made available; but, un
happily, that was not much. Almost all
the dead were suffocated ; for, before the
balusters gave way, the lower area was so

densely packed that those who were pre
cipitated from the densely crowded stairs
did not strike the pavement, but fell upon
the heads of those below, and in their turn
were rapidly covered with the bodies of
others which succeeded them.
One poor girl, who was on the stairs
after the balusters had gone, feeling her
self pressed towards the fatal edge, threw
her arms around a younger girl next to
her, who, having more support, stood in
no immediate danger. The little one,
feeling the grasp of her friend, said,
"Anne, let go, please, or you will drag
me down with you." And Annie did let
go ; she kept her footing for a few wee
seconds, and then reeled and fell upon the
mass of sufferers below. She was among
the dead.
Letitia, the youngest daughter of Mr.
Justice Bleakley, was a pupil in one of the
small classes, and when the children rushed
for the stairway she was carried with the
current, and they all went down together,
as if upon the tossing waves. When thus
descending below stairs, she sank upon
one of the steps, beneath several of her
schoolmates, and while lying there she
was almost suffocated, became drowsy and
sleepy, and finally said to a little girl
beside her, " Antoinette, I am going to
sleep." At this moment a piece of wood
fell upon her head, and, cutting it near the
temple, the blood flowed profusely for a
while ; this had the effect of reviving her,
and of restoring her fully to consciousness,
so that in a few minutes the little creature
was extricated from her perilous situation.
An instance of fraternal devotion, beau
tifully affectionate, was that of Alfred
Gage, who, after reaching the ground floor
in safety, saw his brother on the fatal
staircase, vainly seeking to retain his foot
ing. Alfred attempted to stem the living
tide, and to make his way through it to
assist his brother, but his efforts were
fruitless,— and so, placing himself heroic
ally just below where his brother stood
poised, he told him to spring down. Thus
called upon, the boy made the frightful
leap into the arms of his brother, and both

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

571

fell among the dying and wounded, with
out being in the least injured.
At the time of the alarm, Miss Higgins,
one of the teachers, had eighty children,
from seven to ten years of age, in a class
room sixteen feet square. The panic

Among the many peculiar escapes, was
that of a girl of about ten years of age,
who jumped from one of the windows of
the female department, and was partially
caught by a man who saw the act. The
girl escaped with only a sprained ankle,
while the man was quite seriously bruised
by the concussion.
Many were struck with admiration at
the conduct of a very young lad, who al
most fought at the door of one of the class
rooms in the female department, to pre
vent the scholars from rushing into the
hall and thence into the abyss of destruc-

Jl'illlli
FRIGHTFUL CATASTROPHE IN A
tiny ones were completely beside them
selves, and quite a number began to take
off their clothes and shoes. This was a
singular and unaccountable proceeding,
tut, being commenced by some of the
scholars, the rest followed their example,
not knowing what they did.

PUBLIC SCHOOL-HOUSE, NEW YORK.
tion. He made the most manful struggles,
but was finally forced along with the
current, and came very near going down
the dreadful precipice at the front stairway.
One girl, about nine years old, came
within a hair's breadth of a violent death.
She had been forced over the fatal brink

572

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

by the crowd that pressed and swayed from
above, but it chanced that her dress caught
upon a projecting fragment of the balus
ter, and held her for at least a minute over
the yawning gulf. She was finally res
cued by the well-judged management of
some boys, who conveyed her to a place of
safety. The lives of two children were saved,
just at the moment of the breaking of the
rails, by a most fortunate circumstance.
Two children, the one a girl nine or ten
years old, and the other a boy of six years,
were rushing with the throng to get down
stairs, but just as the boy reached the
door he thought of his hat, and determined
not to go without it. His sister wanted
to hurry him on, but all that could be said
would not prevail upon him to go, and so
they both returned to find his hat. Just
before they had crossed the school-room
the railing gave way, plunging hundreds
•down the well of the stairs, but the little
boy and his sister were saved — for, before
the hat was found, persons got into the
room, and prevented any more of the
children from passing out.
On the day succeeding this lamentable
occurrence, a jury was summoned to make
a.n official investigation of all the circum
stances connected with it. Among other
victims examined by them was the body
of Virginia Mingay, ten years old. She
was neatly laid out in her coffin, had no
marks of violence on her body, but seemed
as if she was quietly reposing in a gen
tle slumber. Suffocation had caused her
death. The appearance of the fair, sweet
form, of Virginia, touched all hearts with
deepest sadness.
A more melancholy sight still, met the
jury, at a house where lay the two lovely
Woolley children, a brother and sister, who
had both been taken up dead, and were
now laid out, in affection's embrace, on a
¦couch. The girl, seven years and one
month old, was a beautiful creature even
in death, and had been one of the most
promising pupils of her age in school ; the
boy was almost ten years old, and bore a
great resemblance to his sister. The poor

mother had only a short time previous lost
one child, and this blow had rendered her
not only childless but well-nigh a lunatic.
Grief and tears alone could depict the feel
ings of the human heart, under such cir
cumstances. This certainly was the testi
mony of those who gazed upon the two
children of this bereaved and heart-broken
mother, as the little ones lay in their last
sleep on earth, for the tears glistened in
the eyes of many who had long been
strangers to such sensations.
At another house, the jury found the
body of Abby Antoinette Jacobus, a little
less than seven years of age. So calm and
winsome appeared the corpse of this sweet
young creature, that the foreman called
upon the jurors in the background to come
and see it, for, said he, pathetically, "I
never saw a more angelic countenance in
my life." This was true, for no mark of
suffering could be observed on the face of
the child, — a smile, rather, rested upon
the lips, as if the spirit, in passing away
without a pang, had lingered to impress a
kiss upon what was once its earthly prison
before it went to God.
The parents of some of the dead children
were very poor, as well as those of some
of the injured scholars, and in some in
stances they were not even prepared with
funds to bury their dead. On Saturday
morning, therefore, one of the school trus
tees took a carriage and visited most of
the destitute bereaved parents. He found
tbe poor creatures, in some instances, in
the deepest of poverty, living even in cel
lars and in back garrets, and to those who
really needed it, relief was cheerfully
given. One poor widow woman, who had
an injured child, was in the act of borrow
ing two cents to buy some biscuit for her
offspring, when the trustee entered, and,
on his supplying her with a few dollars to
nourish the forlorn and injured babe, she
shed such copious tears of thankfulness for
the gift, as fairly prevented utterance.
Everything was done that sympathy,
and kindness, and generosity, could devise.
In many cases, orders were given for cof
fins and burials, and for all necessary arti-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

573

cles to array the little bodies appropriately
and have them conveyed to the ground.
The teachers of all the different depart
ments of the schools were employed in
visiting the sick, and rendering assistance
to the bereaved parents, and their good
offices tended much to assuage the agony
of many a poor mother's heart. In their
attentions to the injured, they were very
assiduous, and nothing was wanting on
their part to soothe the sick bed of the
suffering children.
Not the least melancholy object con
nected with this tragical event, was the
interior of the building itself, where these
fifty promising qhildren were so suddenly
ushered into eternity, and where a still
greater number were injured and made
invalids. So great was the excitement on
the succeeding day, that hundreds of per
sons still crowded around the school-house
and the police station, anxious to hear
every new particular concerning the catas
trophe. Police officers guarded the doors,
to prevent the rush of curious visitors from
overrunning the school-rooms, and, in the
interior of the building, officers were sta
tioned to keep order among those who
gained admittance. The first thing that
struck the attention, on entering the build
ing, was the scathed and naked stairway,
and the fragments of the shattered balus
ter strewed over the basement floor. These
balusters were not strong — far less so, it
was easy to perceive, than they should
have been for a building the uses of which
necessarily subjected them to a heavy
pressure in the daily discharge of one to
two thousand children. Passing on now
to the deserted school-rooms, everything
was found remaining precisely as it had
been left by its flying occupants ; — the open
books, the slates covered with exercises
and half-finished sums, piles of hats,
masses of cloaks and other garments of the
children, and innumerable memorials of
the populous school-room, were strewed
about upon the desks and over the floor, all
possessing in their abandonment a most
melancholy interest. In due time, persons
were employed by the trustees to gather

up the garments of the poor dead children
and convey them to the station-house,
where they were spread out and arranged
for the inspection of those friends who
could identify them. The sight presented
by the woe-stricken and ghastly faces,
frantic gestures, and bewailing expres
sions, of these afflicted parents, was dis
tressing in the extreme. As might be
expected, some of the bereaved parents
became hopelessly insane.
But all this might have been even worse,
but for the admirable coolness and consid
eration of one individual. The sudden
ness of the alarm, and the overwhelming
rush which was made for the door, seem
to have taken the teachers utterly by sur
prise, and to have communicated to them
a portion of the delirious terror from which
the disaster sprang. It was, however, to
the self-possession of one of the instruc
tors, Mr. McNally, principal of the male
department, that was due the peremptory
closing of the door of his apartment, which
prevented its inmates from escaping and
thus contributing their distraction and
lives to the horror of the scene. Had the
control of his consciousness and self-com
mand failed him at this intensely critical
moment, the loss of life must have been
terribly aggravated.
Most of the two-score or more victims
of this dreadful calamity were buried on
Saturday and Sunday. Seventeen were
interred in Greenwood cemetery on Sat
urday, and their funerals were attended
by the surviving members of the classes to
which they belonged. At the Baptist
church in West Sixteenth street, funeral
ceremonies were conducted at the same
hour over the remains of four of the youth
ful dead. Touching allusions were made
in the funeral sermon by the pastor, to the
sweet and to him familiar faces which lay
before him. They were all, he said, girls
of fine intellectual endowment, and were
all treading the same path, attending the
same school, and, in the Sunday-school
connected with that church, they were all
in one class. Thus, in the beautiful lan
guage of inspiration, " they were lovely in

574

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

their lives, and in their death they were
not separated." After the singing of a
hymn of sorrow, by the choir, the congre
gation passed round the aisles, in order to
look upon the faces of the dear departed
children for the last time — a sad sight,
indeed, those gentle forms and fairest of
faces, now motionless in death. The four
coffins were alike, and, as the children
were nearly of the same age, they were
about the same size. Though not sisters
in life, they looked so in death.
As already stated, seventeen of the
unfortunate children were on Saturday
conveyed to Greenwood cemetery, and in
one hearse four little bodies were to be seen.
The throng of carriages and spectators, as
cortege after cortege entered that silent
garden of the dead, showed the feeling
that possessed all hearts in the community.
At the graves, the scenes were inexpres
sibly heart-rending, for the tears and
moans of bereaved mothers who mourned
for the loss of their dear offspring, mingled
with the tears of sympathy from surround
ing friends, melted every heart that beat
in the grave-yard, and made the occasion
one never to be forgotten by those present.
On Sunday, burial services were per
formed for most of the remaining victims.
Among these was that of little Jane
Gowry, twelve years old, being the only
child of a widow lady, who lost her hus
band but a few months previously, in Cal
ifornia. The body was accompanied to
the church by the children of the class to
which the deceased belonged, and the poor
mother, worn down with grief, and help
less from excessive sorrow, was carried into
a carriage to pay the last duty to her
departed child. On the arrival of the body
at the church, it was placed opposite the
pulpit, and the coffin lid being removed,
the sweet little face was looked upon once
more by the congregation which filled
every part of the vast edifice. During the
funeral address, the whole audience was
moved to sighs and tears, and this mourn
ful fact was so manifest, that the distressed

mother fainted, in the excess of her grief
and her affliction. The hearse was now
brought, and the remains being placed in
it, a procession was formed, to proceed to
the grave. A large omnibus, supplied by
Mr. Reuben Kipp, of the firm of Kipp &
Brown, stage proprietors, and drawn by
six beautiful cream-colored horses, led the
mournful cavalcade, and in it were forty-
one young girls, who were members of the
same Sabbath-school with the deceased —
that of the Jane-street Methodist church.
The procession gently coursed to the cem
etery, where the remains were deposited,
amid an outburst of mourning which would
have melted the most hardened heart. No
less than seven of the scholars belonging
to this Sabbath-school were killed by the
accident. Similar proceedings took place in con
nection with the funerals of others, though
but one more need here be particularized,
to show the sorrow upon sorrow which
attended this frightful catastrophe. Early
on Sunday afternoon, the body of little
Cornelia Cadmus, a pretty girl of seven
summers, was conveyed from the residence
of her distracted parents to Trinity ceme
tery. A large procession was formed, and
the cortege moved at a slow rate, through
the different streets. The bereaved par
ents were grieving at their loss, and
lamenting their unfortunate condition,
little thinking that another sad accident
awaited their remaining child, at the very
moment that the cold grave was about to
close upon their little daughter forever;
but so it was, and the doom of another
infant, dearer than ever by the loss of his
sister, was very near. The little brother
of the deceased, while looking from a car
riage window, fell through, and the wheel
of the next vehicle passed over its head.
The deeply distressed mother clasped the
little sufferer in her arms and bathed it
with new tears, amid the sobs of sympa
thizing beholders. Medical aid was ob
tained, and the cranium of the little child
was pronounced perilously injured.

LXVII.
APPEARANCE OF THE MARINE MONSTER KNOWN AS
THE SEA-SERPENT, ALONG THE ATLANTIC
COAST.— 1851.

Statements of Numerous Eye Witnesses, as to its Form, Size, Color, and Movements. — Estimated
Length, One Hundred Feet — Its Body Cylindrical in Shape, and of the Diameter of a Large Cask. —
Effect of Shot Upon the Animal. — Astonishing Rapidity of its Course. — Observers Struck with Won
der and Awe at Such a Sight. — The Monarch of the Deep. — Opinions of Scientific Men. — Existence
of the Animal Proved. — Evidence on this Point. — Reliability of the Witnesses. — Their Various
Descriptions. — Concurrence of Testimony. — No Similar Sea Animal — Seen in Different Localities.
—Observed from Sea and Shore. — Frequents New England — Near Views Obtained of Him. — Clear
Weather, Smooth Seas. — Drawings Made on the Spot — His Gigantic Dimensions. — Linnaean Soci
ety's Report. — Supposed to be the "Leviathan." — His Steady and Onward Pace. — A Mile in Three
Minutes.— Attitude of the Body. — Elevation of the Head. — Dark Brown the Chief Color.

* Prone on the flood extended, lone and large,
-flouting many a rood ; in bulk as huge

whom the fables name of monstrous size."

ZOOLOGICAL writers of eminence, especially in that department or branch of
the great science of zoology which treats of fishes, — their anatomical structure, form,
classification, and habits, — are not yet unanimous in their opinion as to the actual
existence of the monster so long known by the name of the Sea-Serpent. But, as the
facts by which such a question is to be decided must, after all, depend simply upon the
accumulated testimony of those persons who, at different times and in different locali
ties, have not only seen but minutely described the remarkable marine inhabitant thus
made so familiar and interesting to the public mind, it will be sufficient to present here
the substance of that testimony, so far as it shall appear conclusive, and which stands
unimpeached on the score of credibility and consistency, — it being universally admitted,
by those who have made the subject a specialty of investigation, that the monster which
made its appearance on our American coast, in 1851, exhibited the same general char
acteristics as those noted by observers before and since.
By most of those who have seen this wonderful inhabitant of the great deep, and been
so near him as to make accurate observations, and, from these, furnish a detailed account

576

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

of his peculiarities, his length is estimated
at about one hundred feet, — the state
ments, however, on this point, vary some
what, some witnesses putting it at seventy-
five feet, others at one hundred, and some
at considerably more than this, a difference
owing to the various distances or posi
tions, at or in which the animal was seen ;
its thickness is represented as about that
of a large barrel, or of a cask twice the
size of an ordinary barrel. By many, who
have observed the peculiarities of the ser
pent's form, he is described as having
protuberances on the back, nearly the
whole length from the neck to the tail,
and not unlike the humps on the camel's
back ; but others have entertained the
opinion that these apparent bunches were
owing to the manner of his motion in the
water. When the serpent was first seen in
Penobscot Bay, on his modern visit to that
section, the bunches or humps were taken
by some to be a school of porpoises, swim
ming by in a line — a supposition, however,
which was afterwards abandoned, when
the animal was seen by a number of per
sons, at different times, and most of them
too near the striking object, not to be able
to judge correctly.
But, long before the appearance of the
sea-serpent on our American coasts, that
is, in the waters of , Massachusetts and
Maine, he had been repeatedly seen along
the shores of Norway, and minutely de
scribed by those who saw him. They
represented the creature to be of great
length, and to have large bunches; the
drawing made of the monster very strongly
resembles the sketches given of the vis
itor on our American coast.
It is not necessary, however, to go so
far distant as northern Europe, for evi
dence that the sea-serpent is a verity and
not a myth. America, and especially the
New England portion of it, has been the
scene of its most frequent visits, and from
there have emanated the most abundant
and circumstantial chronicles concerning
this mysterious and curiosity-exciting ob
ject. On the appearance of the serpent

in Penobscot Bay, it was seen, among
others, by a respectable and highly intelli
gent clergyman of the neighborhood, who,
by request, prepared a particular descrip
tion of the animal's appearance and move
ments. Several persons were with him at
the time, and had a full view of the mon
ster for some minutes. They saw him at
rest on the water; and afterwards saw
him dart out to sea with great velocity.
Captain George Little, in command of a
vessel on the coast of Maine, saw the ser
pent in Broad Bay — which is west of
Penobscot Bay — and supposed it to be
fifty feet or more in length ; but he was
not so near as to enable him to satisfacto
rily determine this point. Prior to this,
Captain Kent, master of a coasting sloop,
saw a " sea-snake," as he termed it, and
which appeared to him to be at least fifty
feet long. Captain Crabtree, who resided
on an island in the same bay — a man of
excellent character, as well as of discrim
inating observation, deposed that he had
heard the people there speak of having
seen a large sea-serpent on various occa
sions, and that finally he saw it himself;
he saw it lying at rest, for some time, on
the surface of the water, and within five
hundred feet of the land, and he judged it
to be one hundred feet long and three feet
in diameter. Subsequently, the animal
appeared again, near the same place. On
one occasion, two of the animals were seen
together, in that vicinity.
Similar in appearance to the above, was
the serpent seen near Plymouth, Mass.,
outside of the harbor, but near the land,
and within a quarter of a mile of those
who saw him. One of these was a very
intelligent sea-captain, who viewed him
with the naked eye, and also through a
glass. When he first observed the animal,
it was moving directly from him, and
seemed to be about thirty or forty feet
long; but on changing its course, and
exhibiting fairly its whole length, he
judged it to be at least one hundred feet.
The serpent again approached the shore,
and remained at rest for about five min
utes. The sky was clear and the weather

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

577

calm, affording the most perfect opportu
nity for observation. The bunches were
as large as a barrel, and about thirty in
number. The head and neck appeared
six or eight feet long. It was of a deep
brown color.
The vicinity of Cape Ann seems to have
been a favorite resort with this monster.
At one time, it was seen by the master of
an eastern coaster, lying at anchor in the
harbor of Gloucester ; there it lay at rest,
on the surface of the water, very near his
vessel, with its head near the cable in
front of the vessel, and its tail extending
beyond the stern. The vessel was at least
sixty feet, according to her tonnage ; and
the animal not less than seventy-five or
eighty. Soon after, one of the citizens of
Gloucester, who resided at the point of
land running out into the Atlantic, saw
the serpent and gave an account of it.
He had a chance to view the animal for
more than an hour, during which it was
in motion backwards and forwards, and
nearer, or more distant. He saw what he
estimated to be fifty feet of the animal's
length, but did not speak of any bunches.
He described its color as others had done.
During the same season, and the same
month, August, the serpent was seen in
that vicinity by a number of other persons,
and sometimes within fifty feet. Some
noticed the bunches, and some did not.
The crew of a vessel belonging to New
buryport, of another vessel belonging to
Beverly, and of a vessel from New York
to Salem, all saw what they called a large
sea-serpent. So also did the fishermen of
several Chebaco boats, then employed in
the cod or mackerel catching carried on in
that region.
Prom all this testimony, there seemed
to he no doubt, reasonable or plausible, of
the existence of a sea-serpent, of some
eighty to one hundred feet in length, and
of the size of a large barrel or cask.
Indeed, so great was the sensation created
V the movements of the monster, so
repeatedly seen for successive years by so
many witnesses, and described by them
with such detail and general concurrence,
37

that the Linnsean Society of Boston ap
pointed a committee of eminent scientific
gentlemen to collect evidence on the sub
ject, and they drew up a report, giving in
detail the depositions of numerous wit
nesses who saw the creature on shore or at
sea, some of them from a distance of only
ten yards. According to these witnesses,
the monster was from eighty to ninety feet
long, his head usually carried about two
feet above water ; of a dark brown color ;
the body with thirty or more protuber
ances, compared by some to four-gallon
kegs, by others to a string of buoys, and
called by several persons bunches on the
back ; motion very rapid, faster than that
of a whale, swimming a mile in three min
utes, and sometimes more, leaving a wake
behind him ; chasing mackerel, herrings,
and other fish, which were seen jumping
out of the water, fifty at a time, as he
approached. He only came to the surface
of the sea in calm and bright weather. A
skillful gunner fired at him from a boat,
and, having taken good aim, felt sure he
must have hit him on the head ; the crea
ture turned toward him, then dived under
the boat, and immediately re-appeared on
the other side, at a distance of about a
hundred yards.
A somewhat curious incident occurred
at the time the committee were concluding
their report, and which naturally created
quite a lively interest and not a little dis
cussion. Just where the animal was so
often seen in Gloucester Bay and near
Cape Ann, there is a cove making up into
the land, beyond the general course about
one hundred and fifty yards; near this
cove a snake was discovered and taken,
while aiming towards the bay. When
moving slowly on the ground, the motion
was vertical ; and it moved by contracting
and then extending itself. One of the
men present pursued and detained it with
his pitchfork. The efforts it made were
said to be different from those of ordinary
snakes. It had the power of expansion
and contraction in a remarkable degree.
When contracted, it was scarcely two feet
long, and there appeared bunches on the

578

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

back , but when it was at rest and lying
horizontally, it was three feet, and the
bunches were hardly perceptible. The
people who killed it, believing that there
were some striking differences between
such a snake and those commonly seen,
sent it to Boston, where it was carefully
and scientifically examined. Its length
was found to be two feet eleven inches and
a half; and, from a comparison of the
young of large land snakes and serpents,
with those of common age and growth, it
was estimated that the parent of this — if
but a few weeks old — might be from one
hundred to one hundred and eight feet.
The place where the young was found;
the peculiar formation with bunches made
by nelf-contraction ; and the spine adapted
to this singular shape, excepting near the
neck and tail, where it was straight as in
other serpents, and where no bunches were
discovered in the large monster ; — all these
characteristics seemed to render it proba
ble, in the minds of the' examiners, that
the small animal was the offspring of the
great sea-monster. But someidoubted, and
attributed the protuberances to disease
of the spine. Twenty-four distinct bunches
were noticed between the head and tail-
end of the creature. The color was a deep
brown ; the belly a little lighter. The
internal structure of the animal captured,
differed from that of other serpents ; the
different vertebrae varied, and were accom
modated by their shape and size to the
configuration of the back.
Among others who saw this mammoth
inhabitant of the deep, — supposed to be
the "leviathan," of which King David
speaks when recounting the wonders of
divine power, — was the Hon. T. H. Per
kins, for fifty years one of the most emi
nent and honored of Boston merchants.
On seeing the far-famed animal, he wrote
down notes of his observations, from which
it appears that he counted fourteen pro
jections, six feet apart, on the back, which
he presumed to be vertical flexures of the
body when in motion ; but he also saw the
body bent horizontally into the figure of
the letter S. It was of a chocolate brown

color, the head flat, and about a foot across.
Respecting the length, Mr. Mansfield, a
friend of Mr. Perkins, was driving a one-
horse vehicle on a road skirting Gloucester
Bay, along the edge of a cliff, fifty or sixty
feet in perpendicular height, when he saw
the serpent at the base of the cliff on the
white beach, where there was not more
than six or seven feet water, and, giving
the reins to his wife, looked down upon the
creature, and made up his mind it was
ninety feet long ; he then took his wife to
the spot, and asked her to guess its length,
and she said it was as long as the wharf
behind their house, and this measured
about one hundred feet. While they were
looking down on it, the creature appeared
to be alarmed, and started off.
Mr. Cabot, another eminent Boston mer
chant, was also one of those who saw
the serpent, and gave an account of it to
that distinguished man of science, who
was then traveling in America, Sir Charles
Lyell. On the latter asking Mr. Cabot
whether what seemed to be a serpent, or
monster, might not have been a shoal of
porpoises following each other in a line, at
the distance of one or two yards, and
tumbling over so as to resemble a string of
floating barrels in motion, Mr. Cabot said
that after such an explanation had been
suggested respecting the matter, he was
one of thirty persons who ran along the
beach at Nahant, near Boston, when the
sea-serpent was swimming very near the
shore ; — they were all convinced that it
was one animal, and they soon saw it raise
its head out of the water. Mr. Cabot also
stated that there were at that time two
sea-serpents moving about in the bay at
once. The fact of the sea-serpent's course not
being confined to the places at the north
already mentioned, but that it went as far
south as Cape Hatteras, in North Carolina,
latitude thirty-five degrees, is well attested.
Among other evidence to this effect, is
that of Captain Johnson, of New Jersey,
who states that he was sailing from the
West Indies, on the inner edge of the
Gulf Stream, in a deeply laden brig, when

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

579

they were becalmed, and the crew and
passengers awe-struck by the sudden appa
rition of a creature having a cylindrical
body of enormous length, and which lifted
up its head eight feet above the water.
The story was so likely to be discredited,
that the captain would only relate it to
intimate friends.
One of the most readable and reliable
narratives concerning this gigantic fish, is
that contained in a letter written by James
Prince, formerly United States marshal, to
Judge Davis, of Massachusetts. His head
(writes Mr. Prince,) appeared about three
feet above water, and on his back were
to be seen thirteen bunches. He passed
three times, at a moderate rate, across the
bay, but so as to occasion a foam in the
water; and in length the monster was
judged to be from forty to not more than
sixty feet. Whether, however, the wake
might not have been added to the appear
ance of his length, or whether the undu
lation of the water or his peculiar manner
of propelling himself might not, also, have
caused the appearance of protuberances,

could not be positively determined. The
first view of the animal occasioned some
agitation on the part of the observers, and
the novelty of the scene perhaps prevented
that precise discrimination which after
wards took place. As he swam up the
bay, the spectators moved on and kept
nearly abreast of him. He occasionally
withdrew himself under the water, and
the idea occurred to those who witnessed
his movements, that his practice of now
and then raising his head above the level
of the water was to take breath, as the
time he kept under was, on an average,
about eight minutes ; and, after being
accustomed to viewing him, the party
became more composed, and his general
appearance was as above delineated.
Mrs. Prince and the coachman, having
the best eye-sight, were of great assistance
to Mr. Prince, in marking the progress of
the animal ; they would say, ' He is now
turning,' and, by the aid of a glass, Mr.
Prince saw him distinctly in that move
ment. He did not turn without occupying
some space, and, taking into view the time
and space which he found necessary to his
accommodation in this process, some crite
rion was afforded by which to judge of the
creature's length. Seven distinct views
were obtained of him, from the long beach,
so called, and at some of them the animal
was not more than a hundred yards dis
tant. Mr. Prince had been accustomed to
see whales, sharks, grampuses, porpoises,
and other large fishes, but this monster
partook of none of the appearances of either
of these. The water was extremely smooth

APPEABANCE OF THE HUGE SEA-SEBPBNT ALONG THE ATLANTIC COAST.

580

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

and clear, and the time occupied in these
minute and deliberate observations, was
more than three hours. The company of
witnesses, exceeding two hundred, were all
alike satisfied and united as to the appear
ance of the animal, in respect to size- and
movements, as here described.
But, that the existence of the American
sea-serpent is not a " local trumped-up
wonder," will further appear from the
account given by a party of five English
officers, which sailed from Halifax, Nova
Scotia, in a small yacht, for Mahone Bay,
forty miles westward, on a fishing excur
sion, and whose testimony is unanimous
and unreserved relative to this monarch of „
the tribes of the deep.
According to the statement published
in the " Zoologist," of the experiences of
this party of officers, they had run about
half the distance intended, as they sup
posed, and were enjoying themselves on
deck, smoking cigars, and getting their
tackle ready for the contemplated campaign
against the salmon, when, what was the
party's surprise, to see an immense shoal
of grampuses, appearing to be in an unu
sual state of excitement, and which, in
their gambols, approached so close to the
yacht, that some of the company amused
themselves by firing at them with rifles.
At this time, the boat was jogging on at
about five miles an hour, and was crossing
Margaret's Bay. Their attention was
presently diverted from the grampuses and
" such small deer," by an exclamation from
the man-of-war's-man, who was sitting to
leeward, of " Oh ! sirs, look here ! " They
were started into a ready compliance with
the excited summons, and at once saw an
object which banished all other feelings
save wonder and surprise.
At the distance of some one hundred
and fifty to two hundred yards on the star
board bow of the little craft, they saw the
head and neck of some denizen of the
deep — precisely like those of a common
snake, — in the act of swimming, the head
so far elevated and thrown forward by the
curve of the neck as to enable the observ
ers to see the water under and beyond it.

The creature passed along rapidly, leaving
a regular wake, from the commencement
of which to the fore part, which was out of
water, the length seemed to be about
eighty feet; — certainly not less than this.
They were, of course, all taken aback at
the sight, and with staring eyes and in
speechless wonder stood gazing at it for
full half a minute, all being perfectly sat
isfied that they had been favored with a
view of the true and veritable sea-serpent,
which by many was regarded as existing
only in the brain of some Yankee skipper,
and treated as a tale not much entitled to
belief. The man-of-war's-man's exclama
tion was characteristic as well as pertinent
— " Well, I've sailed in all parts of the
world, and have seen sum sights too in my
time, but this is the queerest thing I ever
see!" The difficulty of giving correctly the
dimensions of any object in the water is
well-known. The head of the creature was
by this party set down at about six feet in
length, and that portion of the neck which
was visible, at the same ; the apparent
extreme length, at between eighty and a
hundred feet. The thickness of the neck
equaled the trunk of a moderate sized tree.
The color of the head and neck was a
dark brown, nearly approaching to black,
streaked in an irregular manner with
white. Another witness who may profitably be
cited in this connection, as alike intelli
gent and disinterested, is Captain M'Quhae,
commander of the English ship Daedalus,
in the autumn of 1848. While the ship's
company were at supper, and the oflicers
walking the deck, an object of unusual
appearance was observed approaching the
ship from before the beam. On examina
tion, it was discovered to be an enormous
serpent, with head and shoulders kept
about four feet constantly above the sur
face of the sea; and as nearly as they
could approximate by comparing it with
what their main-topsail yard would show
in the water, there was at the very least
sixty feet of the animal visible, no portion
of which was, to appearance,'used in pro-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

581

pelling it through the water, either hy
vertical or horizontal undulation. The
captain states that it passed rapidly, but
so close under the lee quarter, that had it
been a man of his acquaintance, he should
have easily recognized his features with
the naked eye; and it did not, either in
approaching the ship or after it had passed
the ship's wake, deviate in the slightest
degree from its course to the south-west,
which it held on at the pace of from twelve
to fifteen miles per hour, apparently on
some determined purpose. The diameter
of this serpent, or sea-snake, was about
fifteen or sixteen inches behind the head ;
and it was never, during the twenty min
utes that it continued in sight of the cap
tain's glasses, once below the surface of
the water. Its color was of a dark brown,
with yellowish white about the throat. It
had no fins, but something like the mane
of a horse washed about its back.
Captain M'Quhse states, with great pos-
itiveness, that the creature was different
from anything he had before witnessed —
resembling neither a whale, a grampus, a
great shark, an alligator, nor any of the
larger surface-swimming creatures fallen
in with in ordinary voyages ; neither was
it a common seal, nor a sea-elephant, its
great length and its totally differing phys
iognomy precluding the possibility of its
belonging to any such species. The cal
culations formed, as to its dimensions and
character, were the result of the most dis
criminating observations. Indeed, it was
not until after the great length of the
object was developed by its nearest ap
proach to the ship, and until after that
most important point had been duly con
sidered and debated— as well as such could
be in the brief space of time allowed for so
doing, — that it was pronounced to be a
serpent by all who saw it.
Captain M'Quhse's second officer states
that the appearance of the serpent's head
—which, with the back fin, or mane, was
the only portion of the animal visible,—
was long, pointed, and flattened at the top,
*e length being perhaps ten feet, and the
uPPer jaw projecting considerably; the

fin or mane was, perhaps, twenty feet in
the rear of the head, and visible occasion
ally. The upper part of the head and
shoulders appeared of a dark brown color,
and beneath the under jaw a brownish
white. It pursued a steady and undevi-
ating course, keeping its head horizontal
with the water, and in rather a raised posi
tion, disappearing occasionally beneath a
wave for a very brief interval, and not
apparently for the purposes of respira
tion. It was going at the rate of some
twelve to fourteen miles an hour, as nearly
as could be estimated, and its whole ap
pearance gave one quite the idea of a
large snake or eel; no one in the ship
had ever seen anything similar or so ex
traordinary. The first appearance of this famous
creature, of any considerable size, on land,
was the one described in the journals as
having been cast up on the coast of Ber
muda, in January, 1859. It appears that
two gentlemen, walking on the beach of
Hungary Bay, heard a strange splashing
in the water, and almost directly afterward
saw a strange sea-monster stranded on the
shore, and rapidly dying from exhaustion.
It was bright and silvery in color, without
scales, and nearly twenty feet long. On
being examined by a scientific gentleman,
Mr. Matthew Jones, a fellow of the Lin-
nsean Society of London, a report was
drawn up and published, some of the prin
cipal facts enumerated being as follows :
Body, attenuate, compressed, naked ; skin,
a silvery covering of metallic luster ; depth,
at fourteen inches from the extremity of
the face, nine inches, and increasing grad
ually to near the vent of the stomach,
when it attained its greatest thickness of
eleven inches, and then decreasing by
degrees to the end of the tail. Width, at
the same distance and through the spinal
column, two and a half to three inches.
All along the back, a series of intermittent
fins extended, and so closely situated to
each other as to appear like one single fin.
Head, truncated and compressed ; face of a
dark color. Eyes of a bright silver color,
with oval pupils of a light transparent

582

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

blue. There was no appearance of any
teeth. It was a male fish, and, from the
extremely fragile nature of its various
parts, had evidently not attained to matu
rity. The examiner classified the creat

ure with what is popularly denominated
the monster sea-serpent, it being reasona
bly assumed that a creature which, in
infancy, was sixteen feet long, might
attain an enormous size at maturity.

LXVIII.
KEOEPTION OF GOT. KOSSUTH, THE GREAT HUNGA-
KIAN EXILE, AS THE INVITED GUEST OF THE
NATION.— 1851.

Splendid Military Pageant in New York, on His Arrival. — Welcomed and Banqueted by President Fill
more. — Received with Distinguished Official Honors on the Floor of Congress. — He Eloquently
Pleads His Country's Cause in all Parts of the Land — Processions, Congratulatory Addresses, Accla
mations, etc. — A True-Hearted Patriot. — What Hungary Fought for. — Austrian Despotism Resisted.
— Independence Demanded — Kossuth the Leading Champion — Armies in the Field. — Successes and
Reverses. — Russia's Sword for Austria. — Kossuth's Flight to Turkey. — Long an Exile There. —
America Interposes for Him — Offers a Conveyance to the United States. — The Nation's Courtesy
Accepted. — Frigate Mississippi Sent. — Kossuth and Suite on Board. — His Landing at New York. —
Magnificent Preparations for Him. — Invited to Washington. — Speech before Congress. — An Unprec
edented Distinction. — His Untiring Labors. — Greatest Orator of the Day.

"Freedom and Home I what heavenly music in those words! Alas, I have no home, and the freedom of my people ia down-trodden."
-Kossuth, OH HIS- Arrival in America.

J OSSUTH'S reception in the United States, as the great
advocate of Hungarian independence, was, in some of its
s^ * most interesting aspects, like that accorded to the illustri-

584

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ous Lafayette. In the case of Kossuth,
however, instead of homage for servicer,
rendered in the dark hour of our nation's
peril, the welcome extended him was the
tribute, spontaneous as well as universal,
of a great and admiring republic, to one
of the bravest and most eloquent of pa
triots, enthusiastically appealing, in his
exile, to the generous sympathies of man
kind, in behalf of his father-land, — a people
strong and valorous, but crushed beneath
the heavy chains of Austrian despotism,
backed by the power of Russian bayonets.
Louis Kossuth was born in 1806, at
Monok, in the north of Hungary, of pa
rents not rich, yet possessing land, and
calling themselves noble. His native dis
trict was a Protestant one, and in the
pastor of that district young Kossuth
found his first teacher. His parents dying,
the youth, more devoted to books than
farming, was dispatched to the provincial
college, where he remained till the age of
eighteen, having earned even at that time
the reputation of being the most able and.
promising youth of the whole district. In
1826, he removed to the university of
Pesth, where he came in contact with the
progressive political influences and ideas
of the time ; and these, blending with his
own historic studies and youthful hopes,
soon produced the ardent, practical patriot.
According to the constitution of Hun
gary, the electoral body — called " Comi
tate," — treated those elected to sit in the
Diet more as delegates than as deputies.
They gave them precise instructions, and
expected the members not only to conform
to them, but to send regular accounts of
their conduct to their constituents for due
sanction, and with a view to fresh instruc
tions. This kind of communication was
rather an onerous task for the Hungarian
country gentlemen, and hence many of
the deputies employed such young men as
Kossuth to transact their political business,
and conduct their correspondence. Acting
in this capacity for many members of the
Diet, Kossuth not only became an expert
parliamentary agent, but won great polit
ical esteem and influence.

This kind of position soon made Kos
suth a member himself, and from the very
first he distinguished himself in the Diet
as a speaker. Under his lead, too, the
Diet proceeded to establish a journal for
the publication of its debates, but which
being garbled and curtailed by the Aus
trian censors, soon passed into Kossuth's
hands exclusively, who extended the scope
of the journal by inserting editorial arti
cles. The character of these articles so
incensed the Austrian authorities, that
they seized his presses. In a short time,
however, Kossuth's reports and articles
were printed by the then new method of
lithography, and circulated even more
largely, notwithstanding the increased
labor and expense. This success but
redoubled the inveteracy of the Austrian
government, which dissolved the Diet, and
were no sooner rid of its control and
importunity, than they discovered and
destroyed all Kossuth's lithographic appa
ratus. But even this did not stop his pen
nor those of his many amanuenses ; until
at last Metternich, the prime minister, ex
asperated by Kossuth's obstinacy, caused
him to be seized and condemned to impris
onment, for the crime of treason. The
indignation and agitation which followed
this act, ended, eventually, in his release.
Unterrified by prisons and dungeons,
Kossuth, aided by the' counsels and co-ope
ration of his associates, continued to stir
the hearts of his countrymen, and to
demand political independence for his
country. Among the many men of noble
birth, wealth, national renown, and exalted
talents, who surrounded him, Kossuth
shone pre-eminent In 1847, he was the
acknowledged leader of the constitutional
party, and member for the Hungarian cap
ital. Nor did he falter when many broke
off from him, and refused to follow his
extreme measures of resistance. Of this
last class were the Hungarian aristocracy,
turning to whom, Kossuth ironically said,
" With you, if you choose ; without you,
or against you, if it must be.
The vehemency with which he advo
cated the right and ability of the people of

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

585

Hungary to govern themselves was aston
ishing, and multitudes rallied to his stand
ard. Nothing in modern eloquence equals
his speeches and proclamations at this
time. He also vigorously assailed the
tariff system imposed upon Hungary, and
which crippled her industry, thrift, and
p0Wer, — a point which he used to great
advantage in: gaining public opinion. Up
to 1847, he thus continued, with matchless
eloquence and amazing activity, to secure
a reform in the institutions and laws
affecting his country, — a transformation of
her moral, political, and material interests,
as against the hostile policy of Austrian
absolutism. It was a struggle for the
rights of Hungary, in all circumstances
and against all foes. And now came that
eventful year in the history of Europe,
1848, which drove Louis Philippe in terror
from the throne of France, and filled
almost every capital of empires and king
doms with the bayonets of those who, long
oppressed, resolved now to be free. This
was the hour for Hungary, and Kossuth
was the man! In a long series of years,
with the pen, with the press, and as an
orator, he had circumvented and repelled
the arts of Austrian despotism. The time
had now come to create a treasury, organ
ize an army, and accept the wager of
battle. Under the lead of Kossuth's ani
mating spirit was this accomplished ; and
the motley bands of Hungarian recruits,
under the direction of Kossuth as governor
of the nation, waged, for a time, such vic
torious warfare against the veteran legions
of Austria, as fairly astonished the world.
It was in March, 1848, that the spirit of
revolution broke out in Vienna, the Aus
trian capital. Metternich, the wily tool
of tyrants, fled in dismay. Kossuth en
tered the capital in triumph! Terror-
stricken at the gulf of ruin which yawned
before him, the emperor made haste to
grant concessions, namely, the emancipa
tion of the Hungarian peasantry from
feudal burdens, a fair representation of the
whole people in the Diet, the abolition of
all exemptions from taxation, the freedom
of the Press, and trial by jury. But, not

withstanding the emperor's assent to these
enactments, the Austrian government was
soon engaged in fomenting grave difficul
ties in Hungarian affairs, and this led to
those great military preparations on the
part of Kossuth, which rapidly took the
form of active and bloody war.
With great vigor and spirit did the
brave Hungarians carry on the campaign,
and for a time their armies were every
where successful. But afterwards, Russia
came and flung both sword and purse into

the scale, and, though the armies of the
tyrants had suffered five great defeats and
lost every military position they had
gained, the odds of numbers against the
struggling patriots had now become too
vast to admit of successful resistance on
their part. Buda was stormed and taken
possession of by the Hungarians in May,
but immense Russian forces were in a few
weeks collected on the frontiers, and in
July they simultaneously poured into Hun
gary from the north and east, while the
Croats, under Jellachich, advanced from
the south, and the Austrians from the
west. The struggle was soon terminated.
Gorgey, the Hungarian general, surren
dered with his army of forty thousand men
to the Russians, only two days after the
governorship of the country had been
resigned to him by Kossuth. Other sur
renders soon followed, and thus the war
ended.

586

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

During this struggle, the forces brought
into the field at any one time by the Hun
garians, never exceeded one hundred and
thirty-five thousand men, with four hun
dred pieces of artillery ; against whom
were opposed, in the final campaign, one
hundred and fifty thousand Russians, and
one hundred and ten thousand Austrian
troops, besides insurgent Wallacks, Servi
ans, etc., making a total of three hundred
thousand men.
Thus perished, through Russian inter
vention, the cause of Hungarian nation
ality. Kossuth's name had been nailed to the
Austrian gallows, and he fled as an exile
into Turkey. Austria and Russia de
manded that he be delivered up, but France
and England interposed in his behalf, and
the sultan continued to protect him in the
asylum which he had chosen. At length,
the offer of a resolution in the senate of the
United States, that the American govern
ment should exert its influence in behalf
of the exiles, seemed likely to solve the
difficulty. This resolution passed. As
soon as the sultan — who certainly had
risked the safety of Turkey in disregard
ing the threats of Austria and Russia —
received the assurance of the support of
America and England, he not only at
tached no condition to their liberation, but
gave them the choice of being conveyed to
England or America, as they preferred.
The legation of the United States at Con
stantinople having assured Kossuth that
no restraint would be put upon his liberty
in America, he gratefully accepted the
offer made by congress, and wrote a letter
of thanks to President Fillmore.
In September, 1851, the fine American
steam-frigate Mississippi arrived for the
conveyance of the late governor of Hun
gary, his wife, his three children, and his
friends, to whatever country they desired.
Soliman Bey, the Turkish guard of the
refugees during their exile, and who had
never failed in the most respectful atten
tions to them, was overcome with emotion
when Kossuth came to leave, and in part
ing said to him, " You are free, and now

you will find friends everywhere ; do not
forget those who were your friends when
you had no other." From their first
entrance into Turkey to the hour of their
leaving, the Hungarians had experienced
unvarying kindness, hospitality, and cour
tesy. Kossuth proposed to pay a short visit to
England, on his way to the United States.
As the Mississippi approached the coasts
of Italy and France, bonfires were kindled
along the heights, as a sign of rejoicing.
Kossuth proposed to stop at Marseilles,
and travel thence to England, but the
French authorities, by direction of Louis
Napoleon, would not permit him to land.
The people of France, however, gave him
ample demonstration that they were not
responsible for the acts of the government ;
they crowded around the ship, offering
him garlands of laurel, while they pre
sented wreaths of everlasting to the Amer
icans, and filled the air with enthusiastic
cheers. While opposite the shores of
Marseilles, an operative came, notwith
standing the cold, swimming through the
water, on 'board the frigate, to grasp Kos
suth's hand. Kossuth pressed the work
man's hand most warmly, and gently
reproached him for his temerity. 'Que
voulez vous,' he replied ; ' I desired to
touch your hand, I could not find a boat, I
took to the water, and here I am. Are
there any obstacles to him who wills ? '
Landing at Gibraltar, Kossuth took pas
sage in the English steamer Madrid for
Southampton, and, after a most enthusi
astic reception in the principal English
cities by the hard-working masses, they
left for America. To the great republic
of the west he had been invited by con
gress, and here he was received as the
nation's guest by the president, by sena
tors and representatives, by governors and
legislators, by men in the highest station,
and by the whole mass of the people.
He arrived off Staten Island, December
fifth, and was received by an official depu
tation who came on board to welcome him
to the United States.
Saturday, December sixth, was the day

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

587

fixed upon by the great metropolis of the
nation, to celebrate his landing in Amer
ica • a few days before, President Fillmore
had announced to congress the arrival of
their illustrious guest. The very skies of
heaven, by their brightness and serenity,
seemed to participate in the welcome
accorded to the distinguished chief. At
an early hour, the streets were filled with
a vast concourse. The decorations of the
streets, public buildings, private houses,
and places of business, were on a large
scale and in a style of imposing magnifi
cence. Myriads of eager spectators filled
the space from the Park to Castle Garden,
intent on gaining an early glimpse of the
world-renowned guest of patriotic Ameri
can hospitality.
The steamer that had been provided to
bring Kossuth up to the city, was decor
ated at the bows with a large Hungarian
standard, and underneath, on the same
flag-pole, was the flag of the ship. At the
stern, a large United States banner, bear
ing the stars and stripes, floated, and
showed a beautiful contrast with the Hun
garian flag. On the arrival of the chief
tain at the steamer, he was recognized by
his Hungarian hat, and large velvet em
broidered coat, and a spontaneous burst of
applause rose from the anxious company
who were looking out from the vessel. At
this moment, the band struck up " Hail to
the Chief," and the salute from the guns
of the steamer began, which was the signal
for another burst of enthusiastic applause.
After much pushing and crowding, in
which neither ladies nor Hungarians were
much respected, the party got on board,
and the steamer put off into the bay, the
greeting of crowds on the shore being per
fectly tumultuous. On getting upon the
boat, Kossuth remained for some time
viewing the expansive bay, and listening
to the descriptions of its various portions.
At half-past twelve o'clock, the steamer
came to, at Castle Garden, and the com
pany began to debark. An avenue was
formed by the police and military, through
which, Kossuth, his staff, and the other
gentlemen passed to the large room, which

they reached after much crushing and
pushing. Among the throng of eager
expectants in the Garden was a large rep
resentation of ladies. The actual arrival
of Kossuth was the signal for an uncon
trollable uproar, and a fearful rush was
made toward the door by which he was to
enter. There was no such thing as keep
ing order; cries of "There he is," "Hur
rah," deafening cheers and shouts, set law
and order completely at defiance. When
he was fairly recognized by the multitude,
a shout was given that threatened to raise
the vast roof from its place. Nearly a
quarter of an hour of indescribable exulta
tion ensued, and all the beseeching ges
tures of the mayor and committee were
unheeded. Finally, the mayor, who was surrounded
by the common council and the officers of
the military companies, presented an ad
dress to Kossuth, and then said :
" I present to you, my fellow-citizens,
Kossuth, the illustrious Chief of Hun
gary." Kossuth bowed his acknowledgments of
the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd, and
then proceeded to reply in a speech of
most masterly eloquence and power.
As soon as the illustrious exile left the
Garden and made his appearance in the
Battery, the acclamations of the tens of
thousands present burst forth in almost a
simultaneous cheer, dense and far-reaching
though the crowd was. He was provided
with a horse, and, surrounded by his com
panions in exile, rode round the ranks.
The different companies, with their em
blazoned standards, shining armor, and
splendid uniforms, went through their
evolutions in superb style.
The scene at the moment Kossuth's
carriage, in its place in the grand proces
sion, entered on Broadway, surpassed
description. Every window of that wide
and magnificent thoroughfare, as far as
the eye could see, was alive with human
beings, and, amidst the waving of hand
kerchiefs, by as beautiful an array of the
fair sex as could be witnessed, who were
most enthusiastic in their applause, the

588

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

honored guest passed onward. It was with
the greatest difficulty that the line of the
movement could be kept in order, in con
sequence of the rush of the human tide
that endeavored to keep up with the car
riage containing Kossuth. Every avenue
leading from Broadway, lent its quota of
spectators, to swell up the teeming mass.
Many who had witnessed similar exhibi
tions of popular enthusiasm from the time
of Lafayette's arrival in 1824, said that
this ovation to Kossuth exceeded all.
Kossuth returned the greetings he re
ceived with that grace and dignity always

For some time, Kossuth gave himself up
to receiving deputations and their congrat
ulatory addresses. These hailed from all
parts of the land, and represented states,
municipalities, corporations, ecclesiastical
and political bodies, and innumerable soci
eties of various names, objects, and nation
alities. One of these deputations con
sisted of German citizens from Albany,
and, after the usual exchange of formal
addresses, Kossuth, taking each one kindly
by the hand, bade him adieu, and spoke a
few words of cheer. Approaching one of
the bystanders who had accompanied one

GRAND MILITARY RECEPTION OF GOVERNOR KOSSUTH, IH NEW YORK.

so characteristic of him. Yet, he seemed
the least interested of any one in the
pageant — the key to his sadness being
found, doubtless, in that memorable senti
ment uttered by him in one of his speeches :
"Freedom and home! what heavenly
music in those two words ! Alas, I have
no home, and the freedom of my people is
down-trodden ! " Such, indeed, was the pen
sive strain in which Kossuth always spoke
of himself and of his ill-fated father-land.

deputation, Kossuth took him by the
hand and inquired if he too was an Al
banian. "No, I am a Jersey man," replied the
interrogated, whose fair complexion, and
presence with the German company, had
evidently occasioned the mistake. " There
are several of us here from the state of
New Jersey," exclaimed an old farmer,
" we have come fifty miles to see you."
"Believe me, my friends," replied Eos-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

589

suth, " I deeply appreciate your kindness.
It is these little attentions that most
touch my heart. Adieu." Incidents like
this were constantly occurring.
In Philadelphia, Kossuth was received
in Independence Hall, where the immor
tal Declaration of American Independence
had been proclaimed just three-quarters of
a century ago. From Philadelphia he
went to Baltimore, where he was escorted
to his hotel by a vast concourse of people,
and a long line of military. The city
council had voted resolutions expressive of
their sympathy with the exiles, and with
their struggles for independence, and had
sent to New York an address welcoming
Kossuth and his companions. Kossuth
now, therefore, in the hall of the Maryland
Institute, expressed his thanks to the citi
zens of Baltimore.
He reached Washington on the thirtieth
of December, where a committee consisting
of Senators Seward, Cass, and Shields, had
been appointed to officially welcome him
to the nation's capital. The secretary of
state, Daniel Webster, was among the first
to visit Kossuth, and to mark his respect
for him. When asked, a few days later,
what he thought of the Hungarian exile,
he replied : " He has the manners of a
king — his is a royal nature."
The following day, after the president's
levee, the rooms of Kossuth were crowded
with visitors, citizens and dignitaries, who
came, not only to see the man whose fame
had filled two hemispheres, but to honor
the noble cause he represented. On the
sixth of January, Kossuth dined with the
president of the United States, and other
high officials, at the executive mansion.
He was also invited to an audience given
by the president to the Indian delegations
from the far west. On the seventh, the
congress of the United States invited him
to the capitol, an honor which had never
before been bestowed upon any individual,
excepting Lafayette. The galleries and
lobbies were crowded with ladies, and as he
entered, the members of the house all rose,
while the chairman of the committee intro
duced him in these words :

" Mr. Speaker, I have the honor on the
part of the committee, to present Governor
Louis Kossuth to the house of represent
atives." To which the speaker replied :
" As the organ of this body, I have the
honor to extend to Louis Kossuth a
cordial welcome to the house of represent
atives." Kossuth then said :
" Sir, it is a remarkable fact in the his
tory of mankind, that while, through all
the past, honors were bestowed upon glory,
and glory was attached only to success, the
legislative authorities of this great repub
lic bestow honors upon a persecuted exile,
not conspicuous by glory, not favored by
success, but engaged in a just cause.
There is a triumph of republican princi
ples in this fact. Sir, I thank in my own
and my country's name, the house of rep
resentatives of the United States, for the
honor of this cordial welcome."
After he had taken the seat prepared
for him, the house was adjourned, to
allow those who had assembled to witness
this introduction to be presented to Kos
suth. In the evening, a banquet was given
him by the members of both houses of
congress, presided over by Hon. W. R.
King, vice-president of the United States.
Kossuth was placed at his right hand, and
Daniel Webster, secretary of state, at his
left. The speaker of the house sat at
Kossuth's side. This was indeed a great
occasion for Kossuth, and nobly did he
bear himself. Senators, judges, diplomats,
military and naval dignitaries, and cabinet
ministers, were there to do him honor.
After the health of the president, and of
the judiciary of the United States, had
been given, Judge Wayne of the supreme
court proposed : " Constitutional liberty to
all the nations of the earth, supported by
Christian faith and the morality of the
Bible ; " a toast which was enthusiastically
received. The presiding officer then gave :
"Hungary: represented in the person of
our honored guest ; having proved herself
worthy to be free, by the virtues and valor

590

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

of her sons, the law of nations and the
dictates of justice alike demand that she
shall have fair play in her struggle for
independence." Kossuth replied in a long
and eloquent speech. The secretary of
state, in his speech, gave an authorized
assurance of President Fillmore's " kind
ness and good wishes toward the guest of
the nation," and also expressed his own
high appreciation of Kossuth, his country
and his cause. Other speeches were made
by the great orators of the nation there
assembled, and nothing could exceed the
magnificence of this occasion, in respect
to the character and fame of those in
attendance, the splendor of the intel
lectual efforts of the speakers, and the
sumptuousness of the banquet in its ma
terial aspects.
To the far west, the south, and again to
the east, Kossuth extended his tour, plead
ing the cause of his down-trodden country,
and receiving honors and distinctions, such
as a king might covet, from one end of the
broad land to the other. Cities gave him
the freedom of their municipalities ; legis
latures and governors invited him to the
capitals of tlieir states; and the people
everywhere rushed to welcome him. But
in one thing, Kossuth was bitterly disap
pointed, namely, in not securing the active
interference of the United States in behalf
of his country's rights. With all his vast
powers of eloquence and logic, in demon
strating the law of nations in this regard,
he invoked the strong arm of the Ameri
can republic to interpose for Hungarian
nationality. But, though willing to pro
claim to the whole world, sympathy and
accord with the Hungarian movement, the
American government felt obliged to re
frain from any acts of positive interven
tion, as contrary to national usage and
policy. After remaining in the United States
about six months, during which he made
nearly three hundred speeches, about one
hundred of which were elaborate orations,
Kossuth departed for England. A patri
otic fund which had been raised in Amer
ica for the cause he advocated, was

intrusted to him for the service of his
country ; but, after watching for many
years the political skies of Europe and
bringing to bear all the resources of his
fertile mind upon the questions and events
affecting the destiny of his country, he at
last saw the once brightened horizon of his
beloved father-land settle in the hopeless
darkness of confirmed and accepted Aus
trian rule.
In his appearance and manners, while a
visitor to this country, Kossuth was de
scribed by those who enjoyed frequent
opportunities of personal contact, as being
five feet eight inches in height, with a
rather slight frame, and a face expressive
of a penetrating intellects — l°ng> with a
broad forehead, and the chin narrow, but
square in its form. His hair thin in front,
and of a dark brown, the same as his
beard, which was quite long, but not very
thick, and arranged with neatness and
taste. He wore a moustache, heavy and
somewhat long. His eyes, very large and
of a light blue, well set beneath a full and
arched brow ; complexion pale, occasioned,
doubtless, by his long captivity and inces
sant application. His countenance was
characterized by an aspect of almost mel
ancholy earnestness, of refinement, and of
gentleness, mingled with manly fire, and
an air of prompt, decisive action.
In speaking, nothing could be more
incomparably dignified and graceful than
Kossuth's manner ; gestures more admira
ble and effective, and a play of countenance
more magnetic and winning, could not be
conceived. He always stood quite erect,
instead of frequently bending forward, as
is the case with some orators, to give
emphasis to a sentence. His posture and
appearance in repose indicated greatness,
by their essential grace and dignity, and
impressed the beholder with a sense of
marked individuality and power. This
sense of reserved power in the man the
certainty that he was not making an effort
and doing his utmost, but that behind all
this strength of fascination, there were
other treasures of ability not brought into
notice, and perhaps never made use of —

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

591

constituted one of the great charms of his
oratory. He spoke as if with little prepa
ration and with that peculiar freshness
which belongs to extemporaneous speak
ing- every movement seemed perfectly

easy, and he gesticulated a good deal,
equally well with either arm. The uni
versal remark concerning him in this
respect was, that he was the greatest of
living orators.

LXIX.
tfAVAL EXPEDITION TO JAPAN, UNDER OOMMODOEE
M. 0. PERRY.— 1852.

Negotiations to be Opened for Unsealing the Ports of that Empire to America. — Letter of Friendship
from the President of the United States to the Emperor. — Distinguished Favor Shown the Represen
tatives of the Great Republic. — Ceremonies, Entertainments, and Diplomatic Conferences. — Treaty
of Peace, Amity, and Commercial Intercourse Concluded. — Former Japanese Isolation Policy. — Exclu
sive Privileges to the Dutch. — Effects of this restriction. — European Efforts to Change it. — Mission
of Commodore Biddle. — Seeks the Release of United States Sailors. — Ordered to Depart Forth
with. — Firm Conduct of Captain Glynn. — Contempt for Japanese Etiquette. — Champagne as a
Mediator.— Commodore Perry's Fine Fleet. — The Letter in a Golden Box — Its Presentation to the
Emperor. — Commissioners Meet Commodore Perry. — Their Attire, Manners, Etc. — The Conference
in Session. — Frendliness of the Japanese. — Civilities and Festivals. — Reception on the Flag-Ship. —
Substance of the Treaty. — A Talk with the Emperor. — More Privileges Extended.

"I have directed Commodore Perry to assure your imperial majesty that I entertain the kindest feelings towards your majesty's person
and government, and that I haye no other object in sending him to Japan but to propose to your imperial majesty that the United State!
and Japan should live in friendship and have commercial intercourse with each other/'— The President's Letter to tee Uupkboh.

? AP A.NESL seclusion from the rest of the nations of the earth, and especially
from the governments representing the same, seemed, for centu
ries, to be an irritating problem, defying the utmost ingenuity
and skill of diplomacy to solve ; and the various attempts, made
by different governments, to break through this impenetrable
barrier of isolation, were, until a period comparatively recent,
completely abortive, — the only approach to anything deserving
the name of commercial intercourse with that country being a
restricted privilege to trade at one or two points, granted for a
time to the Portuguese, and subsequently to the
Dutch, but, in each case, upon conditions most
humiliating to the parties thus favored by the
Japanese. But it is a fact which would seem not to
admit of any doubt, that this practice of jeal
ous seclusion is fostered rather by the ruling
classes, than by the masses of the people, and,
therefore, foreign nations have felt all the
more justified in endeavoring to break down a
policy so manifestly at war with the rights
and interests of the human race. Providence
having bestowed the whole earth on the chil-
tbeaty of iitAcir,, AMiiv, bto. dren of men, such isolation is defeating alto-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

593

gether that beneficent purpose ; for, should
other nations follow the example of Japan,
and refuse to communicate with their
neighbors, there would be an end of all
commerce, of all progress, of all civiliza
tion, — industry would be smitten with
paralysis, and men would regard the inhab
itants of adjoining countries as enemies.
Of the efforts put forth by European
nations to establish commercial and politi
cal fraternity with Japan, no rehearsal
need be here made. On the part of the
United States, negotiations were under
taken during the administration of Presi
dent Polk, through Commodore Biddle,
but with no success of a permanent char
acter. The commodore had been espe
cially charged with the duty of bringing
home several American sailors, who, having
escaped from the wreck of their whale-ship,
succeeded in reaching the Japanese coast,
but were forthwith imprisoned. As illus
trating the rules and conduct of the singu
lar people into whose good graces the com
modore thus essayed to propitiate himself,
the following circumstances, as related by
Mr. Secretary Kennedy and others, will
both amuse and instruct, and form a fit pre
liminary to the account of Commodore Per
ry's subsequent visit : —
As soon as Commodore Biddle had an
chored in the bay of Yeddo, a junk, with
the officials of the empire, came out to his
ship, having with them a Dutch inter
preter. Biddle told the dignitaries that
the vessels came with good will, to learn
whether Japan had, like China, opened
her ports to foreign trade; and, if she
nad, to negotiate a treaty of commerce.
The dignitaries requested that this state
ment should be reduced to writing, for
transmission to the higher authorities.
He also stated that all needed supplies
would be furnished, but refused any per
mission to land. In about a week, an offi
cer with a suite of eight persons came on
Wrd with the emperor's letter, which
wad thus: "According to the Japanese
laws, the Japanese may not trade except
with the Dutch and Chinese. It will not
l>e allowed that America make a treaty
38

with Japan or trade with her, as the same
is not allowed with any other nation.
Concerning strange lands, all things are
fixed at Nagasaki, but not hero in the
bay ; therefore you must depart as quick
as possible, and not come any more to
Japan." Biddle's instructions being not
to do anything "to excite a hostile feeling,
or distrust to the United States," he was
compelled to refrain from any compulsory
proceedings. It so happened, that when the junk,
with the officials, made the visit to the
commodore's vessel, as above described,
one of the American officers stepped on
board; but, in consequence of his having
violated Japanese etiquette by boarding a
government junk before the official bell
had been rung, a Japanese knocked him
overboard, and the junk returned to the
shore. The officer, very naturally thinking
himself badly used, demanded an apology.
The next day, therefore, the commodore
received a message stating that the Jap
anese who had knocked the American over
the gangway, would be sent on board with
his father and mother, brothers and sis
ters, grandmother, wife, and wife's sister,
and that they would all rip themselves
open before the captain, for his satisfac
tion. But tho captain did not want to
witness that sort of satisfaction, and, as
he could not ascertain anything about the
prisoners, he set sail for home. The Jap
anese entertained a very poor opinion of
the American people, in consequence of
the conduct of the captain on that occasion
— a nation, they thought, that would not
allow men to rip themselves open, must be
a nation of cowards. The next squadron
to Japan was directed by Captain Glynn,
who determined to make an example of the
Japanese. As soon, therefore, as the American ship
approached the shore, a junk came off to
her, and, when near enough, a parchment
was extended towards the ship's officers
on a reed. The captain took the parch
ment and threw it into the water. In an
instant, four or five Japanese jumped over
board and recovered the parchment, be-

594

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

cause, as the captain was told afterwards,
they would have been ripped open if the
parchment had been lost. As the anchor
age usually allotted to foreigners did not
please Captain Glynn, he moved towards
a more convenient haven. Suddenly, a
voice in the junk shouted, " You must go
no furder — you must go no f urder ! " The
captain, on hearing his own language, said
to the speaker, " You are the very man I
want." He hove to and got the man on
deck. " Who are you, sir ? " asked the
captain. " I am the interpreter," said he.
" Are you one of the big men of this
country ? " asked Glynn. He answered
in the negative, but told the captain that
he must go no nearer the shore, as it was
contrary to the Japanese laws to do so.

U^Q^

" Stranger," said the captain, " I'll go just
where I please, and I don't mean to speak
to any one on the island under the prince
or governor." So, onward he sailed, till
he came to a place that suited him, where
he dropped his anchor. Next day the
prince of the district, with a great
cortege, consisting of about fifty men in
yellow robes, was seen walking along the
shore. They soon entered a junk, and ap
proached the ship. The yellow men
entered first, and as soon as they did so
they put their heads to the deck and kept
them there. When the great functionary
entered, instead of going aft, as is the
practice with Americans, he walked for
ward. Glynn went up to him, clapped

him on the shoulder, and said, "Look you
here, friend, you must come the other
way." The Japanese officers and men
were astonished at this audacious famil
iarity of the Americans, and thought that
their prince was going to be martyred. It
is customary in Japanese state junks, to
have an elevated platform forward, and
that is the place of honor. The Japanese
officer was surprised, therefore, on going
on the quarter-deck of the strange ship, to
see that no platform had been provided;
and so, after looking round for the seat of
honor, he went to the helm and perched
himself on the rudder post. Glynn sent
for a chair, and pointed to it, and in
language which, though not to be found in
manuals of politeness, was at least" very
perspicuous, bade him put himself into it.
" Now," said he, turning to the interpreter,
" tell him that ! " The interpreter replied
that he could not do so, as such a remark
from him would insure his being ripped
open on the spot. The captain told him
that if he didn't obey him he would blow
his brains out. So the interpreter, as a
choice of evils, complied with the com
mand. As soon as the prince had seated
himself, the* captain ordered a bottle of
sherry wine, of which he offered him a
glass. The interpreter said, "the prince
never drinks." "He is with me now, and
he must drink," replied Glynn. The
prince put the glass to his lips, but did
not drink the liquor. The captain then
turned round to the interpreter and asked,
"Will you have it 1 " He replied in the
negative. The captain then offered cham
pagne. When the prince saw how it
sparkled, his scruples vanished, and he
drank it off. The captain filled another
and yet another glass, which the prince
enjoyed infinitely. When the captain saw
that he had pleased the prince, he told
him, through the interpreter, that he had
come for the American prisoners, and they
must be given up immediately. The
prince said forty days would be required
to send to Yeddo for them. Glynn replied,
" I must sail in three days, and I must
have them then." After some demur,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

595

four days were allowed, at which time the
prisoners were returned.
In dispatching the expedition under
Commodore Perry, the object of the
United States government was to obtain
some definite stipulations, in the form of a
treaty, for mutual commercial transactions,
between the two countries ; and, in order
to suitably impress the Japanese with the
serious character of the movement, the
fleet sent out was composed of some of the
finest and most formidable ships in the
American navy, carrying a large number
of sailors and marines, and more than the
usual complement of guns, mostly heavy
ordnance. Each of the steamers mounted
a couple of Paixhan shell-guns, of the
largest caliber, and placed on revolving
trucks, so as to sweep the horizon, — these
guns being intended to be used for the
discharge of shells of sixty-eight and one
hundred and twenty pounds each, and
long forty-twos, making twenty-two guns
to each steamer. Every ship was provided
with two brass twenty-four-pound field
..pieces. With this splendid display of naval
power, Commodore Perry sailed from the
United States, in the steamship Missis
sippi, November 24, 1852, touched at
Madeira and the Cape of Good Hope,
reached Hong Kong in April, 1853, and
thence sailed for Japan. After uniting
all the vessels of the squadron, Perry,
leading the fleet in the flag-ship Susque
hanna, made Cape Idzu on the eighth of
July. Their first anchorage and inter
course with the natives was near the town
of Uraga. On the fourteenth, Prince
Iwami gave Commodore Perry a formal
reception on shore, and took charge of the
president's letter to the emperor.
This letter, which was written by Hon.
Edward Everett, secretary of state, and
signed by President Fillmore, was beauti
fully engrossed on parchment and depos
ited in a gold-mounted box of superb
workmanship and costing a thousand dol
lars. The excellent spirit in which it was
couched will appear from the opening sen
tences, namely: " Great and Good Friend:

I send you this public letter by Commo
dore Matthew C. Perry, an officer of the
highest rank in the navy of the United
States, and commander of the squadron
now visiting your imperial majesty's
dominions. I have directed Commodore
Perry to assure your imperial majesty that
I entertain the kindest feelings towards
your majesty's person and government,
and that I have no other object in sending
him to Japan but to propose to your
imperial majesty that the United States
and Japan should live in friendship and
have commercial intercourse with each
other. The Constitution and laws of the
United States forbid all interference with
the religious or political concerns of other
nations. I have particularly charged
Commodore Perry to abstain from every
act which could possibly disturb the tran
quillity of your imperial majesty's domin
ions ; " etc. In this friendly and respect
ful strain was the whole of the presidential
letter written.
Abundant time having been given the
Japanese authorities to decide upon what
course they would pursue, the American
squadron, which had temporarily with
drawn, now re-appeared in the bay of
Yeddo. As soon as they had anchored, a
number of Japanese officers went on board
the flag-ship to welcome the commodore
and his officers back, and to inform him
that preparations had been made for hia
reception at Uraga, where an answer from
the emperor to the president's letter would
be delivered to him, and begged that he
would move his squadron down to that
place. To this, the commodore, through
the captain of the fleet, peremptorily re
fused to accede, on the ground that the
anchorage there was too much exposed at
such a season of the year, and even inti
mated that he might have to go up to
Yeddo, the imperial capital !
Several days passed in fruitless argu
ments on the part of the Japanese to
induce the commodore to yield this point.
In the meantime, the surveying party had
been actively employed, and, as the Jap
anese began to assume an independent

596

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

and intractable tone, a signal was thrown
out and the squadron moved up the bay,
to a position ten or twelve miles above the
' American Anchorage,' and in front of the
city of Kanagawa. Boats were immedi
ately dispatched to make further examina
tions of the channel in the direction of the
capital ; but before they returned, the dig
nitaries from Uraga arrived, and, forget
ting their pertinacious obstinacy of a few
hours previously, good-humoredly begged
that an officer might be sent with them to
select a suitable anchorage and place of
reception somewhere in the vicinity of
where the squadron lay. The commodore
assenting to this, the village of Yoko
hama was chosen on account of the excel
lent shelter afforded by its harbor.
The squadron then present, consisting
of the steam-frigates Powhatan, Susque
hanna, and Mississippi, sloops-of-war Mac
edonian, Vandalia, and Saratoga, and
store-ships Southampton and Lexington,
anchored in a line off the town, and the
Japanese set to work with a will to erect
suitable buildings for the conferences.
On the eighth of March, the accommo
dations being completed, the commodore,
by appointment, landed with a suite of
officers and an escort of five hundred sea
men and marines. He was received by
five commissioners appointed by the em
peror to confer with him, consisting of the
supreme counselor, the prince of Tsa-
Sima, the prince of Mimi-Saki, a member
of the board of revenue, and one other
officer of high rank. The seamen and
marines were all armed, and, with drums
beating, colors flying, bands playing at
intervals, and salutes fired on the arrival
of the officials, the scene was indeed a
striking one. Thousands of Japanese sol
diers crowded the shore and neighboring
heights, looking on with curious interest.
The house was a plain frame-building,
containing one large room — the audience
hall — and several smaller ones for the con
venience of attendants, etc. The floor
was covered with mats, and very prettily
painted screens adorned the sides. Long
tables and benches, covered with red

woolen stuff, placed parallel to each other
three handsome braziers, filled with burn
ing charcoal, on the floor between them
and a few violet-colored crape hangings
suspended from the ceiling, completed the
furniture of the room. The Americans
took their seats at one of the tables, and
the Japanese commissioners placed them
selves at the other table opposite; while
behind them both, seated on the floor on
their knees — their usual position, as they
do not use chairs — was a crowd of Jap
anese officers, forming the train of the
commissioners. The business was carried
on in the Dutch language, through inter
preters. First of all, after an exchange of com
pliments, the communication from the
emperor to the president of the United
States was delivered in due form by the
commissioners, and then they expressed
themselves prepared to commence discus
sions upon the various points contained in
the president's letter, and also to receive
any further propositions that might be
made, — the commissioners stating that, in
the determination of the emperor to make
some modification in their laws of seclu
sion, he relied upon the friendly disposi
tion of the Americans towards Japan, and,
as such negotiations were entirely novel
to them, they would trust with confidence
to the commodore's superior experience,
to his generosity, and his sense of justice.
A real desire was manifested by the Jap
anese to cultivate friendly feelings with
their guests ; in fact, the general bearing
of the people had already convinced the
Americans that Japanese distrust of them
had measurably worn away.
Refreshments were served in elegantly
lacquered dishes — first of all, tea, which, as
in China,xis the constant beverage ; then
different kinds of candy and sponge cake ;
and, lastly, oranges, and a palatable liquor,
distilled from rice, and called saki. What
was left on their plates, by the Americans,
at the close, was wrapped in paper, and
given them to carry away, according to
the usual custom in Japan. The commis
sioners were intelligent looking men,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

597

richly dressed in gay, silk petticoat panta
loons, and upper garments resembling in
shape ladies' short gowns. Dark-colored
stockings, and two elegant swords, pushed
through a twisted silk girdle, finished the
costume. Straw sandals are worn, but are
always slipped off on entering the house.
They do not cover the head, the top and
front part of which is shaved, and the
back and side hair, being brought up,' is
tied so as to form a tail, three or four
inches long, that extends forward upon the
bald pate, terminating about half way
between the apex and the forehead; this is

beautiful locomotive, tender, and passenger
car, one-fourth the ordinary size, also a
mile of magnetic telegraph, the operations
of which were exhibited on shore. These
excited a great deal of interest among the
Japanese, particularly the telegraph, when
they came to comprehend its utility in the
transmission of intelligence, communica
tions being made in their presence in the
English, Japanese, and Dutch languages.
They were also delighted with the railroad,
when they saw the engine and car flying
along the track at the rate of twenty miles
an hour, but thought it would be impossi-

NAVAL EXPEDITION TO JAPAN UNDER COMMODORE M. 0. PERRY.

a very comfortable fashion, and, were it
not for the quantity of grease used in it,
would be a cleanly one.
The negotiations proceeded harmoni
ously, but, on account of the exacting cer
emony peculiar to the Japanese, very
slowly. Thus, a question proposed had to
pass first through the interpreters, and
then through several officers ascending in
rank, before it could reach the commis
sioners, every one bowing his head to the
floor before he addressed his superiors.
Among the presents intended for the
emperor was a small railroad track, with a

ble to construct them to advantage in
Japan, owing to the very uneven surface
of the country !
The policy of the commodore had been,
on both this and his former visit, to ob
serve a strict exclusiveness, and the Jap
anese were, on all occasions, given to
understand that, with a desire on the part
of the Americans to establish friendly
relations, no unworthy restrictions or
exactions would be submitted to; that
they came among them not to beg, but to
dispense favors ; that, conscious of the
power of their government, they were,

598

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

nevertheless, desirous of meeting them on
equal and honorable terms, and upon no
other conditions whatever could they con
sent to hold amicable intercourse with
them. The favorable effect of this course
was very apparent ; they were glad to be
admitted on board the ships, and the com
missioners offered no objections to the
officers strolling about the country in the
neighborhood of the anchorage.
Whilst the negotiations were pending,
the commodore gave an entertainment to
the commissioners, on board the flag-ship.
They also visited other vessels of the squad
ron. The engines of the steamers were
put in motion, that their operation might
be witnessed. The ships' companies were
drilled at general quarters, and attention
was called to the caliber of the heavy
guns in use among western nations.
Their usual stoicism and self-possession
were not proof against such novelties,
and they were unable to withhold their
admiration and surprise. During the
entertainment, toasts to the emperor and
the president were drank with all the
honors, the guests did ample justice
to the sumptuous dinner, and the com
pany did not disperse until a very late
hour. At length, after much diplomacy on the
part of the Japanese, — the Americans
strenuously refusing to accept any propo
sition to go to Nagasaki, — a treaty of
amity, peace, and commerce, was agreed
to and ratified, three copies in Japanese
being delivered to Commodore Perry, and
three copies in English, signed by himself,
with Dutch and Chinese translations, be
ing delivered to the imperial commission
ers. Article first of the treaty established
peace and amity between the United
States and Japan ; article second assigned
the ports of Simoda, in the principality of
Idzu, and of Hakodadi, in the principality
of Matsmai, for the reception of American
ships, and where they might obtain wood,
water, provisions, and coal, payment to be
made in gold and silver; articles third,
fourth, fifth, and sixth, provide for good
treatment, security to property, etc., in the

case of American vessels and crews ship
wrecked on the coast; article seventh pro
vided that ships of the United States
resorting to the ports opened to them
should be permitted to exchange gold and
silver coin, and articles of goods, for other
articles of goods, under such regulations as
the Japanese government might tempora
rily establish for that purpose, it being
also stipulated that the ships of the United
States should be permitted to carry away
whatever articles they received in ex
change. These articles were the most
important embraced in the treaty, which
was signed March 31, 1854. The treaty
privileges thus obtained by Commodore
Perry for the United States, were the
most liberal and advantageous of any
which, up to that time, had been accorded
by Japan to a foreign people; but the
same or e<jual privileges were afterwards
permitted to other nations, and, subse
quently, new treaties were made with the
United States, greatly enlarging the lib
erty of trade.
As already stated above, one of the arti
cles of the treaty gave to citizens of the
United States the right of free access to
the two Japanese ports of Simoda and
Hakodadi, and, with this, unrestricted
liberty in the surrounding country em
braced by a radius of about sixteen English
miles. These, with some other stipula
tions of a certain character, it was thought
desirable to make a practical test of, before
the departure of the squadron from the
waters of Japan.
Accordingly, a few days after the con
clusion, of the treaty, which were occupied
in completing the surveys on hand of por
tions of Yeddo Bay, the ships sailed for
Simoda, it being a short distance to the
south and westward,— a capital harbor,
and surrounded by a charming and highly
cultivated country. Accustomed to a sys
tem of unrelenting espionage, it required
much patience and address to bring the
inhabitants to a proper appreciation ofthe
new condition of things ; but in a short
time, however, the movements of the
officers and men about the city and coun-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

599

try became as unhampered and safe as in
any part of the United States.
After making an accurate survey of the
harbor and its approaches, the squadron
sailed for Hakodadi; and, although six
weeks had elapsed since the signing of the
treaty, the authorities protested that they
had heard nothing of it, and consequently
nothing of the intended visit of the squad
ron, and gave as an evidence that the
women and children had all fled to the
interior, frightened at the approach of the
ships off the harbor. On delivering a
letter from the commissioners, however,
and showing them the treaty, their anxi
ety was at once allayed, and all were very
kindly received. The deputies dispatched
from Yeddo, by the commissioners, to
meet the commodore at Hokodadi, did not
arrive till he was on the eve of sailing,
and stated that they had been upwards of
fifty days on the road, although the dis
tance by the air line was less than four
hundred miles. Still, the intercourse with
the authorities and inhabitants had been
very satisfactory, and the parting was one
of sincere mutual regret.
The subsequent treaty, made by Mr.
Townsend Harris, United States consul-
general at Japan, secured several addi
tional ports to American commerce. Mr.
Harris was in direct contact with the
emperor, at Yeddo, during a portion of the
time employed in negotiating this treaty,
—a contact as interesting as it was unique.
Mr. Harris states that after passing
through the various fortified gateways, up
to the gate of the palace itself, he was
received at the entrance by two chamber
lains, who conducted him to an apartment
where a chair had been placed for his use.
Tea, bon-bons, and other refreshments,
were offered, and a large number of princes
came to he presented to him. Passing
through a large hall, in which some three
or four hundred nobles of the empire, all
dressed in their court costume, were kneel-
lngi all silent and motionless as statues,
Mr. Harris entered the supreme audience

chamber. At this moment, a chamberlain
called out, 'Merrican Embassador,' and
then the prince of Sinano threw himself
down and crawled along, as the consul
walked in. Advancing up the room, and
making three bows as he proceeded, Mr.
Harris halted at the head of two lines of
men, who were prostrate on their faces ;
those on the right were members of the
council of state, with the prince of Bittsu
at their head, and those on the left were
brothers of the emperor.
His majesty was seated on a chair
placed on a dais, elevated some three feet
above the floor of the chamber. He was
dressed in yellow silk, and wore a black
lacquered cap of indescribable peculiarity.
After a short pause, the consul made an
address to the emperor ; and, after a simi
lar pause, his majesty replied in a clear
and pleasant voice. At the close of the
emperor's speech, the consul's secretary
passed the president's letter intended for
the emperor to Mr. Harris; the latter
removed the silk cover — striped, red and
white, — opened the box, and displayed the
writing to the prince of Bittsu, who now
stood up, and then, closing the box, Mr.
Harris handed it to the prince, who placed
it on a lacquered stand, prepared for the
purpose. The prince again became pros
trate, and then the emperor bowed to the
consul, smiling pleasantly as he did so.
This ended the audience, and Mr. Harris re
tired from the room, still facing the empe
ror, and making the customary three bows.
From the audience chamber, the consul
was taken to another room, where the
great councilors of state congratulated
him on the interview just held, and ex
pressed much wonder and astonishment at
what they called his 'greatness of heart.'
On asking their meaning, they told the
consul that they were filled with admira
tion to see him stand erect, look the awful
'tycoon' in the face, speak plainly to him,
hear his reply — and all this without any
trepidation, or any ' quivering of the mus
cles of the side ! '

LXX.
EXHIBITION OF THE INDUSTRY OF ALL NATIONS, IN
NEW YORK.— 1853.

Construction of the Crystal Palace, a Colossal Building of Glass and Iron. — Four Acres of Surface Cov
ered with the Treasures of Art, Science, and Mechanism, from Every Land. — Inauguration of the
Enterprise by President Pierce — Five Thousand Contributors. — Splendor of the Palace of Industry
by Day ; Its Gorgeous Illumination at Night. — Eclat of the Great London Fair. — Emulation Stimu
lated Abroad. — An American Exhibition Proposed. — Pjpularity of the Idea. — Plan for a Building
Accepted. — Its Style, Size, and Decorations — Admirable Adaptation of the Structure. — Superiority
to the London Palace. — Rapid Progress of the Enterprise — Interest of Foreign Countries Enlisted.
— Programme of Management. — Brilliant Ceremony at the Opening. — Celebrities Present: Speeches
Made. — Grand Hallelujah Chorus Sung. — Constant Tide of Visitors. — Beauty, Utility, Amusement.
— Attractions from Abroad. — Contributions by Monarchs. — Victoria's Beautiful Offering. — The Grand
Industries of Civilization. — Lesson Taught by Such a Display. — Luster Reflected on America.

" Worthy of the grandest circumstances which could be thrown amunrl a human assembly, worthy of this occasion, and a hundred like
this, is that beautiful idea, tho Coronation op Lauuii."- Elihu Burkitt.

INTERIOR OF THE WORLD'S FAIR, NEW YORK.

lOLLOWING the brilliant and
successful example of England,
in the erection of a colossal crys*
tal palace in Hyde Park, London,
for a World's Fair, in 1851 —
and into which flowed the treas
ures of art, science, and mechan
ism, from the four quarters of the
globe, — American enterprise con
ceived the idea of a similar struc
ture, for the exhibition of the
industry of all nations, in the
commercial metropolis of Amer
ica ; and this idea, so popular in
view of the splendid eclat attend
ing the vast and magnificent
display in London, was soon car
ried forward to a complete and
happy consummation.
The idea of such a grand na
tional display became, ia a short

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

601

time, the all engrossing one, from one end
ofthe land to the other, and the public
men at the seat of government urged upon
the United States representatives at for
eign courts, a sense of the importance of
the great enterprise, and the desirableness
of contributions from abroad. It was
viewed as an undertaking which, if con
ducted with energy and sagacity, would
add luster to the American nation, as
showing its appreciation of the luxuries
and refinements of art, as well as of the
more substantial exhibitions of human
industry, in the shape of manufactures,
machinery, etc.
In one respect, the American exhibition
differed from its London predecessor,
namely: the latter was under the free and
unlimited auspices of the English govern
ment, with its boundless resources, while
the former was undertaken by a company
of individuals. It was not, however, an
exclusively private speculation, but existed
under a charter granted by the legislature,
the company being known, in their corpo
rate style, as the "Association for the
Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations,"
comprising men of eminence in all the
influential spheres of society, and of this
Association. Mr. Theodore Sedgwick re
ceived the high honor of being elected
president. So vast and multitudinous,
however, were the details of such an under
taking, that much delay attended the oper
ations of those charged with its active
responsibilities. Gradually, after the en
countering of many formidable obstacles,
the preliminary matter of a suitable build
ing was decided ; and then, with instinct
ive American speed, the speculation in
Crystal Palace stock at once commenced,
and was one of the most active " fancies,"
the gains of forty and fifty per cent., as
was in some cases experienced, being quite
stimulating. The stock rose, at one time,
to seventy or eighty per cent, above par.
One gentleman, who had watched the
building closely as it advanced in the
course of construction, observed one day
something which he thought might injure
the safety of the edifice. It was only a

fancy of his ; but, being impressed with
it, he walked quietly into Wall street, and,
selling out, pocketed a gain of fifteen thou
sand dollars. The distribution of the stock
into so many hands, and the widely
extended commercial interests involved,
gained for the enterprise much of a
national character. The public support
given by the government to its operations,
at home and abroad, helped also to dignify
it, and to take away the invidious reputa
tion which would have attached to a proj
ect having no higher aim than mere
private gain. Following up this system
of encouragement, the affair obtained the
confidence and co-operation of all classes,
and its consummation was looked forward
to as one of the marked events in Ameri
can history.
On the attention of foreign governments
being called to the exhibition, His Sub
lime Highness, the Sultan of Turkey, was
one of the first to respond to the appeal,
by ordering a steam-frigate to be prepared
for the reception and transmission of those
splendid fabrics of the Ottoman empire —
richly carved cabinet constructions, and
carpets of wonderful elaboration — so much
admired the world over. The senate ofthe
United States, at once appropriated twenty
thousand dollars, for the purpose of receiv
ing, in a becoming manner of appreciation,
the frigate thus so generously dispatched
by his oriental majesty. England sent
commissioners, and Queen Victoria, the
Emperor Napoleon, and other sovereigns,
vied with each other in their personal con
tributions and in those from their respect
ive countries.
Great pains were taken to obtain such a
plan for the building as would present the
highest architectural merit, and be as per
fectly adapted as possible to the great object
in view. At that time, the matter of iron
construction on a large scale was almost
entirely new in the United States, there
being no edifice wholly of that material to
be found in the country, and, therefore,
the want of experience on the part of both
architects and engineers, presented serious
obstacles. Many ingenious plans, how-

602

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ever, were offered, from the abridged
account of which, as well as of the build
ing itself, prepared by Mr. D. A. Wells,
it appears that Sir Joseph Paxton, the
architect of the London structure, fur
nished one of singular beauty, but the
peculiar shape of the ground to be occu
pied rendered it impossible to use it. Mr.
A. J. Downing offered another, of striking
originality, but this was also excluded by
the peremptory conditions imposed by the
city, namely, that the building should be
exclusively of iron and glass. Another
plan, by Mr. Eidlitz, contemplated a sus
pension roof, so as to obviate the difficulty
of spanning great widths by arches. Mr.
Bogardus submitted a design for a circular
building, consisting of successive colon

nades, placed one over the other, somewhat
resembling the coliseum at Rome, and
involving a new and ingenious method of
joining. A plan was also proposed, by
Mr. J. W. Adams, consisting of a great
octagonal vault or dome, supported by ribs
made of fasces or clusters of gas-pipe.
The presentation of so many plans, each
of a different character, and some of them
of great beauty and originality, made the
task of selection very difficult. Finally,
after much consultation, the plan accepted
was that of Messrs. Carstensen and Gilde-
meister, of New York, the latter gentle
man being recently from Copenhagen,
where he was well-known as the designer
of some of the principal public works in

that city. After the final adoption of a
plan, which was in August, 1852, no time
was lost in putting the work under way.
The piece of ground for the erection of the
building, in Reservoir Square, granted by
the city, was somewhat unfavorable for
architectural purposes; but in other re
spects it was quite favorable, and the
structure, when completed, was a magnifi
cent spectacle, its main features heing as
follows :
With the exception of the floor, the
whole of this splendid palace was con
structed of iron and glass. The general
idea of the edifice was a Greek cross, sur
mounted by a dome< at the intersection,
each diameter of the cross being three
hundred and sixty-five feet and five inches
long. There were three similar entrances,
each forty-seven feet wide, and approached
by flights of steps. Over each front was
a large semi-circular fan-light, forty-one
feet wide and twenty-one feet high, an
swering to the arch of the nave. Each
arm of the cross was on the ground plai
one hundred and forty-nine feet broad
This was divided into a central nave and
two aisles, on each side, the nave forty-one,
and each aisle fifty-four feet wide. The
central portion, or nave, was carried up to
the height of sixty-seven feet, and the
semi-circular arch which spanned it was
forty-one feet broad. There were thus, in
effect, two arched naves crossing each
other at right angles, forty-one feet broad,
sixty-seven feet high to the crown of the
arch, and three hundred and sixty-five feet
long ; and, on each side of these naves, an
aisle fifty-four feet broad and forty-five
feet high. The exterior of the ridgeway
of the nave was seventy-one feet. Each
aisle was covered by a gallery of its own
width, and twenty-four feet from the floor.
The central dome was one hundred feet in
diameter, sixty-eight feet inside from the
floor to the spring of the arch, one hun
dred and eighteen feet to the crown, and,
on the outside, with the lantern, one hun
dred and forty-nine feet. The exterior
angles of the building were ingeniously
filled up with a triangular lean-to, twenty-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

603

four feet high, which gave the ground plan
an octagonal shape, each side or face being
one hundred and forty-nine feet wide. At
each angle was an octagonal tower, eight
feet in diameter and seventy-five feet
high. Ten large, and eight winding staircases,
connected the principal floor with the gal
lery, which opened on the three balconies
situated over the entrance halls, affording
ample space for flower decorations, statues,
vases, etc. The building contained, on the
' ground floor, one hundred and eleven
thousand square feet of space, and in its
galleries, of fifty-four feet width, sixty-two
thousand square feet more, making a total
area of one hundred and seventy-three
thousand square feet, for the purposes of
exhibition ; being a total, within an incon
siderable fraction, of four acres.
There were on the ground floor of this
wonderful structure, one hundred and
ninety octagonal cast-iron columns, twenty-
one feet above the floor, and eight inches
diameter, cast hollow, of different thick
nesses, from half an inch to one inch.
These columns received the cast-iron gird
ers, the latter being twenty-six feet long
and three feet high, and served to sustain
the galleries and the wrought-iron con
struction of the roof, as well as to brace
the whole structure in every direction.
The girders, as well as the second-story
columns, were fastened to the columns in
the first story, by connecting pieces of the
same octagonal shape as the columns, three
feet four inches high. The number of
lower floor girders was two hundred and
fifty-two, besides twelve wrought - iron
girders of the same height, and forty-one
feet span over a part of the nave. The
second story contained one hundred and
forty-eight columns, of the same shape as
those below, und seventeen feet seven
inches highs These received another tier
of girders, numbering one hundred and
sixty, for the support of the roofs of the

The dome, noble, and beautiful in its
proportions, constituted the chief architect
ural feature of the building. Its diame

ter, one hundred feet, and its height —
nearly seventy feet to the springing line,
and one hundred and twenty-three to the
crown of the arch — made it the largest,
and, with one or two exceptions, the only
scientifically constructed dome in the
United States ; a dome of oriental charac
teristics, in its light and graceful beauty,
— seemingly borne in upon a zephyr, and
capable of being lifted away by a breath,
— floating over the whole structure, pure
and fascinating, like an aerial grace.
Twenty -four columns supported the
dome, the columns rising to the second
story, and to a height of sixty-two feet
above the principal floor. The system of
wrought-iron trusses which connected them
together, and was supported by them,
formed two eccentric polygons, each of
sixteen sides; these received a cast-iron
bed-plate, to which the cast-iron shoes for
the ribs of the dome were bolted, the latter
being constructed of two curves of double
angle-iron, securely connected together by
trellis-work, the requisite steadiness being
secured by tie-rods, which braced them
both vertically and horizontally. At the
top, the ribs were bolted to a horizontal
ring of wrought and cast iron, having a
diameter of twenty feet in clear, and sur
mounted by the lantern. As in the other
roofs of the building, the dome was cased
with matched deal and tin sheathing, light
being communicated to the interior
through the lantern, and also in part from
the sides, pierced for thirty-two orna
mental windows, these being glazed with
stained glass one-eighth of an inch thick,
and representing the arms of tho Union
and of its several States, — a feature which
formed no inconsiderable part of the inte
rior decoration, and won the admiration of
every beholder, foreign as well as Ameri
can. The enamel, with which the whole of the
glass used in the structure was covered,
was laid upon the glass with a brush, and,
after drying, subjected to the intense heat
of a kiln, by which the coating became vit
rified, and as durable as the glass itself ;
the effect produced being similar to that

604

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

of ground glass, translucent but not trans
parent, the sun's rays, diffused by passing
through it, yielding an agreeable light, —
deprived of that intensity of heat and
glare which is so peculiar to them in this
climate. In the absence of a similar pre-

caution in the London crystal palace,
whose roofs, as well as walls, were inclosed
with transparent glass, it was found nec-
essary'to cover the interior of the building
with canvas, to produce the required
shade. The external walls of the New

York building were of cast-iron framing
and panel-work, into which were inserted
the sashes of the windows and the louvers
for ventilation.
But the rapid and unexpected increase
of applications for space by exhibitors, led
to the erection of a large addition to the
structure thus described. It consisted
of two parts, of one and two stories re
spectively, and occupied the entire
ground between the main building and
the reservoir ; its length, four hundred
and fifty -one feet, and its extreme width
seventy-five feet. It was designed for
the reception of machinery in motion,
the cabinets of mining and mineralogy,
and the refreshment rooms, with their
necessary offices. The second story,
nearly four hundred and fifty feet long
and twenty-one wide, and extending the
whole length, was entirely devoted to
the exhibition of pictures and statuary.
In the work of decorating the build
ing, the leading idea was to bring out to
advantage the beautiful architectural
character of the edifice itself — to decor
ate construction, rather than to con
struct decoration. The result proved
surprisingly attractive. The colors em
ployed on the exterior were mixed in
oil, the base being white lead. The
outside presented the appearance of a
building of a light-colored bronze, of
which all features purely ornamental
were of gold. The inside had a prevail
ing tone of buff, or rich cream color,
which was given to all the cast-iron
constructive work. This color was re
lieved by a moderate and judicious use
of the three positive colors, red, blue,
and yellow, in their several tints of ver-
milirjn, garnet, sky-blue, and orange-
certain parts of the ornamental work
being gilt— to accord with the arrange
ment of colors employed in the decora
tion of the ceilings. The only exceptions
to the use of oil colors were the ceiling of
the lean-to and the dome, these being exe
cuted on canvas.
The effect of the interior of the dome
was particularly splendid. The rays from

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

605

a golden sun, at the center, descended
between the latticed ribs, and arabesques
of white and blue, relieved by stars, sur
rounded the openings, the effect of the
whole being very fine. This splendid
appearance by day was even excelled by the
gorgeous illumination of the structure at
night, produced by countless gas-burners.
In the construction of this vast and
splendid palace of industry, the whole
quantity of iron employed amounted to
one thousand eight hundred tons, of which
three hundred tons were wrought and
fifteen hundred tons cast iron ; the quan
tity of glass used, fifteen thousand panes,
or fifty-five thousand square feet ; and the
quantity of wood amounted to seven hun
dred and fifty thousand feet, board meas
ure. The general mode of erection by
base pieces, columns, connecting pieces
and girders, was the same with that of tlie
great London palace ; but the construction
of the arched nave, and of the dome, was of
course entirely peculiar, and the general
effect of the structure completely different.
The London building was regarded as defi
cient in architectural effect. The form of
the New York edifice furnished scope for
a pleasing variety of embellishments, by
which all monotony was avoided.
Exclusive of the naves, the total amount
of space on the floor, occupied by different
countries for exhibition, was about one
hundred and fifty-two thousand square feet,
of which a little more than ninety-four
thousand was on the ground floor. The
total amount of space occupied by foreign
exhibitors was nearly one hundred thou
sand square feet; and the total number of
this class of exhibitors was nearly three
thousand. In the United States depart
ment, the number of exhibitors was not
far from two thousand, the largest propor
tion of whom were included under the fol
ding classes : mineralogy, metallurgy,
and mining ; machinery and tools ; agri
cultural implements ; hardware ; and the
fine arts.
The details of the exhibition, with the
collecting and arranging of the various
departments, was intrusted to the follow

ing gentlemen: General superintendents,
Captains Dupont and Davis ; arrangement
of space and classification, Samuel Web
ber ; department of mineralogy and chem
istry, Professor B. Silliman, Jr. ; director
of machinery, J. E. Holmes ; director of
agricultural implements, B. P. Johnson ;
director of sculpture, Felix Piatti ; director
of textile fabrics, Edward Vincent ; — these
having the co-operation of a large corps of
assistants, experienced in the various spe
cialties named.
It was the intention of the officers of
the association, that the building should
be finished and the exhibition opened to
the public by the first day of May, 1853.
But many unlooked-for delays intervened,
and the opening was necessarily deferred
until the fourteenth of July, on which day
the palace was formally inaugurated with
appropriate services. On a platform were
assembled the officers of the association,
and many of the distinguished men of
Europe and America, including His Excel
lency, Hon. Franklin Pierce, president of
the United States, and members of his cab
inet. The devotional exercises, on open
ing the exhibition, were led by Bishop
Wainwright ; and then a choral, written
for the occasion, and commencing with the
line, " Here, where all climes their offer
ings send," was sung to the tune of Old
Hundred. Mr. Sedgwick, the president
of the association, then pronounced an
address, stating the objects and prospects
of the exhibition, and was followed by the
president of the United States, in a brief
and appropriate congratulatory speech, in
which he bespoke for the great national
enterprise the cordial patronage of all
classes and sections, and characterized it
as an event fitly reflecting the progress,
power, and glory of the republic. After
this, the organ poured through the aisles
the sublime music of Handel's "Hallelu
jah Chorus,"— and the palace of glass, with
its myriad forms of wonder and beauty,
and its mighty lesson of civilization, was a
completed fact. The tide of humanity
that flowed into the palace, from day to
day, was constant and prodigious.

606

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Such a magnificent display of the prod
ucts of human ingenuity and skill had
never before been witnessed in the west
ern world. Not only did America present
its choicest elaborations of industry, in
almost infinite variety, but climes and
countries to the furthermost quarters of
the globe were there represented in count
less contributions of the useful and the
beautiful. England and France made
vast and superb offerings to the great
transatlantic bazaar, and their example
was followed by the other continental
nations. Scandinavia, Norway, Sweden,
and the German Zollverein, poured forth
the selectest contents of their mines,
manufactories, workshops, arid studios.
Among the former were iron ore, steel,
wrought iron for gun-barrels, stearin can
dles, nickel, cobalt, copper, geological speci-
* mens, snow-shoes, reindeer antlers, a musi
cal instrument called the psalmodicon,
wood carvings by Norwegian peasants,
and for which they are celebrated. From
the Zollverein States, there was an attract
ive variety of objects, the most interesting
of which were the works of art, principally
paintings. The first artists of modern
Germany contributed to this part of the
collection, and in such quantity as far sur
passed general expectation. The names
of eminence which appeared in this con
nection, were those of Huebner, Achen-
bach, Muller, Elsasser, Openheimer, and
from Vienna, Waldmuller and Swobada.
Conspicuous also among the foreign
attractions, was the celebrated picture con
tributed by Queen Victoria, representing
the duke of Wellington presenting a birth
day gift to the infant Prince Arthur, the
youngest member of the royal family.
This picture was painted by Winterhalter,
at the queen's express desire ; as a work of
art alone it secured great attention, and
was deservedly extolled by all lovers of
beauty and perfection. But the fact of its
being the queen's most valued and pet
picture, and forwarded, in her own name,
as a tribute of recognition to America's
great exhibition, heightened the interest
with which it was viewed.

The splendid colossal group of Christ
and his apostles, by Thorwaldsen — one of
the masterpieces of sculpture — was the
theme of much praise, drawing crowds of
admirers daily. The same also may be
said of that matchless piece of art, Kiss's
"Amazon," a copy from the original work
in bronze, erected near the museum in
Berlin. Next to the fine equestrian statue
of Washington, this of the Amazon was
considered the boldest and most striking
piece of statuary exhibited. But some of
the most beautiful contributions, in the
department of fine arts, were to be found
among those which, in point of size, were
comparatively diminutive. The veiled
statues, for example, seemed almost like
angelic creations. The cast-iron statuettes
from the royal iron foundry at Vienna,
were also beautiful ; each stood on an ara
besque pedestal, and was about twelve
inches in height, of a dead black color,
nearly resembling ebony, and of the most
exquisite quality of casting.
More grand and impressive than any
thing else in the Italian department, was
the statue of Columbus, in the purest
marble, his left hand resting upon a ter
restrial globe, to which the right pointed.
This superb statue was of life size, and
from the chisel of Del Medico, of Carrari.
An admirable little group, which riveted
the attention of every observer, was the
Cage of Cupids, all in marble, — a bevy of
the little creatures, represented as tired of
their confinement and striving to escape;
this happy and unique conception was
executed in a style of workmanship that
may well be termed marvelous.
Most amusing, to old and young, was
the plastic model of Gulliver in Lilliput,
made by A. Fleischmann, in Sonneberg,
Saxony. From the opening to the close
of the exhibition, there was a constant
crowd of visitors around this admirably
executed work. Quite different in char
acter and in the kind of interest which it
inspired, was the collection of ancient
armor sent by the English government
from the tower of London, and which com
prised a helmet worn in Henry the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

607

Eighth's time, or about the year 1520 ; an
ancient shield of the time of King Edward
IV in 1547 ; a helmet of the time of
Queen Elizabeth, about 1560, and a pike-
man's lance, eighteen feet long, of the
same period; a heavy breast-plate, one-
quarter of an inch thick, bearing date
1685; also, some very interesting speci
mens of ancient muskets, one of which, a
flint lock with a plug bayonet, was used
during the reign of King James the Sec
ond, in 1686.
From France came the rarest and most
delicate tapestries and porcelains, includ
ing some of the celebrated Gobelin carpets,
sent expressly by the French government.
These carpets are remarkable for smooth
ness, softness, and fineness of texture, as
well as for their strength and evenness,
excelling even the Persian in these re
spects, and the colors and designs are per
fect. Some of these carpets require from
five to ten years for their completion, and
at a cost of ten thousand to thirty thou
sand dollars. None are sold, being exclu
sively of government manufacture and
use. The largest ever made was more
than one thousand three hundred feet.
Among other exquisite pieces sent to the
exhibition, was the "Subject taken from
the Chase and Still Life," and pronounced
to excel in the softness, delicacy, and bril
liancy, with which all the minute traits of
both animal and vegetable life are rendered
in this wonderful species of manufacture.
But no details possible within the com
pass of a few pages merely, would do jus
tice to the vast and varied contents oi this

World's Fair, with its four acres of richly
teeming surface, from nearly five thousand
contributors ; nor, indeed, has any attempt
been here made to describe those more
practical and extensive features of the
exhibition, — those grand industries, cover
ing so wide and important a range in the
elements and activities of modern civiliza
tion, — which constituted the chief scope
and lesson of the undertaking. Of this
numerous class are those ingenious and
useful inventions pertaining to the various
processes of agriculture, mines and their
products ; machinery for constructive, mo
tive, and manufacturing purposes ; etc., etc.
For several months, the palace was open
to the public, according to its original
plan, and subsequently it was decided to
make the building and its attractions per
manent, the occasion being celebrated by
public ceremonies appropriate to the event.
Among the speakers was Elihu Burritt,
who, in the course of one of the most bril
liant of speeches, said : " Worthy of the
grandest circumstances which could be
thrown around a human assembly, worthy
of this occasion and a hundred like this, if
that beautiful idea — the Coronation of
Labor. Not American labor, not Brit
ish labor, not French labor, not the labor
of the New World or the Old, but the
labor of mankind as one undivided broth
erhood — Labor, as the oldest, the noblest,
prerogative of duty and humanity." Most
unfortunately, this beautiful palace, so
wonderful in its construction, and such an
ornament to the chief city of America, was
totally destroyed by fire, in October, 1858.

LXXI.
LOSS OF THE SPLENDID COLLINS STEAMSHIP ARCTIC,
OF NEW YORK, BY COLLISION WITH THE IRON
STEAMER TESTA.— 1854.

Occurrence of the Disaster in Mid-Ocean, at Noonday, in a Dense Fog. — Sinking of the Noble Ship
Stern Foremost. — Hundreds of Souls Engulfed in a Watery Grave. — Experiences Crowded Into That
Awful Hour — The Wail of Agony and Despair from the Fated Throng. — Her Non-Arrival, Painful
Suspense. — The Dreadful News at Last. — Shock to the Public Mind. — Strong Build of the Arctic. —
Prestige of the Collins Line. — A Casualty Undreamed Of. — Surging Crowd in Wall Street.— Names
of Lost and Saved Eead. — Hope, Joy, Grief, Anguish. — The Sad Tale on all Lips. — Captain Luce in
' the Hour of Woe. — Manliness of His First Order. — Ship Deserted by the Crew — " Every Man for
Himself." — A Raft Constructed, but in Vain. — Courage of the Women. — Not One of Their Sex
Saved. — Instances of Cool Bravery. — An Engineer's Heroic Fidelity. — £30,000 for a Chance In a
Boat. — Pleasure Tourists on Board. — All of Mr. Collins's Family Lost.

-•The fate of the ship ehall he mine."— Captain Luce, Commander ov ihe Aectio.

LEAVING Liverpool, England, on the twentieth of September, 1854,
the magnificent steamer Arctic, of the Collins line, plying between that city and New
York, was, on the seventh day out, at noon, while running in a fog, totally engulfed,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

609

with hundreds of souls, millions of treas
ure and a heavy mail of incalculable value,
in consequence of collision with the French
iron screw-steamer Vesta. The Arctic
was commanded by Captain Luce; the
Vesta, by Captain Duchesne.
For many a long day after the time
when this superb vessel was due at New
York, the public mind was in agonizing
suspense as to her fate. From the well-
known immense strength and complete
equipment of the Arctic, this was the only
sort of casualty likely to be serious to her,
and this does, not appear to have been
anticipated by even the most sagacious
sea-faring man. In every respect, the
success of the Collins line reflected the
highest honor upon American nautical
enterprise and skill.
The news of this lamentable catastrophe
carried deep and heart-rending sorrow to
the homes of thousands both in this coun
try and in Europe. On the news reaching
New York, October 14th, that city as
sumed the appearance of one great funeral.
The flags waved at half-mast throughout
the metropolis, upon all the public build
ings and hotels, as also upon the shipping
in the harbor. The office of Mr. E. K.
Collins, the founder and proprietor of this
splendid line of steamships, was crowded
with anxious visitors from early in the
morning until the place was closed in the
afternoon. All who wished to hear of rel
atives or friends called there, as the most
likely place to learn the fate of those for
whom they hoped even against hope. It
was a sad gathering of grief-stricken citi
zens, among whom were fathers, brothers,
and sons, tremulously waiting for intelli
gence which would either give the death
blow to all hope itself, or give back again
all the buoyancy of life by the promised
restoration of the lost. Often during the
% wa3 heard the inquiry put to the
attendants in the counting-room of Mr.
Collins, 'Have you any news of my
brother?' 'Do you think my son is
safe?' 'Have you seen any of the pas
sengers who could probably tell me of the
^air, and give me intelligence of my
39

father ? ' Many, too, with tears in their
eyeS, grasped the hands of friends, and
the questions were exchanged, ' Who of
your friends were on board ? ' and ' Who
of yours ? ' It seemed as if everybody had
either relations or acquaintances on board
the sad-fated vessel. As each report came
in of the passengers heard from as safe, it
was a picture full of interest to see the
eagerness with which all turned their ears
to hear the report read, and the faces
lighten up with gladness as the wished-for
name fell from the lips of the reader.
Some, upon receiving information of a
rescue of the supposed lost, were at once
engaged in receiving the congratulations
of those about them ; others turned around
to offer condolence and mingle sympathy
with the rest, for whom had come no
happy tidings ; and others, again, rushed
in haste from the building to circulate the
report among friends outside, or to convey
it to mourning families at home. Wher
ever this intelligence came, it was like the
news of a resurrection from the dead.
Notwithstanding in all hope flickered
dimly, yet the catastrophe was so appall
ing, and the chances of a rescue so few,
that each was filled with the greatest fear,
and all were alike prepared for the worst,
though continually hoping for the best.
Not only in the office of the Ocean Steam
Company, but in all places, were the same
evidences apparent, that some heavy blow
had fallen upon the heart, and, crushing
out what was happy and peaceful, had
placed the burden of sorrow there. At all
frequented corners, along the streets, at
store doors, in banking-houses, groups
were assembled, each with the other can
vassing the chances of safety for some
friend, or recapitulating the calamitous
story of the shipwreck. All business in
Wall street was for a time stopped ; and
merchants and bankers, forgetting the rise
of stocks and the fluctuations of trade, by
' one touch of nature ' were brought together
as participants in the general grief. The
Exchange was crowded during the day, but
the loss of the Arctic was the sole en
grossing topic.

610

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

At the time of the collision, Captain
Luce was below, working out the position
of the steamer. He immediately ran on
deck and saw the iron steamer under the
starboard bow, and passing astern, grazing
and tearing the guards in her progress.
The bows of the strange vessel seemed to
be literally cut or crushed off for ten feet,
and seeing that she must probably sink in
ten minutes, Captain Luce took a glance
at his own ship, and believing her to be
comparatively uninjured, the boats were
cleared and the first officer and six men
left with a boat to board the stranger and
ascertain the extent of her damage. The
engineers were immediately instructed to
put on the steam pumps, and the four deck
pumps were worked by the passengers and
crew. The ship was at once headed for
the land, and several ineffectual attempts
were made to stop the leak by getting sails
over the bows. Finding that the leak was
gaining very fast, notwithstanding the
very powerful efforts made to keep the
ship free, Captain Luce resolved to get the
boats ready, and have as many ladies and
children in them as possible.
No sooner, however, had an attempt
been made to do this, than the firemen and
others rushed into the boats in spite of all
opposition. Seeing this state of things,
the captain ordered the boats astern to be
kept in readiness until order could be
restored, when, to his dismay, he saw
them cut the rope in the bow, and soon
disappear astern in the fog. Another
boat was broken down by persons rushing
in at the davits, and many were precipi
tated into the sea and drowned. This
occurred while the captain had been en
gaged in getting the starboard guard-boat
ready. He had placed the second officer
in charge, when the same scene was
enacted as with the first boat. He then
gave orders to the second officer to let go
and tow after the ship, keeping near the
stern, to be ready to take the women and
children as soon as the fires were out and
the engine should stop. The quarter-boat
was found broken down, but hanging by
one tackle; a rush was made for her also,

some fifteen getting in, and, cutting the
tackle, were soon out of sight. Not a sea
man was now left on board, nor a carpen
ter, — there were no tools to assist in build
ing a raft as the only hope,— and the only
officer left was Mr. Dorian, the third mate
who worked nobly for the success of all.
To form a raft, it became necessary to
get the only remaining boat — a life-boat—
into the water. This being accomplished,
Mr. Dorian, the chief officer of the boat,
taking care to keep the oars on board the
steamer to prevent those in the boat from
leaving the ship, proceeded to work, still
hoping to be able to get the women and
children on board his boat at last. They
had made considerable progress in collect
ing spars, when the alarm was given that
the ship was sinking, and the boat was
shoved off without oars or anything to
hold themselves.
In an instant after, at about a quarter-
past five, P. M., the ship went down, car
rying every soul on board with her.
Captain Luce soon found himself on the
surface, after a brief struggle, with his
fragile child in his arms; then again
found himself impelled downward to a
great depth, and, before reaching the sur
face a second time, had nearly perished,
losing the hold of his child as he struggled
upwards. On thus getting upon the sur
face of the water, once more, the most
awful and heart-rending scene presented
itself — over two hundred men, women, and
children were struggling together, amid
pieces of the wreck, calling upon each
other for help, and imploring God to assist
them! Amid this struggling mass of
human beings, he discovered his child, and
was in the act of trying to save him, when
a portion of the paddle-box came rushing
up edgewards, just grazing the captain's
head and falling with its whole weight
upon the head of the helpless child. Cap
tain Luce then succeeded in getting on the
top of the paddle-box in company 'with
eleven others ; one, however, soon left for
another piece, and others remained until
relieved by death. Those who were left,
stood in water up to their knees, the sea

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

611

frequently breaking over them; and the
suffering party were soon reduced by death
to Captain Luce and one other, who, after
an exposure of forty-six hours, were rescued
by the ship Cambria, Captain Russell,
bound to Quebec,
Mr. Dorian, the energetic and faithful
officer named above, asserted, in his ac-
eount of the disaster, that if all the officers
and men had remained by the ship, all, or
nearly all, of the passengers, would have
been saved; that, with the masts, spars,
and the cutting off of the hurricane deck,
a raft could have been formed capable of
carrying the whole of them. He further
states that among the passengers on board
the Arctic he never saw men more coolly
courageous, and that their quiet resigna
tion and implicit confidence in the captain
and officers of the ship were such as it was
impossible to surpass. A particular illus
tration of this, was the fidelity exhibited
by a young gentleman named Holland,
of Washington, who was on board the
steamer for the purpose of gaining instruc
tion in engineering. He h ad been deputed
by the captain to fire the signal gun —
when all others had fled, — and, amid the
melancholy wail, he pursued his duty.
When all hope had fled, and the vessel
was nearly level with the sea, Holland was
seen busy with the gun. His last shot
boomed out as the Arctic sank, and ho
went down with her — persevering in the
strict performance of his duty.
In the construction of the raft, the two
foreyard arms were cut down and lashed
together, making the raft about forty feet
long and three or four feet wide. On
being finished, it was launched on the lar
board side, and in a few minutes after
there were about seventy persons clinging
to it, four of whom were women. Several
other rafts were made, but none of them
were so large as this. Doors, barrels, and,
m fact, everything that floated, came into
use- On some of these there were two
and three, but the largest could not sup-
Port more than four or five.
How a man feels during the process of
drowning may he judged by the statement

of Mr. McCabe, a passenger, who says :
I remained on the vessel until sho sank,
when I wont down with lier. I had been
employed a few minutes before with two
others, one of whom was called 'Tom the
storekeeper,' in lashing some casks to
gether, when I was driven away by the
water, which rushed in with fearful impet
uosity. Jumping upon the paddle-box, I
sprang on the saloon deck, and in an
instant was engulfed in the surging
waters, which soon closed over our heads.
Down, down we sank, with our noble vessel,
into the bosom of the ocean, and the terri
ble thought took possession of my mind
that I was drowning. I retained my con
sciousness, however, all the time I was
under the water, and it was with a feeling
of intense joy that I found, after about
half a minute, that I was rapidly rising
towards the surface. It was all darkness
before, but now I could see a dim light
above me, and in a few seconds I was on
the top of the water, struggling for life.
Being a good swimmer, and having, be
sides, the support of a life-preserver, I suc
ceeded in reaching a door, which was float
ing a few feet from where I rose. I looked
around me, but there was no trace of the
vessel except a few loose timbers and the
rafts which were floating about, some with
and others without passengers. Finding
I could not retain my hold of the door with
safety, I left it and swam to a barrel
which lay a few feet from me, and from
this again I swam to the large raft, to
which some seventy persons were clinging.
The sea, though not strong, was rough, and
the waves, as they dashed remorselessly
over the raft, washed away a portion of its
living freight. It was an awful scene — a
multitude of human beings, in the midst of
the ocean, without the slightest hope of
assistance, while every minute one by one
was dropping into a watery grave, from
sheer exhaustion. Those who had life-
preservers did not sink, but floated with
their ghastly faces upwards, reminding
those who still remained alive, of the fate
that awaited them. Of those who dropped
away, some floated off and were gnawed

612

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

and eaten by fishes, while others were
washed under the raft, where their faces
could be seen through the openings, as
they were swayed to and fro by the waves.
The raft at one time was so crowded that
many had to hold on by one hand. Very
few words were spoken by any, and the
only sound to be heard was the splash of
the waters or the heavy breathing of the
poor sufferers, as they tried to recover
their breath, after a wave had passed over
them. Nearly all were submerged to their
armpits, while a few could with great dif
ficulty keep their heads above the surface.
The women were the first to go ; they

his pocket, but finding this impossible, on
account of being in so cramped a position
placed it between his teeth until overtaken
by a tremendous wave, when he lost his
hold upon it and it was washed away.
Another, who had on an oiled silk coat,
called on McCabe, for heaven's sake, to
render assistance, as his strength was rap
idly failing, and he must fall off if not
relieved. As he was about four or five
feet distant, it was difficult to reach him,
but after considerable exertions this was
done, McCabe helping him by the use of a
knee, until, becoming himself quite faint,
the hapless man was, by necessity, left to

LOSS OF THE COLLINS STEAMSHIP ABLT1C,
were unable to stand the exposure more
than three or four hours. They all fell off
the raft without a word, except one poor
girl, who cried out in intense agony, " Oh,
my poor mother and sisters ! "
At the expiration of some eighteen
hours, there were not more than three or
four persons remaining upon it, including
McCabe. One of these gave to the latter
what appeared to be a small map, but
which the giver was understood to say was
a sort of title-deed to his property. In a
few moments after thus transferring it,
he, too, unloosed his hold, and was added
to the number that floated about the raft.
McCabe endeavored to get the paper into

BY COLLISION AT NOONDAY, IN MID-OCEAN.
his fate. Poor fellow, he promised if he
ever got to New York alive, he would
reward his deliverer well. He clung with
terrible tenacity to life, but he, too,
dropped off in his turn.
McCabe was now the only one left upon
the raft — not a solitary person being alive,
of all the seventy who, within a few hours,
were his companions. The night of the
second day was about closing on him, and
during the whole time he had been in the
water, he had not eaten a particle of any
thing nor drank a drop. His strength
was beginning to give way, and his sight
had become so dim as to render objects
invisible a few feet off— even the ghastly

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

613

faces of the dead that looked up from
under the raft were hardly discernible.
Determined to make one more effort for
life he raised himself on his knees upon
the raft, and through the dusk of evening
saw, or thought he saw, a vessel. At this,
his strength revived, and in a few mo
ments was heard the voice of some one
approaching in a boat. And so it proved.
After twenty-six hours of exposure, he was
rescued from a watery grave, by a boat
manned by Mr. Dorian, some sailors, and
Captain Grann, one of the Arctic pas
sengers. A lucid description of the whole scene,
as giveiv'by Captain Grann, who was below
at the time of the collision, states that
upon going on deck, the Vesta was on the
starboard quarter of the Arctic, about half
a cable's length off, with her starboard
bow completely stove, from stem to fore-
rigging, to the water's edge. The Vesta
lowered a boat, which got under the star
board wheel of the Arctic, and was
swamped. When I came on deck (contin
ues Captain Grann,) they were lowering
away the boats. Both anchors were on
the starboard side of the deck, and 1 went
aft and asked Captain Luce if I should
remove theanchors to the port side, as all
of the ship's officers were aft, lowering
away the boats and rigging pumps. He
gave orders so to do, and, with the assist
ance of some passengers and a few of the
crew, I carried the same into execution. I
then went on the topgallant forecastle and
examined into the state of her bows.
Could see no evidences of her being stove,
excepting some bad chafes, the oakum
hanging out, and a piece of the iron boat
protruding from the planks. As soon as
I discovered this, I reported it to Captain
Luce, which was the first known of the
Arctic having received serious damage.
He then requested me to go below and
ascertain, if possible, where the leak was.
Went below and broke cargo — could hear
water rushing in. The carpenter was
ordered below between decks to stop the
leak, and commenced cutting away the
ceihng. I went to work with crew and

passengers, breaking out cargo from lower
hold, but very soon discovered that it
would be impossible to stop the leak, as the
water was over the cargo. I then left the
hold and went on deck, where I learnt that
the lower fires were out, and from this time
all order and discipline ceased on board.
The water was up to the lower deck, and
gaining rapidly, passengers and crew still
laboring at the pumps.
There were six boats on board. The
first boat was lowered with the chief mate,
boatswain, and three men ; she was low
ered to ascertain the condition of the other
steamer, and was left behind on its being
found that the Arctic was in a sinking
condition. Two of the quarter-boats were
taken by the second and fourth officers
and crew. Another boat was taken by the
engineers, and was supplied with provis
ions, water, etc. ; there were only eight or
nine in this boat, and, though it was not
full, they would not permit any one else
to come on board — indeed, it was said that
revolvers were threatened to be used on
this occasion. The fourth quarter-boat
was hauled alongside by Captain Luce,
the third mate, and Captain Grann. Into
this boat, placed in charge of one of the
ship's quartermasters, Captain Luce put a
number of ladies ; immediately, several of
the gentlemen passengers made a rush and
jumped into the boat, and, as it was full,
the painter was cut and the boat drifted
astern. The sixth boat was on the quar
ter-deck, and, a lot of spare spars being
secured for making a raft, this boat was
launched, for the purpose of aiding the
construction — the oars being taken out of
her, so that those who got on board should
not desert while the lashing of the raft
was going on. This latter work being
completed as far as was possible, the boat,
which was now full, was shoved off from
the raft, and, in about ten minutes after,
the noble steamer went down, stern fore
most. One fearful shriek went tip to
heaven from that agonized company, as
they were swept forward against the
smoke-stack ; and then all was over.
At the time of the collision, the passen-

614

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

gers had gathered in the cabin, prepara
tory to luncheon, and some of them were
engaged in drawing the numbers of the
daily lottery, the chances of the same
being based upon the number of miles run
during the preceding twenty-four hours.
The Arctic was then running at the rate
of twelve and one-half miles an hour, the
usual speed in foggy weather in that lati
tude. Two men were on the lookout, sta
tioned on the forecastle, aud there was all
the usual precaution against such a calam
ity. The advancing vessel was seen but a
moment before she struck, but the instant
she was discovered through the dense fog,
the order was given, " Hard starboard the
helm and reverse the engine." The order
was as quickly obeyed ; and, though at
first there was no realization of the actual
damage done, the terror and confusion
became very great when the extent of the
injury was disclosed. The conduct of
Captain Luce was calm, manly, courageous ;
to the last he declared, " The fate of tlie
ship shall be mine." Catherwood, the
eminent artist, Professor Reed, and Messrs.
Sandford and Benedict, the well-known
jurists, were early among the lost.
On its appearing that the Arctic was
inevitably lost, the captain put Mrs. Col
lins — wife of the owner of the line — and
her children, with other women, children,
and passengers, into a boat which was on
the larboard side of the ship, near the
wheel-house ; a little biscuit and water
were provided, but they were without
compass, and not a single man able to
guide their course. Unfortunately, at the
moment of lowering this boat, one ofthe
pulleys gave way, the other remaining
entangled. The boat was precipitated
nearly perpendicularly, and all who were
in it, excepting three persons, were thrown
into the sea and lost. At such a moment,
a misfortune like this was without a
remedy. The overhauling of the boat, now empty,
was achieved at last, and it was impossi
ble to regulate her destiny, by any mere
official orders. Passengers and sailors,
without ceremony, jumped into the boat,

which was in a few seconds filled. M. de
Grammont tried to jump, but fell into the
sea, and would immediately have perished
had it not been for his servant, who, by a
superhuman effort, hoisted him on board.
Dulaquais (the servant) regained the boat
by means of a rope, inviting the master to
follow his example, but the boat had
already got under way. Dulaquais made
a great jump, and fell like an inert mass
into the boat. M. de Grammont, from
lack of strength to imitate him, was obliged
to allow the precious moment to pass
unimproved which separated safety from
death. One passenger offered thirty thousand
pounds sterling, or one hundred and fifty
thousand dollars, if the boats would put
back to save him. They turned to do so,
but before they reached him he sank,
uttering, as he disappeared, the most
piercing moan of deathly agony.
Another instance was that of a man
who, just as one of the boats was shoving
off from the Arctic, called piteously to a
friend in the boat, and, bidding him good
bye, requested him to hear his love to his
wife in Philadelphia, and tell her he was
gone. Mr. Brennan, one of the engineers, had
an opportunity to be saved in the chief
engineer's boat, but he had charge of a
boy whom he would not abandon ; both,
however, were saved in another boat. An
unknown gentleman threw a heavy purse
of gold from the ship to the boy, after the
latter got into the boat.
The following statement, made by a
gentleman who was saved from the wreck,
exhibits human nature in one of its
strange phases, in view of so terrible a
crisis : — Among our passengers was a gen
tleman about thirty-five to thirty-eight
years of age, of very reserved manners,
and evidently depressed spirits. Being
located in the same berth, I was one day
accidentally struck by the significant fact
that his linen was marked .with initials
differing from those of the name by which
he passed and in which he had shipped.
A few remarks from me induced him

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

615

(under promise of secrecy, which the ex
tent of this communication does not vio
late) to explain how circumstances of a
distressing nature had induced his expa
triation. Subsequent conversations re
vealed to me that blighted hopes con
strained him to regard his existence but
lightly, and, from his stolid indifference
when the encounter took place, it is my
belief that he courted those embraces of
death which, alas! so many have vainly
struggled to resist.
Every account confirms the statement
that the ladies exhibited the most admira
ble coolness, and stared death in the face
with a heroism which should have put to
blush the men who deserted and left them
to their fate. At the moment when one of
the unfortunate boats was disappearing
from mortal view, a French lady, remarked
for her dark complexion, was seen to be
courageously using her oar. Not a single
female, however, of whom there were some
sixty on board, escaped the awful doom,
though every possible effort was made by
Captain Luce to have the women, chil
dren, and passengers first cared for. Thus,
when one of the men attempted to leave,
the captain caught him, and tore the shirt
off the man's back to prevent him from
going, exclaiming, " Let the passengers
go in the boat." He also seized a kind of
axe, and attempted to prevent the firemen
reaching the boat ; but it was ' every one
for himself,' and, finally, no more attention
was paid to the captain than to any other
man on board.
The Arctic was built in New York, and
was considered as staunch and splendid a
vessel as was ever constructed ; her meas
urement was three thousand five hundred
tons, and the whole cost nearly a million
dollars. Of the more than four hundred
souls who left Liverpool in this ill-fated
ship, full of hope, gayety, and health, only

about one-tenth escaped a watery grave.
Many of tliese, including a large number
of professional and business men of emi
nence, were returning from an European
tour of pleasure. The accident happened
within forty miles east of Cape Race, the
eastern extremity of Newfoundland, in the
neighborhood of the Virgin Rocks.
After striking the Arctic, the Vesta
appeared to be sinking, but immediately
rose again ; but no hope was entertained
of her ultimate safety, the passengers and
crew looking upon the Arctic as their only
chance of saving their lives. One man
was killed, and others severely wounded.
Two boats were put over the side, the first
of which was sunk ; the second was imme
diately boarded by some of the crew and
passengers, who, heedless of the captain's
order to return, abandoned the vessel.
The fog continuing very thick, they lost
sight of the Arctic altogether, still hoping,
however, that she would not desert them.
Lightening the vessel in the fore part, her
bows were thereby considerably raised,
thus greatly stopping tbe rush of water;
and, by other means and contrivances,
they were enabled to run, under small
steam, for the nearest port, St. John's,
where she arrived September 30th.
For many days, as already remarked,
the terrible fate of the Arctic, and the
many melancholy incidents connected with
it, made a profoundly painful sensation in
business circles — everywhere, indeed. The
sympathies of the community were espe
cially with Mr. Collins, whose misfortune
was a double and overwhelming one — the
loss of his beloved family and his noble
ship at the same time. The Collins line
of steamers did more to give character and
prestige to the mercantile marine of Amer
ica than can readily be estimated ; and the
loss of the Arctic, therefore, was every
where regarded as a national calamity.

LXXII.
ASSAULT ON THE HON. CHARLES SUMNER, BY HON.
PRESTON S. BROOKS.— 1856.

Twenty Sudden and Terrible Blows, with a Solid Gutta Percha Cane, Dealt upon Mr. Sumner's Bare
Head. — He Staggers and Falls, Senseless, Gashed, and Bleeding. — Sumner's Great Kansas Speech
for Free Soil and Free Labor. — Speech by Senator Butler, of South Carolina. — Mr. Sumner's Scorch
ing Reply. — South Carolinians Offended. — An Assault Determined On. — Mr. Brooks their Champion.
—Two Days' Watch for His Victim — Finds Him Alone at His Desk. — Approaches Unobserved. — A
Quick and Deadly Blow. — Mr. Sumner Instantly Stunned. — His Ineffectual Defense. — Brooks's
Accomplices at Hand. — Their Advantage over Sumner. — Storm of Public Indignation. — Action Taken
by Congress. — Keign of Terror at the Capital. — Mr. Sumner's Three Years' Illness. — Recovery,
Illustrious Career. — Death of Brooks and His Allies. — Time's Retributions.

" In the name of the Constitution, which has been outraged — of the Laws trampled down— of Justice banished— of Humanity degraded-
of Peace destroyed— of Freedom crushed to the earth; and in the name of the Heavenly Father, whose service Is perfect Freedom, 1 makf
this last appeal."— Senator Sumker's Speech, '"The Chime Aqaimst Kansas."

LIBEBTY FOB KANSAS.

ISTORY records but one instance of a great
and honored statesman — one of the foremost
men of the age, in fact, in his advocacy of
human rights — being struck down by the
instruments of bloody violence, while in his
seat in the senate chamber of his country's
capitol, and there lying prostrate, bleeding,
and insensible, until removed by friendly
hands. This barbarous deed transpired at Washing
ton, on the twenty-second of May, 1856 ; and
it would be difficult to name any other event,
up to this period, which so shook the country
to its center — culminating, too, in the brief
space of but five succeeding years, in that ter
rible shock of arms, which changed the desti
nies of the republic, and gave new life and the
national guaranty to human rights.
On the nineteenth of May, the Hon. Charles
Sumner, United States senator from Massa
chusetts, began a speech in the senate, in favor
of admitting Kansas into the Union, under a
state constitution which she had adopted, pro
hibiting slavery. The question had for a long

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

617

time produced the most intense political
excitement all over the land, the south, as
the advocate of slave territory, and the
north, as the defender of free soil and free
labor, being bitterly arrayed against each
other. Mr. Sumner treated the subject
with his accustomed power of argument
and rhetoric, and at great length, his
speech occupying two days. A portion of
it was directed with remarkable vigor and
sarcasm, though entirely within parlia
mentary bounds, to the arguments of the
Hon. A. P. Butler, senator from South
Carolina, delivered some days previously,
—this part of Mr. Sumner's speech giving
great offense to the members of congress
from that state.
On the twenty-second, the senate ad
journed at an early hour, in consequence
of the announcement of the death of Hon.
Mr. Miller of Missouri. After the ad
journment, as is the custom of some sena
tors, Mr. Sumner remained at his desk,
and was there writing unsuspectingly and
busily, when he was approached by Pres
ton S. Brooks and L. M. Keitt, congress
men from South Carolina, each with a
cane. Brooks was a nephew of Senator
Butler. Several persons had been about
Mr. Sumner's desk after the adjournment,
but just now he was alone. Senator Wil
son had left him only a few moments
before, on his way out passing Brooks,
who was sitting in a back seat. Brooks
walked up in front of Mr. Sumner's seat,
and, saluting him, made the following
remarks :
" Mr. Sumner, I have read your speech
carefully, and with as much calmness as I
could be expected to read such a speech.
You have libeled my state, and slandered
my relative, who is aged and absent, and
I feel it to be my duty to punish you for
Without waiting for any reply, or asking
for any explanation, Brooks instantly
struck Mr. Sumner a violent blow upon
the top of his bare head, while the latter
was still in a sitting posture, with a heavy
guttapercha cane. Brooks followed this
blow immediately with other blows, from

twelve to twenty in all, dealing them with
all the force which his herculean size and
great strength made him master of.
Mr. Sumner had no distinct conscious
ness after the first blow. He involunta
rily strove to rise from his seat, but being
confined by his writing position, he
wrenched his desk from its iron fasten
ings, in attempting to extricate himself.
Stunned and blinded, however, from the
first, his efforts at self-defense were inef
fectual, and, staggering under the fast-
repeated blows, he fell senseless to the
floor, gashed, bleeding, and powerless.
The cane used was a deadly weapon, being
as hard as hickory or whalebone ; it was
one inch in diameter at the larger end,
and tapered to the diameter of about five-
eighths of an inch at the smaller end, and
so violently did Brooks deal his blows
upon the defenseless senator's head, that
the deadly weapon was shattered into
many pieces by the time the assault ter
minated. Mr. Morgan and Mr. Murray, of the
New York delegation, were in the front
ante-chamber, and, hearing the noise,
went in. Mr. Murray seized hold of
Brooks, and Mr. Morgan went to the relief
of Mr. Sumner, whom he found prostrate
and nearly insensible. The persons pres
ent in the senate were Mr. Sutton, one of
the reporters, the assistant sergeant-at-
arms, Mr. Simonton, Senators Crittenden,
Iverson, Bright, Toombs, Pearce, and a
few others. No one of the senators seemed
to offer to interfere but the venerable Mr.
Crittenden, who pronounced it an inexcus
able outrage. Mr. Wilson rushed into the
senaterchamber on hearing of the attack,
but found Mr. Sumner had been removed
to the vice-president's room, and that a
surgeon was in attendance. He then
helped to put his colleague into a carriage,
and went with him to his lodgings. The
senator's condition was deplorable. There
were frightful cuts on his head, and his
clothes were literally covered" with blood.
Upon the papers and documents covering
his desk, as well as upon the adjoining
desks, blood was also freely spattered.

618

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

But for the interference of Messrs. Murray
and Morgan, Mr. Sumner would have cer
tainly been killed, under the remorseless
and unceasing blows of his assailant ; the
former seized Brooks around the waist,
while he was striking Sumner, and, with
Morgan's help, pulled him away. The
advantage which Brooks had over his
victim was complete ; stunning him with
the very first attack, he afterwards seized
him by the shoulder, held him with the
left hand, while, with the other, he kept
laying deadly blows upon his head.
It appears that as early as Tuesday,
before Mr. Sumner's speech was concluded,
Brooks took exception to the senator's
remarks ; and that on Wednesday morn
ing, after the delivery of the speech, he

declared to Mr. Edmundson, a member of
congress from Virginia, by whom he was
met in the capitol grounds a short time
before the meeting of the two houses, that
he had determined to punish Mr. Sumner,
unless he made an ample apology for the
language he had uttered in his speech;
Brooks expressed a desire that he, Ed
mundson, should be present and witness
the scene, and they thereupon took a seat
near the walk leading from Pennsylvania
avenue to the capitol, where they remained
some fifteen minutes, awaiting the ap
proach of Mr. Sumner, but, as he did not
make his appearance, the two proceeded to
the capitol.

On Thursday morning, Brooks and Ed
mundson were again together at the
western entrance of the capitol grounds
on Pennsylvania avenue, a point which
commands a view of all the approaches to
the capitol from that portion of the city
in which Mr. Sumner resided. Here
Brooks talked with Edmundson about his
being on the lookout for Mr. Sumner, and
his determination to resent the language
of the speech. They failed to see Mr.
Sumner, and went to the capitol together.
In addition to Edmundson, Mr. Keitt had
also been informed of Brooks's purpose to
make the assault-^indeed, was one of the
chief planners of the whole thing. Keitt
was near by, when Brooks commenced the
attack, and Edmundson took a position in
an ante-room adjoining ; and, as soon as
an attempt was made by the bystanders
to protect Mr. Sumner, Keitt rushed up
with a cane in a threatening manner,
Edmundson also entering the chamber
soon after Mr. Sumner fell. It thus ap
peared that the murderous assault was
premeditated during a period of at least
two days, and that the only provocation
consisted in Mr. Sumner's response to
Mr. Butler's coarse aspersions uttered
some days before, — Mr. Sumner's words
being lawfully spoken in debate in the
senate chamber, not once being ruled out
of order by the presiding officer, nor ob
jected to by any senator as in any way
violative of the parliamentary rules estab
lished for the government and order of that
body. On the ensuing day, the outrage was
brought to the attention of the senate, by
Mr. Wilson, who said : " The seat of my
colleague is vacant to-day. For the first
time after five years of public service, that
seat is vacant. Yesterday, after the
touching tribute of respect to the memory
of Mr. Miller, of Missouri, a deceased
member of the house of representatives,
the senate adjourned. My colleague re
mained in his seat, engaged in public
duties. While thus engaged, with pen m
hand, and in a position which rendered
him utterly incapable of protection, or

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

619

defending himself, Mr. Preston S. Brooks,
a member of the house from South Caro
lina, approached him unobserved, and ab
ruptly addressed him. Looking up, and
before he had time to utter a single word
in reply to him, he received a stunning
blow on the head from the cane in the
hands of Mr. Brooks, which made him
almost senseless and unconscious ; endeav
oring, however, to protect himself, in
rising from his chair, his desk was over
thrown ; and while in that powerless con
dition, he was beaten upon the head and
shoulders by repeated blows from Mr.
Brooks, until he sank upon the floor of the
senate, unconscious, exhausted, and covered
with his own blood. He was raised from
the floor by a few friends, taken into an
ante-room, and his wounds dressed. From
thence he was carried to his house, and
placed upon his bed. He is thus unable
to be with us to day, to perform the duties
which belong to him as a member of this
body. To hold a member of the senate
responsible out of this chamber for words
spoken in debate is a grave offense, not
only against the rights of a member, but
against the constitutional privileges of this
body; but, sir, to come into this chamber,
and assault a member in his seat, until he
falls exhausted upon this floor, is an
offense requiring the prompt action of this
body. Sir, I submit no motion, — I leave
it to older senators, whose character and
position in the senate, and before the
country, eminently fit them to take the
lead in a ineasure to redress the wrongs of
members of this body, and vindicate the
honor and dignity of the senate." A com
mittee of investigation was appointed.
In the house of representatives, also, the
outrage was the subject of legislative
action, after an exciting debate, in which
Mr. Burlingame of Massachusetts, thus
gave expression, in the course of a manly
and truthful speech, to the sentiments of
every noble-minded citizen in the land:
"On the 22d day of May, when the senate
and the house had clothed themselves in
mourning for a brother fallen in the battle
rf life in the distant state of Missouri, the

senator from Massachusetts sat, in the
silence of the senate chamber, engaged in
employments appertaining to his office,
when a member from this house, who had
taken an oath to sustain the constitution,
stole into the senate — that place which had
hitherto been held sacred against violence
— and smote him as Cain smote his
brother  One blow was enough ;
but it did not satiate the wrath of that
spirit which had pursued him through two
days. Again, and again, and again,
quicker and faster, fell the leaden blows,
until he was torn away from his victim,
when the senator from Massachusetts fell
into the arms of his friends, and his blood
ran down the senate floor. Sir, the act
was brief, and my comments on it shall be
brief also. I denounce it in the name of
the sovereignty of Massachusetts, which
was stricken down by the blow ; I de
nounce it in the name of humanity; I
denounce it in the name of civilization,
which it outraged ! I denounce it in the
name of that fair play which bullies and
prize-fighters respect. What ! strike a
man when he is pinioned — when he cannot
respond to a blow ! Call you that chiv
alry ? In what code of honor did you get
your authority for that ! " Similar legis
lative action to that of the senate was
adopted, on motion of Mr. Campbell, for
inquiring into the circumstances of so
brutal, murderous, and cowardly an as
sault. Being waited on, some days after the
assault, by the committee of investigation,
Mr. Sumner, who was confined in great
suffering to his bed, gave the following
testimony : " I attended the senate as
usual, on Thursday, the 22d of May.
After some formal business, a message was
received from the house of representatives,
announcing the death of a member of that
body from Missouri. This was followed
by a brief tribute to the deceased from
Mr. Geyer, of Missouri, when, according
to usage and out of respect to the deceased,
the senate adjourned at once. Instead of
leaving the senate-chamber with the rest
of the senators, on the adjournment, I con-

620

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

tmued in my seat, occupied with my pen,
and whilo thus intent, in order to be in
season for the mail, which was soon to
close, I was approached by several persons,
who desired to converse with me, but I
answered them promptly and briefly, ex
cusing myself for tbe reason that I was
engaged. When the last of these persons
left me, I drew my arm-chair close to my
desk, and, with my legs under the desk,
continued writing. My attention at this
time was so entirely drawn from other
subjects that, though there must have
been many persons in the senate, I saw
nobody. While thus intent, with my
head bent over my writing, I was ad
dressed by a person who approached

the front of my desk : I was so entirely
absorbed, that 1 was not aware of his
presence until I heard my name pro
nounced. As I looked up, with pen in
hand, I saw a tall man, whose countenance
was not familiar, standing directly over
me, and at the same moment caught these
words : ' I have read your speech twice
over, carefully; it is a libel on South Car
olina, and Mr. Butler, who is a relative of
mine.' While these words were still pass
ing from his lips, he commenced a succes
sion of blows with a heavy cane on my
bare head, by the first of which I was
stunned so as to lose my sight. I saw no
longer my assailant, nor any other person
or object in the room. What I did after

wards was done almost unconsciously,
acting under the instincts of self-defense.
With head already bent down, I rose from
my seat — wrenching up my desk, which
was screwed to the floor — and then press
ing forward, while my assailant continued
his blows. I had no other consciousness
until I found myself ten feet forward in
front of my desk, lying on the floor of the
senate, with my bleeding head supported
on the knee of a gentleman whom I soon
recognized, by voice and manner, as Mr.
Morgan, of New York. Other persons
there were about me, offering me friendly
assistance, but I did not recognize any of
them. Others there were at a distance,
looking on and offering no assistance, of
whom I recognized only Mr. Douglas, of
Illinois, Mr. Toombs, of Georgia, and I
thought also my assailant standing be
tween them. I was helped from the floor,
and conducted into the lobby of the senate,
where I was placed upon a sofa. Of those
who helped me here I have no recollection.
As I entered the lobby, I recognized Mr.
Slidell, of Louisiana, who retreated, but I
recognized no one else until I felt a
friendly grasp of the hand, which seemed
to come from Mr. Campbell, of Ohio. I
have a vague impression that Mr. Bright,
president of the senate, spoke to me while
I was on the .floor of the lobby. I make
this statement in answer to the interroga
tory of the committee, and offer it as pre
senting completely all my recollections of
the assault and of the attending circum
stances, whether immediately before or
immediately after. I desire to add, that
besides the words which I have given as
uttered by my assailant, I have an indis
tinct recollection of the words 'old man;
but these are so enveloped in the mist that
ensued from the first blow, that I am not
sure whether they were uttered or not."
On the cross-examination, Mr. Sumner
stated that he was entirely without arms
of any kind, and that he had no notice or
warning of any kind, direct or indirect, of
any such assault. In answer, also, to ft
cross-question, Mr. Sumner replied that
what he had said of Senator Butler, of

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

621

South Carolina, was strictly responsive to
Mr. Butler's speeches, and according to
the usages of parliamentary debate.
The dastardly blow which stunned Sen
ator Sumner, also stunned, for the moment,
the great north and west, from Maine to
Nebraska — but only to arouse them, as
they had never been aroused before, to a
realization of the true character of the
conflict which was being waged from one
end of the land to the other, and to make
them more determined than ever, in be
half of free soil, free labor, and free
speech. Indignation meetings, composed
ofthe solid worth and intelligence of the
population throughout the free states, were
immediately held, to protest against so
cowardly and murderous an attempt to sup
press the freedom of debate. In every city
and town, the masses poured forth, to dem
onstrate their reprobation of so brutal and
atrocious a wrong, and to express sympa
thy for Senator Sumner, in view of the
anguish and peril of his condition. In
Massachusetts, in especial, the outrage
upon their great and honored senator pro
duced such an outburst of universal indig
nation as was never known before. And in
addition to this, the riches of the wealthy
were freely proffered him, to defray the
expenses incident to his disability ; and,
in Boston, a memorial token in appro
bation of the great speech for which he
was stricken down, was only prevented
from being consummated, by the senator's
earnest request. This memorial was to have
been a massive and elaborate silver vase, two
feet in height, and of grand proportions.
According to the design, there was to be,
upon the summit of the vase, a figure rep
resenting Mr. Sumner holding his Kansas
speech in his right hand ; on either side
were the figures of Justice and Freedom,
crowning him with a wreath of laurel ; a
winged genius sat at his feet, inscribing
his name on a tablet. Figures represent
ing Victory were upon the arms of the
vase, heralding the triumph of Freedom.
Above the inscription to Mr. Sumner, and
m the center, was the coat of arms of
Massachusetts. On the foot of the vase

was the coat-of-arms of the nation, between
masks and appropriate emblems of Liberty
and Slavery. By Mr. Sumner's special
desire, the large amount contributed for
this purpose was devoted to the interests
of freedom in Kansas.
But no less was the brutal conduct of
Brooks applauded throughout the south,
than was the character of Mr. Sumner
eulogized, and his condition compassion
ated, at the north. Almost without excep
tion, tho newspapers in the interests of
slavery exulted over the outrage, and
urged similar treatment of Wade, Seward,
Wilson, Giddings, Hale, and others. Let
ters of admiration for his exploit poured
in upon Brooks, day after day, and he was
soon in possession of a dozen choice and
costly canes, the gifts of friends in South
.Carolina and elsewhere, in place of the
gutta percha weapon which was broken to
pieces in the blows dealt upon the head of
Senator Sumner. These presentation
canes were all elegantly mounted with
silver or gold, and bore commemorative
inscriptions ; they were also very solid and
and heavy, one blow from either of them,
in the hands of so powerful an assailant as
Brooks, would finish a man of ordinary
thickness of skull. The one which he
most prized, was of massive live oak, silver-
looped, and inscribed with a grateful trib
ute from the northern shipmasters doing
business in Charleston, S. C.
In due time, the committee of investiga
tion appointed by the senate made a report,
but the only action taken by that body
was to transmit a message to the house,
complaining that Mr. Brooks, one of its
members, had made a violent assault upon
Senator Sumner, but that, as Mr. Brooks
was a member of the, house of represents
fives, the latter alone had the power to
arrest, try, and punish him. In the debate
in the senate, on the committee's report,
there was much excitement. Notwith
standing it was known to all, that Mr.
Sumner was confined to his bed, in intense
suffering, Senator Butler, of South Caro
lina, said, among other things, that, "had
he been in Washington, he should have

62S

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

assumed aU the responsibility taken by his
gallant relative. Mr. Brooks assaulted
Mr. Sumner with no other purpose than
to disgrace him. .Mr. Brooks was one of
the best tempered fellows, though impetu
ous, no doubt, and quick at resentment.
Mr. Sumner received two flesh wounds,
and, being rather handsome, did not just
now expose himself. If he had been in
the army, and had not gone out the next
day after the fracas, he would have de
served to be cashiered. On some accounts
it was fortunate he (Butler) was not here

ons, Mr. Butler exclaimed from his seat
" You are a liar."
Brooks immediately challenged Mr. Wil
son to mortal combat, for having thus
characterized the assault, which challenge
Mr. Wilson declined to accept, on the
ground that "dueling is a relic of bar
barous civilization, which the law of
the country has branded as crime," and
preferring to throw himself on "the
right of self-defense, in its broadest
sense." Mr. Burlingame was also chal
lenged by Brooks, and the latter imme-

ASSAIJLT ON SENATOR SUMNER, BY P. 8. BEOOKS.

at the time, for he did not know what he
might have done. To be sure, it was
thirty or forty years since he had been
engaged in a personal conflict, and his
hand was out of practice, but he did not
know but he might have had a trial at
him. One thing he had no doubt of,
namely, if he (Butler) were a young man,
he would have left him (Sumner) in a
worse condition than he is now." In re
sponse to Senator Wilson's denunciation
of the act as brutal, cowardly, and murder-

diately agreed to meet him, hut other
parties interposing, hostile proceedings
were stopped. Both northern and south-
em senators went armed constantly, and
there was a "reign of terror" in the
capital of the nation. Being complained
of, in one of the criminal courts of the
city for assault and battery, in his attack
on Mr. Sumner, Brooks appeared before
the judge, made an elaborate speech in
vindication of his course, waived a trial,
asked for judgment, and, on the judge

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

623

imposing a fine of three hundred dollars,
paid it on the spot.
The committee of investigation ap
pointed by the house of representatives
reported resolutions of expulsion against
brooks, and censure against Keitt and
Edmundson. The resolution to expel
Brooks received, after a violent debate, one
hundred and twenty-one votes, and there
were ninety-five votes in the negative ; a
two-thirds vote being required to expel a
member, the resolution failed. The reso
lution of censure passed. Mr. Hoffman,
of Maryland, was the only southern mem
ber who voted to expel Brooks.
Brooks, however, stung by the rebuke
conveyed by the vote of a majority of the
house, made a speech of coarse defiance, in
which he said, " If I desired to kill the
senator from Massachusetts, why did I not
do it ? You all admit that I had it in my
power. Let me tell you, that, expressly to
prevent taking life, I used an ordinary
cane presented by a friend in Baltimore.
I went to the senate deliberately. I hesi
tated whether I should use a horsewhip or
a cowhide, but knowing that the strength
of the senator from Massachusetts was
superior to mine, I thought he might wrest
it from me. If he had, I might have done
what I should have regretted for the re
mainder of my life. (A voice : He would
have killed him !) Ten days ago, foresee
ing what the action of the house would be,
my resignation was put into the hands of
the governor of South Carolina. And
now, Mr. Speaker, I announce to you and to
the house, I am no longer a member of the
thirty-fourth congress." Senators Butler
and Mason sat near Brooks during the
delivery of his speech — of the tone of
which the preceding brief sentences afford
some idea, — and were quite merry over it.
Mr. Brooks retired amid the applause of
the south gallery, which was filled with
ladies and gentlemen, and, upon reaching
the lobby, was embraced and showered
with kisses by the ladies.
Returning home to South Carolina,
Brooks was feted and feasted, and made
the recipient of every possible mark of

honor and admiring gratitude. An elec
tion was soon held to fill the vacancy
caused by his resignation, and he was
elected by a unanimous vote. Once more,

PKESTON S. BKOOKS.
namely, on the eighth of January, 1857,
he made a characteristic speech on the
floor of congress, against the prohibition
of slavery in Nebraska. But his career
was suddenly terminated, on the twenty-
seventh of the same month. His sickness
was brief — inflammation of the throat —
and he expired in terrible pain. In the
intensity of his sufferings from strangula
tion, he endeavored to tear open his throat,
that he might get breath. He was but
thirty-eight years old, and left a wife and
four children. His frame was pronounced,
by the undertaker, the largest for which
he had ever been called upon to furnish a
coffin. Only four months after the decease of
Brooks, Senator Butler died at Edgefield
court-house, S. C, in the sixty-first year
of his age. Keitt met his death during
the war of the rebellion, he being at the
time an officer in the confederate army.
From the very first, Mr. Sumner's con
dition was critical in the extreme, so much
so, that his physicians considered the
chances to be against his recovery, and
visitors were peremptorily forbidden to see
him. His head and the glands of the
neck became swollen, the cuts soon ulcer
ated, and there was a constant torturing
pain in the head. An appearance of ery
sipelas presented itself, a form of inflam
mation greatly to be dreaded. As soon as
he could be removed with safety, he was

624

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

carried into the country, remaining for
some time under the hospitable roof of
Hon. F. P. Blair, at Silver Spring. In
the spring of 1857, he w,ent to Europe by
the advice of his physicians, and there
passed some months, returning in the
autumn, with a view to engaging in his
public duties.
Undervaluing, however, the seriousness
of his condition, Mr. Sumner's anticipa
tions of active usefulness were not to be
so speedily realized. At the time of the
assault upon him, he failed to comprehend
the full extent and peculiar nature of the
injury received, and continued to cherish,
from the outset, the constant hope of an
early restoration to sound health. But
the spring of 1858 found him still in such
impaired health, as to necessitate another
visit to Europe, principally with a view to
the curative influences of travel, exercise
in the open air, and absence from political
excitement. At Paris, he met Dr. George
Hayward, the eminent Boston surgeon,
who at once urged 'active treatment' —
that is, the application of a system of
counter-irritants, in order to reach the
malady in the cerebral system and in the
spine. With the sanction of Doctor Hay
ward, Mr. Sumner then put himself in the
hands of Doctor Brown-Sequard, the cele
brated physiologist, so well known, . on
both sides of the Atlantic, for his suc
cess in diseases of the spine and nervous
system. A careful and acute investigation of Mr.
Sumner's case, by this eminent surgeon,
resulted in ascertaining that, though the
brain itself was free from any serious
remaining injury, the effects of the origi
nal commotion there were still manifest in
an effusion of liquid about the brain and
in a slight degree of congestion, chiefly
confined to the membrane around the
brain; it was also found that the spine
was suffering in two places from the effect
of what is called contre-coup. Mr. Sumner
being seated and inclined over his desk at
the time of the assault, the blows on his
head took effect by counter-stroke, or com
municated shock in the spine. Doctor

Brown-Sequard agreed with Doctor Hay
ward, as to the necessity of an active treat
ment, doubting very much whether any de
gree of care or lapse of time, unless the mor
bid condition of the system were directly
acted upon, would not always leave the pa
tient exposed to a relapse. He proceeded,
therefore, at once, to apply fire to the back
of the neck and along the spine. "I have
applied " — writes M. Sequard to a friend,
at this time — ''six moxas to Senator
Sumner's neck and back, and he has borne
these exceedingly painf iri applications with
the greatest courage and patience. You
know that a ' moxa ' is a burning of the
skin with inflamed agaric (amadou?) cot
ton wool, or some other very combustible
substance. I had never seen a man bear
ing with such a fortitude as Mr. Sumner
has shown, the extremely violent pain of
this kind of burning." The recovery, by
Mr. Sumner, of his general health, from
the original shock, was due to what his
English and French physicians called the
wonderful recuperative energies of his
constitution and to a remarkable power of
resistance to injury. It was this, too, in
alliance with his untouched vigor of will,
that enabled Mr. Sumner to bear the moxa
without the chloroform which Doctor Se
quard recommended, arid without the
shrinking which the doctor expected.
This severe medical treatment was suc
ceeded by that of baths and other reme
dial resorts. In a letter written hy Mr.
Sumner, in September, 1858, he says:
" My life is devoted to my health. I wish
that I could say that I am not still an
invalid ; but, except when attacked by the
pain in my chest, I am now comfortable,
and enjoy my baths, my walks, and the
repose and incognito which I find here. I
begin the day with douches, hot and cold,
and when thoroughly exhausted, am
wrapped in sheet and blanket, and con
veyed to my hotel and laid on my bed.
After my walk, I find myself obliged again
to take to my bed, for two hours before
dinner. But this whole treatment is in
pleasant contrast with the protracted suf
ferings from fire which made my summer

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

625

a torment. And yet I fear that I must
return again to that treatment. It is with
a pang unspeakable that I find myself thus
arrested in the labors of life and in the
duties of my position." It was not until
the autumn of 1859, that Mr. Sumner was
sufficiently restored in health, to justify
him in returning home and resuming- his
seat in the senate.
Though originally elected to the United
States senate by a majority of only one
vote, in a legislature composed of several
hundred members, — and not even then

until after many and wearisome ballotings,
running through several weeks, — he was
almost unanimously re-elected in 1857 ;
again, in 1863, with but few dissentient
votes ; and again, in 1869, with similar
unanimity ; — making a period of twenty-
four consecutive years, and by which he
became " the Father of the Senate," iri
point of protracted official service. He
died, in office, in 1874. The fame of his
career, as statesman, orator, and philan
thropist, may be said to be world-wide.
Such are time's impressive changes.

±0

LXXIII.
FOUNDERING OF THE STEAMER CENTRAL AMERICA, IN"
A GALE OFF CAPE HATTERAS.— 1857.

More than Four Hundred Lives Lost, and Two Million Dollars in Treasure.— Fury and Terror of th»
Tempest. — The Staunch and Noble Vessel Springs a Leak. — Successive Great and Terrible Wave*
Break Over and Drag Her Under, in the Night. — The Tale of Peril, Suffering, Despair, Farting, and
Death. — Unparalleled Nature of this Disaster. — Hundreds of Homes Desolated. — Gloom of the Pub
lic Mind. — The Financial Panic Aggravated. — Rise of the Fatal Gale. — Hard Labor of the Steamer.
— A Leak Caused by the Strain. — Incessant Working at the Pumps. — Four Anxious Days. —
Approach of the Brig Marine. — Women and Children Rescued. — Perils of the Life-boat — Terrible
Height of the Sea. — Harrowing Experiences. — The Two Little Babes. — Gradual Filling of the Ship.
— Three Plunges, and She Sinks. — Captain Herndon on the Wheel-house. — His Sad but Heroic End.
—A Night on the Waves. — Dead and Living Float Together. — Narratives of the Survivors.

' I will never leave the ehip."— Captain Hekndof.

m

HILE the country was just entering upon the most
disastrous epoch, in respect to business and finance,
that ever befell a commercial nation, the general
apprehension and gloom possessing men's minds sud
denly took the form of
horror, as the tidings
broke upon the public
ear, that the steamer
Central America had
foundered off Cape Hat
teras, with the loss of
more than four hundred
lives and nearly two-
millions of treasure,— a
disaster never before
equaled in American
waters. The steamship Central
America, formerly the
George Law, commanded by Lieutenant W. L. Herndon, United States Navy, left
Aspinwall for New York, on the third of September, 1857, having on board the pas
sengers and treasure shipped from San Francisco, by the steamer Sonora, on the
twentieth of August. On Saturday, the twelfth of September, at eight o'clock in the
evening, she was totally wrecked, on the eastern edge of the Gulf Stream off Cape

CAPTAIN HEENDON ON THE WHEEL-HOUSE.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

627

Hatteras, and, out of nearly six hundred
persons on board at the time, about three-
fourths went down with her, together with
the vast amount of bullion, and the pro
digious California mails. Hundreds of
family circles, in all parts of the land, were
thus suddenly bereaved and desolated ;
and, so direful was the disaster, as to
greatly aggravate the financial panic that
had just begun to shake and shatter the
foundations of the business world.
The gale which caused this terrible
calamity was described by experienced
seamen as one of the fiercest ever known.
It commenced on the evening of the eighth
— the day on which the Central America
left Havana — and continued, lulling at
intervals, until the night of the twelfth.
On the latter day, it rose to the power of
an appalling hurricane, against which the
ship labored very hard. A low, gloomy
sky shut out the sun by day, and the stars
by night ; the sea did not rise into waves,
but was one plain of foam, over which a
heavy mist of spray was driven by the force
of the wind. On the morning of Friday,
the eleventh, the ship was discovered to
have sprung a leak. This appears to have
extinguished the fires almost immediately;
the steam pumps were, therefore, useless,
and the only hope was in bailing, as the
ship even then was making water very
fast. The passengers worked vigorously
at the buckets, and at first with so much
success that the fires were again lighted —
but only for a few moments; the water
returned, and extinguished them forever.
So terrific was the power of the ele
ments, that the vessel was now completely
at the mercy of the winds and waves.
During the whole of the night of the
eleventh, the bailing was kept up with
unremitting energy, but on the morning
of the twelfth, in spite of all efforts to keep
her afloat, the ship was evidently sinking
fast. The passengers continued to de
mean themselves, however, with the great
est propriety ; there was no weeping, no
exhibition of despair, even among the
women. At two o'clock, in the afternoon,
a sail was reported to windward, and in

about an hour after, the brig Marine, Cap
tain Burt, of Boston, came up under the
Central America's stern. Boats were now
lowered, but two were instantly swamped
and destroyed, the sea being at a terrible
height. Three boats still remained, though
one of them was in a bad condition. At
four o'clock the work of removing the
women and children to the deck of the
Marine was commenced. The brig, how
ever, being much lighter than the ship,
had drifted two or three miles to leeward,
and the boats were long in making their
trips. After the women and children had
all been safely placed on board, the chief
engineer and some fifteen others took the
boats, made for the brig, and did not
return. It was now dark. About two
hours before the sinking of the ship, a
schooner ran down under her stern, but
could render no assistance for want of
boats, just then. This was the El Dorado,
Captain Stone, who, as stated by him,
supposing from Captain Herndon's asking
him to lie by until morning, that the
steamer would be kept afloat till that time,
made all the preparations in his power to
assist. The vessels drifted apart in the
storm, though the lights from the steamer
were visible to the schooner until nearly
eight o'clock, when they suddenly disap
peared. Captain Stone then ran as near
the spot as could be ascertained, but could
discover nothing of the steamer.
Until within an hour of the fatal event,
the passengers continued to bail. Life-
preservers were then given out to them.
Captain Herndon stood upon the wheel,
and was heard to say, " i" will never leave
the ship." The final scene took place
more suddenly, and at an earlier period,
than her unfortunate passengers antici
pated. All at once the ship made a
plunge at an angle of forty-five degrees,
and then disappeared forever.
A simultaneous shriek of agony rose
from five hundred human voices, and five
hundred human beings were now floating
on the bosom of the ocean, with no hope
but death.
About half-past one o'clock, on the

628

OUR FIRST. CENTURY.— 1776-^1876.

morning of the
thirteenth, the
Norwegian bark
Ellen came run
ning down with a free wind. The cries of
distress from the Central America's pas
sengers were heard, and the Ellen hove-to
•under short sail. And now the task of res
cuing those who had been able to survive
in the water -for some five hours was com
menced, and by nine o'clock in the fore
noon, thirty-one men were rescued. Dili
gent search was made until twelve o'clock,
but no more survivors could be seen, so the
Ellen bore away for Norfolk, where the
passengers rescued by her, as well as
those taken off by the Marine, were placed
on board the steamer Empire City, and
conveyed to New York. Out of a total of
five hundred and seventy-nine persons on
board — four hundred and seventy-four pas
sengers and a crew of one hundred and
five — only one hundred and fifty-two were
saved. Captain Herndon, the brave com
mander, stood courageously at his post to
the last, and went down with his noble
vessel. He was one of the most brilliant
officers in the American naval service,
distinguished himself in the Mexican
war, assisted for some years in the con

duct of the national observatory at
Washington, and in 1851-2 explored the
Amazon river, under the direction of the
United States government.
Among the thrilling narratives of the
wreck and of their own personal suffer
ings, given by some of the passengers,
that by Mr. George furnishes an idea of
the terrors of a night on the waves. Mr.
George was one of the hundreds who had
supplied themselves with life-preservers,
pieces of plank, etc., and preferred to
await the ship's going down to leaping
overboard in anticipation of her fate.
When she went down stern foremost, after
giving three lurches that made every tim
ber quiver, and which were to every quak
ing heart as the throes that instantly pre
ceded her dissolution, he was dragged,
with the rest on board of her, some twenty-
five feet below the surface. He heard no
shriek— nothing but the seething rush
and hiss of waters that closed above her as
she hurried, almost with the speed of an
arrow, to her ocean bed. * Night had
closed in before the vessel sank, and he
was sucked in by the whirlpool caused by
her swift descent, to a depth that was
seemingly unfathomable, and into a dark
ness that he had never dreamed of. Com-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

629

pared with it, the blackest night, without
moon or star, was as the broad noonday.
He was rather stunned than stifled, and
his sensations on coming to the surface
were almost as painful, from their reaction,
as those which he endured at the greatest
depth to which he sank. When he became
conscious, after the lapse of a minute or
two, he could distinguish every object
around him for a considerable distance.
The waves, as they rose and fell, revealed
a crowd of human heads. Those unfortu
nates who had lost their life-preservers or
planks while under water, owing to the
force of the whirlpoool, were frantically
snatching at the broken pieces of the
wreck, which, breaking from the ship as
she continued to descend, leaped above the
surface, and fell back with a heavy splash.
Then cries arose that mingled into one
inarticulate wail, and then the lustier and
less terrified shouted for assistance to the
Marine, which was far beyond hailing dis
tance. The waves dashed them one
against another at first, but speedily they
began to separate, and the last farewells
were taken. One man called to another,
in Mr. George's hearing —
" If you are saved, Frank, send my love
to my dear wife ! "
But, alas! the friend appealed to an
swered only with a gurgle of the throat,
for he was washed off his plank, and per
ished as his companion spoke. Many were
desirous of separating themselves as far as
possible from the rest, being fearful lest
some desperate straggler might seize hold
of them, and draw them under. Others,
afraid of their loneliness, called to their
neighbors to keep together. Generally,
they strove to cheer each other as long as
they remained within hearing, and when
the roar of the waves drowned all but the
loudest shouting,, the call of friendship or
the cry of despair was heard in the dis
tance, and infused confidence or increased
dismay in many a bosom.
It was when he had drifted far from the
companionship of any of his fellows in
misfortune, that Mr. George began to real-
»» his situation. The night was quite

dark. Occasionally, as the driving clouds
parted and gave a glimpse of sky, a star or
two Would be visible, but this was very
seldom, and offered but the faintest gleam
of hope that the morning would dawn fair
and calm. The swell of the sea was great,
and successively the poor floaters, holding
on to their planks with the energy of
despair, were riding on the brink of a
precipice and buried in a deep valley of
water. Many of the poor creatures were
also seized with the fear of sharks. Resr
piration, too, was very difficult, owing to
the masses of water which were constantly
dashed upon the stragglers, as wave after
wave rolled by. For two or three hours,
the water was not unpleasantly cold, and
it was not until Sunday morning, and a
fresh, chilling wind arose, that their limbs
began to feel benumbed.
Some of the incidents that occurred in
connection with a shipwreck attended with
such wholesale loss of life, were sad in
deed. One man, floating in solitude, and
terrified at his loneliness, after shouting
himself hoarse to find a companion, saw at
length a man with two life-preservers
fastened about his body drifting toward
him. His heart leaped with joy at the
welcome sight, for the feeling of desolation
which had overcome him was terrible to
endure. He called to the other to join
him if possible, and made every exertion
to meet him half-way. There was no
reply, but the other drifted nearer and
nearer. A wave threw them together.
They touched. The living man shrieked
in the face of a corpse ! The other had
been drowned by the dash of the billows,
or had perished from exhaustion.
When, rising and falling with the swell
of the waves, the lights of the bark Ellen
were first discerned by the survivors in the
water, the thrill of hope that at once filled
every breast amounted, it may well be
believed, to a perfect ecstasy. Mr. George
says : " I never felt so thankful in all my
life. I never knew what gratitude was
before. I do not know whether I cried or
not, but I know I was astonished to hear
my own laughter ringing in my ears. I

630

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

do not know why I laughed. That verse,
'God moves in a mysterious way,' kept
passing in and out of me — through me,
rather, as if I had been the pipe of an
organ. It did not come to me by my own
volition, but somehow made me remember
it. When the lights approached nearer, a
score of voices sprang up around me,
crying, ' Ship ahoy ! ' ' Boat ahoy ! ' and
then I began to shout too. And I had
never any doubt that I should be saved
till I saw the lights pass by, about half a
mile from where I was, and recede in the
distance. Then I began to give myself up

was hailed by Captain Herndon, and told
of the desperate situation of affairs. The
captain of the brig said he would do for
them all that he could, and brought his
vessel close under the steamer's stern, the
distance between the two vessels immedi
ately increasing. The captain at once
called the ladies, and told them to prepare
to get into the boats. But to get in was
a difficult matter, as the waves were so
high. However, a noose was made in a
rope, and a lady seated herself in it, hold
ing on to the rope at the same time, when
she was lowered safely into the boat.

VICTIMS OF THE CENTRAL AMERICA.

for lost indeed. But I slowly drifted
toward her again, till I could make out her
hull and one of her masts, and presently I
floated close to her, and shouted, and was
taken up. When I got on the deck I
could not stand. I did not know till then
how exhausted I was." He was one of
the few who were rescued at the last
moment. The statement made by one of the lady
passengers, Mrs. Birch, was, that, at about
noon, of Saturday, when they had almost
given up hope, the brig Marine was seen
at some little distance off, bearing rapidly
down toward the Central America; she

This process was repeated with all, but
many got saturated — for, just as they
would be ready to get in, a large wave
would come, sway the boat from the ves
sel's side, and of course the lady would
descend into the water. One lady had
this experience two or three times, but in
the end they were scarcely worse off than
the rest, for, as they were being conveyed
to the brig, the waves dashed over the
boat and drenched them all thoroughly.
A man, who was one of the stewards, got
in, as he said, to help row the boat, but he
did not understand the work, and the
sailors made him lie down in the bottom of

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

631

the boat; the boat was rowed by four
men, and steered by the boatswain of the
:ghip. Chief-Engineer Ashby superintended
getting the passengers into the boat. All
who were rescued by the brig were on
board by six o'clock in the afternoon.
Toward evening, seeing a schooner close
under the bow of the steamer, all anxiety
was dismissed, in regard to the friends who
had been left behind. It soon became
¦dark, and nothing was ever seen again of
the sinking steamer. On board the Ma-
T;ne — a very small vessel, with a cabin
scarcely larger than an ordinary state
room on a steamer — there were thirty-one
women, twenty-six children, and forty-one
men, all being very much crowded. The
vessel had also lost part of her foremast
and bowsprit, and was peculiarly unsuited
to accommodate such a company ; they
slept, therefore, on the top of the deck
¦cabins, using the spare sails for beds.
¦Some of the women had no clothes to cover
their children, and they took the sheets
•and made them into garments.
But the most remarkable individual
experience, in this terrible catastrophe,
was that of Alexander Grant, one of the
firemen of the ill-fated steamer. Though
but a young man, this was the fourth time
he had been wrecked, escaping only
through great hardship and peril. When
a boy, on a Fall River schooner, he was
wrecked in the Bay of Fundy, and barely
saved his life. Subsequently, he was fire
man on the Collins steamer Arctic, and
¦when that vessel went down, he was left
floating on a piece of timber, in the broad
Atlantic; after several days of intense
suffering, he was picked up by the ship
Cambria, and carried with Captain Luce
to Quebec. Afterwards, he became fire
man on the steamship Crescent City, and
when that vessel went ashore on the Ba
hamas had a third most narrow escape
with his life. Still he did not quit the
sea, but engaged again as fireman on
hoard the Central America, and was on her
when she went down. Just as the steamer
was sinking, he, with nine others, got
«pon a piece of the hurricane deck which

they had previously cut clear, and, when
the vessel sank, the remnant floated off
with them.
And now, with the energy inspired by
hope, they held on to the raft by ropes,
but the sea washed over them constantly,
causing them to swallow a large quantity
of salt water. They spent that night on
the raft, praying and hoping for relief.
When day broke, they could see the brig
Marine, a long way off; but, although
they made every effort to attract the atten
tion of her people, they were not seen.
Without food or water, on a few frail
planks in the yawning ocean, these ten
endured unutterable sufferings. All day
and night, they saw others struggling
around them in the angry waters ; but
although they eagerly scanned the horizon,
no friendly sail hove in sight. As the
darkness stole on, their hopes sank, and
many of the poor creatures, famished and
thirsty, and sorely buffeted by the waves, ¦
grew delirious. Some swore and raved in
their insanity ; others babbled of cool and
limpid springs, whose clear waters flowed
mockingly at their feet, — or dreamed of
rich feasts, to which they were invited,
spread before their famished eyes, but
from which they were withheld by a super
human power.
During Sunday night, eight of the ten
persons on the raft, worn out by their suf
ferings, were washed off, and drowned.
On Monday morning, the same cheerless
prospect greeted the survivors. In a short
time, they floated near a piece of plank, on
which was a colored passenger from the
steamer, George W. Dawson by name.
He was helped on to the raft ; and toward
evening a second man was picked up.
Time wore on slowly and painfully, with
out hope or relief, and death was fast
drawing nigh unto all of them. The raft
had now become so light, however, owing
to the number who had been swept off,
that the remaining survivors could kneel,
the water being barely a foot deep ; and
in this kneeling position, they contrived
for a while to sleep. On Tuesday, they
fell in with a passenger who was floating

632

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. ;

on a part of what was once the captain's
room. They offered him a place on their
raft, but he declared that he was better off
as he was, as he could paddle himself
round, and pick up anything he saw.
Next day, two of the four tenants of the
raft became deranged and fell off, leaving
only Grant and Dawson.
It was now the fifth day of Grant's
hapless and suffering condition, as a
drifter upon the wide ocean. On this day,
as he narrates, " I saw a boat three miles
off, but could not tell whether there was
any one in it or not, but thought there
was. I resolved, therefore, to reach it if
possible, and accordingly I divested myself
of all but my underclothing, and tying a
life-preserver around me, I jumped into
the sea and swam toward the boat with all
my might. I cannot say how long I was
before I finally reached the boat ; but
before I got to her I discovered a man
sitting down and trying to scull the boat
toward me. On reaching the side of the
boat, the man (who proved to be Mr.
Tice,) helped me in. The boat, which,
when secured by Mr. Tice, was full of
water, had been bailed out by him through
the aid of a bucket and tin pan which he
had found in it, in addition to three oars
in good order, which had remained in the
boat after being swamped. The hole in
the bottom of the boat for allowing the
water to drain out on being taken on board
ship, and which was open on being discov
ered by Mr. Tice, had been plugged up by
him by a thole-pin, so that when I got
into her she was in fine trim. Mr. Tice
and myself immediately pulled the boat as
fast as possible to the hurricane deck, and
took Mr. Dawson in. He was as strong
as either of us, as we had all been without
food from twelve o'clock at noon of the
Saturday before, and were completely ex
hausted, as we had been incessantly at
work for some thirty-six hours before the
ship went down, in trying to save her, and
none of us had cared to eat but a very
little during that time. After taking
Dawson on board, we allowed the boat to
drift with the wind to seaward, not being

able to help ourselves if we had wished
and not knowing which way to pull." On
Sunday, the eighth day of the shipwreck
a sail was seen ; but after tantalizing the
poor sufferers for a couple of hours, she
disappeared in the far distance.
It was not until the ninth day, that
relief came to these unfortunates. "I
left the ship," says Mr. Tice, " on a boards
just as she went down. I had no life-pre-
server^ and had no time to get one. I saw
others with them on, struggling in the
water ; they seemed to do but little good.
The last object I saw was Captain Hern
don, as the ship was sinking. I drifted
away from the others almost immediately,
and was three days on that board, expect
ing every moment to be my last. On the
third day, I fell in with a boat, which was
about half full of water. I swam to it, got
in with great difficulty, and succeeded in
bailing out the water. I was two days in
the boat when I fell in with a portion of
the hurricane deck, and two men, Grant
and Dawson, succeeded in getting into the
boat with me. We floated around till the
ninth day, when we were picked up by
the brig Mary. All that time we had
nothing to eat, and not a drop of fresh
water. Most of the time, the sea was
breaking over the boat. We suffered
everything but death. No man could
describe what we endured." Grateful,
beyond expression, were these famished
and wasted men, for the kindness of the
"good old Scotch captain of the Mary,"
who, after taking them into the cabin,
removed their clothing and gave them a
sip of wine, and afterward water and
gruel, gradually increasing the amount, as
they were able to take the same without
injury. They were found to have been
severely bruised, and exposure to the
action of salt water had produced boils all
over their persons.
In the labor of pumping out the Central
America, to prevent her from sinking, the
men became excessively wearied, and it
gradually wore them out. When, there
fore, the ladies found that the men could
not hold out much longer, some of them

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

633

proposed to work themselves at the pumps.
But they were not suffered to do this.
The men took fresh courage and staid at
their posts, doing their duty bravely, even
when they were long past fit for it. The
ladies were in no worse spirits toward the
end than they were at the beginning of
the danger ; in fact, they all appeared to
grow more and more calm and resigned as
matters progressed. Those who had no
young children to take care of, and to be
anxious for, were quite as brave and hope
ful as the men. One of the sex, — a mother
with two babes — writing on this and kin
dred points, says : " A few of the ladies
showed no signs of fear, and kept up to
the last. It was wonderful to see their
composure. In fact, it was wonderful that
we were not all frantic. We were all weak
and reduced, from having nothing to eat,
of any consequence, for two days before
the ship went down. There was no fire to
cook anything, and there was no chance to
get any hearty, sustaining food. We
hardly had water to drink. Some of the
men, at work, became so exhausted, that
they dropped down in tlieir places, as if
they were dead. In transferring the ladies
from the steamer to the brig, it was my
lot to go with the third boat. The sea
was very violent, and the prospect of out
riding it in such a little frail craft was
terrible. Before going off, I put on a life-
preserver, which was the only preparation
I could make for my escape, but neither
the life-boat nor the life-preserver seemed
like safety ; for it is impossible to describe
the roughness of the waves, and the brig
was a great way off. The rope-noose was
tied around me, and was swung out over
the water into the boat. The life-boat
could not come close to the side of the
steamer, and we all had to take our chance
to jump at it. Some of the ladies fell two
or three times into the sea before they
could be got into the boat. One of them,
the stewardess, fell in three times, and
°nce was pinched between the boat and
le S1"e °£ the steamer. A heavy wave
dashed the boat against the ship, and
S tuck tfle poor woman a severe blow.

After I got safely into the little boat, and
my two babes with me, I had but little
hope of getting to the brig. The peril
then seemed to be greater than ever ; but,
as the ship was in a sinking condition, the
only hope seemed to be in attempting even
this dangerous escape from her. The
water dashed into the boat, and we had to
keep dipping it out all the time. Two
high waves passed entirely over us, so
that it seemed as if we were swamped
and sunk ; but the boat recovered from
them both." After a two hours' row
from the steamer to the brig, this brave
woman, with her two little babes, caught
hold with one hand, and hung for some
minutes over the vessel's side, till the
men on deck caught hold of her and pulled
her in.
According to the statements made by
many of the survivors, there was seldom
so large an amount of money owned by
passengers as was the case with those who
came by the Central America, and the
quantity of treasure on board was, conse
quently, far greater than the one and a
half to two millions named on the freight
list. Many, indeed, were persons of large
means, and there were but few whose
immediate wealth did not amount to hun
dreds, wliile numbers reckoned their gold
by the thousands of dollars. The greater
portion of the passengers were returned
miners, some on their way to invest the
capital they had realized, in hopes to live
a life of greater ease as the result of their
industry, and others to get their families
and once more go to the land of gold.
But, as the storm continued to rage, less
and less was thought of gold, and when, on
Saturday, it became evident that they
were likely at any moment to be buried
beneath the waves, wealthy men divested
themselves of their treasure belts and scat
tered the gold upon the cabin floors, tell
ing those to take it who would, lest its
weight about their persons — a few extra
ounces or pounds — should carry them to
their death. Full purses, containing in
some instances thousands of dollars, lay
around untouched. Carpet - bags were

634

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

opened, and the shining metal was poured
out on the floor with the prodigality of
death's despair. One of the passengers
opened a bag and dashed about the cabin
twenty thousand dollars in gold dust, and
told him who wanted to gratify his greed
for gold to take it. But it was passed by
untouched, as the veriest dross.
The praises of all who survived were
unmeasured in laudation of Captain Hern-

don's gallant and heroic conduct, and their
sorrow, as well as that of the country at
large, over his death, was most profound.
His best eulogy was that pronounced by
her who knew him best. His wife, on
being told of the loss of the steamer, and
that possibly the commander was saved,
instantly replied: "No ; if any one is lost
he is lost, for he would save every one
before he could think of himself!"

LXXIV.
TERRIBLE CRISIS IN THE BUSINESS AND FINANCIAL
WORLD.— 1857.

Known as " the Great Panic." — A Sudden, Universal Crash in the Height of Prosperity. — Caused by
Wild Speculations and Enormous Debt. — Suspension of Banks all Over the Country. — Failure ofthe
Oldest and Wealthiest Houses — Fortunes Swept Away in a Day. — Prostration of Every Branch of
Industry. — Prolonged Embarrassment, Distrust, and Suffering — The Panic of 1837 a Comparison —
Extravagance and High Prices. — Chimerical Railroad Schemes. — Mania for Land Investments. —
Reckless Stock Gambling. — Western Paper Cities. — Fabulous Prices for " Lots." — Money Absorbed
in this Way. — Bursting of the Bubble. — The First Great Blow. — A Bomb in Money Circles. — Wide
spread Shock and Terror. — Fierce Crowds at the Banks. — A Run Upon Them for Specie. — They
" Goto the Wall." — Savings Bank Excitement. — Rare Doings at the Counters. — Wit, Mirth, Despair,
and Ruin. — Forty Thousand Persons in Wall Street. — Factories, Foundries, etc., Stopped. — Business
Credit Destroyed.— Root of the Whole Difficulty.

" The moat extraordinary, violent, and destructive panic ever experienced in this country."— Gibbons's Histoet op Banes a»»
Banking.

j ANY persons will recall, even at this
remote lapse of time, the terrible com-
eun oh a bank. mercial and business revulsion which
preceded, by just a score of years, that more general and calamitous one of 1857, — the
latter being universally known to this day as " the Great Panic." During the first-
named, every bank in the Union failed and suspended specie payment, with a compar
atively few exceptions. Extravagance pervaded all classes of society, and so general
and feverish was the excitement in western lands' speculation, that men grasped at
lots in that boundless and then almost untracked region, as if the supply was about
to be exhausted. Indeed, the picture is but slightly if at all overdrawn, which repre
sents the land mania of that period as swallowing up, in its mad whirl, all classes.
ne ' man of one idea " was visible everywhere; no man had two. He who had no
money begged, borrowed, or stole it ; he who had, thought he made a generous sacri
fice, if he lent it cent per cent. The tradesman forsook his shop ; the farmer his

636

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

plough ; the merchant his counter ; the
lawyer his office ; the clergyman his study
— to join the general chase. The man
with one leg, or he that had none, could
at least get on board a steamer, and make
for Chicago or Milwaukee ; the strong, the
able, but above all, the " enterprising,"
set out with his pocket map and his pocket
compass, to thread the dim woods, and see
with his own eyes, — for who could be so
demented as to waste time in planting, in
building, in hammering iron, in making
shoes, when the path of wealth lay wide
and flowery before him ! A ditcher, hired
by the job to do a certain piece of work in
his line, was asked —
" Well, John, did you make anything ? "
" Pretty well ; I cleared about ten dol
lars a day, but I could have made more by
standin' round" — that is, watching the
land market, for bargains.
The host of travelers on their western
speculating tours met with many difficul
ties, as might be supposed. Such search
ing among trees for town lines ! — such
ransacking of the woods for section cor
ners, ranges, and base lines ! — such anxious
care in identifying spots possessing " par
ticular advantages ! " And then, alas !
after all, such precious blunders, — blun
ders which called into action another class
of operators, who became popularly known
as " land lookers." These were plentiful
at every turn, 'ready to furnish "water-
power," "pine lots," or anything else, at
a moment's notice. It was impossible to
mention any part of the country which
they had not "personally surveyed."
They would state, with the gravity of
astrologers, what sort of timber predomi
nated on any given tract, drawing sage
deductions as to the capabilities of the
soil ! Did the purchaser incline to city
property ? Lo ! a splendid chart, setting
forth the advantages of some unequaled
site. But at last this bubble burst — thousands
of fortunes vanished into thin air — the
crisis and the panic came like a whirl
wind. Similar was the state of things preced

ing the awful crash in 1857. The times
were characterized by excessive debts and
almost incredible extravagance and specu
lations. The cities, and many parts of the
country, were drained of means for legiti
mate purposes, being devoted, instead, to
the construction of unproductive railroads,
or absorbed in western land speculations.
The new territories, and some parts of the
western states, were almost covered with
paper cities, selling to the credulous at
almost fabulous prices. In Kansas alone,
where scarcely one legal title had as yet
been granted, there were more acres laid
out for cities, than were covered by all the
cities in the northern and middle states.
Nearly the whole west swarmed with spec
ulators, who neither intended to cultivate
the soil nor settle there, but who expected
to realize fortunes, without labor, out of
the bona fide settler. Lots in "cities/'
where was scarcely a house, were sold to
the inexperienced and the unwary, at
prices equaling those in the large cities.
These operations, with others of a similarly
chimerical character, made money scarce
everywhere, and diverted thousands of
men, and much of the capital of the Coun
try, from the business of producing, —
tending, of course, to extravagant prices
of food.
But the omens of disaster began to cast
their spectral shadows athwart the finan
cial sky, the first manifestation being a
regular decline m the value of leading
railroad stocks, especially the western
roads. But the first great blow to public
confidence was given by the unexpected
failure, in August, of the Ohio Life Insur
ance and Trust Company. The magni
tude and importance of the operations of
this institution throughout the country,
amounting to millions of dollars, and in
volving so many individuals and corpora
tions, rendered its suspension a fearful
disaster. The announcement fell like a
bomb in the money circles, and, hy the
first or second week of September, banks
and business houses began to stop pay
ment, and a panic ensued, which became
almost universal during the month. The

GREAT' AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

637

best mercantile paper was at a discount of
from three to five per cent, a month.
Toward the close of the month three of
the leading hanks of Philadelphia failed,
and the remainder resolved upon a tempo
rary suspension of specie payments. This
was followed by a similar step on the part
of most of the banks of Pennsylvania,
Maryland, the District of Columbia, and
New Jersey.
No such intense excitement had ever
before prevailed in Philadelphia, as that
which reigned when the bank of Pennsyl-

being nearly two million dollars. Very
early on the same day, the Girard and
Commercial banks ceased paying their de
posits, but continued to pay their bills.
Checks were marked good and returned to
the holders. After three o'clock, the city,
was full of all sorts of rumors, and, at a
meeting of the bank presidents, a universal
suspension was agreed upon. These tid
ings became rapidly known throughout the
towns and villages of the state, and the
next morning a vast number of anxious
people flocked into the city by steam-boat

EXCITEMENT IN BUSINESS CIKCLES DURING THE GREAT PANIC.

vania closed its doors. Crowds of people
poured into Third street from the distant
extremities of the city, and the street
became a perfect jam, everybody who had
any money in those banks which had not
yet stopped specie payment, being in haste
to obtain their dues. From this vast mass
of people there radiated lines reaching to
the counters of all the banks, demanding
«oin for bills and deposits ; and all the
various applicants, as they presented them
selves, received their money, and retired
m good order. This scene continued until
the hour of closing, the amount of coin
taus paid out, from eleven to three o'clock,

and railroad. As if unwilling to believe
the unwelcome news, they gathered in
crowds opposite the various banks, pa
tiently awaiting the hour for opening.
All appeared bent on getting coin for their
checks and bills. At ten o'clock the doors
opened, police officers being everywhere
about, to preserve order. Each customer
went up in turn, presented his check, and
had it marked good; while such as held
bills were told that the redemption of them
in specie was temporarily suspended.
And now, all over the land, east, west,
north, and south, the dark days of fear,
alarm, and ruin, settled down upon the

638

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

people, and panic raged like a pestilence.
Indeed, the extent of the crash far ex
ceeded what it would have been, but for
the shock and terror which so needlessly
possessed men's minds at the instant, and
unbalanced their judgment. Universal
distrust prevailed — a loss of that mutual
confidence between man and man, without
which, the foundations of mercantile credit
are washed away as so much sand, but
with which, temporary difficulties, even
though stringent, may be surmounted, and
total ruin to individuals and the public
prevented. No more fitting illustration of
the working of this principle of confidence
could be cited, in sustaining or overturn
ing the steadiness of business affairs, than
the anecdote of the little Frenchman who
loaned a merchant five thousand dollars,
when times were good, but who called at
the counting-house on the times becoming
" hard," in a state of agitation only faintly
portrayed in the following hasty colloquy
which ensued :
"How do you do?" inquired the mer
chant, as the French creditor presented
himself at the counter.
" Sick — ver sick," — replied monsieur.
"What is the matter?"
"De times is de matter."
" De times ? — what disease is that ? "
" De malaide vat break all de marchants,
ver much."
" Ah — the times, eh ? Well, they are
bad, very bad, sure enough ; but how do
they affect you ? "
"Vy, monsieur, I lose de confidence."
"In whom?"
"In everybody."
"Not in me, I hope?"
"Pardonnez moi, monsieur; but I do
not know who to trust a present, when all
de marchants break several times, all to
pieces." "Then I presume you want your
money." "Oui, monsieur, I starve for want of
V argent" (the silver).
"Can't you do without it ? "
"No, monsieur, I must have him."
"You must?"

"Oui, monsieur," said little dimity
breeches, turning pale with apprehension
for the safety of his money.
"And you can't do without it ? "
"No, monsieur, not von other leetle
moment longare."
The merchant reached his bank book,
drew a check on the good old ' Continen
tal ' for the amount, and handed it to his
visitor. " Vat is dis, monsieur ? "
" A check for five thousand dollars, with
the interest."
" Is it bon ? " (good,) said the French
man, with amazement.
"Certainly." " Have you V argent in de bank ? "
"Yes."" And is it parfaitement convenient to
pay de same ? "
" Undoubtedly ! What astonishes you ? "
"Vy, dat you have got him in dees
times." " Oh, yes, and I have plenty more. I
owe nothing that I cannot pay at a mo
ment's notice."
The Frenchman was perplexed,
"Monsieur, you shah do me von leetle
favor, eh?"
"With all my heart."
"Well, monsieur, you shall keep Par-
gent for me some leetle year longare."
" Why, I thought you wanted it ! "
" Tout au contraire. I no vant. de
argent. I vant de grand confidence.
Suppose you no got de money, den I vant
him ver much — suppose you got, him, den
I no vant him at all. Vous comprenez,
eh?" After some further conference, the little
chatterer prevailed upon the merchant to
retain the money, and left the counting-
house with a light heart, and a counte
nance very different from the one he wore
when he entered. His confidence was
restored— he did not stand in need of the
money. The banks of New York and New
England remained firm, far into the month
of October, but so rapid and numberless
were the failures, each succeeding day, of

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

639

railroad and other corporations, and busi
ness houses which had — some of them —
breasted all the financial storms of the last
half century, that these were finally obliged
to succumb to the avalanche of pressure,
and fell into the vortex of universal sus
pension. Tuesday, the thirteenth of Octo
ber, the day preceding the suspension, was
the climax of the struggle, and Wall
street, New York, as the great center of
money operations in the United States,
presented a scene of wild excitement never
before witnessed.
The account of that scene, as given by
the reporter for the Tribune, is here in
part reproduced. At ten o'clock in the

was hurriedly dashed off at its foot, and in
another moment it was on its way to the
bank. The crowd increased in numbers. Each
person took his place in the line and
awaited his turn, while policemen kept
those out who were present only from
motives of curiosity. One after another?
was paid, and with the shining treasure
departed. Scores of hands, skilled by long
experience in counting coin, were taxed to
their utmost in their efforts to keep pace
with the demand for gold. Altogether,
the scene presented was one of the wildest
excitement. Thirty to forty thousand
persons were at the same moment in the

EFFECTS OF THE HARD TIMES.

morning, says that journal, the fronts of
the different institutions indicated, by the
crowds gathered around them, that the
ability of the vaults to yield up their treas
ure at the call of depositors and bill-hold
ers was to undergo no ordinary test.
Check after check was presented and paid,
and still they came. Word soon went
forth that a run had commenced on the
banks, and it passed from one house to
another until the whole lower part of the
«ty was alive with excitement. Bank
books were examined; but a moment was
required to prepare a check — a signature

street — some rushing onward in the hope
to secure their deposits before the hoar of
closing should arrive, and others clustered
together, discussing the condition of af
fairs. One after another of the announce
ments made, of banks failing under the
continued drain upon them, fell with dis
may among the crowd, and confident pre
dictions were uttered that ten o'clock of
Wednesday would tell the story of the
suspension of all. But not a few there
were, whose belief in the ability of the
moneyed institutions was still unshaken,
and they asserted, with earnestness, that

640

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

every demand in checks and bills would
be met to the last, and Panic be laughed
to scorn.
But, with all the anxiety and resolute
ness depicted upon so many countenances,
there were those who laughed and cracked
jokes about their deposits in banks which
had suspended, and about their stock in
smashed-up railroads, as though the whole
thing were a huge joke. From the top of
Wall street to the bottom — from Broad
way to Water street — the sidewalks were
crowded with people, desirous to know the
truth of the rumors which filled the air.
In other parts of the city, stirring
scenes were transpiring, and not a few
that were quite illustrative of human
nature in its different veins. During the
run upon the Bowery Savings Bank, an
old Irishwoman, short, thick, resolute, and
' a little in for it,' made herself conspicu
ous by elbowing her way through the dis
trustful depositors, very unceremoniously,
and denouncing, in no measured terms,
" the big blackguards that would be af ther
chating a poor body out iv her hard earned
wagis." Some order of precedence is cus
tomary at such times, but the heavy shoes
of the Irishwoman did such execution
upon the corns of all who stood in her way,
that she soon obtained a good place near
the door, in spite of the remonstrances of
a dozen or two of younger Biddys, Mag
gies, Marys, and Kathleens, who had been
waiting an hour or two. At the door, she
had a wordy quarrel with a broad-should
ered black man in advance of her, calling
him a " runaway nagur ; " and anon she
varied her performances by shaking ber
fist in the face of a policeman — who, as an
official conservator of the peace, had under
taken to check her, — and, at length, very
red and sweaty, she stood before the pay
ing teller and presented her book, with a
vocal invocation to him to do the clean
thing. " What's this mean ? " said he, look
ing at her somewhat impatiently. " What's
your name ? " " Can't yoos rade writin'
hand?" she rejoined^ sharply ; " shure,
me nam's on the book ! " " But this," said
he, " is only a grocer's old pass book !

What's your name, I say?" "Mary
McRagan I was christened, hut I married
Pat Millikens." The teller turned rapidly
to his index of depositors. "You have
got no money in this bank ! " said he, when
he had ascertained the fact. She left the
premises in company with an officer, to
whom she confessed that she had found
the pass book near the crowd, and think
ing it had been dropped accidentally by a
depositor, she had thought to obtain the
money before the depositor applied for it.
At the same bank, one man who drew out
his deposits was so intoxicated that he
could hardly stand ; quite likely, he lost
the savings of years before the night was
over. At another savings bank, one poor
girl had her pocket picked of her little all
— about seventy-seven dollars, before she
had got out of the crowd. A vast deal
of chaffing occurred among those who
thronged the doorways of the hanks. "I
don't know," said one to a bystander,
" where to put my money when I get it ! "
" Give it to me," rejoined the other.
" Sew it up in your shirt," said another ;
and several other methods were promptly
and merrily suggested by the sympathiz
ing spectators, such as " Stick it in your
wig" — "Let the old woman have it" —
" Put it in your boots, and let me wear
them ; " etc.
At the Sixpenny Savings Bank, a little
newsboy, without a jacket, and only one
suspender (and that a string), confronted
the teller on Monday, and demanded to
know whether "She was all right"—
meaning the Institution — because if she
was, he didn't mean to be scared, if every
body else was. He'd got forty-two cents
salted down there, and all he wanted was
his (the teller's) word of honor that it
wouldn't spile. The teller assured him
that his money was ready for him at any
moment. " 'Nuff said, 'tween gen'l'men,
but I don't want it," rejoined the youth,
and with a self-complacent, well-satisfied
air, walked out of the bank. "Is she
good ? '' cried two or three other news
boys who were awaiting the result, at the
doorsteps. " Yes, s-i-r-r-e-e ! " he replied,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

641

"as good as wheat. Ketch our bank to
stop ! Yoos ought to seed the gold I seed
in der safe ! " " How much was they ? "
inquired a companion. " More'n a house-
full ! " was the prompt response, " an' yoos
don't ketch dis 'ere chile a-makin' an oold
woman of his-self, an' drawin' out his
money ; I ain't so green — I ain't ! "
It will require but little strain of the
imagination to realize, to one's mind, the
case of Mrs. Jones, who, on receipt of the
news of the hanks suspending specie pay
ments, hastened to her savings bank,
elbowed her way smartly to the desk, pre
sented her book, and demanded her money.
"Madam," said the clerk, persuasively,
"are you sure you want to draw this
money out in specie ? "
"Mrs. Jones," said a director, with an
oracular frown, "do you know that you
are injuring your fellow depositors ? "
" And setting an example of great folly
to less educated persons in this commu
nity ? " struck in another director.
" Let us advise you simply to reflect,"
interposed the clerk, blandly.
" To wait for a day, at least," said the
director. At last there was a pause.
Mrs. Jones had been collecting herself.
She burst now. In a tone which was
beard throughout the building, and above
all the din of ordinary business, and at
which her questioners turned ashy pale,
she said :
" Will you pay me my money ? — yes or
so!" They paid her instantly.
Not only in the great centers of business
and finance, like New York, Philadelphia,
Boston, Baltimore, Cincinnati, St. Louis,
and New Orleans, but in every town and
village, the scarcity of money and the
failure of hanks and commercial houses,
operated to paralyze industry and bring
want to thousands of families. In conse
quence of the universal stoppage of facto
ries, the poorer classes in some of the man
ufacturing communities saw winter ap
proaching, with no prospect of earning a
"velihood. Whole families began to suffer
41

for bread — the fathers willing and eager to
work, but absolutely nothing to do. Tales
of distress were to be heard at almost
every step, for the factories, forges, and
foundries, had all ceased their cheerful
hum of activity, and every day's intelli
gence from different parts of the land was
that of fresh accumulations of disaster,
increasing the severity of the situation,
and adding to the general gloom. The
oldest, heaviest, richest, and firmest mon
eyed institutions, corporations, companies
and firms, which were considered equal to
any pressure that might be brought to
bear against them, were daily chronicled
as having " gone to the wall." Fortunes
were swept away, like ashes in a whirl
wind. Not even in 1837, when the bank
ing system of the country was in so preca
rious a condition, was there such a terrible
downfall of old and wealthy houses. At
the west, there was one short, tremendous
collapse, that seemed to bring ruin, at one
quick blow, upon everything and every
body; and at the south, the devastation
was no less wide-spread and fatal.
Various means were resorted to, to real
ize cash for stocks of goods on hand, even
at a ruinous discount. At numberless shop
windows were to be seen in staring letters,
such announcements as : ' These goods
sold at wholesale prices.' 'Selling off at
half cost.' 'Bargains to be had for two
days — now or never ! ' ' We must realize
ten thousand dollars to-day, at any sacri
fice ; ' etc. Indeed, in all the large cities,
the dry goods dealers, being severely
pressed for money, offered their goods in
this way, and effected large sales. A large
number of the most prominent wholesale
dealers threw open their vast warehouses
to retail customers, and by this means,
probably, not a few houses, of that class,
managed to escape the hard fate that befell
others. Thus, in a word, there was exhibited
the melancholy spectacle of a great nation's
commercial, financial, manufacturing, and
industrial interests in utter ruin, from one
end of the broad land to the other ; pros
perity succeeded by abject adversity ; con-

642

OUR FIRST CENTURY —1776-1876.

fidence supplanted by total distrust; a
paralysis of all trade ; the stoppage of
almost every bank in every part of the
United States, the cessation of factories,
the discharge of thousands of laborers, the
inability to bring our large crops of prod
uce to market, the ruinous rate of two or
three per cent, a month on the strongest
paper, and a ruinous depreciation in the
price of all stocks. The steamers on the
great rivers and lakes stood still ; the
canal boats ceased to ply ; the railroad
trains conveyed less than half the usual
amount of travelers and merchandise ; the
navigating interest shared the common
distress, so that the cargoes, brought from
abroad, either passed into the public stores,
or were re-exported at great loss ; the
freighting business was nearly annihilated.
Alarmed, too, at the prospect before them,
ship-loads of emigrants were taken home
to their native land, in the packets run
ning from Boston and New York to Eu
rope. Nor did the fortune-tellers fail to
drive a brisk business in informing igno
rant and credulous inquirers what was to
"turn up."
That this great national calamity had
its root in the fever for land and railroad
speculation, involving enormous debt, with
no corresponding sound basis or adequate
means, cannot be doubted. Mr. Gibbons,
one of the very ablest of American finan
cial writers, argues, in respect to this
point, that, notwithstanding the appear
ances of prosperity previous to the panic,
there existed all the conditions of extraor
dinary financial disturbance. A prodig
ious weight of insolvency had been carried
along for years in the volume of trade.
Extravagance of living had already sapped
the foundations of commercial success, in
hundreds of instances where credit sup
plied the place of lost capital. Misman
agement and fraud had gained footing in
public companies to an incredible degree ;
hundreds of millions of bonds were issued
with little regard to the validity of tlieir
basis, and pressed upon the market by dis
honest agents, at any price, from sixty
down to thirty cents on the dollar. False

quotations were obtained by sham auction
sales. The newspaper press, in particular
instances, was bribed into silence or
became a partner in the profits to be
derived from the various schemes which it
commended to general confidence. The
land grants by congress to railway compa
nies gave added impetus to speculation,
and state legislatures were bribed to locate
roads to serve individual interests. Public,
as well as private credit, was compromised.
It could not be otherwise than that
bankruptcy and an overwhelming crash
should succeed such an inflated and preca
rious state of things. Even when trade
and business are conducted in accordance
with fair and legitimate rules, the records
of insolvency among American merchants
tell a woful tale. Thus, General Dearborn,
who for twenty years was collector of the
port of Boston, and who had ample oppor
tunities for observing the vicissitudes of
trade, ascertained, on investigation, that
among every hundred of the merchants
and traders of that city — whose character
for carefulness and stability will compare •
favorably with that of merchants in any
other portion of the land — not more than
three ever acquired an independence.
This conclusion was not arrived at without
great distrust; but an experienced mer
chant, who was consulted, fully confirmed
its truth. A Boston antiquarian in the
year 1800 took a memorandum of every
person doing business on Long Wharf,
and in 1840 only five in one hundred
remained ; all but" these had either failed
or died insolvent. The Union Bank com
menced business in 1798, there being then
only one other bank. The Union was
overrun with business, the clerks being
obliged to work till midnight, and even on
Sundays. An examination, some fifty or
sixty years from the starting of the bank,
showed that of one thousand accounts
opened at the commencement, only six
remained ; all the others had either failed,
or died insolvent, — houses whose paper
had passed without question, the very par
ties who had constituted the solid men of
the city, all had gone down in that period.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

643

Of the direful havoc, therefore, created by
a sudden and violent panic, sweeping over
the whole country like a hurricane, some
idea may be formed from the statistics
here given.
Notwithstanding the resumption of
business on a specie basis, in about two
months from the time of their suspension,

by most of those banks which were in a
solvent condition, it was a long while
before trade and industry recovered from
their crippled state ; and the embarrass
ment and suffering which consequently
weighed, during so protracted a period,
upon all classes of the community, were
painful to the last degree.

LXXV.
THE "GREAT AWAKENING" IN TIIE RELIGIOUS WORLD ;
AND THE POPULAR REVIVAL MOVEMENT (IN 1875-6)
UNDER MESSRS. MOODY AND SANKEY.— 1857.

Like a Mighty Rushing Wind, it Sweeps from the Atlantic to the Pacific. — Crowded Prayer-Meetingi
Held Daily in Every City and Town, from the Granite Hills of the North to the Rolling Prairies of
the West and the Golden Slopes of California. — Large Accessions, from all Classes, to the Churches
of Every Name and Denomination. — The "American Pentecost." — Early American Revivals. — Dr.
Franklin and Mr. Whitefield. — The Revival of 1857 Spontaneous. — No Leaders or Organizers. — Its
Immediate Cause. — Universal Ruin of Commerce. — Anxiety for Higher Interests. — All Days of the
Week Alike. — Business Men in the Work. — Telegraphing Religious Tidings. — New York a Center
ot Influence — Fulton Street Prayer-Meeting. — Scenes in Burton's Theater. — New Themes and Actors.
— Countless Requests for Prayers. — A Wonderful Book. — Striking Moral Results. — Men of Violence
Reformed. — Crime and Suicide Prevented. — Infidels, Gamblers, Pugilists. — Jessie Fremont's Gold
Ring. — -'Awful" Gardner's Case.

44 What nothing earthly eivea, or can destroy.
The soui'b calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy."

E^EVIVALS of religious feeling
jKo\ and interest, attended with
^fc great numerical accessions to
the church, have been not
unfrequent among the various
denominations of Christians in Amer
ica, from the very earliest period of the
country's settlement; and, during the
eighteenth century, under the labors of
such men as Whitefield, Edwards, the
Tennents, and others, such results fol
lowed as had never before characterized
BOOK OF REQUESTS FOB PKAYERS. any age or pe0ple. The labors of
Whitefield, in especial, stirred the public mind to its depths, and reached all hearts.
Even Dr. Franklin, rationalist though he was, was won upon, head, heart, and pocket,
by the power of this mightiest of pulpit orators. Happening to attend one of his meet
ings in Philadelphia, and perceiving, in the course of the sermon, that Whitefield
intended to finish with a collection, Franklin silently resolved that the preacher should
get nothing from him, though he had in his pocket a handful of copper money, three or
four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold. As Whitefield proceeded, Franklin began
to soften, and determined to give the copper. Another stroke of the preacher's oratory,
made Franklin ashamed of that, and determined him to give the silver instead ; but

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

645

the preacher finished so admirably, that
the philosopher emptied his pocket wholly
into the collector's dish, gold and all. On
the same occasion, another gentleman, sus
pecting a collection might be intended,
had, by precaution, emptied his pockets
before leaving home. Towards the conclu
sion of the discourse, however, he felt a
strong inclination to give, and applied to
a neighbor, who stood near him, to lend
him some money for the purpose. The
request was made to, perhaps, the only
man in the assembly who had the firmness
not to be affected by the preacher. His
answer was, "At any other time, friend
Hodgkinson, I would lend to thee freely ;
but not now, for thee seems to be out of
thy right senses." The multitudes, of all
denominations, that went to hear this won
derful man, were enormous — indeed, one
great secret of his success was, his freedom
from sectarian prejudice and animosity.
As an illustration of this quality, it is
related that in the midst of one of his
most overpowering discourses, he stopped
short for an instant, and then uttered the
following impressive apostrophe : " Father
Abraham, who have you in heaven ? any
Episcopalians ? " " No." " Any Presby
terians?" "No." "Any Baptists?"
"No." "Have you any Methodists, Sece
ders, or Independents there?" "No,
no!" "Why who have you there?"
"We don't know those names here. All
who are here are Christians, believers in
Christ — men who have overcome by the
blood of the Lamb, and the word of his
testimony." "Oh, is that the case ? then
God help me, God help us all, to forget
party names, and to become Christians, in
deed and in truth." The labors of such a
champion could not be otherwise than
fruitful of good.
Without dwelling upon the scenes and
results relating to the early religious
efforts alluded to above, it may be said of
the revival in 1857-8— known as "the
Great Awakening," and which is the
subject of this chapter,— that it depended
not upon any leader or preacher, however
eloquent, hut was the spontaneous out

growth of the heart's necessities, felt in
common by the great mass of the public,
in view of tbe financial tornado which,
sweeping with such universal destructive
ness over the land, had given impressive
weight to the truth, that "the things
which are seen are temporal, but the
things which are not seen are eternal."
No words could convey a better idea of the
general feeling which thus possessed men's
minds at this period of mercantile ruin on
the one hand, and of religious anxiety on
the other, than those uttered by a promi
nent merchant of New York, at one of the
business men's daily prayer-meetings in
that city. "Prayer," said he, "was never
so great a blessing to me as it is now. I
should certainly either break down or turn
rascal, except for it ! When one sees his
property taken from him every day, by
those who might pay him if they were
willing to make sacrifices in order to do it,
but who will not make the least effort even
for this end, and by some who seem de
signedly to take advantage of the times, in
order to defraud him — and when he him
self is liable to the keenest reproaches from
others if he does not pay money, which he
cannot collect and cannot create — the
temptation is tremendous to forget Chris
tian charity, and be as hard and unmerci
ful as anybody. If I could not get some
half hours every day to pray myself into a
right state of mind, I should either be
overburdened and disheartened, or do such
things as no Christian man ought." Tes
timonies like this were innumerable from
business men, — they, as well as the laity
in general, being most prominent in carry
ing on the work.
But, though this movement was, in a
very great degree, spontaneous, it was
early accompanied by a systematic plan of
family visitation, in the principal cities,
and by noonday prayer-meetings, in almost
every city, town, and village, from one end
of the country to the other. In such
places as New York, Boston, Philadelphia,
Cincinnati, Chicago, Richmond, as well as
farther south and west, not only were the
usual houses of worship crowded dail}', but

646

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the largest public halls were hired for the
same purpose, and resounded every day
with fervent prayers, songs of praise, and
earnest exhortations.
Thus, in Philadelphia, the vast audience
room of Jayne's Hall, and, in New York,
Burton's well-known theater, were appro
priated for religious assemblings. The
room hitherto occupied in the first-named
hall, contained accommodations for about
three hundred persons, and when it was
decided upon to remove into the large hall,
it was with no expectation that the room
would be filled, at such an hour as noon
day. To the amazement of all, however,
it was densely crowded, every seat being
occupied, including the settees in the aisles,
and a large portion of the immense galler
ies, and those who left for want of room
upon the main floor, are said to have
exceeded the number who could not gain
admission on the day previous, when the
meeting was held in the small room ad
joining. It was estimated that there were
certainly not less than three thousand per
sons who entered the hall during the hour,
and it was conceded, by those whose
means of knowledge enabled them to judge,
that this was the largest meeting convened
for the simple purpose of prayer to God,
that had ever been assembled in this
country. From New York city, a vast religious
influence went forth to all parts of the
land, and details of the daily proceedings
in the prayer-meetings held at Burton's
theater, and in the Fulton street and John
street church vestries, were published far
and wide by the secular press. Indeed,
the fullness and candor characterizing the
reports contained in the city journals,
were, with scarcely an exception, most
honorable to those influential mediums of
public enlightenment. Of the now almost
world-renowned Fulton street prayer-meet
ing, held at first in one room, but to which,
as the revival progressed, it was found
necessary to add two more, the Daily Tri
bune of March 6, 1858, said : " All three
are now not only filled to their utmost
capacity, but would be still more largely

attended if there were sitting or even
standing-room to be offered to the multi
tude. A placard is posted on the gate
inviting persons to enter, though such an
invitation seems no longer necessary :
'Step in for five minutes, or longer, as
your time permits.' Inside notices are
hung on the walls, to the effect that
prayers and remarks should be brief, 'in
order to give all an opportunity,' and for
bidding the introduction of ' controverted
points,' for the purpose of preventing the
ological discussion. These precautions are
taken, in order to give as much variety as
possible to the exercises, for it is always
unpardonable to render a crowded meeting
dull. The frequenters of this meeting
come from all classes of society, and are
invited as such, without regard to their
differences. Many clergymen of the city
churches, and many prominent laymen,
including merchants and gentlemen in the
legal and medical professions, are seen
there every day — as they ought to be seen
— side by side with the mechanic and the
day laborer, and even the street beggar.
Draymen drive up their carts to the
church, and, hitching their horses outside,
go in with the crowd; and 'fine ladies,'
who sometimes have Christian hearts in
spite of unchristian fashions, driven down
from ' up town ' in their fine carriages, also
step in and mingle with the same multi
tude. The exercises consist about equally
of prayers, remarks, and singing. Of
course it is impracticable for so many to
take part in the speaking or the audible
praying, but they all join in the singing
with great zeal and emphasis. On one
occasion, the volume of sound was so heavy
as to dislodge from its place on the wall
the clock which had been securely fastened,
as was supposed, and bring it crashing to
the floor. It is not unfrequent, during the
continuance of the meeting, to see a crowd
of persons collected in the street in front
of the church, to listen to the spirit-stirring
hymns that are sung inside. The prayer-
meeting held in the old Methodist church
in John street is similar to this. The
attendance here is already found sufficient

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

647

to crowd the entire ground floor of the
building. Many Methodist brethren at
tend this meeting in preference to the
other, hut the proceedings are character
ized with entire catholicity and freedom
from sectarianism." Perhaps no better
illustration could be afforded of this un sec
tarian feeling, as well as of the prevailing
spirit of the times, than the following dis
patch, which was sent by telegraph, at
noon, March 12th, to the great union
prayer-meeting in Jayne's Hall, Philadel
phia: " Christian Brethren — The New York
John street Union Meeting sends you
greeting in brotherly love : ' And the in
habitants of one city shall go to another,
saying, Let us go speedily to pray before
the Lord, and to seek the Lord of Hosts —
I will go also. Praise the Lord — call
upon his name — declare his doings among
the people — make mention that his name
is exalted.' "
To the above message, the following
dispatch from Mr. George H. Stuart, a
prominent Old School Presbyterian and
chairman of the Philadelphia meeting, was
immediately telegraphed and read to the
John street meeting :
"Jayne's Hall daily Prayer Meeting is
crowded ; upwards of three thousand pres
ent; with one mind and heart they glorify
our Father in heaven for the mighty work
he is doing in our city and country, in the
building up of saints and the conversion of
sinners. The Lord hath done great things
for us, whence joy to us is brought. May
He who holds the seven stars in his right
hand, and who walks in the midst of the
churches, be with you by His Spirit this
day. Grace, mercy, and peace, be with
you." Even among those denominations unac
customed to what are known as 'revival
measures ' for the furtherance of religion,
such as the Unitarian, Universalist, and
Episcopalian, a disposition was manifested
to co-operate, in prayers and labors, for the
success of the good work. In Boston, and
other places, prayer-meetings were con
ducted hy the Unitarian clergy and laity,

which were thronged to the utmost capac
ity of the halls used for the purpose. In
New York, the Orchard Street Universalist
church, Rev. Dr. Sawyer, exhibited a warm
sympathy with the revival, and took an
active part in its progress ; prayer-meetings
were held twice a week, which were fully at
tended, a deep religious feeling pervaded
the congregation, and large numbers
united with the church. The card of invi
tation to their prayer-meeting, which, like
that of other denominations, was exten
sively circulated, read as follows : A gen
eral prayer-meeting will be held every
Wednesday and Friday evening, at half-
past seven o'clock, in the lecture-room of
the Rev. Dr. Sawyer's church, Orchard
street, near Broome. ' Ho, every one that
thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he
that hath no money ; come ye, buy and
eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk with
out money and without price.'
Among the Episcopalians, meetings of
deep interest were held, including regular
evening services for prayer and short ad
dresses, at the Church of the Ascension,
New York, Rev. Dr. Bedell's. One of
these meetings was of a very impressive
character. The meeting commenced with
singing the hymn, "Stay, thou insulted
Spirit, stay," a series of prayers followed,
after which Rev. Mr. Dickson delivered
a short address, founded on the words,
"Lord, are there few that be saved?"
Other hymns were sung, and then remarks
made by Rev. Drs. Dyer and Cutler, Epis
copal rectors. Doctor Cutler said that,
twenty years ago, such a meeting as the
present one would have been denounced as
Methodistical ; but be felt that he could
almost say, with Simeon of old, "Now,
Lord, let thy servant depart in peace," for
he had witnessed that glorious "levia
than," the Episcopal Church, which for
forty years he had lamented to see, with
all its noble qualities and precious gifts,
being fast in the stocks, at last launched
and making full headway in the river that
flows from the City of God.
Next to the Fulton street prayer-meet
ing, in point of wide-reaching influence,

648

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876,

lP?^~->««te!

GROUP OF EMINENT REVIVAL PREACHERS DURING THE NATIONAL CENTURV.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

649

the meetings for prayer held daily, at
noon, in Burton's theater, may be spoken
of as most conspicuous. It was hired for
this purpose by the New York Young
Men's Christian Association, and was
crowded daily with earnest-minded men
and women, fervent in their songs, prayers,
and exhortations. The place made so
famous, in years past, by the histrionic
performances of Burton, Blake, Placide,
Holland, Davenport, Johnston, Lester,
Jordan, Fisher, Brougham, and other
celebrities, now resounded with the soul-
stirring appeals of such men as Cuyler,
Beecher, Hatfield, Armitage, and a host of
warm-hearted merchants and professional
men, all enlisted in the good work of ex
tolling the glad tidings of salvation. In
stead of polkas, schottisches, and waltzes
— instead of fiddle and bow, orchestra and
overture, — there were the grave and seri
ous hymns, "Children of the Heavenly
King," and "Salvation, 0 the joyful
sound," "Return, my wandering soul,
return," etc. With the exception of now
and then a fervid "Amen," or a hearty
" Yes, Lord," the order and quiet of the
audience during the speaking were entirely
uninterrupted. At all the multitudinous prayer-meet
ings held in different places throughout
the country, one marked feature of the
proceedings was that of receiving and
reading requests for prayers. The re
quests of this character sent to the Fulton
street meeting have all been carefully pre
served in a book, constituting a volume
upon which no one can look without the
deepest interest. The scope and variety
of these requests afford so apt a reflection
of the state of feeling during the revival
period, that a few specimens of those pre
sented at different times and places, will
be a fair illustration of all :
'A Christian merchant earnestly desires
the prayers of God's people for his co-part
ners in business, and for all the young
men m their employment unconverted to
God.' An anxious wife is praying earnestly
at this hour for her husband, who once

made a profession of religion, but is now
fearful that he never was born of the
Spirit, and is in darkness. She asks for
an interest in your prayers in his behalf.'
'The prayers of those who are accus
tomed to intercede with God, are requested
by a San Franciscan, that the Almighty
would visit the city of San Francisco with
a gracious outpouring of his Spirit. Re
member your brothers and fathers on the
Pacific coast.'
' The prayers of this meeting are re
quested for a young lady who scoffs at
religion. Don't forget her, brethren. She
has no one to pray for her but the writer
of this. Oh, pray for her.'
' A widow asks for the prayers of the
brethren and sisters for a son brought up
under careful religious instruction, who
last night cursed his mother — that he may
this day be brought to the feet of Jesus.'
'Prayers are requested for a sister who
is given to intemperance.'
'The prayers of Christians are most
earnestly requested by a son in behalf of
an aged father, nearly seventy years old.
A family of ten children are praying
morning, noon, and night for him.'
' The prayers of Christians are requested
for a young man — the son of a clergyman
— who is an idle jester on the subject of
religion, and who has, within the last
hour, been heard to ridicule these meet
ings, and to jest upon these subjects.'
'My husband is not a Christian, though
often thoughtful. I have prayed for his
conversion every day since our marriage
— nine years. May I ask an interest in
your prayers that my husband may seek
now an interest in Christ, and that we
may both become devoted, earnest, Bible-
Christians ? '
' The prayers of the Fulton street meet
ing are earnestly requested for a bible
class of twenty-two young ladies, con
nected with one of the Dutch Reformed
churches in this vicinity, some of whom
appear to be anxious for their souls.
It was in this spirit that the Great
Awakening showed its character and its
power in all sections of the land, north,

650

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

south, east, and west, the Wind of God
sweeping benignly, from the Atlantic to
the Pacific, — reaching across the length
and breadth of the continent, — from the
granite mountains of the north to the roll
ing prairies of the west and the golden
slopes of California. It was, in a word,
the American Pentecost, — the great relig
ious epoch of the national century, un
equaled in earnestness, union, and univer
sality, by any similar movement that had
preceded it, in the history of the western
world. The spiritual activities of the
denominations were everywhere constant
and fruitful, the accessions to the churches
being numbered by scores of thousands.
In places the most obscure, remote and
isolated, the most fervid religious engaged-
ness was to be found, while, in the larger
towns and cities, no business man, what
ever his location, needed to go forty rods
to find a prayer-meeting in operation, with
a printed invitation outside for him to
enter and listen to the prayers and expe
riences of others, and, if he so desired, take
a part in the exercises himself. There
were special meetings for prayer, also, in
behalf of firemen, policemen, waiters at
hotels, seamen, and boys, maintained
wholly or in part by the classes specially
named, and resulting in a large amount of
good. Men of established Christian char
acter were strengthened in their good pur
poses ; the indifferent and heedless were
awakened to thoughtfulness on religious
themes ; and multitudes, everywhere, who
had led lives of immorality and wicked
ness, dangerous to society, were reclaimed,
and henceforth walked in the path of
virtue and honor.
Of the many interesting incidents which
transpired during this wonderful period,
only a few can here be cited.
Just after the commencement of the
great panic, (says Rev. Mr. Adams, a well-
known Methodist preacher in New York,)
a young man called on me late on Satur
day night. He was the picture of distress
and despair. Supposing him to be one of
the many cases that daily came under my
notice, I invited him in. He sat some

minutes in perfect silence, and finally
burst into tears. It was some time before
he could control himself sufficiently to go
on, and then said, " Can you do anything
for me?" I requested him to state his
case. He said he was miserable beyond
description— had been blessed with pious
parents and a religious education, but had
gone far away from the counsels of his
fathers ; he had fallen into shameful sin,
until his soul loathed himself, and he had
been on the verge of self-destruction.
"This afternoon," said he, "feeling a hell
within, I went and bought poison, — went
into my room, and was about to take it,
when something seemed to say to me, ' Go
down and see the minister,' and I have
come. Will you pray for me ? " He fell
on his knees and cried aloud for mercy.
After two hours of prayer, he grew calm,
and finally joyful. He gave me a package,
and requested me to destroy it; there was
laudanum in it — enough to have killed
half a dozen men.
One of the first conversions among the
sailors, was that of a man who had been
greatly addicted to gambling, and to other
vices that usually accompany this. When
he went to the meeting, he had just left
the gaming-table ; but when he returned,
his first act was to consign his cards and
dice to the flames. He then knelt down,
prayed, and was converted. He went to
sea, and on board the ship daily prayer-
meetings were held both in the cabin and
forecastle. A merchant, after having attended one
of the crowded prayer-meetings held in
the city, determined, on returning home,
to make an effort for the spiritual good of
some of his friends and neighbors. One
of these was a man who avowed himself an
infidel. A prayer-meeting was organized,
to which this man with others was invited,
and, after several days' attendance, rose
on one occasion, and requested that prayer
should be made in his behalf. To the
surprise and almost astonishment of his
acquaintances, he shortly afterward re
nounced infidelity, and embraced the
Christian religion.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

651

At many of the telegraph offices, mes
sages were constantly being sent to all
parts of the land, announcing conversions.
Some of these were exceedingly tender and
touching, such as, ' Dear mother, the revi
val continues, and I, too, have been con
verted.' ' My dear parents, you will re
joice to hear that I have found peace with
God.' 'Tell my sister that I have come
to the Cross of Christ.' ' At last I have
faith and peace.'
The influence of personal effort and a
good example was forcibly illustrated in
the following case of a man and wife, who
were utterly regardless even of the forms
of religion, the husband, indeed, being an
infidel. The wife had, however, been
taken by some one to the meetings in a
neighboring Methodist church, and, un
known to her husband, had become inter
ested in them. One day he was scoffing
in her presence at the revival, expressing
his disbelief in everything of the kind,
especially ridiculing the Methodist modes
of labor, and winding up with a threat
that he would soon stop any of his family
who should be guilty of the folly of going
up to the altar. " Why," said his wife,
throwing her arms round his neck, and
giving him a kiss, " do you know that I
was there last night ? " " No," he replied,
returning her kiss ; " but I am glad of it."
He was softened ; that same evening he
accompanied her to meeting, and went up
to the altar himself.
St. Paul's Episcopal church, on Broad
way, New York, was filled with multi
tudes, on Wednesday and Friday evenings,
in attendance on the devotional services
performed there. On one of these occa
sions, soon after the exercises commenced,
the large and fashionable congregation was
surprised by the entrance of three Indian
maidens, wrapped in their blue blankets.
They paused for an instant at the door,
and then advanced to the front of the altar
with quiet dignity and self-possession, and
knelt down to their devotions. As the
solemn ceremonies drew near to a close,
% rose, crossed themselves, and, saluting
the altar, glided down the aisle and from

the church. They were of the Cauglme-
waga tribe, residing near Montreal, and
had visited New York for the purpose of
selling their trinkets, bead moccasins, and
baskets. Being mostly Catholics, they
usually worshiped in the church of that
order on Canal street ; but it seemed that
they had observed the brilliantly illumin
ated church in passing by, and had entered,
forgetful of form or sect, to kneel with
their white sisters before the common
Father of all.
In Mr. Beecher's church, Brooklyn, at
the close of one of the morning meetings,
a charitable collection was taken up.
Among the audience was Mrs. Fremont
(" Our Jessie "), who, happening to have
no money in her pocket, as the plate was
passed, took from her finger a heavy gold
ring, and threw it in as the only contribu
tion which she was able at the moment to
make. The ring contained on the outside
an engraved bee, — in allusion to a beautiful
incident in Fremont's passage of the
Rocky Mountains, — and, on the inside,
the inscription, ' March 4, '57.'
One of the most remarkable conversions
among the dangerous and criminal classes,
was that of Orville Gardner, commonly
called "Awful" Gardner, a noted, prize
fighter and trainer of pugilists. He was
induced to attend one of the Methodist
meetings, and, to the surprise of multi
tudes, he requested the prayers of the con
gregation, a request which on three differ
ent occasions he repeated. At this time,
he was residing in the vicinity of New
York. Having some unimportant busi
ness to do in that city, a friend asked him
if he would " jump into the cars and go
down and attend to it." He replied, " I
have more important business to attend to
first, and I shall not go to the city till it
is done." He had then three men under
his training for a prize-fight. On being
asked if he would give them further les
sons, he replied that "he would go to
them soon, but on a different errand from
boxing and training — he would try to per
suade them to reform, and to embrace
religion."

652

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

A young man, hearing himself prayed
for by some friends, became so angry, that
he resolved to sell his farm and go west,
away from such interfering relatives.
They continued to pray, and he finally
sold his farm, and was going to start for
Albany, on his way to the west. While
going to take the cars, he passed the
prayer-meeting, and, having some time to
wait for the train, thought he would just
step in, to pass the time away, and see
what was going on. He went in, was
deeply impressed, and his case was imme
diately added to the great multitude of
similar instances of reformation, which
made the Great Awakening of 1857-8 so
memorable in the religious history of the
nation.

world-wide fame, who had some time pre
viously been on a tour of active and suc
cessful religious labor in different parts of
Europe. Returning to their native land,
they devoted themselves, for consecutive
months, and with great and disinterested
earnestness, among the masses, and this,
too, as it appeared, not only without stated
or assured pecuniary compensation, but
absolutely without consideration of money
or hire, beyond what was voluntarily con
tributed by friends for their current ex
penses. Never before, perhaps, were the fount
ains of the higher life in man opened up
so abundantly and universally in our land,
as by the efforts of these simple-spoken
but intrepid and warm-hearted reformers,

But, in addition to the Great Awaken
ing thus distinguishing the periods de
scribed, and which wrought such mighty
results, there was to succeed another,
which, in some of its aspects, was to prove
even more noteworthy. Indeed, it may
be said, without exaggeration, that one of
the most happy, conciliatory, and widely
useful religious movements characterizing
the history of our country, and, in fact,
the history of modern times, — creating an
enthusiasm as genial and far-reaching as
it was decorous and practical, — was that
which commenced in the fall of 1875,
under the personal auspices of Messrs.
Moody and Sankey, lay evangelists of

as they went from town to town and from
city to city, with the proclamation, by fer
vent discourse, and cheering, melting song,
of the " glad tidings of good."
Standing aloof from even the shadow of
sectarian propagandism or theological dis
putation, they enlisted the co-operation—
or, at least, the good will and God-speed—
of all denominations of Christians, and, so
conciliatory was their speech, and so ra
tional their methods, in appealing to the
irreligious or indifferent, that, unlike the
experience which would probably have at
tended a different course, little if any time
was lost in provoking criticism or combat
ing objections. And this, in a word, was

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

653

the cause of the welcome extended them,
wherever they went, and of the almost
invariably rich harvests which accom
panied their labors. Nothing, in fact,
could better evince the favorable impres
sion made by these evangelists upon soci
ety, than the judgments of the value of
their work, expressed by those not holding
their opinions. Thus, the Tablet, an in
fluential journal of the Roman Catholic
faith, published in New York, spoke of
Mr. Moody as affording, in " the midst of
an age of mocking and unbelieving, a kind
of earnest testimony to Jesus, and we can
not find it in our heart to say it is not of
God ; " and, though guarding its conces
sions by the claim for its own Church of
possessing solely the real truth, it admit
ted, nevertheless, that " it is something in
cities where the divinity of Christ and His
divine teaching are openly blasphemed,
and where to the great bulk of the popula
tion the Christian religion is a matter of
complete indifference, when it is not one
of scorn, that their ears should be accus
tomed to words of adoration and love of
Him, and that even the dreary wastes of
heresy should echo with the name of
Jesus. . . . This work of Mr. Moody's is
not sin. It cannot be sin to invite men
to love and serve Jesus Christ."
And in a similar, spirit to that just cited,
the Jewish Messenger, referring to the
meetings contemplated to be held by these
evangelists, in the vast hippodrome, New
York city, expressed it as its opinion that,
whatever objection might be urged to
emotional religion as spasmodic, lacking
m substantial good, no man of sense could
declaim against such services, if conducted
m the same orderly and earnest way that
had characterized the meetings else
where. In the same vein was the utter
ance of a distinguished preacher in
Brooklyn, N. Y.,— one representing the
extreme wing of the 'liberal' school,—
who declared, in a sermon, that, if
Mo»dy and Sankey could reach the
masses of the people, "they would per
form a work for which all lovers of man-
™d would be grateful." That this hope

was largely realized, in the case of
Brooklyn itself, is well known.
One of the events in Mr. Moody's career
which peculiarly conspired to awaken pop
ular enthusiasm in behalf of him and his
cause, on this side of the Atlantic, was the
account, which preceded his arrival in
America by some weeks, of the extraordi
nary occasion attending the close of the
evangelists' wonderful labors in London,
and which, on being read by their friends
in this country, seemed like a prophecy of
great things in store for their native land,
when their homeward voyage should be
accomplished. It appeared, according to
the account of the meeting referred to —
the last of the immense gatherings of this
kind in that metropolis — that, for some
days prior to its taking place, the anxiety
of the people to obtain admission to the
hall amounted almost to a frenzy, and not
altogether a harmless one. Numbers were
waiting for admission as early as three
o'clock in the morning, or hours before the
opening, — all the approaches were crowded
with surging throngs, some of whom had
come from great distances, — and, all
around, dense masses of men, women, and
children, were present, worked up to the
highest point of interest and expectation.
Mr. Moody found entrance through a pri
vate house adjoining, and with the help of
a ladder. Meetings were held outside, but
nothing less than seeing and hearing Mr.
Moody would satisfy the densely packed
multitude. Among the great dignitaries
present were the Queen of the Netherlands
and the Duchess of Sutherland. The last
words of the evangelist were very impres
sive, as, indeed, was the whole scene of
this most memorable occasion, and his sen
timents, as then and there uttered — rapid,
spontaneous, gushing, — may be said to
fitly represent the preacher's character and
power. ''It is," he said, "the last time I
shall have the unspeakable privilege of
preaching the gospel in England. I have
never enjoyed preaching so much as I have
in this country." " Have another week,"
shouted a man. "I want to have you all
saved to-night," said Mr. Moody, looking

654

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

BEVIVAL MEETING IN BROOKLYN, CONDUCTED BY MESSRS. MOODY AND SANKEY.

toward the speaker. " If I were to stay
another week, I could tell you no more. I
have not told you a hundredth part of the
story, but I have done the best I can with
this stammering tongue. I don't want to
close this meeting until I see you safe
behind the walls of the city of refuge.
During the past thirty days I have been
preaching here, I have tried to allure
you away to that world of light. I have
told you of hell to warn you, and I have
told you of the love of God. To-night I
have been trying to illustrate salvation.
You can receive Christ and be saved, or
reject him and be lost. By-and-by there
will be a glorious future, and I want to
know how many there are willing to join
me for eternity. How many will stand up
here before God and man, and say, by that
act, you will join me for heaven ? Those
who are willing to do so to-night, will you
just rise ? " Multitudes rose to their feet.

Of this remarkable European tour of the
evangelists, one of them afterwards said,
"I remember when we left home, not
knowing what was before us. We landed
in Liverpool, and found the friends who
invited us over both dead. We were
strangers, but God led us; His Spirit
directed us up to a dead town, where we
held a prayer-meeting, at which, at first,
there were but four persons present. After
ward more came. People thought we were
two Americans with sinister designs. The
meetings, however, increased in interest
and power, and then the work began."
In due time, after returning to this
country, the evangelists commenced their
public labors, selecting Brooklyn, N. Y.,
as their first field. No church edifice,
however, in that city, having the seating
capacity to accommodate the throng of
people who desired to listen to Mr. Moody^s
powerful exhortations and Mr. Sankey's

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

655

singing, the large structure known as the
rink, on Clermont avenue, was fitted up
for this purpose. It accommodated five
thousand persons. The interior of this
vast building, as viewed from the platform,
a large semi-circular dais, was in the high
est degree inspiring. Mr. Moody's posi
tion, when speaking, was at the center of
this platform, in front ; on his left were
seats for visiting clergymen; on his right,
in front, was Mr. Sankey's position, at a
small organ, on which he played the ac
companiment to his admirable rendering
of the hymns which formed such a marked
and helpful feature of these services. It
was in this rink, that, day after day and
night after night, for successive weeks,
dense throngs assembled, and discourse,
song, and prayer united to bring thousands
of hearts to religious consecration. Out
door meetings, as well as meetings in the
neighboring churches, were also held daily,
with the most beneficial results, the pastors
joining heartily in the work, — and, in
¦ fact, all over the land, the stimulus to
renewed zeal and activity in spiritual
things, received from this source, was
most decided.
Commencing in Brooklyn, October 24th,
and continuing some weeks, only a brief
interval elapsed before the revivalists com
menced their labors in Philadelphia,
namely, on Sunday morning, November
21st, the meetings being held in the old
freight depot, at Thirteenth and Market
streets, which had been fitted up for this
use. The inclemency of the weather did
not prevent the assembling of at least ten
thousand persons at the opening services,
including hundreds of prominent persons.
Indeed, long before the hour of opening,
the streets leading to the building were
alive with people of every age and condi
tion, and of both sexes ; thousands came
oy the various lines of passenger railway
running by or near the spot, and other
thousands wended their way thither on
mot, many of them coming weary dis
tances. Within the building, the sight of
such a vast sea of humanity — now eager to
«tch the earnest words of the speaker,

and, again, with heads bowed in solemn
prayer — was most impressive ; nor was
it less so, when, under Mr. Sankey's in
spiring leadership, the joyous multitude
united in singing those sweet and favorite
songs, "Hold the Fort," "The Ninety and
Nine," " Jesus of Nazareth Passeth by,"
etc. The interest and enthusiasm in these
meetings continued without abatement for
consecutive weeks, not the least interested
among the attendants, during one of the
December sessions, being President Grant,
with members of his cabinet.
New York city was the next field of
labor chosen by the evangelists, the hippo
drome being chosen by the Young Men's
Christian Association of that city, for the
meetings, the opening one taking place
February 4, 1876. Both halls, the larger
containing seven thousand persons, and
the smaller, containing four thousand
were filled, and several thousand persons
more stood outside. Distinguished preach
ers occupied the platform ; a choir of
twelve hundred voices conducted the sing
ing; Mr. Moody preached with great
power; and the spectacle altogether was
truly sublime. Mr. Sankey carried all
hearts with him while he sang "Hold the
Fort," the people joining in the chorus.
There was not only no diminution in
enthusiasm or attendance while the meet
ings were in progress, but rain and storm
offered no obstacle to the pressing throngs.
Mr. Moody gained favor constantly by the
judicious judgment which he showed in
his management both of the people and
himself; and when, on one occasion, he
said, "I want no false excitement," the
expressions of approval were unmistaka
ble. On Sunday, February 13th, the en
tire attendance was estimated to be from
twenty to twenty-five thousand; even as
early as eight o'clock, a. m., at a special
meeting for Christians, the admission
being by ticket, over four thousand per
sons were present; at three o'clock, p. m.,
a meeting specially for women was at
tended by more than six thousand of them ;
and in the evening, when men alone were
admitted, the audience numbered some ten

656

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

thousand. At all these services the order
was perfect, and all hearts seemed in
accord. Though a Roman Catholic, Dom
Pedro, emperor of Brazil, being in the
city on his American tour, during the
holding of the meetings, became an audi
tor, and was not only deeply moved by

such a vast and unusual spectacle, but
expressed his admiration of Mr, Moody's
fervid preaching and Mr. Sankey's beauti
ful songs. The New York meetings were
succeeded by visits from the evangelists to
the south and west, with the most benefi
cial results.

LXXVI.
UNRIVALED PERFORMANCES BY PAUL MORPHY, THE
AMERICAN CHESS CHAMPION.— 1858.

«
His Extreme Touth, Marvelous Gifts and Genius, and Astonishing Triumphs. — The Most Eenowned
Players in America and Europe Vanquished by Him. — His Wonderful Victories in Blindfold Games
with the Veteran Masters of Chess. — Morphy's Bust Crowned with Laurel in Paris. — Honors and
Testimonials at Home. — Morphy's Personal History. — Early Aptness for Chess. — Skill When Twelve
Tears Old. — Introduction to the Public. — At the National Chess Congress. — Great Champions There.
—Morphy Takes the Eirst Prize. — Wins Eighty-one out of Eighty-four Games. — Professional Visit
Abroad. — Challenges the Chess Celebrities. — His Boyish Appearance. — Modesty and Great Memory.
—Aspect when at Play. — His Brilliant Combinations  Feats Performed in Paris. — Long and Pro
found Games — Great Match Against Eight. — Unparalleled Spectacle. — Victor over Every Rival. —
Without a Peer in the World. — Banquets to Him in Europe. — America Proud of Her Son.

" Mr, Morphy always plays, not merely the best, but the vert best move: and If we play the move only approximately correct, we ure
aura to loss. Nobody can hope to gain more than a game, now and then, from him."— Anderssen, the Chess Champion in Gebhant.

EST and good humor possessed tbe public mind, from one end of the
country to the other, as the triumphs of Paul Morphy, the chess
champion of the world, though scarcely yet attained to manhood,
were announced one after the other, in an almost unbroken series
at home and abroad, and against such odds as no
other person of similar years had ever before en
countered. His name was a pleasant charm in
every mouth, and great was the honor accorded to
America when this New Orleans youth fought, and
fairly beat on their own ground, and in the pres
ence of thronging crowds, all the greatest profes
sors, not only in England but in Europe, of the
morphy's wokLu-kenowned TRIUMPHS, noble game of chess.
The history of this extraordinary young man, as given by his biographers at tbe
period named, shows an astonishing natural adaptation to and fondness for the game,
combined with the most patient and enduring study. He was born in New Orleans, in
June, 1837. His father, a lawyer, and judge of the supreme court of Louisiana, was
fond of chess, and taught it to his son at a very early age. His inclination to it was very
strong, and his assiduity in cultivating it enormous. At the age of ten years he was
familiar with the moves of the game ; and when he was only twelve, he played with
the celebrated Herr Lowenthal— a European player of the first strength, who happened
to be visiting the Crescent City,— and the result was that the veteran and world-famous
player lost two games and drew one in contending with this little lad. From that time

658

OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

forth, the name of Paul Morphy was noised
abroad in the chess circles of America with
great commendation; few were to be found
bold enough to cope with him, and when
they did so, it was to meet with unvaried
defeat. Such a phenomenon as- Morphy
was perfectly unaccountable.
1 On the assembling of the National
Chess Congress in New York, in 1857, Mr.
Morphy was for the first time introduced
to the public. His youthful appearance
and wonderful power soon made him the
center of attraction, and as the labors of
the Congress proceeded, it became appar
ent that he would be its champion — a
position that he finally won by the remark
able force of his combinations and the
marvelous skill and foresight of his de
signs, winning some eighty-one out of
eighty-four games, his opponents being
unrivaled players. Paulsen, Lichtenhein,
Thompson, Montgomery, Hammond, and
Stanley, all succumbed to his superior
power, and be carried off the first prize of
tbe American Chess Congress.
Confident in his powers, Morphy now
sent a challenge to Mr. Staunton, the
champion of English chess, inviting him
to play at a match, the stakes to be five
thousand dollars. But Mr. Staunton de
clined, on account of the distance. Mr.
Morphy's enthusiasm soon led him to visit
England, and there the youthful hero was
received with most distinguished atten
tions. His opponents at the chess-board
were the very strongest in the English
field, including such men as Lowenthal,
Boden, and other celebrities. Mr. Mor
phy's appearance, during these great strug
gles, is described by the English press as
exceedingly interesting — indeed, curious.
His slight, even boyish frame, his puny
limbs, small face (though redeemed by the
high aaid massive brow towering above it),
the almost infantine expression of his
features, rendered it difficult for English
men to believe that this was the great
mental phenomenon of whom all were talk
ing and at whom all were marveling. His
attitude was one of remarkable modesty,
evidently quite unaffected, — not a sparkle

of triumph in his eye, not a flash of half-
concealed exultation on his cheek ; nothing
but a perfectly motionless and inscrutable
impassibility, a gazing calmly and stead
fastly onwards to the end in view, as if
with a fixed determination to attain that
end. and an utter disregard for any small
triumph of conquest for doing what he was
irresistibly compelled to do. And as he
looked, so he was, invincible. Game after
game was won with a precision truly mar
velous, and that not so much by what is
called steady play, as by a series of brill
iant combinations, depending npon calcu
lations involving sometimes many moves,
and followed out with an unerring cer
tainty that must have been as terrible to
his opponent as it was admirable to all the
spectators. During one day, he played
and won eleven profound games, and, after
returning to his lodgings at night, he
recapitulated from memory, to a friend,
every game, pointing out the variations
minutely, and demonstrating the critical
positions at which each was won or lost.
This showed not only his superlative
genius as a player, but also his astonishing
power of memory. Among his antago
nists in London was the renowned Mr.
Lowenthal ; fourteen games were played,
of which Mr. Morphy won nine, Mr. Low
enthal three, and two were • drawn. In
deed, Mr. Morphy was victorious over all
who opposed him, in London, and on the
Continent it was the same.
In Paris, he encountered such men as
Harrwitz, Riviere, Laroche, Journoud, and
Devinck ; but the most celebrated rival
with whom he was matched, while in
Europe, was Adolph Anderssen, the ac
knowledged champion of German chess, —
the result of this match being Morphy
seven, Anderssen two, drawn two. Though
deprived of his long-enjoyed supremacy as
the king among European chessmen, An
derssen magnanimously said: "Mr. Mor
phy always plays, not merely the best, but
the very best move ; and if we play the
move only approximately correct, we are
sure to lose. Nobody can hope to gain
more than a game, now and then, from

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

659

him." And again, this great master of
chess said of his conqueror, " It is impossi
ble to play chess better than Mr. Morphy ;
if there be any difference in strength
between him and Labourdonnais, it is in
his favor." Another great player, after
trying him, said : " It is of no use ; it is
uncertainty struggling against certainty."
Such astounding feats as those per
formed by Mr. Morphy, in Paris, brought
the excitement in the chess-playing world
of that city up to white heat ; and tbe
memorable occasion when he played against
and beat, blindfolded, eight of the best
players of Paris, at one time, led some to
believe that he possessed almost super
natural faculties. The cafe de la regence,
at which this extraordinary feat occurred,
had two large rooms on the ground floor.
In the first room, which was full of marble
tables, were seated the eight adversaries of
Mr. Morphy. In the second room, in
which were two billiard tables, was seated
the single player. A large portion of this
room, including the billiard tables, was
shut off from the crowd by a cord, and
behind the tables, in a large armchair, sat
Mr. Morphy, with his back to the crowd.
Two gentlemen, reporting for the press,
kept the game, and two other gentlemen,
Messrs. Journoud and Riviere, cried out
the moves, or carried them from one room
to the other. The adversaries of Mr.
Morphy were all either old or middle-aged
men, ,,and eminent as skillful players.
The boards of the eight players were num
bered 1, 2, 3, etc., and at half-past twelve
o'clock the game commenced, Mr. Morphy
playing first, and calling out the same
move for all the eight boards, KP 2. At
seven o'clock, No. 7 was beaten with an
unlooked-for check-mate. Soon after eight
o'clock, No. 6 abandoned the game as
hopeless; and, half an hour later, No. 5
Played for and gained a draw game. Nos.
1) 2, and 3, were soon after beaten. At
ten o'clock, No. 4 made the blind player
a^ept a draw game, but it was half-past
ten before M. Seguin, No. 8, a very old
gentleman, who contended with great des
peration, was beaten. Thus he beat six,

while two, who acted on the defensive and
only sought a draw game — equivalent to a
defeat — effected their purpose.
During the entire game, which lasted
just ten hours, Mr. Morphy sat with his
knees and eyes against the bare walls,
never once rising or looking toward the
audience, nor even taking a particle of
drink or other refreshment. His only
movements were those of crossing his legs
from side to side, and occasionally thump
ing a tune with his fingers on the arms of
the chair. He cried out his moves with
out turning his head. Against 1, 2, 3, 6,
and 7, who were not up to the standard of
the other three players, he frequently

made his moves instantaneously after re
ceiving theirs. He was calm throughout,
and never made a mistake, nor did he call
a move twice. And, as around each of the
eight boards there was a large collection of
superior chess players, who gave their ad
vice freely, and who had eight times longer
to study their play in than the single player,
Mr. Morphy played certainly against fifty
men, and they never ceased for a moment
making supposed moves, and studying their
game most thoroughly, during the long
intervals that necessarily fell to each board.
At the end of the game, a triumphant
shout of applause went up from the three
hundred throats present, many of them
Englishmen and Americans (among the
latter was Professor Morse, who took a
deep interest in this extraordinary game),

660

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

but much the larger number were French.
Morphy did not seem at all fatigued, and
appeared so modest that the frenzy of the
French knew no bounds. He was shaken
by the hand and complimented till he hung
down his head in confusion. One gray-
haired old man, an octogenarian chess
player, stroked Mr. Morphy's hair with his
hands, as he would a child of his own, and
showered him with terms of endearment.
The waiters of the cafe had formed a pleas
ant conspiracy to carry Morphy in triumph
on their shoulders, but the multitude was
so compact and demonstrative that they
could not get near him, and finally had to
abandon the attempt. These blindfold
games he also played with equal success in
Birmingham. No less a man than Mr. Mongredien,
the president of the London chess club,
went to Paris, still further to satisfy him
self as to the real merit of Mr. Morphy's
playing, and as to the rank he ought to
occupy. Mr. Mongredien and Mr. Morphy
played eight games, one of which, the first
one, was drawn, and the others were
gained by Mr. Morphy. In this trial of
skill, two facts were remarked in regard to
Mr. Morphy's playing — which were also
almost universally remarked in his games
when contesting with a first-rate player.
These were, that he seldom won the first
game, and that up to about the twentieth
move he rarely showed any superiority
over his competitor. It was only after
that point in the game, that he commenced
those extraordinary and unlooked-for
moves which astonished the audience and
crushed his antagonist beyond hope of
recovery. Previously to his departure from Paris,
a splendid banquet was given him, on
which occasion the most eminent French
players did him the unprecedented honor
of crowning his bust with laurel.
Returning to America, the young Achil
les of Chess was everywhere received with
spontaneous demonstrations of enthusiasm,
and in the great cities he was the recipi
ent of splendid testimonials, worthy of his
achievements and renown.

It was in New York, that Mr. Morphy
was honored with such an ovation as rarely
falls to the lot of earth's greatest heroes
and still more rarely in simple recognition
of a peculiar talent or genius. About fif
teen hundred ladies and gentlemen were
in attendance on this occasion, and the
presentation speech was made by John
Van Buren, to which Mr. Morphy replied
in a neat and graceful manner. The
cadeaux which he received from the chess
club were of dazzling magnificence, — chess
men in gold, boards of equally costly mate
rial, wreaths of silver in imitation of laurel,
costly watches, etc., etc.
To the tune of "See the Conquering
Hero Comes," Mr. Morphy entered the
thronged and magnificent hall. As the
procession reached the platform, and the
figure of Morphy became visible to the
great body of the audience, the enthusiasm
of the assemblage was intense. Amidst
almost deafening applause, the youthful
champion took a seat assigned him by the
side of Mr. Charles O'Conor, and calmly
surveyed the exciting scene. To those
who had not seen the victor before, his
extreme youth, mild expression and unas
suming manner, were matters of complete
but most pleasurable surprise. The hero
of the Cafe de Regence, the successful
competitor of Harrwitz and Anderssen, the
champion of the world in the profound
game of chess, was but a lad in appearance
and demeanor, and evidently without the
least self-consciousness of his marvelous
power. Mr. Van Buren, in his eloquent present
ation speech, gave a short review of the
history of chess and of the eminerlt per
sonages who had distinguished themselves
as players ; alluded to the rapid course and
achievements of Mr. Morphy, who, in
1857, commenced his career in New Or
leans, and, early in 1858, was the acknowl
edged victor, over all competitors, at New
York, and had reached the culminating
point in the halls of Paris and London;
spoke of the thousand and more years in
which chess had been known in various por
tions of tbe world— that it had been taught

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

661

and valued on the banks of the Ganges, in
the remote regions of Iceland — throughout
Europe, Asia, and in many parts even of
Africa; instanced Franklin, Charlemagne,
Catherine de Medicis, Leo X., Voltaire, all
of whom were lovers of the game, and
Napoleon, who had played in the identical
cafe where Mr. Morphy had won his victo
ries. The orator then read a letter from
Professor Morse, who mentioned being
present at one of the games in Paris,
where Mr. Morphy was received with
great enthusiasm. A quotation was also
read from Dr. Franklin's writings, in
which he avowed himself the friend of the
chess board, pointing out its representation

to name you "the chivalrous Bayard of
Chess." But it is not for your qualities
or conduct only as a chess player, that I
have united in this proceeding. Your
intercourse with your friends here, the
accounts we have from New Orleans, the
uniform representations from abroad, all
concur in showing that in high-bred cour
tesy, true generosity and courage, innate
modesty and strict integrity, you have
illustrated at home and abroad the charac
ter of an American gentleman ; and it is,
therefore, with unaffected pride, that I
have become the medium of conveying to
you the sentiments that I have expressed,
and that I again offer for your acceptance

PAUL MORPHY PLAYING EIGHT GAMES OF CHESS WITHOUT SEEING THE BOARD.

of real life in inculcating foresight, circum
spection, and principles of assault and
defense. After felicitously describing Mr. Mor
phy's position to be like one laying aside
his weapons, and sighing, with Alexander,
that there were no more worlds to conquer,
Mr. Tan Buren closed by saying: "Mr.
Morphy— Your readiness to engage at all
times, and with all comers, in chess con
tests—your refusal to make the condition
of your health an excuse or a reason for
declining— your utter rejection of all ad
vantages that might be your due in a con
test, and the intrepid spirit you manifested
at Paris, induced Mons. St. Arnaut, one of
the ablest and frankest of your adversaries,

this appropriate token of the regard of
your countrymen and of their recognition
of your services." The orator concluded
by asking the vast audience to unite with
him " in welcoming, with all the honors,
Paul Morphy, the Chess Champion of the
World," and sat down amidst the wildest
applause. Mr. Morphy, on rising to respond, grace
fully accepted the gift, and, in the course
of his remarks, spoke of chess, "the kingly
pastime," as a game that " never has been
and never can be aught but a recreation.
It should not be indulged in to the detri
ment of other and more serious avocations
— should not absorb the mind or engross
the thoughts of those who worship at its

662

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

shxine ; but should be kept in the back
ground and restrained within its province.
As a mere game, a relaxation from the
severer pursuits of life, it is deserving of
high commendation. It is not only the
most delightful and scientific, but the most
moral of amusements. Unlike other games,
in which lucre is the end and aim of the
contestants, it recommends itself to the
wise, by the fact that its mimic battles are
fought for no prize but honor. It is emi
nently and emphatically the philosopher's
game. Let the chess-board supersede the
card-table, and a great improvement will
be visible in the morals of the community."
Mr. Morphy's manner and matter won
upon all hearts, and his pleasant speech
was followed by deafening cheers.
Another grand ovation awaited Mr.
Morphy at Boston, to which city he pro
ceeded soon after the close of the elegant
hospitalities extended him in New York.
On arriving in Boston, Mr. Morphy gave
a public reception, under the auspices of
the Boston Chess Club, whose guest he
was. A brilliant company of friends and
admirers assembled at an early hour, and,
on Mr. Morphy making his appearance, he
was ushered into a reception room, where
a large number of gentlemen crowded
around him, eager to see and greet the
youthful hero of numberless chess battles.
After having been introduced to several of
the most distinguished persons present,
Mr. Morphy was conducted into a large
and magnificent apartment of the club and
seated himself at a chess table, which was
surrounded by ladies of beauty and fashion.
Mr. Morphy quietly proceeded to ar
range the chess-men, seemingly uncon
scious of the fact that he was the conspic
uous mark of multitudes of bright and
beautiful eyes. Mr. W. R. Broughton,
who was considered one of the best players
in the city, was selected as Mr. Morphy's
opponent. In order to lessen the crowd,
which was very large, arrangements were
made to announce the moves in the oppo
site room, and the various tables therein
were speedily surrounded by those inter
ested in the game. The game and com

ments commenced simultaneously, Mr.
Morphy giving his opponent the odds of
the Queen's Knight. President Sparks,
Professor Longfellow, Professor Pierce, R.
H. Dana, Jr., Hon. Josiah Quincy, Jr.,
Mayor Lincoln, Professor Huntington,
and other eminent men, were present, and
exhibited deep interest in the progress of
the game, at every successive step.
Mr. Morphy's moves were sudden, — gen
erally made on the instant. Mr. Brough
ton moved only after the most careful
study. " Do you understand the game?"
inquired one venerable and distinguished
gentleman of another. "No; but I am
deeply interested in Morphy ; he seems so
modest and self-possessed." " That's true ;
there is something extraordinary in his
appearance, but I can't really make out
what it is." People generally conversed
in whispers, during the exciting joust,
pronouncing his moves "fertile," "brill
iant," " dashing," and one young gentle
man declared in a low tone of voice, that
the youthful champion was a "perfect
stunner." Gentlemen of advanced years
asserted, when the game was half-finished,
that Mr. Broughton "didn't stand any
sort of a chance." The game lasted until
ten o'clock, when Mr. Broughton acknowl
edged that he was vanquished, and Mr.
Morphy was then introduced to a large
number of admirers, both ladies and gentle
men, the great majority of whom had
remained standing during the entire even
ing, so great was their interest in the
game. For several successive days, Mr. Morphy
was the recipient of the most flattering
attentions in Boston, — feted in all sorts of
ways, and waited upon by many of the
most eminent men of the city and state, —
in all of which he maintained the same
modest and unassuming demeanor with
which fame had so long stamped him. He
won golden opinions from all who observed
or came in contact with him.
But the most notable event in Mr. Mor
phy's reception at Boston, was the grand
banquet given in his honor at the Revere
H.use, May 31st, by the Boston Chess

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

663

Club. All the arrangements for the even
ing were of the most superb and costly
description, the tables were covered with
the choicest viands, and the finest of music
enlivened the occasion. Among the dis
tinguished persons at the tables were Chief
Justice Shaw, Professors Agassiz, Pierce,
Huntington, and Sparks, Judge Parker,
President Walker, of Harvard College, J.
K. Lowell, E. P. Whipple, James T.
Fields, Judge Thomas, Dr. 0. W. Holmes,
Hon. Josiah Quincy, Mayor Lincoln, Sen
ator Wilson, and many others.
Dr. 0. W. Holmes presided, and made
a felicitous address of welcome to the guest
of the evening, who, he declared, had hon
ored all who glory in the name of Ameri
cans, as the hero of a long series of blood
less battles, won for the common country.

Dr. Holmes concluded by giving, as a sen
timent, " The health of Paul Morphy, the
world's chess champion : His peaceful bat
tles have helped to achieve a new revolu
tion ; his youthful triumphs have added a
new clause to the Declaration of Inde
pendence." On rising to respond, Mr.
Morphy was received with nine tumultu
ous cheers. He spoke of the unaffected dif
fidence with which he stood in the presence
of such an intellectual audience, gracefully
tendered his thanks for the cordial welcome
extended him, and remarked upon chess as
the best relaxation amidst the more serious
pursuits of life, and, as such, afforded an
excellent discipline for the mind. Mr.
Morphy's appearance was exceedingly pre
possessing, and all hearts were united in
his favor.

LXXVII.
BURNING OF THE STEAMSHIP AUSTRIA, ON" HER WAY
FROM HAMBURG TO NEW YORK.— 1858.

She Takes Fire on the Eleventh Day, from Combustion of the Hot Tar Used in Fumigation.— Three
Decks Instantly in a Blaze.— Inability to Stop the Engines.— The Ship Continues on Her Course in
Furious Flames. — Torture and Death in Every Form. — Nearly Five Hundred Men, Women, and
Children Lost. — A Hot Chain in the Bucket of Tar. — Sudden and Singular Ignition.— Rapid Headway
of the Flames.— They Leap Up the Shrouds— Powerlessness of the Officers— The Captain Panic-
Stricken —Frantic Conduct of Passengers.— Swamping of the Boats. — Children Trodden Under Foot.
— Writhing in the Heat — Shrieks and Cries. — Being Roasted Alive. — Only One Boat Afloat.— Jump
ing Into the Waves. — Last Embrace of
Lovers, — Adieus of Husbands and
Wives. — Seven Brothers and Sisters. —
Struggles of the Firemen. — A Living
Wall of Fire.— Fate of the Women.—
Father and Son.— "A Sail 1 "—Rescue
of a Few.

"Then rose from spn to akv the wild farewell,
Then shrieked the timid, und stood still the brave.

TARTLING and terrible as was tbe tragedy of the foundering of the Central
America, in September, 1857, the horrors which invested the burning of the steamer
Austria, in September, 1858, with her precious freight of hundreds of human beings,
sent such a thrill of agony through two continents, as no mortal pen can fitly describe.
The Austria was one of the four screw-steamers of the New York and Hamburg line,
was constructed of iron, and, in proportion to her size, rated as one of the finest and
strongest steamers that ever crossed the Atlantic. The measurement of this noble craft
was two thousand five hundred tons.
The ill-fated ship, commanded by Captain Heydtmann, sailed from Hamburg for
Southampton and New York, on the second of September, 1858, with passengers and
crew numbering five hundred and thirty-eight souls. On the thirteenth of September,
Captain Heydtmann and the physician gave orders to have the vessel fumigated, and
the fourth officer was charged with the execution of the order. He directed the boat
swain's mate to take a bucket of tar and a piece of hot iron, and go into the forward
steerage to fumigate it. They heated a piece of chain and dipped it into the tar, to
make a smoke ; but the chain was so hot tnat it set the tar on fire. At the same time,
the other end of the chain became too hot to hold, and the boatswain's mate let it fall,
thus upsetting the bucket of tar, which, being already on fire, rapidly spread over the
deck in all directions. The flames from the tar immediately set fire to the berths and

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

665

mattresses in the steerage, and spread
along the deck with incredible rapidity.
In an instant it ran through the gangways
to the hatchways at the entrance of the
first and second cabins toward the poop,
blazing up through them like a blast fur
nace, and thus cutting off all retreat for
those who were below. The cause of the
fire communicating to all parts of the
vessel so readily, was, that the day was
very pleasant, the wind light, with a
smooth sea, — and, in order to fumigate the
vessel more thoroughly, all the port-boles,
state-rooms, and doors in tbe bulkheads,
were opened, to allow of a free circulation
of air and a complete ventilation. Thus,
in less than five minutes, the upper deck
amidships was on fire.
And now, an instantaneous panic arose,
paralyzing alike the ship's company and
the passengers.
Every one on board appeared perfectly
wild, the women crying out, " The ship is
on fire ! What will become of us ? " Some
gave themselves up to despair at once, and
engaged in loud and distressing appeals of
prayer; others shrieked and screamed;
others, again, swooned and became help
less, and almost unconscious of the awful
fate that awaited them, of being burned
alive ; while but a small number, compara
tively, of the human beings on board, had
presence of mind and firmness enough to
go properly to work to save themselves,
and even those met with impediments
which too frequently exist in such contin
gencies to the saving of life.
Although there were ten boats, capable
of doing effective service, they were found
transfixed, as it were, to the chocks on
which they were kept, as though they had
teen riveted to them with the expectation
that they would never be required. The
hose, designed for the extinguishing of fire,
was out of order, and the panic-stricken
captain, instead of organizing his officers
and crew for energetic action in attempt
ing to subdue the flames, or, if deemed
impracticable, in manning the boats for
|he transfer of the women and children,
08t a11 command of himself. On hearing

of the fire, he rushed up bareheaded to the
deck, and when he saw the flames ex
claimed, " We are all lost!" In running
aft to the quarter-deck, he had to travel
through the fire, which already separated
the fore part from the aft part of the ship.
Captain Heydtmann, therefore, in break
ing the flames, was much injured ; he was
seen later, by the first officer, standing on
the quarter-deck, apparently stunned by
the injuiy he had received. He was seen
again, trying to get out a boat, but which,
when let down, was swamped, and he, fall
ing into the sea — though some of the pas
sengers state that they saw him jump
overboard — was soon left far behind.
Such was the terrible confusion now
prevailing, that children were trodden
under foot by the elder, distracted passen
gers ; some persons ran up aloft into the
rigging, as though they would be saved in
that way ; others, again, began to doff
their heavy clothing, and others to prepare
themselves for the final resort of jumping
overboard, and running the risk of being
picked up. There existed a regular boat-
roll on the vessel, so that each man knew
to which boat to attend, in case of need,
under the command of an officer, or sub-
officer. But the men were hindered in
getting to the boats by the frantic passen
gers, who already had rushed to them.
The boats on the starboard soon caught
fire, this side being most exposed to the
flames. On the larboard, four boats were
lowered, but three of them were smashed
before reaching the water, by the people
overcrowding them, and one boat alone got
safely afloat.
The single boat which thus reached the
water without being smashed, was one of
the large metallic life-boats ; it was at first,
when lowered down, filled with people, but
the weight was so great that many of
them fell out when the boat reached the
water. Thirty succeeded in keeping on,
but the boat capsized several times, being
full of water, and seven men were drowned
thereby. There then remained in the
boat the first officer and six of the crew,
besides one steward and fifteen passengers.

666

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

BURXIXQ OF THE STEAMSHIP AUSTKIA,

It was three o'clock when this boat got
free of the steamer, but, as the boat was
difficult of management, and the vessel
was still going ahead, the two became soon
separated. They tried hard to bail the
water out of tbe boat, but did not succeed
until a raft was constructed of tbe oars and
masts belonging to the boat, upon which
tbe passengers were placed, and then, the
boat being cleared of water, they were put
on board again. About one hour after
having left the steamer, they got sight of
the French bark Maurice, and on reaching

WITH FIVE HUMDKED SOULS ON BOAKD.

ber, found the third officer and some of the
passengers already on board.
As the flames increased, the poor, ter
ror-stricken creatures on the bowsprit
jumped into the water as their clothes
caught on fire. One woman, with two
daughters, kissed them both, and then,
putting her arms around them, all three
jumped into the water.
An English lady, who came on board at
Southampton, had three children with her
_a girl about five years old, a boy abou^
three, and a babe in ber arms. Ine nus-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

667

band had jumped over, and as the flames
grew hotter and burned more fiercely, she
took her little girl, kissed her, and threw
her into the water. She then took the boy,
a fair, healthy little fellow, embraced him,
gave him her last kiss, and threw him in ;
he struck on his back and struggled very
hard, rising to the surface three separate
times, calling out " Mamma," each time,
in the most piteous tones, then sunk to
rise no more. The poor woman then
clasped her baby to her breast and jumped
in with it, kissing it repeatedly as they
sank to the bottom.
A young man who was in the second
cabin, and who was going to California to
join his brother, had his sister with him, a
girl sixteen or seventeen years of age.
In order to save her from the fire, he
fastened a rope around her body, and,
making one end fast to the deck, let her
down over the side of the vessel. He then
put another rope around his own body, and
let himself down; but the rope was not
well fastened, and, as he jumped down, it
slipped from under his arms and caught
him around the throat. As he struck the
water, the waves dashed him against the
vessel's side, and, falling back again, he
was quickly choked to death — his sister
meanwhile shrieking, " Help ! help ! will
nobody help my brother?" When last
seen, the poor girl was hanging there,
screaming and crying, with the waves
dashing the dead body of her brother
against her, every moment.
Similar in sadness was the case of an
•Englishman about fifty years of age, who,
with his wife, crawled out on the bowsprit
as far as they could, and, as the flames
approached, they clasped their arms around
each other, gave one last kiss, jumped into
the water, and sank immediately. And
ao, brothers and sisters, fathers and sons,
mothers and daughters, husbands and
wives, lovingly embraced each other, and
plunged into the waves.
Indescribably heart-rending was the
scene on the quarter-deck. Passengers
w rushing frantically to and fro— hus
bands seeking their wives, wives in search

of their husbands, relatives looking after
relatives, parents lamenting the loss of
their children, some wholly paralyzed by
fear, others madly crying to be saved, but
a few perfectly calm and collected. The
flames pressed so closely upon them, that
here, as at the bowsprit, multitudes leaped
over, and met a watery grave, the same
scenes being exhibited, of relatives clasped
in mutual embrace, plunging together into
the abyss of death. Two beautiful girls,
supposed to be sisters, jumped over, and
sank kissing each other. A missionary
and wife leaped into the,- sea together, and
the stewardess and assistant steward, arm
in arm, followed. So, too, lovers in tender
embrace, met tbe awful fate before them.
One Hungarian gentleman, with seven
fine children, four of them girls, made his
wife jump in, then blessed his six eldest
children, made them jump in one after
another, and followed them with an infant
in his arms.
Thus, in twos and threes, or singly, the
whole company met their fate. Several
hesitated to leap from the burning ship
until the last moment, as the height was
twenty-two feet, and were only, at length,
compelled to throw themselves off to avoid
a more irightful death. In half an hour,
not a soul was to be seen on the poop.
Such was the fearful progress of the fire,
that, almost from the very first, the flames
leaped up the shrouds, and licked along
the yards, until the sails were in a furious
blaze, so that burning fragments of them
were continually falling on the persons of
those below, and setting the dresses of the
ladies on fire. One garment after another
was in this way destroyed, and the loss
of each article of clothing only exposed
the person more and more to the intense
heat. When they could no longer bear
up under this torture, they sought relief
in the yawning ocean. Some, however,
endured every possible suffering, before
taking this great and final step, a few of
the ladies, indeed, being almost disrobed
before leaping, as at last they were com
pelled to, into the jaws of death. The
men, too, withstood the scorching of their

668

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

bodies until they were forced by its terror
into the briny deep, where they were gen
erally engulfed at once. The women who
had any garments left, would be buoyed
up for a moment by them ; but in a few
minutes they disappeared as suddenly as
if some unseen power below had caught
them and dragged them under.
But the fate of the firemen would ap
pear to have been even more dreadful.
Some of the passengers who, after jump
ing overboard, were so fortunate as to save
themselves by swimming and floating on
pieces of timber, stated that when they
were in the water, they saw agonizing
human faces protruding from the lower
tier of port-holes, close to the water, as
though they were trying to force their
way out, while the bright flames were
shining behind them. These were sup
posed to be the firemen and engineers,
surrounded by a living wall of fire. When
the Austria left Southampton, she drew
only sixteen feet of water, and at the time
of this catastrophe probably a foot or so
less, so that she was about twenty feet out
of water. Hearing a loud cry of anguish,
one of the passengers looked over the
steamer's side, and there discovered a
man's head projecting from a pprt-hole,
the poor fellow seemingly making efforts
to force his way through the narrow aper
ture, but on either side of his head a vol
ume of flame was streaming forth, thus
giving the appearance that his body was
wrapped in flames.
The account given of the struggle and
fate of Mr. Rosen, as related by his son,
is full of mournful interest, exhibiting, as
it does, the warmth of parental instincts,
and the somewhat questionable filial duti-
fulness and affection of the son. The latter
says : My father and I ran forward to es
cape the fire, and were followed by the other
passengers. I saw the fire pouring out
through the skylights. In ten or fifteen
minutes more,the cry ran fore and aft, " To
the boats ! " All hands then crowded into
the boats, which had been hanging in-board,
butwere now swung out by the davits. The
first mate mounted the rail near the forward

boat on the port side, in which we were
sitting with a large crowd of other passen
gers. He ordered all of us to get out of
the boat, so that it could be lowered. But
as fast as one set got out, others rushed
into their places, and we also went back to
our first seat. The first mate then took a
sailor's knife and cut the tackle, and the
boat fell into the water. Falling from
such a height, the boat filled and sunk,
and all the people were washed out. I
came up under the boat, but I found my
way out, and clambered into the boat.
There were five or six oars lashed together,
and they floated out. My father came up
within reach of these, and seized hold of
them with five or six others. He saw me
in the boat, and called out to me, " Oh,
my boy, we are all lost ! " In a short time,
one end of the oar drifted near the boat,
and I caught hold of it to haul him in. I
also asked a passenger near to assist me
in saving my father. We pulled together,
but there were so many clinging to the
oars, we could not move them. The gen
tlemen said, "It is no use; we cannot
move them." I then said to my father,
" Hold on, and do the best you can ; it is
impossible to move them." He then
drifted along near us, still clinging to the
oars. In this way he held on for nearly
four hours. I could not bear to look at
him, and we drifted in silence. There
was nothing in the boat to throw to him.
During this time the boat rolled over sev
eral times, and many were drowned each
time. I was so exhausted I could not get
into tbe boat. I asked one of the passen
gers to assist me, and he kindly drew me
into the boat. We drifted between two
and three miles astern of the steamer, and
could only see the flames rising above the
deck. There was no conversation, except
an occasional request by the first mate
that the passengers would sit still, so as
not to capsize the boat. My father hy
this time had drifted so near the boat that
he caught hold of the stern. I was at the
bow and could not reach him. Mr. John
F. Cox said, "Charley, your father has
hold of the stern of the boat, and can get

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

669

in." I said, " Oh, I am so glad that he is
safe." But he was so exhausted that he
held on only about five minutes, and then
sunk. Just before he let go, he said to
Mr. Cox, "If my boy is safe, I am sat
isfied." Some interesting details of the awful
catastrophe, not given in the preceding
account, are contained in the narrative by
Professor Glaubensklee, of the New York
Free Academy. Mr. Glaubensklee states
that he was in his state-room when the
cry of "fire" arose. He hurriedly thrust
his feet into his boots and ran out of his
state-room to go on deck, when he saw
ascending, in the vicinity of the funnel,
bright flames. Going on deck, he saw the
passengers crowding toward the boats, and
went to remonstrate with them, as many

on the port side; he was endeavoring to
get out the people who had crowded into
the boat, in order to lower it. Immedi
ately after, the' professor saw the first
engineer rush up on deck, bareheaded, to
see what was the matter. He was heard
to cry out, through the engine hatch, to
his assistants, to stop the engine and set
the steam-pumps to work; at the same
time, he turned around for the purpose of
going down stairs himself. Nothing was
seen of him subsequent to this, but the
professor thought he did not succeed in
getting down on account of the flames.
Another passenger said that he saw the
engineer, with his clothes on fire, either
fall or throw himself overboard at about
the same time.
The engine was not stopped, and the

LAST VIEW OF THE UNFORTUNATE STEAMER.

of them were personally known to him.
He found, however, that they were deaf to
the voice of reason, and continued to crowd
to the boats. He at once resolved, that,
come what might, he would not trust him
self in any boat, as it was evident that it
would be more unsafe to do so than to
remain by the ship. Turning around, for
the purpose of going back to the quarter
deck, he found it impossible to do so, the
deck being on fire amidships,— the whole
vessel amidships seeming to be in a blaze,
and all communication between the fore
and after parts of the ship was cut off.
On first reaching the deck, Professor
Glaubensklee looked forward to see what
was the matter. The captain was then
standing bareheaded near tbe second boat

pumps were not set to work, owing, proba
bly, to the fact, that the engineer on duty
— the engine-room being three decks be
low — did not hear the first engineer's
commands, and may have been killed or
smothered previously, as the fire was
raging over their heads.
Finding it impossible to return to
the quarter-deck, Professor Glaubensklee
turned toward the forecastle, when he was
called upon by a sailor to assist in cutting
down the jibs. In compliance, he climbed
up a rope and cut away its fastenings.
The jib was cut down for the double pur
pose of preventing them from catching
fire, and also in order that they might be
saturated with water and used to check
the progress of the fire in tbe forward part

670

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

of the ship. The people on deck, however,
did not understand the orders, and threw
the sail overboard without first making it
fast to a rope, and so it was lost. There
upon, the professor went in search of some
thing out of which to construct a raft.
The mate, several of the crew, and espe
cially the master's mate, did the same.
But they could find no wood left, and the
forward part of the ship was of iron. The
spare spars and hatchway doors and
covers had already been thrown over
board, to sustain other persons. The pro
fessor then inquired of the master's mate
if there were no pumps forward, which
could be set to work ; but he replied that
there were none.
As a last resort, Professor Glaubensklee
stepped over the starboard bulwarks upon
the plank sheer — a ledge some eighteen
inches wide — and looked out for the two
vessels which had been discerned in the
distance. The one which was closest
seemed to approach very rapidly. At this
time, the steamer was still moving on in
its course, westward, towards her. Tbe
other vessel did not approach, and Profes
sor Glaubensklee's opinion was that her
people did not see the steamer, as, when
he saw her, only the top of her masts could
be seen above the horizon. But Captain
Renaud, of the bark Maurice, who at that
time was close enough to see her mainsails
and even her hull itself, subsequently said
that he had signaled her but without suc
cess, as she did not answer the signal, but
kept on her way. Renaud was furious at
their apparent inhumanity, more especially
as he thought it might have been a French
vessel. About three-quarters of an hour after
the fire broke out, the foremast and shortly
after the mainmast fell over the starboard
side. The mizzenmast stood for some
time, perhaps half an hour later, and,
about the time the mainmast fell, it was
thought that the boiler exploded, as an
immense quantity of steam was seen to
rush up in the vicinity of the funnel.
The ship, which had till now been heading
west by south, commenced heading around

to the north, tbe engine having finally
stopped, and the smoke which had hereto
fore gone aft, came over the starboard side.
About ten minutes later, the powder mag
azine exploded. To those on board, the
explosion did not seem very severe ; the
whole quantity of gunpowder in the maga
zine was within one hundred pounds.
As soon as the vessel had commenced
falling off before the wind, the position of
those on the forecastle became dangerous,
All those forward had been previously
secure, as the heat and flames were driven
to the stern. But when the ship ceased to
head to windward, the flames and smoke
went forward, and those who had taken ref
uge on the forecastle were compelled to go
over the bows, and take refuge in the bow
sprit, and in the forechains. On one of these
chains, Professor Glaubensklee crept out
as far as possible, followed by a crowd of
other persons, and held on by the double-
headed eagle which formed the ship's
figure-head. The bowsprit, martingales,
and every part of the fore-rigging below
the bulwarks, were then filled with people,
whose naturally dangerous position be
came every minute more perilous, as the
smoke and fiery fragments blew over them.
The clothes of these people were constantly
igniting from the fiery flakes, and it re
quired all their adroitness to prevent them
from blazing up and consuming them.
Fortunately, the forward part of the vessel
was almost entirely of iron, or they would
inevitably have been driven from this their
only refuge into the sea.
Knowing that he might at any moment
find it necessary to jump into the water,
Professor Glaubensklee divested himself
of his boots, shirt, and everything els'e
that might impede him in swimming,
keeping nothing on but his trousers, which
he cut off some distance above the knees.
Thus they remained several hours, watch
ing tbe coming ship, all the time specta
tors of suffering and death in every form.
Some got shockingly burned, and others,
becoming exhausted, dropped off one by
one into the sea, and sank to rise no more.
Tbe approach of the vessel— the Mau-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

671

r;ce  now became very slow, as the engine
of the steamship ceased to move, and, as
the light wind had died away, the burning
vessel lay becalmed and motionless. Nu
merous ropes had been fastened to the
railing, the bowsprit, the chains and other
parts of the vessel ; and the people were
clinging to these, preparatory to lowering
tliemselves to the water, as soon as succor
should arrive. As the wind died away,
and the French bark remained motionless,
the hope which had heretofore animated the
survivors, died away with it. The other
vessel had disappeared. Another sail soon
showed itself above the horizon, probably
the Norwegian bark which was seen cruis
ing around the wreck the next morning.
When the bark Maurice had got within
three-quarters of a mile of the steamer, it
fell calm, and Captain Renaud brought his
vessel to and lowered his boats. When
the first boat from the bark reached the
wreck, the poor creatures shouted, laughed
hysterically, and shed tears of joy, for
their deliverance. Professor Glaubens
klee, as the boat neared him, sprang into
the water and swam toward her. He suc
ceeded in reaching her, and proved to be
the first person taken from the water.
Four or five persons more were picked up,
and then they hurried back with their
precious freight. About midway between
the steamship and the vessel, they en
countered what they supposed was a corpse
floating in the water, face uppermost. The
mate of the Maurice insisted on picking it
up, when it proved to be the body of The
odore Eisfeld, who was restored to life some
time after being put on board the vessel.
On reaching the Maurice, the rescued
people were kindly received by Captain
Renaud and his men, who set about pro
viding them with clothes, and binding up
their wounds. Two boats were kept plying
between the Maurice and the steamer,
until nightfall. At that time, probably
bom ten to twenty persons were clinging
to the bowsprit of the steamer and the
ropes suspended from it. Captain Renaud
was afraid to risk the lives of his men in
an open boat, after dark, so the good work

was suspended. Soon after sunset, one of
the life-boats of the steamer, containing
the first officer and about twelve others,
was taken on board.
Most of the rescued ones were nearly
naked; some of them quite so. Captain
Renaud and his men had distributed all
the clothing they had to them, reserving
to their own use only that which they had
on. The people saved in the life-boat were
wet and chilled through ; these were also
furnished with suitable clothing.
Captain Renaud concluded to remain all
night near the steamer, and renew the
search in the morning. During the night,
tents of old sails and spars were made on
deck, under which the rescued slept. The
captain devoted himself to tbe wants of the
suffering. Early the next morning, a breeze sprang
up from the north, when the Maurice's
sails were set, and she was headed once
more for the burning steamer. At day
break, they saw a Norwegian bark near
the Austria, and one of her boats passing
around the steamer. The Maurice did
not pass the bark within hailing distance,
but they hailed the boat, without, how
ever, receiving an answer, as she had no
speaking trumpet. As it was apparent,
even to the naked eye, that there were no
more persons on the wreck nor floating
around it, and, if there had been, that the
Norwegian's boat must have picked them
up, Captain Renaud availed himself of the
favorable breeze and proceeded on his
course. He was bound from Newfound
land to the Mauritius, and had about four
months' provisions on board for a crew of
ten or twelve persons. But as these would
not last very long for the large number
added to the vessel's company, be con
cluded to bear up for Fayal. Subsequently,
they fell in with tbe bark Lotus, which
took off twelve, carried them to Halifax,
whence the captain of the Prince Albert
tendered them passage to New York.
Thus, of the five hundred and thirty-eight
persons on board the splendid but ill-fated
Austria, the lives of only sixty-seven were
saved from the ravages of fire and flood.

LXXVIII.
POLITICAL DEBATE BETWEEN ABEAHAM LINCOLN AND
STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS, IN ILLINOIS.— 1858.

Cause of this Remarkable Oratorical Contest. — Intense Interest in All Parts of the Land. — the Heart of
Every American Citizen Enlisted in the Momentous Issue Involved. — Eminent Character of the Com
batants. — their Extraordinary Ability and Eloquence Universally Acknowledged. — the Discussions
Attended by Friends and Foes. — Victory, Defeat, Life and Death. — Condition of the New Territories. —
Form of Constitution to be Decided. — Domestic Institutions : Slavery. — Mr. Douglas Advocates " Popu
lar Sovereignty." — " Prohibition " Urged by Mr. Lincoln. — National Importance of the Question. — The
Public Mind Divided. — Joint Debates Proposed. — Agreement between the two Leaders. — Personal Ap
pearance and Style. — Plans, Places, Scenes. — Theories and Arguments Advanced. — Skill and Adroit
ness of the Disputants. — Immense Concourses. — Result Impartially Stated. — Mr. Douglas Ee-elected
Senator. — Mr. Lincoln Nominated for President. — His Election to that Office. — Douglas' Magnanimity.
— The Olive Branch. — Shoulder to Shoulder as Unionists. — Sudden Decease of the Great Senator.

' I regard Lincoln as a kind, amiable, and Intelligent gentleman, a good citizen, and an honorable opponent."— Judge Dovqlas.
' The man who Btumpe a State with Stephen A. Douglas, and meete him, day after day, before the people, has got to be no fool."
Horace Gbeelbt.

THE tremendous political excitement which convulsed the nation in 1858,
growing out of the agitation of the slavery
question, in its relation to the vast terri
tories of Kansas and Nebraska, found two
of the most able and conspicuous men
in the great west, and especially Illinois,
pitted against each other in the discussion
of that issue, — representing, respectively,
the two prevailing political parties in pub
lic affairs,— and the interest created by
this fact throughout that region, and, in
deed, from one end of the whole land to
the other, was still farther heightened by
those two gentlemen being not only candi
dates — tbe one of the democratic and the
other of the anti-slavery party— for the
senatorial seat of that State in the capitol
at Washington, but their names were also
looming up in the near presidential horizon of 1860.
The question at issue was immense — permanent not transient — universal not local,

STATE CAPITOL OF ILLINOIS.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

073

and the debate attracted profound atten
tion on the part of the people, whether
democratic or free soil, from the Kennebec
to the Rio Grande. Briefly stated, Mr.
Douglas took the position in this contro
versy, that the vote of a majority of the

man were closely scanned. Finally, after
the true western style, a joint discussion,
face to face, between Lincoln and Douglas,
as the two great representative leaders,
•was proposed and agreed to, — seven public
debates, one each at Ottawa, Freeport,

DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS.

people of a territory should decide this as
well as all other questions concerning their
domestic or internal affairs, and this theory
came to be known as that of " Popular
Sovereignty." Mr. Lincoln, on the con
trary, urged in substance, the necessity
of anorganic enactment excluding slavery
in any form,— this latter to be the condi
tion of its admission into tbe Union as a
State. The public mind was divided, and the
utterances and movements of every public
43

Jonesboro', Charleston, Galesburg, Quincy,
and Alton, — the seven oratorical tourna
ments being thus held in all quarters of
tbe state, from the extreme of one point
of the compass to the extreme of the op
posite, and everywhere the different par
ties turned out to do honor to their cham
pions. Processions and cavalcades, bands
of music and cannon-firing, made every
day a day of excitement. But far greater
was the excitement of such oratorical con
tests between two such skilled debaters,

674

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

before mixed audiences of friends and foes,
to rejoice over every keen thrust at the
adversary, and, again, to be cast down by
each failure to " give back as.good," or to
parry the thrust so aimed.
In person, appearance, voice, gesture,
and general platform style and impres
sion, nothing could exceed the dissimilarity
of these two speakers. Mr. Douglas
possessed a natural build or frame and
physique uncommonly attractive, — a pres
ence which would have gained for him
access to the highest circles, however
courtly, in any land ; a thick-set, finely-
built, courageous man, with an air, as
natural to him as his breath, of self-con
fidence that did not a little to inspire his
supporters with hope. That he was every
inch a man, no friend or foe ever ques
tioned. Ready, forceful, animated, keen
and trenchant, as well as playful, by turns,
and thoroughly unartificial, he was one of
the most admirable platform speakers that
ever appeared before an American audi
ence, — his personal geniality, too, being
so abounding, that, excepting in a polit
ical sense, no antagonism existed between
him and his opponent.
Mr. Lincoln's personal appearance was
in unique contrast with that presented by
Mr. Douglas. He stood about six feet
and four inches high in his stockings ;
long, lean, and wiry ; in motion, he had a
great deal of the elasticity and awkward
ness which indicated the rough training
of his early life ; his face genial looking,
with good humor lurking in every corner
of its innumerable angles. As a speaker
he was ready, precise, fluent, and his man
ner before a popular assembly was just as
he pleased to make it, being either superla
tively ludicrous, or very impressive. He
employed but little gesticulation, but,
when desiring to make a point, produced
a shrug of the shoulders, an elevation of
his eyebrows, a depression of his mouth,
and a general malformation of countenance
so comically awkward that it never failed
to 'bring down the house.' His enuncia
tion was slow and emphatic, and his voice,
though sharp and powerful, at times had

a tendency to dwindle into a shrill and
unpleasant sound. In this matter of voice
and of commanding attitude, so as to af
fect the multitude, the odds were quite in
favor of Mr. Douglas.
The arrangements, places, etc., for the
great debate, having, as already remarked,
been perfected, the first discussion took
place, August 21st, at Ottawa, in La Salle
county, a strong republican district. The
crowd in attendance was a large one, and
about equally divided in political senti
ments — the enthusiasm of the democracy
having brought out more than a due pro
portion, if anything, of that party, to hear
and see their favorite leader, Douglas.
His thrilling tones, his manly defiance to
wards the enemies of the party, assured
•his friends, if any assurance were wanting,
that he was the same unconquered and
unconquerable democrat that for twenty-
five years he had proved to be. Douglas
opened the discussion and spoke one hour;
Lincoln followed, the time assigned him
being an hour and a half, though he
yielded a portion of it before the expira
tion of its limit.
In this first debate, Mr. Douglas ar
raigned his opponent for the expression
in a former speech of " a house divided
against itself," etc., — referring to the
slavery and anti-slavery sections of the
country ; and Mr. Lincoln reiterated and
defended his assertions on that subject.
It was not until the second meeting, how
ever, and those held subsequently, that
the debaters grappled with those profound
constitutional questions and mt 1.sures of
administration which were so soon to con
vulse the whole land and cause it to stag
ger almost to the verge of destruction.
But, as Mr. Lincoln's position in relation
to one or two points growing out of the
former speech referred to had attracted
great attention throughout the country,
he availed himself of the opportunity of
this preliminary meeting to reply to what
he regarded as common misconceptions.
'Anything,' he said, 'that argues me into
the idea of perfect social and political
equality with the negro, is but a specious

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

675

and fantastic arrangement of words, by
which a man can prove a horse-chestnut
to be a chestnut horse. I will say here,
while upon this subject, that I have no
purpose, directly or indirectly, to interfere
with the institution of slavery in the
states where it now exists. I believe I
have no lawful right to do so, and I have
no inclination to do so. I have no pur
pose to introduce political and social
equality between the white and the black
races. There is a physical difference be
tween the two, which, in my judgment,
will probably forever forbid their living
together upon a footing of perfect equal
ity, and inasmuch as it becomes a matter
of necessity that there must be a differ
ence, I, as well as Judge Douglas, am in
favor of the race to which I belong having
the superior position. I have never said
anything to the contrary, but I hold that,
notwithstanding all this, there is no rea
son in the world why the negro is not en
titled to all the natural rights enumerated
in the Declaration of Independence — the
right to life, liberty, and the pursuits of
happiness. I hold that he is as much en
titled to these as the white man. I agree
with Judge Douglas he is not my equal in
many respects — certainly not in color,
perhaps not in moral or intellectual en
dowment. But, in the right to eat the
bread, without the leave of any one else,
which his own hand earns, he is my equal,
and the equal of Judge Douglas, and the
equal of every living man.'
Touching the question of respect or
weight of opinion due to deliverances of
the United States Supreme Court, — an
element which entered largely into this
national contest, — Mr. Lincoln said :
This man sticks to a decision which for
bids the people of a territory from exclud-
">g slavery, and he does so not because he
s»ys it is right in itself— he does not give
any opinion on that,— but because it has
been decided hy the court, and being de
eded by the court, he is, and you are
bound to take it in your political action
as,kw; not that he judges at all of its
merits, but because a decision of the court

is to him a ' Thus saith the Lord.' He
places it on that ground alone, and you
will bear in mind that, thus committing
himself unreservedly to this decision, com
mits him to the next one just as firmly as
to this. He did not commit himself on
account of the merit or demerit of the de
cision, but it is a ' Thus saith the Lord.'
The next decision, as much as this, will
be a ' Thus saith the Lord.' There is
nothing that can divert or turn him away
from this decision. It is nothing that I
point out to him that his great prototype,
Gen. Jackson, did not believe in the
binding force of deci.-ions, — it is nothing
to him that Jefferson did not so be
lieve. I have said that I have often heard
him approve of Jackson's course in disre
garding the decision of the Supreme Court
pronouncing a National Bank unconstitu
tional. He says I did not hear him say
so ; he denies the accuracy of my recollec
tion. I say he ought to know better than
I, but I will make no question about this
thing, though it still seems to me that I
heard him say it twenty times. I will
tell him though, that he now claims to
stand on the Cincinnati platform, which
affirms that Congress cannot charter a
National Bank, in the teeth of that old
standing decision that Congress can char
ter a bank. And I remind him of another
piece of history on the question of respect
for judicial decisions, and it is a piece of
Illinois history belonging to a time when
the large party to which Judge Douglas be
longed were displeased with a decision of
the Supreme Court of Illinois, because
they had decided that a Governor could
not remove a Secretary of State. I know
that Judge Douglas will not deny that he
was then in favor of overslaughing that
decision by the mode of adding five new
judges, so as to vote down the four old
ones. NoJ; on'y so» but i* ended in the
Judge's sitting down on that very bench
as one of the five new judges to break down
the four old ones'. In this strain Mr.
Lincoln occupied most of his time.
But, if tbe opponents of Judge Douglas
were elated at the animated effort put

676

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

forth by bis rival, at Ottawa, the debate
which followed at Freeport gave ample op
portunity for the Judge to exhibit his
great intellectual prowess, nor did he fail
to improve it.
At this meeting, Mr. Lincoln pro
pounded certain questions, and to these
prompt and vigorous response was made.
'He desires to know, If the people of
Kansas shall form a Constitution by
means entirely proper and unobjectionable,
and ask admission into the Union as a
state before they have the requisite popu
lation for a member of Congress, whether
I will vote for that admission ? Well,
now, I regret exceedingly that he did not
answer that interrogatory himself before
he put it to me, in order that we might
understand, and not be left to infer, on
which side he is. Mr. Trumbull, during
the last session of Congress, voted from
the beginning to the end against tbe ad
mission of Oregon, although a free state,
because she had not the requisite popula
tion for a member of Congress. Mr.
Trumbull would not, under any circum
stances, consent to let a state, free or
slave, come into the Union until it had
the requisite population. As Mr. Trum
bull is in the field fighting for Mr. Lin
coln, I would like to have Mr. Lincoln
answer his own question, and tell me
whether he is fighting Trumbull on that
issue or not. But I will answer his ques
tion. In reference to Kansas, it is my
opinion that, as she has population enough
to constitute a slave state, she has people
enough for a free state. I will not make
Kansas an exceptional case to the other
states of the Union. I bold it to be a
sound rule, of universal application, to re
quire a territory to contain the requisite
population for a member of Congress be
fore it is admitted as a state into the
Union. I made that proposition in the
Senate in 1856, and I renewed it during
tbe last session, in a bill providing that no
territory of the United States should form
a Constitution and apply for admission
until it had the requisite population. On
another occasion, I proposed that neither

Kansas, nor any other territory, should be
admitted until it had the requisite popula
tion. Congress did not adopt any of my
propositions containing this general rule,
but did make an exception of Kansas. I
will stand by that exception. Either
Kansas must come in as a free state, with
whatever population she may have, or the
rule must be applied to all the other ter
ritories alike.'
Mr. Douglas next proceeded to answer
another question proposed by Mr. Lincoln,
namely, Whether the people of a territory
can in any lawful way, against the wishes
of any citizen of the United- States, ex
clude slavery from their limits prior to the
formation of a state Constitution. Said
Mr. Douglas : ' I answer emphatically,
as Mr. Lincoln bas heard me answer a
hundred times from every stump in Illi
nois, that in my opinion the people of a
territory can, by lawful means, exclude
slavery from their limits prior to the forma
tion of a state Constitution. Mr. Lincoln
knew that I had answered that question
over and over again. He heard me argue
the Nebraska Bill on that principle all over
the state in 1854, in 1855, and in 1856, and
he has no excuse for pretending to be in
doubt as to my position on that question.
It matters not what way the Supreme
Court may hereafter decide as to the ab
stract question whether slavery may or
may not go into a territory under the Con
stitution, the people have the lawful means
to introduce it or exclude it as they please,
for the reason that slavery cannot exist a
day or an hour unless it is, supported by
local police regulations Those police
regulations can only be established by the
local legislature, and if the people are op
posed to slavery they will elect representa
tives to that body who will, by unfriendly
legislation, effectually prevent the intro
duction of it into their midst. If, on the
contrary, they are for it, their legislation
will favor its extension. Hence, no mat
ter what the decision of the Supreme Court
may be on that abstract question, still the
right of the people to make a slave terri
tory or a free territory is perfect and com-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

' 677

plete under the Nebraska Bill.' This
right or freedom of the people thus to act,
and which Mr. Douglas so strenuously ad
vocated, was commonly termed ' Popular
Sovereignty,' and, as one of the battle-
cries in the great contests, was most ef
fectively used.
One of the most interesting features of
this memorable debate, covering as it did
almost the whole issue involved in the
canvass, consisted of the following inter
rogatories propounded by Mr. Douglas,
and Mr Lincoln's replies : —
Mr. Douglas: I desire to know whether
Lincoln to-day stands, as he did in 1854,
in favor of the unconditional repeal of tbe
Fugitive Slave law ?
Mr. Lincoln : I do not now, nor ever
did, stand in favor of the unconditional
repeal of the Fugitive Slave law.
Mr. Douglas : I desire him to answer
whether he stands pledged to-day, as he
did in 1854, against the admission of any
more slave states into the Union, even if
the people want them ?
' Mr. Lincoln : I do not now, or ever
did, stand pledged against the admission
of any more slave states into the Union.
Mr. Douglas : I want to know whether
he stands pledged against the admission
of a new state into the Union with such a
Constitution as the people of that state
may see fit to make ?
Mr. Lincoln : I do not stand pledged
against the admission of a new state into
the Union, with such a Constitution as
¦the people of that state may see fit to
make. Mr. Douglas : I want to know whether
he stands to-day pledged to the abolition
of slavery in the District of Columbia ?
Mr. Lincoln: I do not stand to-day
pledged to the abolition of slavery in the
District of Columbia.
Mr. Douglas : I desire him to answer
whether he stands pledged to the prohibi
tion of the slave-trade between the differ
ent states ?
Mr. Lincoln: I do not stand pledged
to the prohibition of the slave-trade be
tween the different states.

Mr. Douglas : I desire to know whether
he stands pledged to prohibit slavery in
all the territories of the United States,
North as well as South of the Missouri
Compromise line ?
Mr. Lincoln : I am impliedly, if not
expressly, pledged to a belief in the right
and duty of Congress to prohibit slavery
in all the United States territories.
Mr. Douglas : I desire him to answer
whether he is opposed to the acquisition
of any new territory unless slavery is first
prohibited therein ?
Mr. Lincoln : I am not generally op
posed to honest acquisition of territory ;
and, in any given case, I would or would
not oppose such acquisition, according as
I might think such acquisition would or
would not aggravate the slavery question
among ourselves.
It was with great vigor and adroitness
that the two distinguished combatants
went over the ground covered by the above
questions, at the remaining five places of
debate, all of which were attended and

jSL^frr

listened to by immense concourses. On
both sides the speeches were able, elo
quent, exhaustive. It was admitted by
Lincoln's friends, that, on several occa
sions, he was partly foiled or, at least,
badly bothered, while, on the other band,

678

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

Douglas' admirers allowed that, in more
than one instance, he was flatly and fairly
floored by Lincoln's logic, wit, good hu
mor and frankness. Douglas, while more
brusque and resolute, was also rather the
superior of the two in a certain force, direct
ness and determination, that greatly helped
his side. But it was, altogether, about an
equal match in respect to the ability dis
played by these foremost champions. Both
of them were self-made men ; both of
them able lawyers and politicians ; both
sprang from obscurity to distinction ; both
belonged to tbe common people ; and both
were strong and popular with the masses.
The portrait which we give of Mr. Doug
las (Mr. Lincoln's will be found in another
part of this volume) represents him at this
victorious stage in his career.
As for the result, Lincoln took more of
the popular vote than Douglas, but the
latter secured a majority in the legislature,
— sufficient to insure his re-election to the
United States senate, and this majority

would probably have been greater, but for
the hostility towards him of a certain por
tion of his own party, who favored a more
thorough southern or pro-slavery policy
than Douglas would consent to.
In May, 1860, the Republican Nomi
nating Convention met at Chicago, 111., and
after successive ballots, Mr. Lincoln was
chosen standard-bearer of the party in the
presidential contest. His election followed
in November ensuing. Mr. Douglas failed
of a nomination at the Democratic conven
tion. Secession raised its gory front.
Forgetting past differences, Douglas mag
nanimously stood shoulder to shoulder
with Lincoln in behalf of the Union. It
was the olive branch of genuine patriotism.
But, while proudly holding aloft the ban
ner of his country in the councils of the
nation, and while yet the blood of his
countrymen had not drenched the land,
the great senator was suddenly stricken
from among the living, in the hour of the
republic's greatest need.

LXXIX.
THIRTY THOUSAND MILES OF RAILWAY IN THIRTY
YEARS, AND EIGHTY THOUSAND IN HALF A
CENTURY.— 1859.

Carious Chronicles Relating to the Introduction of Improved Means of Transit. — the Old and the New —
DeTelopment and Progress. — Numerous and Important Advantages. — Great Saving of Time and
Expense. — Initiatory Undertakings in the United States. — First American Railway with Steam as the
Locomotive Power. — Small Beginnings : Great Results. — Amazing Growth and Expansion in all
Directions. — Social and Business Changes. — Infancy of Mechanism in this Line. — Pioneer Coach and
Locomotive. — Successive Steps of Advancement. — Usual Channels of Trade Abandoned. — Power of
Capital Demonstrated. — Distant Sections and Interests Equalized — Stimulus to Industry. — Vast
Constructive Works Involved. — U. S. Enterprise not Behindhand — " Breaking the Ground " — Less than
20 Miles in 1829. — Some 30,000 Miles in 1859. — Constant and Rapid Increase. — Inventive Genius
Displayed. — "Improvements" by the Thousands. — Steel Rails Substituted for L-on. — Luxury on
Wheels. — Palace and Sleeping Cars. — Tremendous Speed Attained. — American and Foreign Lines. —
Railways 16,000 Feet Above the Sea.

*' Soon shall thy' power, unconquered Steam I afar
Dia- the swift barge and drive the rapid car." Dakwin. — (more than one hundred yean ago.)

jERHAPS no invention of the pres
ent century, — it has been well re-
I marked by the eminent Dr Bake-
I well, — has produced such wide
spread social and business changes
as that of steam locomotion on
railways. Not only have places
that were formerly more than a
day's journey from each other
been made accessible in a very
few hours, but the cost of travel
ing has been so much reduced,
that the expense has in a great
degree long ceased to operate as
a bar to communication by rail-
$j way for business or pleasure, and
1 the usual channels of trade have
ibavelees' uepexdexce ix fokmeb times. been most profitably abandoned
°r superseded, with the greatest benefit to every interest involved.
As already remarked, in estimating the importance and advantage of railway travel-

680

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776— 1876.

ing, there must not be omitted its cheap
ness and comfort, compared with travel
ing by stage coach. There are occasion
ally to be found, it is true, even at this
late day, persons who look back with re
gret to the old coach ; and it is not to be
denied that railways have taken away much
of that peculiar romance of traveling, and
much of the exhilarating pleasure that was

various ways concentrating the energies
of a people, and thus enlarging materially
their wealth, comforts and social inter
course. Of no inferior consideration, too, in re
lation to the grand invention of steam
railway travel, are the many subsidiary
works which have been created during its
progress toward perfection, and which

locomotive "
experienced, when passing through a beau
tiful country on the top of a well-horsed
coach in fine weather. The many inci
dents and adventures that gave variety to
the journey were, it is true, pleasant
enough for a short distance ; but two days
and a night on the top of a coach, exposed1;,
to cold and rain, or cramped up inside,
with no room to stir the body or the legs,
was accompanied with an amount of suf-
ering which those who have experienced it
would willingly exchange for a seat, even
ia a second or third-class railway .car. In
a business as well as a social point of view,
also, railways have made a powerful mark,
—tending, as they do, to equalize the
value of land throughout immense regions,
by bringing distant sources of supply
nearer the points of demand ; giving ex
traordinary impetus to manufacturing in
dustry; and connecting all parts of a
country more closely together ; — in these

KOCKET," 1829.
have contributed so vastly to its success.
Thus, tunnels, of a size never before con
templated, have penetrated for miles
through hard rocks, or through shifting
,clays. and sands;; embankments and via-
; ducts have been raiser} arid erected, on
a scale of magnitude surpassing any
former similar works ; bridges of, stupen
dous proportions and of wonderfully in
genious adaptation, have been constructed
to meet special exigencies, in some cases
carrying railways over straits of the sea,
or other waters, through gigantic tubes—
or, in other cases, across rivers, suspended
from rods supported by curiously devised
piers and girders ; &c, &c.
That the history of railways shows what
grand results may have their origin in
small beginnings, is no less true than that
the power of capital is seen in this as in
all other great material enterprises. In
evidence of the former truth, Dr. Lyell

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

681

mentions the interesting, though of course
well-known, fact, that, when coal was first
conveyed in the neighborhood of New-
castle-on-Tyne, from the pit to tbe ship
ping place, the pack horse, carrying a
burden of three hundred weight, was the
only mode of transport employed ; as soon
as roads suitable for wheeled carriages
were formed, carts were introduced, and
this first step in mechanical appliance to
facilitate transport had the effect of in
creasing the load which the horse was
enabled to carry, from three hundred to
seventeen hundred weight. The next im
provement consisted in laying wooden bars
or rails for the wheels of carts to run upon,
and this was followed by the substitution
of the four-wheeled wagon for the two-
wheeled cart ; by this further application
of mechanical principles, the original

the superb steel rails of later days. Of
the locomotive engine, which makes it
possible to convey a load of hundreds of tons
at a cost of fuel scarcely exceeding that of
the provender which the original pack-horse
consumed in conveying its load of three
hundred pounds an equal distance, it may
justly be called one of the crowning
achievements of mechanical science. Thus,
the railway system, like all other compre
hensive inventions, has risen to its present
importance by a series of steps, — in fact,
so gradual has been this progress, that the
system finds itself committed, even at the
present day, to a gauge fortuitously de
termined by the distance between the
wheels of the carts for which wooden rails
were originally laid down, though this is
now being superseded by a narrower gauge,
to a considerable extent. Nor is the in-

LOCOMOTIVE OF TO-DAY.

horse load of three hundred weight was
augmented to forty-two hundred. These
were indeed important results, and they
were not obtained without the shipwreck
of many a fortune.
The next step of progress in this direc
tion was the attachment of slips of iron to
the wooden rails. Then came the iron
tramway, — the upright flange of the bar
acting, in this arrangement, as a guide to
keep the wheel on the track. The next
advance was an important one, and con
sisted in transferring the guiding flange
from the rail to the wheel, an improve
ment which enabled cast iron edge rails to
oe used. Finally, in 1820, after the lapse
of many years from the first employment
of wooden bars, wrought iron rails, rolled
in long lengths, and of suitable section,
were made, and in time superseded all
other forms of railway, coming finally to

teresting fact to pass unnoticed, namely, —
the promptness with which man's inven
tive faculty supplies whatever device the
circumstances of the moment may require.
No sooner is a road formed fit for wheeled
carriages to pass along, than the carttakeg
the place of the pack-saddle ; no sooner is
tbe wooden railway provided, than the
wagon is substituted for the cart ; no
sooner is an iron railway formed, capable
of carrying heavy loads, than the locomo
tive engine is ready to commence its
wopderf ul career ; — and so on, ad indefi-
nitum. The characteristic enterprise of Ameri
cans did not fail them in this era of trans
formation and advancement. The first
railroad attempted in the United States
was a crude and temporary affair in Bos
ton — a double-track arrangement for re
moving gravel from Beacon Hill, and so

682

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

contrived that, while one train descended
the hill with its load, the empty train
would thereby be hauled up for loading.
A more positive effort in this line, and
more really deserving the name of a rail
way — and consequently honored by his
torians with the term of priority — was
that constructed in Quincy, Mass., for the
purpose of transporting granite from the
quarry at that place to the Neponset river,
a distance of about four miles ; it was a
single track road, with a width of five feet
between the rails, the latter being of pine,
covered with oak, and overlaid with thin
plates of wrought iron ; and the passage
from the quarry to the landing, of a car
carrying ten tons, with a single horse, was

Among the early undertakings of this
character, on an extensive and costly scale
was the Boston and Lowell railroad, con
structed in the most substantial manner
of stone and iron, and which, on its com
pletion, was visited by strangers from all
places, as one of the chief objects of at
traction in the metropolis of New Eng
land. The following extract from a Lowell
newspaper of that day, giving an account
of the ' breaking of the ground ' in that vil
lage (for village it then was,) for this enter
prise, possesses sufficient interest to entitle
it to preservation : ' The excavation
which is now about being made in a hill
in this place for the bed of the contem-

ORIGINAL STEAM CAB.

performed in an hour. This was com
pleted in 1827, and the affair created much
interest. The first use of a locomotive in this coun
try was in 1829, and was used on the rail
road built by the Delaware and Hudson
company. From this fairly dates, there
fore, American railway travel with steam
as the locomotive power. So popular was
this means of transit, however, that, in
thirty years from the time of its small be
ginning, more than thirty thousand miles
of the iron road traversed the country in
different directions ; this number of miles
increasing to some eighty thousand in 1879,
with nearly fifteen thousand locomotives,
and a capital of rising four and a half
billions.

plated railway, may be considered, next to
the various manufacturing establishments,
the most wonderful 'lion' of the place.
This hill is near the terminus of the rail
way, in the neighborhood of the brewery,
but not in a populous part of the town.
It consists of a ledge of rock, which is
about three hundred yards in length, and
the average depth of the excavation is
about forty feet. It is thirty feet wide at
the bottom, and sixty at the top, and the
masses of stone which have already been.
riven from the ledge by blasting, seem to be
immense. A contract was originally made
with a person to effect a sufficient passage
through this hill, for the sum of seventy-
two thousand dollars. lie commenced the
undertaking, employed sixty workmen for

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

683

about four months — and failed. Another
person then undertook to finish the work
for the same amount ; but after a few
months, he also abandoned the undertak
ing. Those individuals are said to have
both been acquainted with the nature of
the business which they undertook, but
they were deceived by the quality of the
rock, which consists principally of gneiss
and mica, through which, although much
lighter and softer than limestone or
granite, it was found much more difficult
and expensive to effect a passage, than if
it were composed of those more solid ma-

the drill.' The difference of means and
methods peculiar to that period, as com
pared with those employed at the present
day, in undertakings of this description,
will readily suggest itself to the reader.
The constant and rapid increase in the
construction of railway lines constituted,
thenceforth, a great feature for national
progress, and the inventive genius of the
country displayed in this direction soon
became correspondingly active, — so much
so, in fact, that many scores of thousands
of mechanical improvements are now re
corded inthe Patent Office at Washington.

MODERX RAILWAY CAR.

terials. The drilling may not be so diffi
cult; but the rocks, lying in horizontal
strata, almost defy the power of gunpow
der, so that heavy blasts, which would
shiver an immense mass of granite, are
frequently found here to produce but little
effect. In addition to tins, the ledge is
found to be full of springs of water which
sometimes render it necessary for the
workmen to expend much time, and exer
cise no inconsiderable ingenuity, in coun
teracting its effects. There are also found
"> the lower part of the ledge, huge
masses of quartz, and a species of rock
composed almost entirely of hornblende,
Wioh is, of course, almost impenetrable to

Some of the principal lines constructed soon
after, or nearly cotemporary with, the above
named, were the Boston and Worcester,
Boston and Providence, Hudson and Mo
hawk, Saratoga and Schenectady, Ithaca
and Susquehanna, Ithaca and Catskill;
Catskill and Canajoharie, New York and
Erie, New York and Albany, Camden and
Amboy, Baltimore and Ohio, Lake Cham
plain and Ogdensburgh, — and so the list
might be well-nigh indefinitely extended,
coming down to those magnificent lines of a
later day which span the wide continent,
bringing the remotest sections of the East,
the West, the North, and the South, into
immediate proximity, and uniting,by bands

684

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

of iron and steel, "our whole country,
however bounded."
It would certainly be a difficult task to
describe the ' luxury on wheels ' exhibited
in the construction and equipment of the
railway cars which now convey passengers
on all the principal lines, — palace cars,
drawing-room cars, etc., as they are truly
called, and costing, in frequent instances,
twenty thousand dollars each ; or the mag
nificent and powerful locomotives, built at
an expense, in many cases, equal to that
of a first-class city residence ; the superb
and durable steel rails ; the continuous
power-brakes ; steel and steel-tired car
wheels ; electric signals ; the contrivances
for lighting and warming ; — nothing short
of a whole volume would afford space ade
quate to any suitable description of these
and a thousand kindred matters pertaining
to the railway system of the present day.
Tbe highest speed of railway trains pos
sesses, in the popular rather than the scien
tific view, a peculiar interest, and some
comparisons have been made, in this re
spect, between our American and the
British and other European roads. Among
the latter, the ' Flying Dutchman ' has
been considered the fastest train — for a
comparatively short distance — in the world;
that is, it runs from London to Swindon,
seventy-seven miles, in eighty-seven min
utes, being at the rate of fifty-three miles
an hour, while Exeter, about one hundred
and ninety-four miles, is reached in four
and one-quarter hours, giving an average
pace of forty-five and one-half miles per
hour. Next to this train for speed is the
run by the Great Northern Railway to
Peterborough, when the average rate is
fifty-one miles, while the two hundred and
seventy-two miles to Newcastle is traveled
in six hours and twenty minutes, or at
forty-three miles an hour. The limited
mails of the London and Northwestern,
while running to Edinburgh northward,
and Holyhead westward, have trains trav
eling the four hundred and one and two
hundred and sixty-four miles respectively
at a pace of forty miles an hour. The
Midland conveys its passengers to Leices

ter, ninety-seven and a half miles, at a rate
of forty-four and three-quarters miles per
hour. The London and Brighton, hy their
fast trains, run to London by the sea in
an hour and ten minutes, the rate being
forty-three miles an hour. On the Conti
nent no such paces as the above are met
with. The French express from Calais to
Paris is known as the fastest French train,
doing thirty-seven miles an hour on an
average, while, from Paris to Marseilles, a
distance of five hundred and thirty-seven
miles, travelers are conveyed at the rate of
thirty-four miles an hour. Swiss railways
are slow, expresses only attaining a speed
of twenty-two miles an hour. In Belgium,
the highest speed is thirty-three miles an
hour, and in Holland about the same.
From Berlin to St. Petersburg, one thou
sand and twenty-eight miles, is traversed
in forty-six hours, the pace being twenty-
two and a half miles an hour. In our own
country, forty or fifty miles an hour may
be said to be the maximum rate attained —
excepting on a few special occasions, — the
average speed being much less, nor does
the popular demand seem to favor an ex
cessive pace.
Among the various requirements of the
railway system at present, so that the de
fects now experienced in such traveling
may be remedied, the following may be
enumerated. : First and foremost, the adop
tion of what is known as the 'block' sys
tem, in its most rigorous form, should be
made compulsory; greater brake power
should be introduced; double couplings
should be provided for all cars and trucks
when traveling from one station to another,
even if the use of single couplings, to save
time, be allowed during shunting opera
tions ; foot-boards should be continuous,
and made so as to overlap platforms ; lock
ing of car doors on both sides should be
prohibited under all circumstances, even
when a train is stationary, and, when it is
in motion, both doors should in all cases
be unlocked ; the consecutive hours of duty
for signalmen should be limited to six, and
the maximum for one day at such a post,
even with an interlude, should be ten;

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

685

and finally, a system of telegraphic com
munication, whether automatic or worked
by hand, at both ends, should be enforced
between signal and signal-box.
One of the most interesting, as well as
most recent, railway achievements, and
deserving of historical record, is the line
across the main ridge of the Andes, be
tween Lima and Oroya. This remarkable
engineering work comprises about one
hundred and thirty miles of road, and is
intended as a first step towards bringing
the rich and fertile interior of the country
east of the Andes into easy communication
with the capital and the ports of the Pa
cific. The crest of the Andes is traversed
by means of a short tunnel, at an altitude
of nearly sixteen thousand feet above the
sea level, — the steep and irregular slope
up to this point being ascended by a series
of sharp curves and reversed tangents, and
the deep ravines spanned by bridges, one of
these being some two hundred and sixty-
five feet high.
It is the judgment of the best authori
ties in these matters, that, as there is no
part of the world where railroads have
been such an important agency in material
development as has been the case in the
United States, so it is a fact, also, that no
where else has there been greater progress
in the art of railway construction or in the
business of railway administration and
management. Of the one hundred and
eighty-five thousand miles of railway in
the world, which had been completed in
the half century succeeding their intro
duction, nearly one-half belonged in the
United States, — a preponderance which,
having reference to territorial area, must
be considered very great, but, as compared
with the populations, is really enormous.
In the very able report on this subject
by Mr. W. A. Anderson, whose large ac
quaintance with European railways enabled
him to form the most reliable conclusions,
the opinion is expressed that, with vast
regions urgently demanding the speedy
construction of new roads as the line of
civilization has moved across the continent,
with the needs of the older settled portion

of the country not by any means supplied,
and with that impatience of delay and
eagerness of enterprise which are charac
teristic of the American people, it is not
surprising that there should be much that
is crude and superficial in many of the
railway works of such a country ; but,
when the relative cost of construction, the
wants of a comparatively new and partially
developed country, and the nature of the
means available for railway construction,
are considered, the fact appears that Amer
ican railroads, in the condition of their
permanent ways and of their rolling stock,
in their system of administration and in
their efficiency, compare quite favorably
with those of any other country. In many
respects they would not be so well suited
to the countries and populations of Europe
as are tbe modes of railroad construction
and management now usually prevailing
in those countries. Indeed, the character
istic social relations, and the wants of the
people and needs of our country, are so dif
ferent from those of European nations,
that it is difficult fairly to contrast tbe
European railway systems with the Ameri
can, — each being marked by peculiarities
of special adaptation to the respective
countries. There are, however, some striking par
ticulars in which the practice of European
railways, — their management of trains,
their plans and arrangement of cars and
coaches, &c., — varies from that pursued
in America, but which, after all, involyes
only different yet about equally good
methods for reaching the same results as
are obtained in America by other and not
always superior means. Their subdivision
of passenger coaches in coupes or sectional
compartments, each seating six, eight, or
ten persons when full, and having no
means of direct communication with each
other or with the other cars of the train,
is one of the features peculiar to foreign
roads, and another which may be men
tioned is the retiring rooms provided at
the various stations, instead of having
any such conveniences upon ordinary pas
senger and express trains. Other features

686

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

to be named in the foreign system is that
of having guards upon passenger trains,
who do not control the movements of the
trains, their position being thus quite in
ferior to that of the American conductor,
and the management of their trains by
telegraphic signals from the principal sta
tions, as is the case upon some lines, and
which is found to be such an effective
safeguard. The elevated railway, for cities, is thus
far peculiar to America ; its extensive in
troduction, notwithstanding its acknowl
edged drawbacks, seems to be only a mat
ter of time, and that in the near future.

the heads of pedestrians and on awnings
to the diffusion of dirt into upper windows
to the increased danger of life from runa
way horses and the breaking of vehicles
against the iron columns, to the darkening
of lower stories and shading of the streets
so that the same are kept damp long after
wet weather has ceased, and to numerous
other accidents and annoyances inherent
to such a system of traveling; but these
inconveniences and risks appear to have
fallen considerably short of the predictions,
and at least are submitted to with that
facility of adaptation to the inevitable,
which is a characteristic trait of Americans.

METROPOLITAX ELEVATED

That there is to be a widely extended
introduction of elevated railroads, in tlie
populous and crowded cities, there would
seem little ground for doubting, notwith
standing the objections which were at first
raised against such a mode of passenger
transit. In the city of New York, for in
stance, it was declared that, for the privi
lege of such conveyance, the citizens must
habituate themselves to trains thundering
over their heads, to thoroughfares blocked
with great iron columns, to the liberal dis
tribution of ashes and oil and sparks upon

RAILROAD, NEW YORK.
The capacities of inventors have re
ceived a new stimulus, by the needs of
this kind of locomotion, and many and in
teresting are the improvements which have
been brought forward already in this direc
tion, relating respectively to tracks, cars,
engines, etc. That the elevated railroad
has a great future before it, in most of our
great and crowded cities, would appear to
be unquestionable; for, notwithstanding
its acknowledged drawbacks, it is admitted
to be a well nigh indispensable public con
venience.

LXXX.
PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA.— 1859.

Discovery of Prodigious Quantities of Illuminating Oil in the Depths of the Earth. — Boring of Innu
merable Wells. — Fabulous Prices Paid for Lands. — Poor Farmers Become Millionaires — Tlie Supply
of Oil Exceeds the Wants of tlie Whole Country. — Immense Exportations of the Article. — Vast
Source of National Wealth and Industry. — Revolution in Artificial Light. — Ancient Knowledge of
this Oil. — Floating on Ponds and Creeks. — Its Collection and Use. — Native Sources : Origin. — Local
ity of the Springs — Great Value of the Oil — First Attempt at Boring. — Plans for Sinking Wells. —
Their Exhaustless Yield. — Intense Excitement Prevails. — Eager Crowds at the Oil Region. — Buying
and Leasing Lands. — Enterprise of the Pioneers. — Sudden Fortunes Made. — Other Side of the Pic
ture. — Towns and Cities Built. — Fire : Awful Scenes and Losses. — Bringing the Oil into Market. —
It" Cheapness and Excellence. — Universal Introduction. — Valuable for Various Purposes.

* The rock poured me out rivers of oil."— Job.

PETROLEUM WELLS.

ICHER than the gold mines of California, in the qualities of
usefulness and convenience to the human race, are the oil
wells which, so unexpectedly to the country
and the world, spouted forth their liquid
treasures from the bowels of the earth, in the
year 1859, and in such quantities as soon to
revolutionize both the material and mode of
artificial illumination, — bringing untold
wealth into regions hitherto comparatively
valueless, — creating, almost as if by magic,
new, vast, and profitable industries, — and
well-nigh realizing the wildest conceptions of
sudden and golden fortune found in Arabian
legends.
But, even long prior to the year just named, the existence of this
oleaginous substance was known at the head-waters of the Alleghany
river in New York and Pennsylvania. A writer in tbe American
Cyclopedia states that the Indians collected it on tbe shores of Seneca
lake, and it was sold as a medicine by the name of Seneca or Genesee oil. A stream in
Alleghany county, New York, was named Oil creek, in consequence of the appearance
of oil in its hanks ; and the same name was ^iven to another branch of the Alleghany
river in Venango county, Pennsylvania. Several localities are designated upon the old
fflaps of this part of the country as affording oil ; and upon Oil creek in Venango
county, two spots were particularly noted, one of which was close to the north line of the
county, and one about twelve miles further down tbe stream. At these points, springs

688

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

issued from the banks of the stream, bring
ing up more or less oil, which collected
upon the surface of tbe water as it stood
in the pools below the springs. The
inhabitants were accustomed to collect tbe
oil by spreading woolen cloths upon the
water, and wringing them when saturated.
Down the valley of this creek there are
numerous ancient pits which appear to
have been excavated for tbe purpose of
collecting oil, but by whom made no one
can now tell. From the fact that logs have
been found in them notched as if with an
axe, some have supposed that the work was
done by the French, who occupied this
region in the early part of the last century ;
but others believe that the Indians, who
are known to have valued the oil, dug the
pits. Day, in his history of Pennsylvania,
gives an account of tbe estimation in which
they held this product, using it mixed with
paint to anoint themselves for war, and
also employing it in their religious rites.
He quotes an interesting letter from the
commander of Fort Duquesne to General
Montcalm, describing an assembly of the
Indians by night on tbe banks of the creek,
and in the midst of the ceremonies their
firing the scum of oil that had collected
upon the surface of the water. As the
flames burst forth, illuminating the dark
valley, there rose from the Indians around
triumphant shouts that made the hills
re-echo again.
As early as 1826, the knowledge that
such a natural illuminating substance ex
isted on the Little Muskingum river, in
Ohio, was quite general, on account of its
appearance in the wells that were bored in
that region for the purpose of obtaining
salt. In a communication to the American
Journal of Science for the year 1826, by
Doctor Hildreth, he says : They have sunk
two wells, which are now more than four
hundred feet in depth ; one of them affords
a very strong and pure water, but not in
great quantity. The other discharges such <
vast quantities of petroleum, or, as it is
vulgarly called, ' Seneka 'oil,' and beside is
subject to such tremendous explosions of
gas as to force out all the water and afford

nothing but gas for several days, that they
make but little or no salt. Nevertheless
the petroleum affords considerable profit
and is beginning to be in demand for lamps
in workshops and manufactories. It affords
a brisk, clear light, when burnt in this way,
and will be a valuable article for lighting
the street-lamps in the future cities of
Ohio. So useful was tbe product of the oil
springs gradually found to be, that, in
1854, the Pennsylvania Rock Oil Company
was formed. It is said, by a writer
thoroughly conversant with the subject,
and from whose well-stored pamphlet,
"The Petroleum Region of America,"
much of tbe information here given is
drawn, that this was the first oil company
ever formed, and was also prior to the sink
ing of any well, and before any such thing
was suggested. Great quantities of the
oil bad, however, been collected during the
year 1853, by absorbing it in blankets,
and wringing it out, — a method originated
by Dr. F. B. Brewer, of the eminent firm
of Brewer, Watson & Co., so conspicuous
in their efforts to develop the wonderful
resources of the oil region. The Pennsyl
vania Rock Oil Company purchased one
hundred acres of land on Oil Creek, below
Titusville, for the purpose of collecting
tbe surface oil, but the project was in a
short time abandoned.
No important progress took place in the
business until tbe winter of 1857, when
Col. E. L. Drake, of Connecticut, arrived
at Titusville, and he was the first man who
attempted to bore for oil. In December,
1857, he visited Titusville, examined the
oil springs, and gave the subject of sur
face oil a thorough investigation. He
soon concluded that rock oil could be ob
tained by sinking a well ; and acting upon
this, he, in company with James M. Town-
send and E. B. Bowditch, leased the lands
of the Pennsylvania Rock Oil Company,
for the term of twenty-five years, for the
purpose of boring for oil. The operations
were to commence the following spring.
Soon after closing this lease, Colonel
Drake and friends from Connecticut formed

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

689

a company called the Seneca Oil Company,
for the purpose of working the lands and
sinking wells, under the management and
control of Colonel Drake. Early in the
spring he removed his family to Titusville,
then containing not over oiie hundred and
fifty inhabitants. He first informed him
self thoroughly on the subject of boring,
and visited the salt-wells on the Alleghany
river for that purpose, where, after some
difficulty, he employed a man who agreed
to sink wells for the Seneca company ; but
he and others to whom he had applied
failed to keep their engagements, and it
was not until the following spring, that he
could obtain a suitable person to commence
the well.

lying along the valley of Oil Creek and
its tributaries in Venango, Warren, and
Crawford counties. The Drake well — the
first ever sunk for oil, and the first petro
leum ever obtained by boring — was imme
diately thronged with visitors, and within
two or three weeks thousands began to
pour in from the neighboring states.
Everybody was eager to purchase or lease
oil-lands at any price demanded. Almost
in a night, a wilderness of derricks sprang
up and covered the entire bottom lands of
Oil Creek. Merchants abandoned their
storehouses, farmers dropped their ploughs,
lawyers deserted their offices, and preach
ers their pulpits. The entire western
part of the state, in especial, became so

PETROLEUM WELLS

Boring through forty-seven feet of
gravel and twenty-two feet of shale rocks,
with occasional small apertures in it, he
struck, on the twenty-ninth of August,
1859, at the depth of about seventy feet,
a large opening, filled with coal oil, some
what mixed with' water and gas. A small
pump on hand brought up from four
hundred to five hundred gallons of oil
a day. An explosion soon blew it up.
One of three times its size and power
was put in its place, and during the
first four days threw up five thousand
gallons of oil— one thousand two hundred
and fifty gallons per day, or one gallon
per minute for twenty hours fifty minutes
per day.
And now commenced an intense excite-
ment in all the oil-region of Pennsylvania,
44

IN PENNSYLVANIA.
wild with excitement upon the subject,
that scarcely anything else was thought of.
Very soon after the success of Colonel
Drake, Messrs. Brewer, Watson & Co.
leased the farm of Hamilton M'Clintock,
and commenced a well on it, which was
successful at the depth of seventy feet;
then followed the sinking of many wells on
the different farms on Oil Creek. The
Barnsdell Mead and Rouse well was
opened in the spring of 1860; then the
Crosley well, in April of tbe same year.
During this summer, many wells were
opened in the vicinity of Tideoute on the
Alleghany river. In June, 1861, A. B.
Funk sunk a well four hundred and sev
enty feet deep, on the M'lllheny farm,
which was the first large flowing well.
Then followed the Brewer, Watson & Co.

690

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

well on the G. W. M'Clintock farm, the
Phillips well on the Tarr farm, the Willard
well on the H. M'Clintock farm, and the
Rouse, Mitchell, and Brown well on tbe
Buchanan farm. This latter well flowed a
stream of oil without pumping, equal to
one thousand barrels per day. In every
direction, new borings were undertaken,
and new discoveries of flowing wells were
made, almost daily ; while other regions of
similar geological structure were carefully
explored for evidence of their capacity for
producing oil. Soon there were oil-wells,
— either pumping or flowing, — yielding
considerable quantities, in Western Vir
ginia, Kentucky, Ohio, and Canada; and,
subsequently, discoveries were made of tbe
existence of petroleum in large quantities
in California and in some of the north
western states. At first, vast quantities
of oil flowed into the creek
and were wasted, before suit
able tanks could be prepared
to receive it; but after a
while, the flowing wells were
fitted with strong tubing
and stop-cocks, by means of
which the supply was en
tirely controlled.
As might well be expected, the owners
of farms in the oil-regions believed that
the fortune of almost unlimited wealth had
now smiled upon them, and (says Eaton,
in his exhaustive and invaluable work on
the subject,) the price of lands throughout
its whole extent, from the new well to the
Alleghany, immediately rose to a very high
figure. Sometimes entire farms were sold,
but generally they were leased in quite
small lots. The terms of lease were at
first easy, the operators giving one-fourth
or one-fifth of the oil as a royalty to the
owner of the soil. Gradually, the terms
became more exacting, until not unfre
quently one-half and even five-eighths of
the oil was demanded, with the addition of
a considerable sum of money as a bonus.
Sometimes the proprietor of the soil re
quired the proposed operator to furnish
him his share in barrels ; that is, not only
turning him over a third or a half of the

oil, but furnishing him the barrels to con
tain it. With this arrangement, it after
wards came about that, as the price of oil
fell and the price of barrels advanced, the
entire proceeds of some wells would hardly
purchase ^barrels to contain the royalty
share pertaining to the owner of the land.
The leasing of land for oil purposes
amounted, at one time, to a monopoly, in

PETROLEUM.

some sections of the oil valley. The land
holders in many places were men in very
moderate circumstances. By great fru
gality, they had been able to live comfort
ably, but had no extra means with which
to embark in speculations. Sometimes
they had neither taste nor energy for this
business, or lacked faith in the general
result, but were willing that others should
embark in the business by sharing tha

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

691

profits with them. In this state of affairs,
shrewd and enterprising men made a busi
ness for a time, of leasing all the lands in
certain localities, with no intention of oper
ating themselves, but with tbe design of
sub-leasing to real operators.
In the midst of the excitement occa
sioned by the prodigious success of the
Bouse well, the gas and oil issuing there
from took fire from some unknown cause,
and, as described by an unknown witness,
columns of black smoke rolled upward into
the air, the blazing oil leaped heavenward,
and, falling over on all sides from the fiery
jet, formed a magnificent fountain of liquid
fire. The sight was awfully grand, but,
sad to relate, involved a most melancholy
loss of life, no less than nineteen human
beings meeting their death in the flames.
The scenes of terror and woe accompany
ing such a catastrophe can be better imag
ined than described. Among the victims
of this destructive occurrence was Mr.
Eouse, one of the proprietors of the well
and a very prominent man in the oil
region. Mr. Rouse lived for several days
after being injured, and, in framing his
will, after making certain bequests, left to
the county of Warren a handsome sum —
subsequently reaching one hundred and
fifty thousand dollars in value, — to be
applied one-half for road purposes and one-
half to the poor of the county.
Other terrible scenes caused by the com
bustion of the oil and gas in the wells, —
of natural or accidental origin, — though
happily not involving loss of life, have
occurred from time to time in the oil
regions. The phenomenon of the "burn
ing well" has been often described as one
of those grand and amazing exhibitions to
he found only within the arena of nature's
kingdom. Before approaching near enough
to see the well, (says an eye witness,) the
observer's ears were saluted with a roaring
sound similar to that of the Geysers in
Iceland, and seemingly due to the rush of
gas from the depths below, or from the
flame itself as it rises high in the air.
The well was of course bored for oil. It
had reached a depth of some five hundred

feet, when the immense column of gas
rushed up and became ignited from the
furnace of the engine. Soon, of course,
the derrick, engine-house, and fixtures
were consumed, and the engine itself a
wreck. An attempt was mmle to fill up
the pit with earth and extinguish the
flames. But this proved a failure, as the
pressure of the gas was so great that it
rushed through the loose earth in a thou
sand jets, the result being that a column
of flame constantly emerged from the pit
equal to its size — about eight feet square ;
this column rose to a height of from fifty
to one hundred feet, varying every few
seconds from the minimum to the maxi
mum height. The pillar, rough and jagged
in form, and sometimes divided, sent out
its tongues of flame in every direction.
As it reached its greatest height, the top
of the flame leaped off and was extin
guished. This was the appearance in
daylight. At night, the appearance was
awfully grand and imposing. Every three
or four seconds, a cloud of dark smoke
rolled up with the flames, and, after being
swept to its very summit, disappeared.
Some visitors computed the height at one
hundred and fifty feet. The roaring sound
was constant, and almost resembled that
of distant thunder. For successive weeks,
the well continued to burn, with no appar
ent diminution in its power, or in the
quantity of gas. At one time, the phe
nomenon assumed a very strange appear
ance. The atmosphere was somewhat
cloudy, and, in addition to the usual ruddy
glow, the light appeared to concentrate
itself into a bright lance-like figure, about
four or five degrees in length, that re
mained stationary about midway between
the horizon and the zenith, where it con
tinued all the evening. Immense destruc
tion of oil and other property, by fire, has,
in fact, taken place in almost every part of
the petroleum region, from the very first,
and in spite of every precaution.
The next large flowing well that was
opened was the Empire, in the vicinity of
the Funk well, that flowed three thousand
barrels of oil per day. The Sherman well

692

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

was opened in April, 1862, then the Noble
and Delameter well in May, 1863. This
celebrated well was commenced in 1860,
and was bored to the depth of one hun
dred and sixty-seven feet, and then aban
doned. Mr. Noble went further down the
creek and became interested in other wells
on the Tarr farm, but in the spring of
1863 he re-commenced the work on his old
well, and went down to the depth of four
hundred and seventy-one feet, without,
however, any indications of oil. At that
depth he concluded to tube and pump,
abandoning the idea of obtaining a flowing
well, — but, to the great astonishment of
himself and every one else, after pumping
a very short time, suddenly the great
Noble well commenced to flow. Long
before the opening of this well, petroleum
had become so plenty that most of the
pumping wells were abandoned. Every
person wanted a flowing well.
The discovery of a method of refining the
crude oil is said to be clue to Mr. Samuel
M. Kier, of Pittsburg. Mr.W. H. Abbott,
of Titusville, erected the first large refin
ery at Titusville, which was before the
days of railroads in that region. The
heavy iron castings and machinery were
brought in wagons from Union Mills and
Franklin, through mud that was axle-deep.
Parties interested with him became dis
heartened, and would have abandoned the
enterprise had it not been for the energy
of Mr. Abbott, who finally succeeded in
completing his building. But the really
great pioneers in the introduction of petro
leum in large quantities, were Brewer,
Watson & Co., whose enterprise was so
determined and untiring, that they ex
pended nearly eight hundred thousand
dollars in cash for barrels alone, before
they realized one cent of profit. All they
required was the actual cost of the barrel.
They however ultimately reaped a rich
harvest from their arduous efforts in this
new field of business, and were handsomely
repaid for the hardships and trials through
which they had passed. During the sum
mer of 1861, Samuel Downer, of Boston,
established a branch of his works and com

menced the refining of oil at Corry, giving
his entire attention to the business, and
during that year his refinery absorbed
nearly all of the oil product. George M.
Mowbray, agent for Scheiffiin & Co., of
New York, made the first extensive pur
chase of petroleum for shipment. Messrs.
Drake, Watson, Brewer, Kier, Abbott,
Mowbray, ' Downer, the firm of Brewer,
Watson & Co., and others, exerted their
utmost endeavors to acquaint the public
with the value of the article, and to create
a demand equal to the supply; but before
this could be accomplished, oil at the wells
was offered for sale at prices ranging from
ten to fifty cents a barrel.
In consequence of the abundant supply
of the oil, its cheapness, and the continued
small demand, the entire oil regions of
Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Ohio became,
for a while, almost wholly deserted, and
the then so-called " oil bubble " exploded.
Most of those who had taken leases and
had opened wells, now removed the tubing,
sold their engines, tools, etc., and retired
from the oil trade disgusted with their
enterprise, and, no doubt, much displeased
with themselves, returned to their deserted
homes to be ridiculed by the knowing
ones, who "always said the undertaking
would prove a failure."
Much time, however, did not elapse
before a new demand for petroleum was
created, and once more thousands poured
into the oil regions, and ultimately the
use of petroleum became almost universal,
as a cheap and excellent oil for burning.
So vast did tbe business now become, that,
from the third of March, 1865, to the close
of that year, the quantity of crude petro
leum produced in the Venango county
region was 1,020,126 barrels ; in western
Virginia, 13,666; in Ohio, 10,676; in
Kentucky, 2,405. The trade involved in
this immense production became the most
important business of several cities in
Pennsylvania, Ohio, and New York, af
fording employment and support for tens
of thousands of people.
An immense export trade soon began,
amounting, in 1863, to 252,000 tons'

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

693

P.UKNIXG OF OXE OF THE GREAT OIL WELLS.

weight, or 28,000,000 gallons, valued at
$12,000,000, and employing no less than
252 vessels of one thousand tons burden.
Of course, many hitherto comparatively
poor persons became millionaires all of a
sudden, and of these, "some were wise and
some foolish," in the use of their wealth.
An illustration of the latter class was
that of a widow, whose farm proved to be
one of the earliest and best for the produc
tion of oil, in the whole county of Venango,
several wells with products ranging from
two hundred to twenty-five - hundred bar
rels per day being struck at intervals, and
the income in money from the territory
proving almost fabulous in amount. Tbe
old lady did not live long to enjoy her
good fortune, and, dying, left her great
property, without any reservation, to her
adopted son John, then about twenty years
old. This youth,— like the hero of that
well-known novel, "Half a Million of
Money," who came suddenly into posses
ion of a like sum,— had not been taught
to understand the value of dollars and
cents ; and, unlike that character, he had

no refined tastes, and threw his wealth
away with the most lavish folly. Of
course he rushed to New York ; and there,
in only a year and a half, he squandered
two millions of dollars. Presumably the
most ingenious extravagance was neces
sary to accomplish this enormous result.
" Johnny," as his associates called him,
not only entered into every species of
debauchery, not only lost a hundred thou
sand dollars in two nights at faro, but
bought superb teams and gave them away
after an hour's ownership, supported a
swarm of human leeches of both sexes, and
even equipped a negro-minstrel troupe,
presenting each member with a costly dia
mond ring and pin. By-and-by, however,
Johnny's brilliant career came to a close,
and, oddly enough, he was glad at last to
fill the position of door-keeper to the trav
eling minstrel company which his own
munificence had organized, — his farm on
Oil Creek having been disposed of at public
sale, for arrears due the government.
Time and space would indeed fail to
adequately record tbe doings of those sham

694

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

and reckless companies, which, availing
themselves of the oleaginous fever and a
credulous public, involved themselves and
others in operations well-nigh ruinous.
One of these companies selected a site in
the woods, which had been " prospected "
by one of their number and highly recom
mended (located about six miles from a
railroad station laid down on the map, but
not yet built), and having organized,
agreed to have the first of a series of pro
posed wells dug, not by contract, as was
usual, but by day's work. Having procured
the necessary tools, including a compass for
guidance in the woods, the work was duly
proceeded with, and progress from time to
time reported. Calls for the f sinews "
were also made, and promptly met, until
the well was said to be down over one
hundred feet, with a good show for oil.
This was about the time for the "Annual
Meeting," and more money being called
for, it was deemed advisable to have the
well re-measured and reported on. Judge
of the surprise of the stockholders when,
to use the language of one of the patri
archs in oil, the force of the oil from be
low had shoved the hole up to eighty-six
feet ! Here was a stunner ; and, as the
well had already cost a good round sum,
and the resources of the company were
limited, matters continued to remain in
statu quo. The most plausible plan for
getting out of the difficulty was that which
proposed to have the balance of the hole
taken up and cut into lengths for pump
logs ! — a fair hit at many of the chimerical
oil projects of that day.
Various opinions are entertained as to
the origin and source of this remarkable
substance. According to Professor Silli-
man, it is of vegetable origin, and was pro
duced by the agency of subterranean heat.
Professor Dana says that it is a bitumin
ous liquid resulting from the decomposi
tion of marine or land plants, mainly the
latter, and perhaps, also, of some non-nitro
genous animal tissues. By many, it is
supposed to be a product of coal ; some
supposing that the coal, being subjected
to the enormous pressure of tbe overlying

beds, has yielded oil, as a linseed cake under
an hydraulic press. The theory has even
been advanced, that the coal, heated (as it
evidently has been in the coa) regions of
eastern Pennsylvania), gave off oily vapors
which, rising to the cold region of the
upper air, condensed, and subsequently
fell in oily showers, making its way as
best it could to the hollows of the earth's
interior, where now it is found by the oil-
borer. An extensive survey and examination of
the coal region by Mr. Ridgeway, an emi
nent geologist, convinced him that the
petroleum was not produced from the coal
fields, as in that case it would have had to
flow up-hill into the oil basin ; it is, rather,
the result of the decomposition of marine
plants, in the Oil Creek valley, though
that found in bituminous coal basins, orig
inates, no doubt, from beds of coal. Ac
cording to this theory, the plants which
produced the oil in the rock existed and
flourished at a long period of time before
the vegetation which now forms coal beds ;
they are unlike the vegetable impressions
found in the accompanying shales and
clays associated with beds of coal, and they
grew where the flag-stones and shales of
Oil Creek were laid down by salt water
currents. The climate was so hot, during
this age of marine vegetation, and the
growth of plants so rapid and rank, caused
by the supposed large amount of carbonic
acid and hydrogen then composing the
atmosphere, that these conditions on the
face of the earth produced plants contain
ing more hydrogen and less carbon than
the plants which produced coal beds, and
hence their fermentation resulted in petro
leum. But tbe theory that the oil was pro
duced at the time of the original bitumin-
ization of the animal or vegetable matter,
has many difficulties in its way, especially
the fact that such large quantities of
inflammable gas always accompany the oil.
That tbe oil is a product, not of coal, hut
of coral, is the opinion of some ; and thus,
stored away in cells, forming, in the ag
gregate, immense reefs, as it was collected

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

695

from the impure waters of tbe early oceans
by minute coral insects, it has been driven
by heat and pressure into reservoirs and
crevices, where man's ingenuity at last
discovered it.
0£ the uses of petroleum, much might
be said. Unrivaled and universal for illu-<
mination, it is also valuable as a lubrica
tor, and, in some of its chemically prepared
is, is employed as a dryer in paints

and varnishes. For fuel and gas its util
ity has been amply proved. Medically, it
has been found efficacious in suppurating
wounds, also in headache, toothache, swell
ings, rheumatism, dislocations, and as a
disinfectant. And even as a base in the
production of colors, some of the most
gratifying results have followed the chem
ist's experiments with this wonderful ar
ticle.

LXXXI.
FATAL DUEL BETWEEN HON. D. C. BRODERICK, AND
HON. D. S. TERRY.— 1859.

Scene of the Meeting Near San Francisco. — Details of the Barbarous Encounter. — Broderick Falls
Mortally Wounded by His Adversary. — He expires in Two Days. — Flight of Terry. — Society
Shocked at the Event. — Parallel Case of Messrs. Graves and Cilley. — Politics and Dueling in Amer
ica. — Broderick's Alleged Offense. — Terry's Challenge Accepted. — Terms of the Duel. — Choice of
Seconds and Arms. — Aspect of the Two Men. — Serious Bearing of Broderick. — Terry's Fearlessness.
— Marking the Distance. — Its Murderous Shortness. — The Duelists Placed. — Their Persons Exam
ined. — " Gentlemen, are you Ready?" — The Word Given. — Both Parties Fire. — Broderick Shot in
the Breast. — Last Sufferings and End. — Sorrow of the Community. — His Body Lies in State. — A
Similar Deed of Horror. — Congressional Tragedy in 1838. — Its Deadly Character.

" When public opinion iB renovated, and chastened by reason, religion, and humanity, the practice of dueling will at once be discounte
nanced."— Henry Clay.

%e

JiMJ THE SPOT WHERE BRODERICK FELL.
OLITICAL animosities among leading public men in the
United States have, in a multitude of instances, led to premeditated hostile meetings,
and these have not unfrequently resulted in the death of one or both of the combat
ants. But rarely, since the tragical encounter between Messrs. Cilley and Graves,
in 1838, had society been so shocked as at the announcement that, on the thirteenth
of September, 1859, a duel was fought near San Francisco, between Hon. David
C. Broderick, United States Senator from California, and Hon. D. S. Terry, chief
justice of that state, in which Senator Broderick received a mortal wound, his death
occurring two days after. In the present lamentable case, the challenge proceeded
from Judge Terry, who, on the eighth of September, addressed a note to Senator
Broderick, as follows :
Some two- months since, at the public table of the International Hotel in San Fran
cisco, you saw fit to indulge in certain remarks concerning me, which were offensive
in their nature. Before I had heard of the circumstance, your note of the 29th of
June, addressed to Mr. D. W. Perley, in which you declared that you would not respond
to any call of a personal character during the political canvas just concluded, had been
published. I have, therefore, not been permitted to take any notice of those remarks

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

697

until the expiration of the limit fixed by
yourself. I now take the earliest- oppor
tunity to require of you a retraction of
those remarks. This note will be handed
to you hy my friend, Calhoun Benham,
Esq., who is acquainted with its contents,
and will receive your reply."
The correspondence to which this com
munication gave rise, finally led to an
agreement for a hostile meeting between
the distinguished parties, the terms of the
duel, as arranged by the seconds of the
respective gentlemen, being as follows :
1. Principals to be attended by two
seconds and surgeon each, also by a person
to load the weapons. This article not to
exclude the drivers of the vehicles. If
other parties obtrude, the time and place
may be changed at the instance of either
party. 2. Place of meeting, on the farm adjoin
ing the Lake House ranch. This is the
general neighborhood ; the precise spot to
be determined when the parties meet.
3. Weapons — dueling pistols.
4. Distance, ten paces ; parties facing
each other; pistols to be held with the
muzzle vertically downward.
5. Word to be given as follows, to wit :
The inquiry shall first be made, " Gentle
men, are you ready ? " Upon each party
replying "ready," the word "fire" shall
be given, to be followed by tbe words
"one, two." Neither party to raise his
pistol before the word "fire," nor to dis
charge it after the word "two." The
intervals between the words, " Fire — one,
two," to be exemplified by tbe party win
ning the word as near as may be.
6. The weapons to be loaded on the
ground, in the presence of a second of
each party.
7. Choice of position and the giving of
the word to be determined by chance-
throwing up a coin, as usual.
8. Choice of the two weapons to be
determined by chance, as in article 7th.
9. Choice of the respective weapons of
parties to be determined on the ground,
•>y throwing up a coin, as usual— that is
to say, each party bringing their pistols,

and the pair to be used to be determined
by chance, as in article 7th.
The meeting took place, as appointed,
on Monday, September 12th, at half-past
five o'clock in the morning, but the police
interfered and arrested the principals.
Next morning, however, the 13th, the
parties met in the vicinity of San Fran
cisco, unbeknown to the police. Terry
was seconded by Calhoun Benham and
Thomas Hayes. Broderick was seconded
by the Hon. Joseph McKibben, member
of congress from California, and by another
gentleman. When all hands arrived on the ground,
about seventy hands were found to be
present, including the principals. Terry's
seconds and advisors were constantly with
him, and he conversed with his friend
Brooks in quite a lively tone. On the other
hand, Broderick seemed to be absorbed
in matters disconnected with the issue, and
was talking earnestly with a couple of his
friends. During this time, Broderick
maintained himself cool and self-possessed;
but his antagonist seemed agitated, and
measured the ground in his direction with
an uneasy and anxious tread. The seconds
approached tbe armorer, examined the
weapons, turned several times, and pointed
to tbe white marks that had been placed
on the field to establish the distance.
McKibben, in examining the pistols,
snapped a cap with an air of satisfaction,
as if the pistol suited him. Some conver
sation was had; one of Terry's friends
approached him and made some remark,
in reply to which Terry seemed to smile,
and became more calm than before. As
the affair was now reaching the crisis,
every eye was turned on the combatants.
Mr. Broderick's friends had a short and
earnest conversation, and retired. The
friends of Terry did the same with him,
and moved to one side. An official expres
sion now notified the combatants to take
their relative positions. The distance was
marked white, and appeared to an observer
murderously close, — more than one man
present uttering the ejaculation that it
was downright murder to allow men to

698

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

shoot at each other at so short a distance.
The principals, however, took their posi
tions. Broderick divested himself first of
a dark-brown paletot, and cast bis eye
along the ground separating him from
Terry. A close observation of the countenances
of the two combatants, at this moment,
revealed in a striking manner their indi
vidual characteristics. Judge Terry's lips
were compressed, his countenance darkly
sallow, and his whole appearance betrayed
that of a man without fear and regardless
of the consequences involved in so grave
a transaction. Wan and attenuated, he
stood a stolid monument on the field of
conflict. Senator Broderick could not
have been distinguished by the stranger
as a principal. With his hands folded
behind him, he held earnest conversation
with his friend, Mr. Haskell. He would
occasionally turn, scan the crowd, and rest
his eye upon some recognized countenance.
The muscles of his face were strong, and
his visage unrelaxed in any particular.
His lips, when not conversing, were com
pressed, and his whole bearing was that of
a man who was about to meet a great
issue, and who was firmly prepared for it.
Messrs. Broderick and Terry being
divested of their overcoats, were told to
take a vertical position by Mr. Benham.
The seconds then arranged upon the
weapons, and Mr. Benham, taking a pistol,
proceeded to Judge Terry, and placed it
in his hand. The latter took the pistol
in his left hand, passed it behind him,
connected both hands, stood for a moment
in that position, and then rested his
weapon on his left hand in front. Senator
Broderick, on being handed the pistol,
anxiously examined it, and at intervals
measured with his eye the ground between
himself and his adversary. He seemed to
take much pains in examining the weapon.
At length he braced himself up and took
his position. A frock coat which he wore
seemed to trouble him somewhat, and he
endeavored more than once to bring the
front tails closer. Judge Terry, in the
meantime, with the barrel of his pistol

resting on his left arm, held his eyes fixed
on the figure of his antagonist.
Before tbe word was given, Mr. Benham
approached Senator Broderick, who had
handed his watch, money, etc., to Mr.
McKibben, and felt his clothes and exam
ined with his hands the body of the prin
cipal. A nod of satisfaction showed that
he had found nothing concealed beneath
his vestments. Mr. McKibben then went
toward Judge Terry. The latter handed
to his second, Mr. Benham, a watch,
pocket articles, and a quantity of money.
Mr. Benham took the watch in charge,
but the money, with a flourish, he scattered
over the ground. Mr. McKibben then
examined the person of Judge Terry,

HON. D. C. BRODERICK.

expressed himself satisfied, and took a
position to the right of Senator Broderick
and immediately opposite Mr. Colton.
The seconds of Judge Terry occupied sim
ilar positions, with Mr. Benham on a line
with Mr. McKibben, and Mr. Hayes on a
line with Mr. Colton, all the parties form
ing a sextangle.
At precisely fifteen minutes to seven
o'clock, as the sun was endeavoring to
force his beams through a succession of
clouds that were passing north and south
over the head of Senator Broderick,— the
solemn moment, on which all were satis
fied a life depended,— Mr. Benham gave a
rapid glance toward the sky, detected
something to the disadvantage of his
principal, and approached Judge Terry.
The latter, who wore a large, rather stiff-
brimmed wool hat, had drawn the front
over his eyes. After his second, however,
bad caught bis ear, the front was turned

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

699

up. Mr. Colton, then, in a clear, distinct
voice, called out the word He made con
siderable pause between each announce
ment — a pause, in respect to time, resem
bling that which elapses between the
strokes of a cathedral clock bell.
When Mr. Colton asked, " Gentlemen,
are you ready?" Judge Terry instantly
replied, "Ready," without moving from
his position, or relaxing a muscle. Sen
ator Broderick, however, spent several
seconds examining the stock of his pistol,
which did not seem to fit his hand. When
at length he answered, "Ready," he did
so with a gesture, nodding his head and
inclining his body toward Mr. Colton.
Between the words, "Fire — one — two,"
both parties shot. Broderick fired first,
and at about the last enunciation required
to -convey the word "One." Terry shot
in a space of time afterward which it
would require in music to a quaver. The
word "Two," was scarcely started upon
when the judge fired. The senator's
shot was spent in the ground, some four
or five feet in advance of his right toes.
Judge Terry's took effect in the senator's
right breast, above the nipple.
Immediately upon receiving his antago
nist's fire, Broderick raised bis right arm,
still grasping the pistol. It was the
impression that he had been shot in the
shoulder. His arm contracted, and a spas
modic effort was made to brace himself
up. The leaden messenger, however, had
gone to a more sensitive and vital part.
After endeavoring to summon the will to
resist the pressure that was bearing him
down, the head dropped in a recumbent
position over the right shoulder, the knees
bent outwardly, and at length, gently and
calmly as a child retiring to rest, Senator
Broderick eased to the earth, pressing the
right breast with the hand still holding
the pistol, and lying on his left side.
Judge Terry, in the meantime, main-
tamed his position, keeping his eye con
stantly in the direction of the fallen man.
In a few minutes, he was told that his
antagonist could not rise, and he there
upon left the field with bis immediate

friends. He drove rapidly into town, and
started at once from North Beach, where
a boat was in waiting, and proceeded to
Oakland, where be took a private convey
ance to Martinez, and thence was ferried
across to Benicia. Both in Martinez and
the latter place, flags were raised at half-
mast, caused by premature reports of
Broderick's death. On arriving at Beni
cia, Judge Terry took overland convey
ance to Sacramento.
Senator Broderick was taken to the
house of his friend, Leonidas Haskell,
Esq., at Black Point, nearly two miles from
the plaza, and was seated in a bed with his
face toward the bay, and propped up with
pillows. Here, physicians attended on
him during the day, and hundreds of the
senator's friends hurried out to learn the
worst. There appeared little likelihood of
his recovering. He was able to speak dur
ing the afternoon, but, owing to the wound
ing of his lungs, tbe articulation was gen
erally indistinct and unintelligible. The
internal bleeding caused him intense pain
and a suffocating sensation.
On the 15th, at about half-past eight
o'clock in the morning, Broderick breathed
his last. At twelve o'clock the night pre
vious, the indications appeared favorable
for his recovery, — his repose being easier,
his breathing more regular, and his gen
eral condition improved. At two o'clock,
in the morning, a change occurred for the
worse, and from that hour he failed rapidly.
At three o'clock, the last rites of the
Roman Catholic Church were adminis
tered to him. At four o'clock, he had
fallen into a state of insensibility, from
which he never emerged. He never
uttered a word after four o'clock.
On the following Saturday, the lower
part of the Union Hotel was thrown open
to the public, and all day a vast concourse
thronged in to view the body of the
deceased senator, as it lay in state. The
corpse was placed in a metallic coffin, in
the inner apartment of the hotel, tbe
approach to which was hung with Ameri
can flags. Tbe outside of the building
was draped with habiliments of woe, and

700

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

THE BODY OF SENATOR BRODERICK LYING) IN STATE, IN SAN FRANCISCO.

every face wore that unmistakable expres
sion which denotes that some public
calamity has fallen upon the community.
The coffin was so placed that the moving
throng could file past and around it and
out through another door. The hands of
friends had wrought wreaths and bouquets
of flowers, with which the coffin was
loaded, and so numerous at last did these
become, that, no room being found for
them, they were placed on the floor about
the bier. The corpse was dressed in a
suit of black, with collar and neckcloth,
the hands lying along the sides, crossed
upon the body. The face was somewhat
shrunken, probably from the intense pain
which the sufferer had undergone during
the previous three days. It wore, how
ever, the same expression as in life, and
the senator might almost have been sup
posed to be in a deep sleep, so calm and
natural was the appearance of the face.
All day long, the crowd pressed in — men,
women, and children ; slowly they passed
round, lingering at the coffin, and gazing
with grief and reverence upon the last
spectacle. An eloquent funeral oration was pro

nounced by Col. E. D. Baker, in which
the speaker narrated his last conversation
with Senator Broderick, as follows :
"When he returned from that fatal
field, while the dark wing of the arch
angel of death was casting its shadows
upon his brow, his greatest anxiety was
as to the performance' of his duty. He
felt that all his strength and all his life
belonged to the cause to which he had
devoted them. ' Baker,' said he — and to
me they were his last words — 'Baker,
when I was struck, I tried to stand firm,
but the blow blinded me and I could not.
I trust that it is no shame to my manhood,
that tears blinded me as he said it. Of
his last hours I have no heart to speak.
He was the last of his race ; there was no
kindred hand to smooth his couch or wipe
the death-damps from his brow; but
around that dying bed strong men, the
friends of early manhood, the devoted
adherents of later life, bowed in irrepres
sible grief, and 'lifted up their voices and
wept.' "
Such was the end of a popular senator
from one of the most powerful of the new
states in the Union. He represented the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

701

party in sympathy with the Vigilance
Committee, and of free soil and free labor.
Outspoken in his views, he naturally made
political enemies, and such was the hostile
determination with which he was pursued,
that, even had he escaped unharmed in
his encounter with Terry, there were
others ready and waiting to summon him
to " the last resort," and his fate seemed
inevitable. In this respect, his case pre
sents a striking resemblance to the deadly
tragedy in which Hon. Jonathan Cilley,
of Maine, lost his life at tbe hands of
Hon. W. J. Graves, of Kentucky, in a
duel fought between them, February 24,
1838. Both parties were members of
congress, and the horrors of the affair
almost stagger belief.
Mr. Cilley, in debate in the house, had
made some reflections on the character of
Mr. J. W. Webb, editor of the New York
Courier and Enquirer, and tbe latter there
upon sent a note by his friend, Mr.
Graves, demanding an explanation. Mr.
Cilley declined to receive the note, choos
ing not to be drawn into any controversy
with Webb, but at the same time express
ing his high respect for Mr. Graves.
According, however, to the duelist's hair
line theory of honor, Mr. Cilley's refusal
to receive the note from Mr. Graves, was
an implied reflection upon the latter, and,
after some further correspondence, Graves
sent a challenge to Cilley, by the hand of
Henry A. Wise, which Cilley accepted.
The parties met, by arrangement, on
the road to Marlborough, in Maryland.
Mr. Cilley was accompanied by his second,
Mr. Jones; by Mr. Bynum and Colonel
Schaumburg, as his friends ; and by Doc
tor Duncan, as his surgeon. Mr. Graves
was attended by Mr. Wise, as his second ;
hy Senator Crittenden and Mr. Menefee,
as his friends; and by Doctor Foltz, as
his surgeon. Mr. Jones and Mr. Wise
immediately marked off the ground. The
line of fire was at right angles with the
rays of the sun. The choice of positions
fel1 % lot to Mr. Wise, and Mr. Jones
had the giving of the word. Mr. Wise
ehose the position at the north-westerly

end of the line. The distance was about
ninety-two yards. There was a strong
wind falling on the line of fire at an
angle of about forty-five degrees against
Mr. Cilley.
Mr. Graves's position was near a wood,
partly sheltered by it, and that of Mr.
Cilley was on higher ground, and in the
open fields. The caliber of Mr. Graves's
rifle was nearly twice as large as that of
Mr. Cilley's, and would receive a ball of
about eighty to the pound, while the rifle
of Mr. Cilley would receive a ball of about
one hundred and thirty-two to the pound.
Mr. Wise had two rifles on the ground,
one of which, not being loaded, remained,
by consent, in one of tbe carriages.
Shortly after three o'clock, the parties
exchanged shots. Mr. Cilley fired first,
before he bad fully elevated his piece ;
and Mr. Graves one or two seconds after
wards. Both missed.
A consultation now took place between
the friends of the principals, as to
whether an accommodation might not be
arrived at, but Mr. Graves still insisted
upon tbe demand made by him upon Mr.
Cilley, and tbe latter re-asserted his posi
tion in the matter from the very first,
namely, that he declined to receive the
note of Webb because he chose to be
drawn into no controversy with him —
that he also refused to disclaim any per
sonal exception to Webb as a gentleman
or man of honor, because he would neither
affirm nor deny anything in regard to
his character — and that, in declining to
receive the demand of explanation, he had
intended no disrespect to Mr. Graves.
Under these circumstances, the chal
lenge was renewed, tbe parties resumed
their positions, and again exchanged shots.
Mr. Graves fired first, before be had fully
elevated his piece ; Mr. Cilley fired about
two seconds afterwards. They both missed.
It was at first thought by several of those
present, that Mr. Graves was hit — his
motions and appearance giving this impres
sion. But he at once said, " I must have
another shot,"— and this he positively,
peremptorily, and repeatedly insisted upon.

702

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

The seconds and friends again con
sulted. Several of them objected, in the
strongest language, against the further
prosecution of the contest, insisting that
it should now cease, and that Mr. Graves
should declare himself satisfied. Others,
however, particularly Messrs. Wise and
Menefee, insisted that the fight should go
on, unless Mr. Cilley would make tbe con
cessions demanded, namely, either a direct
disavowal of any personal exception to
Webb as a gentleman and a man of honor
— or, an indirect disclaimer, by basing
his refusal to receive Webb's note upon
the ground of constitutional exemption, as
a member of tbe house, from being called
to account for words spoken in debate.
Mr. Cilley still refused to yield his pre
rogative of declining to receive a note
from Mr. Webb, if be saw fit.
Immediately previous to the last ex
change of shots, Mr. Wise said to Mr.
Jones, "If this matter is not terminated
by this shot, and is not settled, I will pro
pose to shorten the distance." To this Mr.
Jones replied, " After this shot, without
effect, I will entertain the proposition."
Mr. Graves had directed Mr. Wise, if they
missed repeatedly, to prevent a prolonga
tion of the affair by proposing closer
quarters ; and in consequence of this, Mr.
Wise made the proposition, which would
have aggravated the severity of the terms,
and made the barbarous encounter still
more a disgrace to the land.
Again the blood-thirstiness of " chival
rous honor " demands a victim. The
rifles being loaded, the parties resumed
their stations, and fired the third time,
very nearly together. Mr. Cilley was
shot through the body. He dropped his
rifle, beckoned to one near him, and sim
ply uttered the words, " I am shot,"—
immediately put both his hands to his
wound, fell, and in two or three minutes
expired. It appears from the report made by tbe
committee of seven appointed by the
house of representatives to investigate
this affair, that, early in the day on which
Mr. Cilley met his unfortunate end, an

agreement was entered into between James
Watson Webb, Daniel Jackson, and Wil
liam H. Morell, to arm themselves, repair
to the room of Mr. Cilley, and force him
to fight Webb with pistols on the spot,
or to pledge his word of honor to give
Webb a meeting before he did Graves;
and if Mr. Cilley would do neither, to
shatter his right arm.
They accordingly took measures to
ascertain whether Mr. Cilley was at his
lodgings, and finding that he was not, they
proceeded, well armed, to Bladensburg,
where it was said the duel between Mr.
Cilley and Mr. Graves was to take place.
Before arriving there, it was agreed
between Webb, Jackson, and Morell, that
Webb should approach Mr. Cilley, claim
the quarrel, insist on fighting him, and
assure him if he aimed his rifle at Mr.
Graves, he (Webb) would shoot him (Mr.
Cilley) on the spot. It was supposed by
them that Mr. Graves, or Mr. Wise, or
some of the party, would raise a weapon
at Webb, whereupon it was agreed that
Webb should instantly shoot Mr. Cilley,
and that they should then defend them
selves in the best way they could.
Not finding the Graves and Cilley party
at Bladensburg, Webb and his comrades
followed in pursuit to the old magazine,
and thence to the shore of the Potomac,
near the arsenal, at Greenleaf Point,
whence, it being after three o'clock in
the afternoon, they returned to the city to
await the result of the duel. "It is
unnecessary to add," say they, in a state
ment drawn up by Webb, signed by Jack
son and Morell, and published in the New
York Courier and Enquirer, " what would
have been the course of Colonel Webb, if
Mr. Graves, instead of Mr. Cilley, had
been injured. Suffice it to say, that it
was sanctioned by us ; and however much
we deplore it, we could not doubt but the
extraordinary position in which he would
have been placed would have warranted
the course determined upon." It is diffi
cult to imagine what is here darkly shad
owed forth, if it be not that, had Mr.
Cilley survived the encounter with Mr.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

703

Graves, and had the latter suffered in it,
it would then have been the fate of Mr.
Cilley to have encountered an assassin.
So atrocious was the course pursued by
the powerful combinatioa against Mr.
Cilley, that the report of tbe congressional
committee, composed of members of both
political parties, pronounced it to be with
out any circumstance of extenuation.
Reciting the facts involved, the committee
state that, on the 12th of February, Mr.
Wise, of Virginia, presented to tbe house
a publication in tbe New York Courier
and Enquirer, charging a member of con
gress with corruption on tbe mere authority
of an anonymous writer under the signa
ture of the 'Spy in Washington,' and
thereupon moved a resolution for tbe
appointment of a select committee, with
power to send for persons and papers to
inquire into the charge. Mr. Wise said :
"The character of the authority upon
which the charge is made is vouched for
as respectable and authentic by the editor
of the Courier and Enquirer, in whose
paper it appears, and the house is called
upon to defend its honor and dignity
against the charge." Mr. Cilley opposed
tbe resolution, and in tbe course of tbe
debate said :
'He knew nothing of this editor; but
if it was the same editor who once made

grave charges against an institution of
this country, and afterward was said to
have received facilities to the amount of
$52,000 from tbe same institution, and
then gave it his hearty support, he did
not think his charges were entitled to
much credit in an American congress.'
These words, spoken by Mr. Cilley in
debate, were strictly in order, were perti
nent to tbe subject under discussion, and
did not exceed the bounds and limits of
his place and duty ; and though they
implicated a doubt inconsistent with un
blemished honor and character in the
person alluded to, yet Mr. Cilley was
justified in tbe use of them by a report of
a committee of the house, appointed
March 14, 1832, to inspect tbe books
and examine into the proceedings of the
Bank of the United States. In the
majority report of this committee, it is
stated that, for sixteen months, the New
York Courier and Enquirer was warmly
opposed to tbe Bank of the United States ;
that on the 26th of March, 1831, and
within less than nine months thereafter,
the bank made three loans, amounting to
tbe sum of $52,975, which consisted of
notes drawn and indorsed by the editors
only ; and that on or about the 8th of April,
1831, said paper changed its course in
favor of the bank.

LXXXII.
JOHN BROWN'S CAPTURE OF HARPER'S FERRY,
VA.— 1859.

Seizure and Occupation of the United States Armory. — A Bold Scheme to Free the Slaves. — Attacked
by the Militia, he Retreats to the Engine-House and Makes it His Fortress. — The Building is Sur
rounded by Federal Troops and Forced by a Battering Kara. — Brown, Refusing to Surrender, is
Overpowered and Made Prisoner. — His Genuine Heroism on the Scaffold. — A Long Cherished Plan.
— Conference Held in Canada. — Programme of Operations. — Harper's Ferry the Strategic Point —
First Active Movement at Night. — Only Twenty-two Men in Force — The Town in Brown's Posses
sion — Strange Scenes at Daybreak. — Indescribable Consternation — Fighting and Bloodshed. — News
of the Attack Sent Off. — Military Companies Pour in. — Marines Sent from Washington. — No Mercy
Shown the Insurgents. — Brown is Terribly Wounded. — His Indomitable Fortitude. — Tried for Trea
son and Murder. — Conviction : Speech in Court. — Admiration of Him by His Foes. — Walks Fearless
to the Gallows. — Mounts the Fatal Platform. — " I am Ready at any Time ! "

" Brown is as brave a man as ever headed an insurrection. He is the farthest possible remove from the ordinary ruffian, fanatic, or mad-
in."— Govkbnob Wise, of Vikoinia.

if

EARNING for an opportunity to carry out his long cherished desire to lib
erate the negroes of the south and destroy the system of American slavery,
Captain John Brown — or " old Osawatomie Brown," as he was famil
iarly called, on account of his active participation in the battle fought
at Osawatomie, Kansas, — had disclosed bis plans to a few confidential
sympathizers, during a conference held by them in Chatham, Canada,
May 8th, 1858; and, selecting
'H'f^ Harper's Ferry, Va., as the most
available strategic point, struck
the first blow which his scheme
contemplated, Sunday evening,
October 16th, 1859. Brown, the
leader of this movement, was
about sixty years of age, born in
Connecticut, and certainly one of
the most remarkable men of his
times. By the conference or convention
held in Canada, a "Provisional
Constitution and Ordinances for
the People of the United States"
capture op john brown. was f ormed, and Brown was chosen
commander-in-chief. Shortly afterward, Brown, with two of his sons, appeared in the
vicinity of Harper's Ferry, and under the assumed name of Smith rented a small farm

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

705

in Maryland, a few miles from the Ferry,
for the purpose of making the necessary
observations and maturing their plans for
the final movement. Here were gradually
collected a considerable quantity of arms
and ammunition, consisting of rifles, pis
tols, pikes, cartridges, and the like ; and a
body of twenty-two, of whom seventeen
were whites and five colored, joined him
from various parts of the country. Tbe
resolute, daring, and courageous character
of Brown was well calculated to constitute
him a leader in such an enterprise, and
his fighting qualities had been so success
fully-displayed during the long and bloody
contest which ended in making Kansas a
free state, that his followers looked up to
him as a hero, "to high destiny born."
The time being near at hand when,
according to the programme agreed upon,
they were to arm themselves and go forth,
Brown made an address to them, conclud
ing it by saying : " And now, gentlemen,
let me press this one thing on your minds.
You all know how dear life is to you, and
how dear your lives are to your friends ;
and, in remembering that, consider that
the lives of others are as dear to them as
yours are to you. Do not, therefore, take
the life of any one, if you can possibly
avoid it; but, if it is necessary to take
life in order to save your own, then make
sure work of it." In addition to the small
force thus employed in active military
duty, there were others, it is said, to
whom was assigned the task of cutting the
telegraph wires and destroying the railway
track, at the proper time, and who subse
quently made their escape.
It was now about ten o'clock in tbe
evening, and the first act of the invasion
was to be performed. William William
son, the watchman on the Potomac bridge,
while walking across the Maryland side,
was seized and made prisoner. Almost
simultaneously with this, the government
armory buildings, or arsenal, containing
an lmmense quantity of arms, were quietly
^en possession of. Williamson, on being
tested, recognized Brown and Cook, and
snowing them, treated the matter as a
45

joke, but was not long in learning his
mistake. The watchman who was to re
lieve Williamson at midnight found the
bridge lights all out, and was at once
seized. Supposing it an attempt at rob
bery, be broke away, and managed to
escape. Shortly after midnight, a small party of
the invaders, headed by Stevens, proceeded
to tbe house of Col. Lewis Washington, a
large farmer and slave owner, roused him
from bis bed, and told him he was their
prisoner ; they also took his arms, car
riage, etc., and proclaimed liberty to his
slaves. A similar visit was then made to
the house of Mr. Alstadtt, who, with his
son, was captured, and freedom given to
his slaves. On entering the armory,
Colonel Washington states that he found
some eight or ten persons, who recognized
him. They all sat together, and were
conversing, when Brown, after asking
their names, said, " It is now too dark to
write, but when it is sufficiently light, if
you have not paper and pens, I will fur
nish you, and I require that you shall
each write to your friends to send a negro
man apiece, as a ransom." To all of the
prisoners who inquired as to the object of
tbe proceedings, tbe answer was, To free
the slaves ; and to the question by what
authority it was done, reply was made, By
the authority of God Almighty. These
replies fitly represented the sentiment
which, from first to last, seemed to possess
Brown's mind.
At the upper end of the town, the mail
train arrived at the usual hour, but was
warned not to proceed over the bridge.
After some hours' detention, the train was
allowed to go on, but not until great alarm
and some bloodshed had ensued. A col
ored man, a porter employed by the rail
road company, refusing to surrender, re
ceived a mortal wound. Two others,
named Turner and Boerly, who undertook
a forcible interference with the invaders,
were also fatally shot. But, so quietly bad
matters, for the most part, been managed
by the insurgents, that it was not until
daybreak, that tbe town, now thoroughly

706

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

waked up, found, to their utter astonish
ment, that all the armory buildings and
premises were in the invaders' hands, that
the bridge and avenues were guarded by
armed sentinels, and that the condition of
the inhabitants was that of prisoners. A
panic, of course, immediately ensued. In
the meantime, a number of workmen, not
knowing the actual state of affairs, ap
proached the armory and were successively
taken prisoners, until at one time the
number thus confined was not less than
sixty. But efforts were made by some of
the populace to shoot the insurgents, and,
in this attack, Brown's son Watson re
ceived a mortal wound. A number of cit
izens were imprisoned in the engine-house,
which Brown afterward made his chief
fortress ; the workmen were imprisoned in
a large building further down tbe yard.

So sudden and unaccountable were these
proceedings, to the people of the town,
that, wonder-struck, they seized such arms
as they could find, and, gathering them
selves in small bodies on the outskirts of
the town, and at points remote from the
works, assumed the best attitude of de
fense possible. But all was confusion and
mystery. Even the sight of several armed
negroes among the strangers did not at
first excite suspicion that it was an anti-
slavery movement, and the report of one of
the captured slaves, confirmatory of that
fact, was received with incredulity. Some
supposed that it was a strike among the
discontented armorers or tbe government

laborers ; others argued that it was a band
of robbers, organized in some of the cities
plundering the government funds.
Intelligence of the affair was speedily
communicated, by railroad and messenger
to all the neighboring towns, and military
companies soon began to make their ap
pearance. At about noon, some Charles
town troops, commanded by Colonel Bay
lor, crossed tbe Susquehanna some distance
up, and marched down tbe Maryland side
to tbe mouth of the bridge. Firing a
volley, they made a rapid dash across the
bridge, clearing it of the invaders, who
retreated down toward the armory. In
this movement, one of the insurgents was
killed, and another, named Thompson, was
made prisoner. During the rest of the
day, considerable firing took place, result
ing in the killing and wounding of sev
eral, including Brown's son Oliver, Kagi,
Brown's secretary of war, and Leeman,
one of Brown's captains. A stray shot
also killed Mr. Beckham, the mayor of the
town, who incautiously exposed himself to
tbe running fire between the parties. The
death of Mr. Beckham so exasperated the
populace, that they immediately raised a
cry to bring out the prisoner, Thompson,
for retaliation. He was brought out on
the bridge, a*nd there shot down. He fell
into tbe water, and some appearance of
life still remaining, he was riddled with
balls. From Martinsburg, a considerable force
arrived at the upper end of the town, and,
entering the armory grounds by the rear,
made an attack from that side. Dashing
on, firing, and cheering, they carried the
building in which the armory men were
imprisoned, and released the whole of
them. They were, however, but poorly
armed, and when they came within range
of tbe engine-bouse, where Brown and his
particular associates, with some of their
prisoners, had gathered, they were forced
to fall back, suffering somewhat severely.
At Washington, Baltimore, and Rich
mond, tbe news of the insurrection pro
duced the wildest excitement, and a move
ment of tbe troops instantly ordered.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

707

Col. Robert E. Lee, with about a hundred
United States marines, and two field-
pieces, was sent from Washington to the
scene of action, and was soon in possession
of the armory grounds, in close proximity
to the engine-house. Early the next
morning, Lieut. J. E. B. Stuart, aid to
Colonel Lee, advanced to parley with the
besieged, and, on being received at the
door, demanded an unconditional surren
der, only promising them protection from
immediate violence and a trial by law.
Captain Brown refused all terms other
than these — that they should be permitted
to march out with their men and arms,
taking their prisoners with them ; that
they should proceed unpursued to the toll-
gate, when they would free their prison
ers ; the soldiers would then be permitted
to pursue them, and they would fight if
they could not escape. This was refused,
and Lieutenant Stuart pressed upon Brown
his desperate position, and urged a sur
render. The expostulation was very earn
est, and the interest of the scene became
most intense. The volunteers were ar
ranged all around the building, cutting off
an escape in every direction. Tbe ma
rines, divided in two squads, were ready
for a dash at the door.
Finally, having exhausted all argument
with the determined Captain Brown,
Stuart walked slowly from the door.
Immediately, the signal for attack was
given, and the marines, headed by Colonel
Harris and Lieutenant Green, advanced in
two lines on each side of the door. Two
powerful fellows sprang between the lines,
and with heavy sledge hammers attempted
to batter down the door. The door swung
and swayed, but appeared to be secured
with a rope, the spring of which deadened
the effect of the blows. Failing thus, they
took hold of a ladder, some forty feet long,
and, advancing at a run, brought it with
tremendous effect against the door. At
the second blow it gave way, one leaf fall-
]ng inward in a slanting position. The
marines immediately advanced to the
b"»ch, Major Russell and Lieutenant
6reen leading. A marine fell in front.

The firing from the interior was rapid and
sharp. They fired with deliberate aim,
and for a moment the resistance was seri
ous, and desperate enough to excite the
spectators to something like a pitch of
frenzy. The next moment, tbe marines
poured in, the firing ceased, and the work
was done, while cheers rang from every
side. One of the marines and one of
Brown's men fell in the affray.
One of the government officers, as soon
as he saw Brown, although the latter was
unarmed, struck him in the face with his
saber, which instantly knocked him down.
The blow was repeated several times, and
then another soldier ran a bayonet twice
into the prostrate body of the old man.
When the insurgents were brought out,
they were greeted with execrations, and
only the precautions that had been taken
preserved them from immediate execution.
The crowd, nearly every man of which car
ried a gun, swayed with tumultuous ex
citement, and cries of " Shoot them! Shoot
them ! " filled the air. The appearance,
however, of the liberated prisoners, all of
whom had escaped injury, changed the
current of feeling, and prolonged huzzas
took the place of howls and threats. The
lawn in front of the engine-house, after
the assault, presented a dreadful sight.
Lying on it were the bodies of the two
men killed on the previous day, and found
inside tbe house ; three wounded men, one
of them just at the last gasp of life, and
two others groaning in pain. One of
the dead was Brown's son Oliver. The
wounded father and his son Watson were
lying on the grass, the old man presenting
a gory spectacle. He had a severe bayonet
wound in his side, and his face and hair
were clotted with blood.
A short time after Captain Brown was
brought out, he revived, and talked earn
estly to those about him, defending his
course, and avowing that he had done only
what was right. He replied to questions
substantially as follows :
" Are you Captain Brown, of Kansas ? "
" I am sometimes called so."
" Are you Osawatomie Brown ? "

708

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

"I tried to do my duty there."
"What was your present object?"
" To free the slaves from bondage."
"Were any other persons, but those
with you now, connected with tbe move
ment ? "
"No." " Did you expect aid from the north ? "
" No ; there was no one connected with
tbe movement but those who came with
me." " Did you expect to kill people in order
to carry your point ? "
" I did not wish to do so, but you force
us to it."

Virginia,- sufficient to take possession of
both states, with all of the negroes they
could capture. He bad only a general
idea as to bis course ; it was to be gener
ally south-west, through Virginia, varying
as circumstances dictated or required.
Of Brown's whole band of twenty-two
men, ten whites and three negroes were
killed ; three whites, two of them severely
wounded, and two negroes, were taken
prisoners ; and four escaped, two of whom,
Cook and Hazlitt, were subsequently cap
tured. An indictment for treason and murder
was immediately found against Brown; by

HARPER S FERRY AND THE

Brown declared that he had the town at
his mercy ; that be could have burned it,
and murdered the inhabitants, but did not ;
he had treated the prisoners with courtesy,
but complained that he himself was hunted
down like a beast. He expressed a desire
to live, and to be tried by bis country. In
his pockets nearly three hundred dollars
were found in gold. He said it was no
part of his purpose to seize the public arms
— be had army and ammunition enough
re-shipped from Kansas ; be only intended
to make the first demonstration at this
point, when he expected to receive a rapid
increase of the allies from abolitionists
settled everywhere through Maryland and

ARSENAL TAKEN BY BROWN.
the Virginia authorities, and, until the
time of his trial, was rigorously impris
oned and guarded. In his personal ap
pearance, Brown was a small man, with
white head and beard, and cold-looking
gray eyes. When not speaking, his lips
were compressed in such a manner as
showed him to be a man of great deter
mination. Of his bravery, no testimony-
could be more emphatic than that of his
opponents. "They are mistaken "—said
Mr. Wise, at that time governor of Vir
ginia, "who take him to be a madman.
He is a bundle of the best nerves I ever
saw, cut and thrust, and bleeding and in
bonds. He is a man of clear head, of

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

709

courage and fortitude, and simple ingenu
ousness. He is cool, collected, and indom
itable ; and inspired me with great trust
in his integrity as a man of truth. He is
as brave and resolute a man as ever headed
an insurrection. He has coolness, daring,
persistency, stoic faith and patience, and a
firmness of will and purpose unconquera
ble. He is the farthest possible remove
from the ordinary ruffian, fanatic, or mad
man." Colonel Washington, also, said
that Brown was the coolest man he ever
saw in defying death and danger. With
one son dead by bis side, and another shot
through, he felt the pulse of his dying son
with one hand, held his rifle with the
other, and commanded his men with the
utmost composure, encouraging them to be
firm, and to sell their lives as dearly as
possible. As the prisoners demanded to be tried
separately, the authorities elected to try
Brown first. He asked for a delay, on
account of his severe wounds ; but this
was refused, and the case commenced on
the 26th of October, in Charlestown, Va.
Brown was unable to sit, and lay upon a
mattress. The trial lasted three days, and
Brown was found guilty upon all the
charges, and sentenced to be executed on
the 2d of December. As the jury came
in, with their verdict, the dense crowd of
, human-faces was moved and agitated with
intense expectancy, every head and neck
being stretched to witness the closing scene.
The only calm and unruffled countenance
there, was that of the doomed one, above
whose head hung the sword of fate. It
was late, and the gas-lights gave an almost
deathly pallor to his face. He seated him
self near his counsel, and, after once rest
ing his head upon his right hand, remained
entirely motionless. On being asked why
sentence should not be passed upon him,
he rose aud leaned slightly forward, his
hands resting on the table, and, in a voice
singularly mild and gentle, said, among
other things :
"In the first place, I deny everything
hut what I have all along admitted— the
Wign on my part to free the slaves. I

intended certainly to have made a clean
thing of that matter, as I did last winter,
when I went into Missouri, and there took
slaves without the snapping of a gun on
either side, moved them through the coun
try, and finally left them in Canada. I
designed to have done the same thing
again, on a larger scale. Tha* was all I
intended. I never did intend murder, or
treason, or the destruction of property, or
to excite or incite slaves to rebellion, or to
make insurrection.
I have another objection ; and that is, it
is unjust that I should suffer such a pen
alty. Had I interfered in the manner
which I admit, and which I admit has
been fairly proved (for I admire the truth
fulness and candor of the greater portion
of the witnesses who have testified in this
case) — had I so interfered in behalf of
the rich, the powerful, tbe intelligent, the
so-called great, or in behalf of any of their
friends, either father, mother, brother,
sister, wife, or children, or any of that
class, and suffered and sacrificed what I
have in this interference, it would have
been all right, and every man in this
court would have deemed it an act worthy
of reward rather than punishment.
This court acknowledges, as I suppose,
the validity of the Law of God. I see a
book kissed here which I suppose to be
the Bible, or, at least, the New Testa
ment. That teaches me that ' all things
whatsoever I would that men should do
unto me, I should do even so to them.' It
teaches me further, to ' remember them
that are in bonds as bound with them.'
I endeavored to act up to that instruction.
I am yet too young to understand that God
is any respecter of persons. I believe that
to have interfered as I have done, as I
have always freely admitted I have done,
was not wrong, but right. Now, if it is
deemed necessary that I should forfeit my
life for the furtherance of the ends of jus
tice, and mingle my blood further with the
blood of my children, and with the blood of
millions in this slave country whose rights
are disregarded by wicked, cruel, and unjust
enactments — I submit : so let it be done."

710

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

During the period of Brown's imprison
ment, from the time of his sentence to the
day of his execution,' he was occupied in
receiving visitors and in writing to his
family and friends. Letters of sympathy
poured in upon him ; and visitors were in
constant attendance, including editors,
politicians, and other persons of eminence.
Clergymen were there too, some of whom
offered to him the consolations of religion.
But, though Brown was a member of the
Congregational or Presbyterian church,
and a rigidly religious man, he strictly and
sternly refused to be aided in his prayers
by the pro-slavery preachers of the south,
telling them to go home and read their
Bibles. One of these gentlemen having
called to pray with Brown, was asked by
tbe latter if he was ready to fight, if neces
sity required it, for the freedom of the
slave. On his answering in the negative,
Brown said that he would thank him to
retire from his cell, — that his prayers
would be an abomination to God. To
another clergyman, he said that be would
not insult his God by bowing down with
any one who had the blood of tbe slave
upon his skirts. One of these clerical
callers having advanced an argument in
favor of slavery as it existed in America,
Brown replied in such a manner that the
reverend gentleman though it best to draw
the discussion to a close, and therefore
withdrew. The old man said to him —
" My dear sir, you know nothing about
Christianity; you will have to learn the
A B C's in the lesson of Christianity, as I
find you entirely ignorant of the meaning
of the word. I, of course, respect you as a
gentleman, but it is as a heathen gentle
man." The day appointed for tbe execution
having arrived, he walked out of the jail
with a radiant countenance and the step of
a conqueror. Firmly, with elastic limb,
he moved forward, without flinching. As
he stepped out of the door, a black woman,
with a little child in her arms, stood near
by. He paused a moment, and, stooping,
kissed the child with great tenderness.
Another black woman, with a child, ex

claimed, as he passed along, " God bless
you, old man! I wish I could help you;
but I can't." As he looked at her, he
shed a tear of tender emotion.
With an unfaltering step, he mounted
the wagon which was to convey him to the
scaffold, seating himself beside Captain
Avis, the jailor, and Mr. Saddler, the un
dertaker, both of whom expressed their
admiration of the old man's character.
Accompanying the wagon were several
military companies, mostly cavalry. Be
ing asked, on the way, if he felt any fear,
he said, "I can endure almost anything
but parting from friends ; that is very
hard." When nearing the fatal spot, and
being inquired of as to how he would be
able to meet such a fate, he replied, "It
has been a characteristic of me, from in
fancy, not to suffer from physical fear. I
have suffered a thousand times more from
bashfulness than from fear." Those who
were near tbe old man, and scrutinized him
closely, state that he seemed to take in the
whole scene at a glance, straightening
himself up proudly, as if to set to the sol
diers an example of a soldier's courage.
The only motion he made, beyond a sway.
ing to and fro of his body, was a patting
of his knees with his hands, the same as
was noticed throughout his trial and while
he was in jail. As he came upon an emi
nence near the gallows, he cast his eye
over the beautiful landscape, and followed
the windings of the Blue Ridge mountains
in the distance. He looked up earnestly
at the sun, and sky, and all about, and
then remarked —
"This is a beautiful country. I have
not cast my eyes over it before — that is,
while passing through the field."
"Yes," was the sad response of his
friend and custodian, Captain Avis.
"You are a game man, Captain Brown,'
said Mr. Saddler.
"Yes," he said. "I was so trained up;
it was one of the lessons of my mother ;
but it is hard to part from friends, though
newly made."
" You are more cheerful than I am,
Captain Brown," remarked Mr. Saddler.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

711

" Yes, I ought to be ! " was the heroic
reply. Arrived at the field of death, he looked
at the assembled concourse, and said —
"I see no citizens here — where are
they?" " None but the troops are allowed to be
present,'' was the answer.
"That ought not to be," said he ; "citi
zens should be allowed to be present as
well as others."
Descending from the wagon, he said,
"Gentlemen, good-bye ; " and then, walk
ing firm and erect, passing through the
line of military, and close to jailors, sher
iff, and other officers, he mounted the
scaffold steps — the first man that stood on
it. Calmly and manfully he surveyed the
scene, amid the almost breathless mass of
armed soldiery that surrounded him. With
a graceful motion of his pinioned right arm,
he took the slouched hat from his head, and
carelessly cast it upon the platform by his
side. Every one within view was greatly
impressed with the dignity of his bearing ;
and men of the south were heard to say that
his courageous fortitude and insensibility
to fear filled them with amazement.
The hour having come, he said to Cap
tain Avis, " I have no words to thank you
for all your kindness to me."
His elbows and ankles were now pin
ioned, a white cap was drawn over his
eyes, and the fatal noose was adjusted
around his bared neck.
" Captain Brown," said the sheriff, "you
are not standing on the drop. Will you
come forward ? "
"I can't see — you must lead me," was
his firm answer.
The sheriff led him forward to tbe cen
ter of the drop.

"Shall I give you a handkerchief,"
asked tbe sheriff, "and let you drop it as
a signal ? "
" No ; I am ready at any time ! But
do not keep me needlessly waiting."
At last, the order was given, the rope
was cut with a hatchet, and the trap fell.
There was but one spasmodic effort of the
hands to clutch at the neck, but for nearly
five minutes the limbs jerked and quiv
ered. He seemed to retain an extraordi
nary hold on life. After the body had
dangled in the air for twenty minutes, it
was examined by the surgeons for signs of
life. They lifted up the once strong but
now powerless arms, and placed their ears
to the breast of the corpse, holding it steady
by passing an arm around it. And so the
body dangled and swung by its neck, turn
ing to this side and that, for thirty-eight
minutes, when it was cut down, and put
into a black walnut coffin. In due time,
tbe body was conveyed to his home among
tbe mountains, in North Elba, N. Y., an
eloquent eulogy being pronounced by
Wendell Phillips, at the place of burial.
Cook, Coppoc, Copeland, and Green,
Brown's companions, shared his fate De
cember 16th ; and Stevens and Hazlitt,
March 16th. The other survivors had
managed to escape.
And thus, with these sanguinary scenes
upon the scaffold, the curtain dropped
upon a tragedy which, on its announce
ment, carried terror and exasperation to
the south, and, for months, filled the whole
country with a blaze of excitement, — a
theme of wonder in every mouth, and of
heated partisan discussion, pro and con, in
legislative halls, in the pulpit, on the
political platform, and in the columns of
the universal public press.

LXXXIII.
FALL OF THE GREAT PEMBERTON MILLS IN LAW
RENCE, MASS.— 1860.

Nearly One Thousand Persons Buried in the Ruins — Multitudes, Male and Female, in Touth and
Beauty, Brought in a Moment to Agony and Death — Bursting Forth of a Sweeping Conflagration.—
Commingling of Horrible Sights and Sounds — Hair-breadth Escapes. — Three Fair and Beautiful
Corpses Tight Together. — The Calamity Instantaneous. — Sensations of the Occupants. — Two Acres
of Ruins. — Flames Suddenly Belch Forth. — Thrilling Cries, Woeful Scenes. — Efforts to Rescue the
Wounded. — Many Left to Their Fate. — Thousands of Excited Visitors. — Sympathy and Relief. — A
Room Stored with the Dead. — Wonderful Escape of a Young Woman. — Astonishing Presence of
Mind. — Female Heroism and Devotion. — Tender Girls Struggling in the Ruins. — Despair and Sui
cide. — Ladies Work the Fire Engines. — Harrowing and Piteous Appeals. — Cool Pluck of an Irish
man. — Reading the List of Victims — Touching Request of a Dying Girl. — Endurance and Resigna
tion — Account of the Avondale Colliery Disaster.

" A roar— a crash, and a sudden heave
Of every Btory from base to eave 1
The planter sniver'g in massive flakeB,
Each casement, lintel and door-poBt quakes;
Then down— down— down— down—
With thunder that echoes through all the town,
Come floor, arid ceiling, and murderous wall,
In one vast avalanche, burying all 1 "

THE RESCUE.

8f !$* f NPARALLELED in the history of catastrophes of its kind,
was the destruction of the great Pemberton Mills, in the
city of Lawrence, Mass., on the tenth of January, 1860.
On the afternoon of that day, at about ten minutes before
five o'clock, the vast and towering structure, with its looms
under full headway, and a company of nearly one thousand
operatives, suddenly fell in ruins to the ground, producing
a scene of human woe beyond the power of pen to portray,
and casting a deep gloom over the whole country.
The principal building was two hundred and eighty feet
long, eighty-four feet wide, and five stories high, with an
ell six stories high, eighty-four feet long, and thirty-seven
feet wide. The first story of the main building was used
for weaving, and contained four hundred looms. The second
story was used for carding, and the following machinery was in
operation, viz. : one hundred and seventy-six cards, twenty-eight
reeling heads, sixteen drawing frames, eight slubbers, fourteen
fly-frames, and four card grinders. In the third story were the
twisting and spinning machines, viz. : seventy-nine spinning
frames, with one hundred and sixty spindles each, and two of
Mason's mules of six hundred and eight spindles each. Tbe

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

713

fourth story was used as a carding and
spinning room, and had in it forty cards,
three reeling heads, four drawing frames,
two slubbers, nine fly frames, fourteen
Sharp and Roberts's mules, with six hun
dred and seventy-two spindles each, and
twenty drawing frames. The fifth story
was used for dressing, warping, spooling,
winding, grinding and reeling, with the
following number of machines, viz : twenty
dressers, twenty-four warpers, nineteen
winders, eight spoolers, two grinders, and
twenty-two reels. The different stories of
the ell were used for packing, finishing,
reeling, etc.
Tbe whole number of looms in the mills
was six hundred and fifty, and twenty-
nine thousand spindles were in use. When
the mill was in full operation, tbe amount
of cotton warped into cloth was sixty thou
sand pounds per week, producing one hun
dred and fifty thousand yards. The driv
ing machinery consisted of three turbine
wheels, of two hundred horse-power each.
The building was heated by steam, and
the boiler used for generating it occupied
a small building by itself. Against fire
the structure was well protected, there
being force pumps in the picker house,
which was located in the rear of the main
building, and a line of hose running from
the pumps to every room in tbe mill.
While the men, women, and children, in
numbers sufficient to constitute a large
village, were at their usual work in the
large mill where the manufacturing opera
tions were chiefly carried on, — with no
previous warning — almost in an instant —
certainly in a space of time not exceeding
one minute,— the floors of this huge five-
storied pile with one startling crack gave
way, the walls were overthrown, and stone,
bricks, timber, machinery, and this great
crowd of human beings, lay in one con
fused mass of ruins. A few hours later,
a fire broke out and raged fiercely over the
shapeless heap, and then indeed a thrill of
horror ran through the stoutest hearts, as
the thousands, working with almost super
human effort for the rescue of the unfortu
nate victims, were successively driven off

by the flames, and forced to abandon
friends, relatives, and neighbors, to their
awful fate. It was naturally supposed, at
first, that nothing could add to the sights
and sounds of horror produced by the orig
inal calamity; but when, as the night
advanced, the terrible cry of ' Fire ! fire ! '
was sounded throughout the agonizing
community, the effect was appalling. On
the first alarm being given, that the mill
had fallen, tbe announcement seemed for
a moment to paralyze every one. But
active sympathy was soon developed, and
thousands of earnest, energetic men
thronged to the spot, and began the dan
gerous work of attempting to extricate the
buried operatives from the mass of ruins,
which were spread over two acres of
ground. It being dark, huge bonfires
were kindled all around the ill-fated local
ity, to give light to the laborers in their
work. A scene of more thrilling, fearful
interest, can hardly be imagined, and
utterly fails of description ; for the shrieks
of tbe suffocating and mangled creatures,
so harrowing and heart-rending, were re
echoed by the bystanders who stood
around in thousands, and most of whom
had dear relatives or friends, helpless and
perhaps dying, within hearing, but almost
beyond hope of succor.
Every engine from the city and neigh
borhood was on the spot, and streams of
water at once flowed copiously and contin
uously, so that for a time the fire seemed
to make no headway, and there was a rea
sonable hope that it would be immediately
subdued ; but soon, in spite of every effort,
the flames began to spread with steady and
irresistible force, until the whole accumu
lation was one sea of blaze, which charred
to ashes the crushed fragments of the
building, and the mangled, screaming suf
ferers buried beneath. Prom nearly every
hole and crevice in the vast pile, — from
the top, from the sides, and in fact from
every fissure from whence a voice in the
inside could make its way, — came shrieks
for help, groans of anguish, prayers and
moanings, and in many, very many cases,
the poor sufferers could be distinctly seen,

714

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

talked to, and even reached by the band
from the outside. Many thus imprisoned
were encouraged and sustained by assur
ances of safety, and in many cases cups of
coffee could bo, and were, passed down to
those below, who, alas ! after all this near
approach to safety, saw hour after hour
pass away, until, at last, the frightful cry
of fire, and the greedy progress of the
fiamos, as, crackling and hissing, they
enveloped with fearful rapidity tbe sur
rounding remains, told them too plainly
that all hope of life was gone. This was
strikingly manifested in the following case,
and which is but one among many of a
similar character: A citizen, who risked
his own life in attempts to save the opera
tives from the burning pile, worked bis
way into an inner apartment, and, looking
through a hole in tbe wall, saw two men
and a woman walking to and fro, to ap
pearance entirely unharmed. He reached
through, and took them by the hand, and
proceeded with vigorous blows to make an
opening in the partition. A moment too
soon the flames darted up where he stood.
A flood of water poured in upon it totally
blinded him, and be rushed from the
place, warned by the engineer, and nar
rowly escaping with his life. Many had
thus to be left to their sad and inevitable
fate. As to the phenomenon of the catastro
phe, at the actual moment when- the mill
fell, one of tbe male operatives, whose life
was miraculously saved, states that he was
in the carding-room in the second story,
lighting up, it being then five or ten min
utes before five o'clock ; be had got but a
few burners lighted, when, suddenly, a
noise was heard, which sounded like a loud
thundering crash overhead, and, instantly
looking up, the shafting was seen coming
down upon the whole room. Bewildered
and terrified at such an unaccountable
spectacle, he stood nailed to the spot, and
did not seem to have power to move,
although conscious that the building was
coming down. Then he heard the over
seer shout, and tried to jump out of the
rubbish, but something struck him, pro-

HUINS OF PEMBERTON MILLS.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

715

ducing insensibility ; he did not remain so
long, but, on coming to, found himself
buried in the rubbish, and did not expect
to get out of its depths alive. All covered
over with blood from wounds in the face,
he finally crawled up and got to the top,
where a lot of ruins, hanging in a critical
position, threatened instant death to any
one who should disturb them ; he however
succeeded in working bis way through,
passing by a dead girl and two other 'man
gled bodies, before getting out.
One young woman, twenty years of age,
who was at work in the second story,
heard the crash of a portion of the build
ing, and saw portions of it tumbling down.
She immediately started in an opposite
direction, but before she reached this point
the walls were crumbling, and death
seemed inevitable the next moment. Pan
ic-stricken, she rushed to a side door, and
was just emerging to the entry, when,
suddenly, it was crushed in. She recol
lected nothing more than getting through
a window and leaping to the ground,
wounded and unconscious. Another young
woman described her sensations and expe
rience in a similar manner. Unapprised
of the fall of the building until the terri
ble reality came directly upon her, she
was at her usual work in the third story.
She only knew that the whole flooring
above her was precipitated upon that on
which she stood, accompanied by a terrific
noise. She was crushed beneath some
machinery near which she was at work,
her head being pressed against a beam,
seeming, as she described it, as if her head
would "split in two at every moment."
Her lower limbs were forced in one direc
tion, her arms in another. But one arm
could be used at all. Every second the
heavyweight appeared to be settling closer
and closer upon her. She saw nothing
hut death in prospect; and with feelings
of the most agonizing nature, she prayed
God that she might be delivered from the
impending doom. Hardly had she ceased
uttering this prayer, than the falling of a
wll in a distant portion of the mill re
leased her from the imminent and deadly

peril. With a presence of mind that
exhibited genuine heroism, she struggled
against danger and death, and in time
reached a point of safety. This was after
being in the ruins for upward of an hour.
Her condition, on escaping, was most piti
able, being hardly able to turn her body
upon her bed.
By one o'clock, there was nothing to be
seen but a broad area of black smoking
ruins. The water-works connected with
the mill were rendered useless by the
destruction of the building, still there was
a large amount of water poured upon the
fire from various sources. But though the
ruins were thus deluged with water, the
presence of cotton waste saturated with
oil, the floors rendered combustible by the
dripping oil from the machinery, and,
above all, the depth at which the fire
originated and burned, rendered it difficult
to extinguish, and so, until morning
dawned, the smoke and half-smothered
fire still rose from the funeral pile.
Scarcely had it become known that the
appalling accident had happened, and that
the material comforts of life were needed
by the victims, than evidences were given
of tbe wide-spread sympathy which the
calamity had awakened throughout the
country. Three thousand persons were
dependent on nine hundred for their sup
port, who were out of employment ; chil
dren had lost their parents, brothers and
sisters who had been dependent upon each
other had become separated, and aged and
infirm parents, who depended upon their
children, were rendered childless. All
this demanded speedy relief, and an appeal
being made by the mayor to those who
possessed the means to give, tens of thou
sands of dollars flowed in from tbe pockets
of the benevolent for the relief of the
needy. But the great subject of excite
ment and effort centered in the blackened
heap of ruins and the rescue and care of
the victims buried beneath. The city hall
having been converted into a temporary
hospital, mattresses, blankets and sheets,
bandages, cordials and medicines, were
sent in from every direction. The ladies

716

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

of the vicinity promptly contributed beds
and blankets, and the druggists supplied
profusely from the contents of their stores.
The settees were cleared from the floor,
and in their place were arranged rows of
mattresses, in close proximity on three
sides of the hall. The platform at the
head of the hall was used as a dispensary.
At half an hour past midnight, scarcely a
mattress was untenanted, and the groans
of the wounded — many of them being
youthful women of fairest form and beauty,
— mingled with the heart-rending cries of
relatives and friends. A large number of
physicians were in attendance on the suf
fering and dying, while others, exhausted
with continual watching, working and
waiting, over broken limbs and bruised
bodies, lay down in some vacant spot for a
brief rest, and then to resume their hu
mane labors.
In one corner of the hall, was a large
room which had been set apart for the
reception of the unrecognized dead. This
room was literally covered with mangled
corpses, — bodies of men, women, youth,
and children, hideously mutilated, — in just
the condition they exhibited when taken
from the ruins, being mostly naked, and
covered with blood or begrimmed with
smoke and dirt. It was, however, scarcely
possible not to envy the lot of these, thus
reposing in the calmness of death, com
pared with those near by, shattered, bleed
ing, hopeless. Some of the latter were
groaning in agony, some were wild with
pain to their last moment ; others quietly
breathed their last, or bore their sufferings
in silence. Everywhere were blood, bruises,
and broken limbs. To one unacquainted
with the scenes of the dead-house or the
hospital, the spectacle was loathsome, sick
ening, horrible.
From all the adjoining towns, and in
deed from all sections, a sympathizing
population flowed in to the afflicted city.
Each arriving train brought crowds of
anxious visitors, who gathered to gaze in
wonder upon the awful disaster, until the
bridge, the ice-bound canal, and the street
that overlooked it, were thronged with a

living mass of human beings, pressing aa
close to the ruins as the heat of the still
smoking pile would allow. Gradually, as
the ruins became cool enough, the work
men resumed the search for dead bodies,
energetically applying themselves to the
sad task, being spurred on by intense anx
iety and woe, tempered with the hope of
finding at last the precious remains sought
for. A cold drizzling rain now set in,
which finally changed to snow. Derricks
were now raised to hoist tbe heavy masses
of machinery, and from this time to the
close of the week, bodies were almost
hourly recovered and conveyed to the dead-
room. Some were found in nearly a per
fect state, and were easily recognized;
others were mutilated and disfigured, and
could only be identified by fragments of
clothing. It deserves here to be men
tioned, that when the firemen became
exhausted, a large number of ladies at
once volunteered and manned the brakes
of tbe engines, doing good service in this
capacity. The incidents of suffering, heroism,
hairbreadth escapes, and personal experi
ences of one kind and another, connected
with this fearful tragedy, would well-nigh
fill a volume. A few only can here be
given, but these will amply depicture to
the mind the diversified horrors of the
calamity. Of female courage, one instance in espe
cial will never be forgotten. At a partic
ular point, when a rope had been fixed to a
projecting timber, a call was made to the
crowd to take hold and pull with a will,
but for a few minutes, such was the dan
ger of the attempt — for the beam in fall
ing might engulf all who were near it—
the call was unheeded. Men shuddered
and drew back ; they would risk much to
aid those below, but life was sweet, and
the peril great. At this critical juncture,
a woman rushed from among the crowd,
and daring the spectators to follow, seized
the rope and attempted to mount the pile
of smouldering ruins to clear away with her
own hands. The example was enough;
not a word was said, but strong hands at

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

717

once drew her back, and then there was no
lack of force at the rope, the beam was
drawn out, and at least two sufferers re
leased through the opening thus made.
Among the sufferers in the ruins at the
time the fire broke out, was one of the
overseers, a man much beloved by all who
knew him, and whose voice was distinctly
heard while the digging was going on.
He was nearly reached when the flames
broke out. Seeing his situation, he im
plored his friends to save him quickly or
he should die, and though they struggled
to reach him, the flames swept around and
baffled every effort. Being confined, he
could do nothing to resist the fire, and as
its heat increased every moment, his hor
rible death seemed inevitable. He was
able to move one hand, and, drawing bis
knife, said he should commit suicide rather
than burn to death. His rescuers pressed
on, but all hope of aid gave out, and he
drew the knife across his throat. Soon
after, they succeeded in removing him,
still alive, to the city ball, but be expired
shortly after.
Every effort which humanity and inge
nuity could devise was put into operation.
By means of ropes, bars, and other con
trivances, some scores of persons were at
once taken out, more or less wounded, and
their lives thus fortunately preserved.
Besides those thus saved, a large number
of operatives, mostly males, who were in
the weaving-room, which was in the lower
story, managed to escape by crawling up
from that room through a couple of low
windows which were not obstructed. The
weaving-room was partially saved by a
heavy stone floor of the story above, and
many in this department were saved.
But one of the most wonderful escapes
was that of a maiden lady about forty
years old, who worked in one of the upper
rooms. She was precipitated to the ruins,
in a headlong and promiscuous manner,
with timbers, portions of the roof, bricks,
machinery, and debris generally, but,
strange to say, alighted unharmed. It is
related by a gentleman who was early on
the spot, that at one point of the ruins he

distinguished a female voice crying in dis
tress, and soon another voice answered,
" Is that you, Lizzie ? Are you hurt ? "
The reply was another groan, and a
piteous appeal to God's mercy in her
behalf ; both these girls were afterwards
rescued. Just before the flames burst
forth a young girl was released, and, in
answer to a question, stated that she was
unhurt ; it afterwards appeared, however,
that ber right arm was badly broken near
tbe wrist, but, in the excitement of the
moment and the joy of her deliverance
from a dreadful death, she was totally
unconscious of the hurt.
A poor girl, alive and fully conscious,
was dragged from the east end of the
fallen mass, with her left arm torn from
tbe socket, and her body and legs awfully
mangled. In one place the bodies of
three girls were found locked in each
other's arms, .but quite dead ; they could
not be removed without mutilating or
breaking the limbs, and, being abandoned
for a time, the flames broke out before
another attempt was made, and all three
were consumed. A tough and plucky
Irishman was taken out, unhurt, from an
entanglement of beams and rubbish which
appeared capable of producing instant
death ; his first act, after bidding a scorn
ful 'good riddance' to the tight place he
had just filled, was to feel in his pocket,
from whence be drew forth a sooty ' du
deen,' and seizing a brand from the fire,
he lit his pipe and went his way. From
another part of the ruins there was borne
tbe dead body of a lad, and following him
was carried a beautiful girl with one of her
ankles burned to a crisp, she having been
confined by one foot between two beams,
and only by the utmost exertion was the
fair creature recovered. One woman was
found with her head jammed between two
heavy beams, and pressed so that it was
not thicker than the thickness of a
hand, — a most terrible and sickening
sight. The next case was that of a
young girl confined in a narrow hole sur
rounded by broken machinery and ragged
timber and boards, who succeeded in just

718

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

squeezing through into open air, but when
she emerged from the ruins she had
scarcely an article of clothing on her
person. In addition to the narrow escapes
already described, may be related that of
a little girl who, while two thousand men
were exerting every energy in extricating
tbe survivors from their living sepulchres
and the dead from tbe rubbish which
buried them, was fortunately discovered
by an exploring party. She lay appar
ently crushed beneath a ponderous block
of iron, weighing more than a thousand
pounds, and which covered her body to
her chin. Her back was pressed against
a huge timber, one of her arms was thrust
to the elbow through a ring in a piece of
machinery, and she was completely wedged
in by heavy iron gearing. Intent only
on preserving her sweet features and ten
der form as little disfigured as possible,
the men labored carefully to remove the
block of iron without crushing her still
further. Four or five of them tugged
upon it, but could not make it stir. After
they had made several ineffectual attempts,
a stalwart and athletic man, in passing,
caught hold of it, and, with marvelous
power, aided doubtless, by the excitement
which the scene produced upon him, he
succeeded in loosening t it. The other
materials were then removed, and the
body taken out, when, what was the sur
prise and joy of the noble-hearted work
men, that they had rescued a living girl,
instead of a corpse, and, what was more,
that her injuries were not fatal, but com
paratively trifling. It proved, on examin
ation, that the heavy iron had met with
some more powerful obstruction just as it
touched and wedged her fast, and thus her
life was spared ; but, had the pressure
upon her body been only very slightly
increased, or had the least carelessness
attended the labor of releasing her, she
would have been another added to the list
of victims.
In one of the cars, on the way to
Lawrence, a returning operative, who had
shortly before left the city of mourning to

find employment elsewhere, was seated by
a gentleman who drew forth a paper con
taining a list of^ the dead and wounded so
far as was then ascertained. The opera
tive looked over the gentleman's shoulder
and perused the list. As his eye caught
sight of a name, he uttered a piteous cry
of anguish, and, grasping the paper, he en
deavored, through the fast trickling tears,
to read the name more distinctly, in which,
however, he could not succeed. " Is that
a Mrs. Clark ? " he asked, in a tremulous
tone. " It is," answered the gentleman
by his side. " Is it Annie Clark ? " pur
sued the operative. " No, sir ; " responded
the other, " it is Catherine Clark ; there
is no Annie Clark in the list." " Thank
God for that!" exclaimed the operative,
as the tears — but now of joy — anew burst
forth. " Is it a relative you were anxious
for ? " inquired a sympathizing passenger.
" Yes, sir ; " was the answer, with a sigh
of intense relief, "it is my wife; but,
thank heaven I her name is not there."
Words of hearty hope of his finding her
safe on his arrival, were freely spoken to
him. But difficult indeed would it be to
embody in the space of a few pages the
details of a catastrophe, instantaneous and
unforeseen, by which some one hundred
lives were lost, three times that number
of persons wounded, and nearly a thou
sand families deprived of their daily means
of subsistence. The deeds of heroism
on that awful night ; the sympathy aroused
in the coldest hearts ; charity melting the
most selfish ; strength nerving the feeblest
arm ; patient endurance on the part of
the wounded; quiet resignation in the
hearts of tbe mourners; — all these were
as extraordinary as the occasion which
called them forth. An appropriate type
or reflection of the spirit which actuated all
hearts were the three words, " Save Nash
first,"— the cry of little Lizzie Flint, a
bright young girl, an only daughter, who
had brought from her home in the interior
of Maine the character that belongs to
the rural homes of New England. Poor
Nash, who lay severely wounded near her,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

719

and whose brother lost bis life, was indeed
saved. The poor girl did not survive.
She died in tbe realization of ber tender
and humane wish, that another, rather
than herself, might be saved. Peace to
her sweet spirit in the world of light !
All events are due to some producing
cause, and to this fact the memorable and
disastrous catastrophe now described forms
no exception. The jury, as the result of
their protracted and painstaking inquiries,
declared that the mill fell on account of
the insufficiency and imperfection of the
material used, and the improper arrange
ment of the same, the cast-iron shoring
being particularly weak. The brick walls
were unusually thin for a mill of such
height, length and breadth ; the space of
brick wall above and below the windows
in the building was uncommonly small;
and the length of span from one support

o

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^^g^f '
LIZZIE AMIDST THE AWFUL RUINS.
to another, under the floor timbers, as
well as the distance from one floor timber
to another, was greater than in other
mills. These were the direct causes of
the disaster.
In addition to the above, there was yet
another defect, in the inner supports of
the building, which added greatly to the
insecurity. These supports consisted of
cast-iron pillars to the last degree una-
dapted to fulfill their purpose, some of
them being upon one side only an eighth
of an inch in thickness, others showed a
want of sharpness in the material at the
time of casting, and nearly all of them
exhibited a reckless disregard and inex
cusable negligence on tbe part of the
founder, in not providing a proper fasten
ing to prevent the floating of the core,
and consequently an unequal distribution
of the molten iron. Moreover, it appeared
that at the time of the delivery of these
pillars at Lawrence, and previous to their
erection, no test of their soundness was
ever ordered or applied. The straightfor
ward statement of tbe master mason
before the jury caused every heart in the
community to shudder with horror and
indignation, namely, that when the tim
bers for the upper stories came they were
too short, and orders came to put pro
jectors upon the walls to rest the timbers
upon ; he expressed his opinion at the
time, and many times afterward, not only
to the architect, but to the owners and
others, while the mill was building, that
the walls were altogether too weak for
such a structure! His warning was un
heeded, and in a few years the vast and
towering pile toppled with sudden and
fearful crash to its foundation, bringing
multitudes to misery and wailing and
death. In connection with the preceding narra
tive of agony and death, some account of
the terrible Avondale colliery disaster, in
Plymouth, Pennsylvania, in September,
1869, may here have an appropriate inser
tion. This colliery (according to the de
scription given at the time in Harper's
Weekly,) produced, when in full working
order, seven hundred tons of coal per day ;
but for three months previous to tbe first
of September, it was idle, owing to the
miners' strike. The masonry work of the
mine, running down the sides of the shaft
some twenty feet, was as strong as stone
and cement could make it. The engine-
house was firmly built; the machinery of
the very best kind ; and the breaker that
covered the engine-house, and through
which tbe broken coal was dispatched
through a long shoot to the railroad track
below, was also built in a superior ir.inner.
On the morning of September 6th, a fire
broke out, originating, as it appeared, in
the furnace. A spark ignited the dry
720

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

scantling adjacent; the flames leaped for
ward to the bottom of the shaft, caught
the wood-work inside, climbed to the top,
and involved the coal-breaker and the sur
rounding buildings. Whatever fresh air
there was in the mine went to feed the
fierce flame, while the sulphurous gases,
having no longer an outlet, were forced
back into the chambers and galleries of
the colliery. As the buildings at tbe top
of the shaft were consumed, their ruins
fell down and obstructed the only means
of entrance to or of egress from the mine.
But what had become of the miners ? In
the agonies of fear and suspense, their
families were congregated about the open
ing in great numbers ; and miners from
all parts of the region rapidly arrived, to
rescue their comrades, if possible. It
was not until nine o'clock on the morning
of the 7th, that any encouraging prepara
tions for a descent could be made, and still
the gas precluded any effective explora
tion until the 8th. Early on that day,
two of the dead were found in the stable
of the mine ; and, a few hours later, a
large number of miners were found dead
on the east side of the plane. The next
party which descended reported that they
went up the plane, just beyond which a
barrier was met, consisting of coal 'culm'
and clothing. This was cleared away,
and, a little further on, a similar barrier
was found to have been arranged by the

unfortunate inmates. One man was found
dead outside of the barricade. Upon the
removal of this second barrier, a pile of
dead miners was discovered. These were
found in all conceivable attitudes. Fath
ers had died embracing their children,
and comrades locked in one another's arms,
Mr. Hughes, the superintendent, was
found sitting in a conspicuous position.
It seemed as if, when the miners found
there was no hope of escape or of rescue,
they had all assembled at the front, from
every recess of the mine. Their foreman,
Hughes, was there, and to him they all
looked for counsel. He seized upon the
one resource that was left. If the fresh
air could be imprisoned and a -barrier
built against the invading gases*— then,
perhaps, the men could live until help
came. Resolutely, under the orders of
their captain, they fell to work and built
the first barricade. There sat Hughes,
as he was afterward found, giving instruc
tions to the men and boys. But all in
vain. At last, exhausted by their work,
and overcome by the deadly enemy that
would not be repulsed, they fainted at
their posts, and died. As the bodies were
brought to tbe top of the shaft, their
faces were cleansed, and they were thus
prepared for the recognition of their
friends. By noon, on the 9th, one hun
dred and eight bodies had been exhumed,
after which no more were found.

LXXXIV.
GRAND EMBASSY FROM THE EMPIRE OF JAPAN, WITH
A TREATY OF PEACE AND COMMERCE, TO THE
UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT— 1860.

First Ambassadors Ever Sent from that Ancient Country to a Foreign Land. — Their Official Reception
by President Buchanan, and Tour of Observation to the Chief Cities.— Public Interest Excited by
this Extraordinary Mission. — Their Oriental Costume, Manners, Ceremonies, etc. — Japanese Distinc
tion Shown to Americans — Character of tlie Embassy. — Headed by Eminent Princes. — Numerous and
Brilliant Suite. — Arrival at Washington. — Procession to the Hotel. — Mo9t Curious Spectacle. — How
the Treaty was Carried. — Ceremonies at the White House. — Salutations and Speeches — Impressive
International Scene — Japanese Diplomacy. — Delivering the Tycoon's Letter. — Personal Appearance
of the Ambassadors. — President Buchanan's Opinion. — Humors and Drolleries. — " Tommy," the
Ladies' Pet. — Gallantry to Miss Lane. — The Embassy at the Navy Yard. — Astonishment Expressed
by Them. — Adieu to the President — America's Message to the Emperor.

" Henceforth, the intercourse of friendship shall he held between both countries, and benevolent feelings shall be cultivated more and
more, and never altered."— Letter of the tvcoon to the President.

|OJSTTRARY to all precedent in
the history of Japan, and its
dealings with tbe family of na
tions, the rulers of that country
sent an official embassy to the
government of the United States,
in the spring of 1860, charged
with the duty of presenting for
final ratification a treaty of amity
and commerce between the two
nations, — such as had never be
fore been made by the Japanese
court with any other people, —
and to express to the president
the emperor's profound respect for him, and for the great republic of which he was the
elected chief.
It was justly regarded as something flattering to the national pride of Americans,
that this country should be the first to receive the distinction of an embassy from that
ancient and almost unknown people, and that a republican government of the freest
form should have been selected for such an honor by a nation barred in by the prejudice
of centuries against all but the most despotic rule ; and the curiosity which everywhere
prevailed to behold men from a region so distant, so long shut out from the rest of the
46

JAPANESE BOX CONTAINING THE TREATY.

722

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

world, and now, for the first time, not only
admitting the visits of other nations, but
themselves undertaking a long and fatigu
ing voyage to visit strangers in the utter
most end of the earth, was certainly natural.
The embassy consisted of two principal
ambassadors, princes of the highest rank
among the nobility of tbe empire, and two
associates, — nobles of nearly equal rank.
These four were of the emperor's council,
and were accompanied by a suite of sixteen
officers, together with fifty-three servants.
Arriving at Honolulu, in the United
States ship Powhatan, Commodore Tat
nall, from Japan, they proceeded thence to
San Francisco, where they arrived March
27, 1860, in good health and spirits. A
grand public reception was given them by
the city, the chief dignitaries of the em
bassy being magnificently dressed in em
broidered silk robes, and each wore a
sword of beautiful workmanship.
In due time, the embassy reached Wash
ington, the capital of the nation, and the
special place of their official destination.
Here they were amply and elegantly ac
commodated at Willard's Hotel, many of
the apartments being newly furnished for
the occasion. A fine military and naval
detachment performed escort duty, as, in
regular procession, the high officials and
their numerous retinue moved from the
wharf to the hotel. The Nourimon, a
black lacquered frame, square in shape,
and in size and roof very much resembling ,
a dog-kennel, in which was fixed the treaty
box, hidden from the public eye by a loose
cover of red oil-cloth, preceded the first
ambassador, in the line of procession, and
was borne by two of the men belonging to
tbe navy yard.
General Cass, secretary of state, received
the embassy on Wednesday, May 17th,
and made a short speech of welcome. The
next day was appointed for the grand cer
emonial of their presentation to the presi
dent of the United States, at the executive
mansion. The accounts given in the Washington
newspapers, of this memorable proceeding,
state that long before the time indicated

for the passage of the procession from the
quarters of the embassy to the president's
bouse, the neighborhood was filled with a
dense multitude, intent on witnessing a
spectacle so unprecedented. The United
States marines, ordnance guards, and ma
rine band, were in attendance to do the
honors of escort. True to the time they
had appointed, the Japanese officials com
menced leaving their hotel at half-past
eleven o'clock, and as soon as they were
seated in the carriages drawn up to convey
them, the procession moved forward to the
presidential mansion. Each carriage bore
an officer of the embassy in full ceremo
nial costume, and, between every two car
riages, from two to four Japanese guards,
armed with swords, not drawn, marched
on foot, one of them carrying aloft a small
ensign in Japanese fashion, on a pole
about twelve feet high.
Occupying the first carriage, was an
officer arrayed in a loose slate-colored gown
of state, of a general form like the pulpit
gown worn by the Episcopal clergy, with
huge sleeves stiffly extending right and
left, the texture having a brocade-like
appearance. The lower dress consisted of
a pair of trousers, very wide and fuU, and
of the same material. On the crown of
the head, immediately over the tonsure,
extending from the1 forehead to the crown,
was worn an ornament,; shaped like a band
of three or four inches wide and eighteen
inches long, beitt in the middle, and the
ends tied, but not close together. Nearly
all the ambassadors wore this distinction,
but in some the bend stood forward, in
others backward. '
After: tbe official in the slate-colored
dress, came one in a rich green brocade;
next one in light green ; then one in yel
low; next a dark slate, and another in
yellow or orange, a third in green, and two
riding with Mr. Portman, the interpreter,
both arrayed in blue. One little official,
in a skirt richly embroidered with pink
and gold, attracted considerable attention.
On arriving at the doorway of the exec
utive mansion, the Japanese guards took
the advance and distributed themselves in

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

723

724

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

a double line, between which the ambassa
dors and superior officers passed into the
interior of the building. Here they re
mained about ten minutes, until the cen
tral folding-doors of the great East room
were thrown open, when the oriental
strangers found themselves in the presence
of a brilliant throng of ladies and gentle
men, the latter comprising the president
and his cabinet officers, senators, members
of the house of representatives, and officers
of the army and navy, all in full dress, and
the whole scene being most striking and
impressive. After every arrangement had been con
summated for the august interview, the
Japanese princes charged with the custody
of the treaty, after advancing a few paces,
bowed reverentially ; then took a few more
steps, and bowed again, with rigid formal
ity ; and, having bowed once more as they
approached the president, they then stood
fast. The caps, or ornaments, which they
wore upon their heads, they retained
throughout the ceremonies. The ambas
sador in chief, who stood in the center,
now read from a paper which he held in
his hand, his speech, or official address, to
the president. It was read with rather a
strong nasal intonation, indicating earnest
ness rather than eloquence. This speech
was interpreted as follows :
"His majesty, the Tycoon, has com
manded us that we respectfully express to
bis majesty the President of the United
States, in his name as follows : ' Desiring
to establish on a firm and lasting founda
tion the relations of peace and commerce
so happily existing between the two coun
tries that lately the plenipotentiaries of
both countries have negotiated and con
cluded a treaty, he has now ordered us to
exchange the ratification of the treaty in
your principal city of Washington. Hence
forth the friendly relations shall be held
more and more lasting; and he is very'
happy to have your friendly feeling, and
pleased that you have brought us to the
United States, and will send us to Japan,
in your men-of-war."
When the ambassador concluded this

address, a square red sort of box or bundle
was, with some delay, unfolded, and its
contents presented ceremoniously and with
an official air to the president, containing
a letter to the latter from the Tycoon, or
chief magistrate of Japan, and which the
president immediately handed to Mr. Cass,
secretary of state, who stood on his left hand.
Having done this, the ambassador re
tired, explaining that it would not comport
with tbe etiquette of his country that he
should be present while the letter was
read, and that he must report the delivery
of the letter to "the commissioner," — an
officer who remained at the door, outside.
After a short delay, the princes, again
entering as at first, and having, as they
advanced, stopped three times to how
themselves, presented to the president
their letters of credence, which were in
like manner passed over to the secretary of
state. The president now commenced to
read, in a very distinct and audible voice,
his official address to the ambassadors, in
tbe words following :
" I give you a cordial welcome as repre
sentatives of his imperial majesty, the
Tycoon of Japan, to tbe American gov
ernment. We are all much gratified that
the first embassy which your great empire
has ever accredited to any foreign power
has been sent to the United States.
I trust that this will be the harbinger of
perpetual peace and friendship between
the two countries. The ratifications you
are about to exchange with the secretary
of state cannot fail to be productive of
benefits and blessings to the people of both
Japan and tbe United States.
I can say for myself, and promise for
my successors, that it shall be carried into
execution in a faithful and friendly spirit,
so as to secure to the countries all the
advantages they may justly expect from
the happy auspices under which it has
been negotiated and ratified.
I rejoice that you are pleased with the
kind treatment which you have received
on board of our vessels of war whilst on
your passage to this country. You shall be
sent back in the same manner to 3'our

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

725

native land, under tbe protection of tbe
American flag.
Meanwhile, during your residence
amongst us, which I hope may be pro
longed so as to enable you to visit different
portions .of our country, we shall be happy
to extend to you all the hospitality and
kindness eminently due to the great and
friendly sovereign whom you so worthily
represent," The tone and language of the president
seemed to be listened to by bis bowing
auditors with great satisfaction, and espe
cially the promise that the embassy should
be returned to Japan at the expense of the
United States government, and under the
protection of the American flag.
The princes retired, as before, to report
what had been done and said, to " the
commissioner ; " but soon returned, and
were then introduced successively to each
member of the cabinet, who all shook
hands with them. Next came General
Scott, who made them one of his most gra
cious bows, but before whose imposing
stature the ambassadors seemed almost
extinguished. The vice-president of the
United States was then called for, but was
not in presence. The speaker of the
house of representatives was next sum
moned, and, with difficulty, and not a little
delay, oared his way through the sea of
ladies' bonnets and officers' epaulettes
which tossed and billowed between him
and the high place of honor. Finally,
under the surveillance of Captain Dupont,
the illustrious strangers, after a profound
adieu to the president, which he returned
with a bow as low, retired from the East
room, and made their way through ranks
of their kneeling subordinates to another
room, where they prepared for their re
turn to their quarters.
The following is a translation of the
letter of the Ty-coon to the president,
which was delivered by the ambassadors :
"To His Majesty the President of the
United States of America, I express with
respect: Lately the governor of Simoda
Insooye Sinano No-Kami and the Metske
Wasi Hego No-Kami had negotiated and

decided with Townsend Harris, the minis
ter plenipotentiary of your country, an
affair of amity and commerce, and con
cluded previously the treaty in the city of
Yeddo. And now the ratification of the
treaty is sent with the commissioner of
foreign affairs, Simmi Boojsen No-Kami
and Mooragaki Awajsi No-Kami, to ex
change the mutual treaty. It proceeds
from a particular importance of affairs
and a perfectly amicable feeling. Hence
forth, the intercourse of friendship shall
be held between both countries, and benev
olent feelings shall be cultivated more and
more, and never altered. Because the
now deputed three subjects are those
whom I have chosen and confided in for
the present post, I desire you to grant
them your consideration, charity, and
respect. Herewith I desire you to spread
my sincere wish for friendly relations, and
also I have the honor to congratulate you on
the security and welfare of your country."
The first ambassador was a man of
small frame, with a stoop across the shoul
ders ; he was about five feet five in height,
and thirty-five in years, bad a long face
and a peculiar nose — being too thin to be
called Jewish, and too even to be styled
Roman. The second ambassador looked
twenty years older than the first. The
countenance of the first indicated dignity
beyond all affectation, and the highest
refinement. The others were of less dis
tinguished mien, but all possessed an
agreeable expression. They were all
thick-skinned and dark in complexion, the
general color being that of a bamboo
walking-cane. Tbe hair was shaved from
all parts of tbe bead excepting the sides
and back, from which it was gathered in
long bands to the crown, and there fast
ened with a white string, leaving a lock
three or four inches long, stiffened with
oil, and brought forward to the forehead.
They wore silk or crape undercoats, of
various hues, looser robes of the same
material, and mostly blue, being thrown
and folded over them. In their belts of
crape, they wore two swords, one short
(the barrikarri sword, which no plebian

726

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776— 1876.

can make use of), the other longer. These
weapons are of a finer steel than is else
where made, and were borne in neatly-
wrought scabbards of thick skin, inlaid
with ornaments of gold and jewels. Their
trousers were very wide and short, de
scending only to within five or six inches
of the ground, and were made of silk, some
of them being covered with beautifully
embroidered figures of birds and flowers.
These trousers were held up by a flat
braid resting in the small of the back, and
around which the crape belt passed. Upon
their feet were white cloth coverings, half
sock, half gaiter, closely fitting, and fast
ened by cords. Their sandals were of
straw, and composed of a small, flat matting
for the foot, and two cords to keep it in its
place. Another article, almost inseparable
from the dress, — the pipe, — was carried in
the back part of tbe belt, and was brought
into very frequent, though not long sus
tained, use, three whiffs being the extent
of Japanese indulgence in the weed. The
princes, and most of tbe higher officers,
wore watches purchased from the Dutch.
For pockets, they used a part of their
flowing sleeves and the front of their
robes above the belt, the customary occu
pation of which by goodly-sized packages
gave the wearers a protuberant appearance
quite unaccountable at first sight. The
dresses of the officers of lower grade were
similarly fashioned, but not so rich in text
ure or color. Their coats were all marked
with the stamp of the particular prince
whom they served.
President Buchanan extended the cour
tesies of the nation to the distinguished
strangers in a manner befitting bis high
station, nor was he an unappreciating
observer of their manners and peculiarities.
"They never speak to me," he humor
ously said, " without calling me 'Emperor'
and 'His Majesty,' and are the most par
ticular people about what they should do.
Everything was written down for them,
stating the course they were to take, the
number of bows they were to make, and
all that, before they left Japan. They
can't understand me at all. They were

here in front, to hear the band, on Satur
day. Well, I went down the steps to
speak to some of my friends that I saw
and they couldn't understand that at all.
To think that I — 'Emperor of the United
States ' — should go down among and shake
hands with the people, astonished them
wonderfully. Oh, no ! they couldn't un
derstand that, it was so unlike any thing
in their own country. They are the
queerest people to deal with possible;
there's no getting anything out of them,
they're so close about everything. Ah !
these Japanese ; they're the most curious
people I ever saw. They take notes of
every incident. They've got down a long
description of how I looked when they had
the reception, and every matter they've
seen — nothing escapes them. They're
always sketching and taking notes of
things. They're very proud, too, I can
see ; they bow very low, but they won't do
more than is prescribed for them in their
instructions." The observations of the
president, on these points, accorded pre
cisely with tbe views expressed by others.
Tbe interest manifested by the public in
the appearance and movements of the
Japanese was a source of continued grati
fication to the oriental visitors ; they ap
peared pleased with the motley crowds
that assembled under their windows, pre
senting to them quite frequently their
smiling countenances, — sometimes amus
ing themselves, also, by throwing their
native coin into the street, to be scrambled
for. Large numbers of ladies and gentle
men paid their respects to them, and
begged a card written in Japanese charac
ters, which were exhibited, in connection
with the singular coin, as trophies and
mementos of this memorable occasion.
The Japanese were particular to inquire
the occupation of their visitors, their salary,
whether married, and numerous other ques
tions, all of which were written on their
note-books. With the ladies they were less
particular. They smiled upon them most
benignly, and were profuse in their admi
ration, as they were minute in their exam
ination of their jewelry. The piano was

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

727

a special object of curiosity ; the source '
whence such beautiful harmonies proceeded
was a profound mystery to them, but they
never seemed to tire of the instrument.
One of the most popular members of the
embassy was Tataiesi Owasjero, the young
est of the interpreters, and called by his
American friends " Tommy." He was a
particular favorite with the ladies. When
fans were handed to him for his autograph,
he wrote upon them, "I like American lady
very much; I want to marry and live
here with pletty lady " — (' pletty ' being an
emendation of his own upon 'pretty.')
Moreover, the sentiments of Tommy ap
peared to be liberally reciprocated. He

which he persisted in calling 'Poppy Goes
the Weasel,' — thinking the extra syllable
rather a good thing. He also extended
his American acquirements in a less praise
worthy direction, — getting to swear after a
curious manner, and, when over-excited,
mingling undue profanity with his conver
sation, but with no notion of the impro
priety he was committing. A beautiful
little girl, six or seven years old, was car
ried by Mayor Berret to see the Japanese.
Tommy directly assumed a deep interest
in her. He explained to her all sorts of
Japanese notions, and for once repressed
his boisterous instincts. He kept calling
all his companions to look at the pretty

AMBASSADORS SIMMI BOOJSEN NOKAMI AND MOORAGAKI AWAJSI NOKAMI.

was a thorough pet. Bevies of maidens
gazed beneficently upon him all day, and
until late in the evening, and extended to
him unreluctant hands. Matrons, too,
proffered him attentions ; but, with keen
discrimination, he was generally taken
with a fit of business when the smiles that
greeted him were not the smiles of youth
ful beauty. He soon learned to sing and
whistle — a great acquisition, since the
Japanese are not a singing people, and
have but few musical instruments. Among
the tunes which he mastered were ' Hail
Columbia,' and 'Pop Goes the Weasel,'

stranger, and when she was about going
away, asked : " Is it permitted here to kiss
a little girl so young as that ? " — adding
that in Japan it was considered exactly
the correct thing to do.
On the occasion of the embassy visiting,
in a social way, the president's grounds,
Miss Lane, the president's niece, exhibited
some curiosity to examine the blade of
Ogoori Bungo-No-Kami's sword. No
sooner did that official comprehend tbe
desire of the lady to unsheath bis catanna
(the name of the weapon,) than he smiled
most graciously, and said in Japanese,

728

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

"Take it, my lady," at the same time
handing it to her most gracefully. She,
upon this, drew the glittering blade from
its scabbard — half wood, half leather, with
an inlaying of silver, — and eyed it woman
like and closely, and then returning it to
its sheath, handed it back to its owner,
who took it with evident pleasure that the
thing of his honor and defense should have
excited interest on the part of one so fair.
Visiting the navy yard, they were aston
ished at beholding the forging of a main
stem of a large anchor. They then pro
ceeded to the steam boiler department, and
were evidently delighted with a large new
boiler destined for the steamer Pensacola,
as they examined it minutely. In the
punching establishment, the mode of drill
ing amused them very much, as did also
the explosion of a large mass of powder, in
the shape of signal lights, as used in tbe
navy. The extending of an immense
chain, by hydraulic pressure, greatly ex
cited their curiosity.
After a tour through different portions
of the country, including visits to the
principal cities, where they were the recip
ients of the most lavish and magnificent
hospitalities, they had their final ceremo
nial audience with President Buchanan, in
Washington. On this occasion, the first
ambassador read, quite in a whisper, the
following words of farewell, as repeated by
the interpreter :
" The exchange of the ratification of the
treaty having taken place, and the time of
our departure having arrived, we have
come to take leave of your excellency, and
to wish you continued health and prosper
ity. We may be allowed to-day to tender
your excellency our heart-felt thanks for
your friendly feelings on our behalf, and
for the very kind treatment we have met
with in Wasbington.
It has been a source of gratification to
us to visit several government institutions,
where we have seen many things in which
we have felt much interest. Of all this,
and of our journey home in the Niagara, a
full account will be submitted by us, on
our return, to the Tycoon, who will be

greatly pleased by it, and who will always
endeavor to strengthen and to increase the
friendly relations so happily established
between the two countries."
To the speech of the ambassador, the
president replied as follows :
" The arrival of these distinguished
commissioners from the Tycoon has been
a very propitious and agreeable event in
my administration. It is an historical
event, which, I trust, will unite the two
nations together in bonds of friendship
through all time.
The conduct of the commissioners has
met my entire approbation, and the Ty
coon could not have selected out of all his
dominions, any representatives who could
have more conciliated the good-will of the
government of the United States. I have
caused the secretary of state to prepare a
letter of re-credence — a letter from under
my own hand — to the Tycoon, stating my
opinion of the manner in which they have
performed their business; and a copy of
that letter will be placed in their hands
before their departure.
I wish you a very agreeable time during
the remainder of your residence in the
United States, and a safe and happy return
to your own country, under the flag of the
American Union.
I desire, for myself, to present to each
of the commissioners a gold medal, struck
at the mint, in commemoration of their
arrival and services in this country.
There have been several presents pre
pared for his imperial majesty the Tycoon,
which will be sent to your lodgings in the
course of the day."
The embassy left the United States on
the first of July, in the magnificent ship-
of-war Niagara, carrying with them, in
addition to the treaty by which American
commercial privileges in Japan were much
extended, a large number of valuable gifts
from our government, and the remem
brance of a visit in every respect happy
and auspicious. The results of the mission
were in the highest degree satisfactory to
both governments, and naturally excited
much interest on the part of other nations.

LXXXV.
ARRIVAL 'AND EXHIBITION, IN NEW YORK, OF THE
IRON STEAMSHIP GREAT EASTERN.— 1860.

The Largest and Most Extraordinary Vessel ever Constructed. — Burden, Twenty Thousand Tons;
Length, Six Hundred and Eighty Feet. — Tens of Thousands of Visitors from all Parts of the
Union.— Admiration of Her Majestic Proportions, Ease of Movement, and Her Splendid and
Powerful Machinery. — Matchless Triumph of Human Genius and Skill. — " Wonders of the World,"
So Called. — Modern Achievements Pre-eminent. — Marvels of Steam Application. — First
Crossing of the Atlantic. — Voyage of the Savannah in 1818. — Curiosity and Wonder Excited.
—Visited by Crowned Heads. — Most Peculiar Reminiscences. — Building the Great Western. — First
Regular Ocean Steamer. — Her Complete Success. — Growth of Ocean Steam Transit. — Conception
of the Great Eastern. — Her Nautical Peculiarities — Architectural Perfection. — Superb Appointments
Throughout. — Working Power, Eight Thousand Horses. — Ship's Weight, Twelve Thousand Tons. —
Rated for Four Thousand Passengers. — Appearance in New York Harbor. — Salutes, Escorts, etc. —
Greeted by Dense Throngs.

11 The greatest conquest of intellect over Inanimate matter and the blind forcee of nature, that has ever been achieved by the human.
!."-8ci ENT1FIG AUUR1CAN, AUGUST 4, I860.

:0NDEBS of the World" was the title of a volume which, in days gone by,
was eagerly sought by readers of both sexes and of almost every age, its contents excit
ing a degree of interest and admiration which, at this period, seems well-nigh fabulous.
The "wonders" therein enumerated and described were seven, all of which pertained
to the land of the orient and to the skill and craft of the ancients. They were as fol
lows: Krst, the Egyptian Pyramids ; the largest of these being nearly seven hundred feet
square and five hundred feet high, and its base covering eleven acres. Second, the
Mausoleum, erected to Mausolus, a king of Caria, by his widow, Artemisia ; it was
sixty-three feet long and thirty-five feet high. Third, the Temple of Diana, at Ephesns.

730

OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

This was four hundred and twenty-five feet
long and two hundred and twenty feet
broad. Fourth, the Walls and Hanging Gar
dens of Babylon; said to have been walls
eighty-seven feet thick, three hundred and
fifty feet high, and sixty miles long.
Fifth, the Colossus of Rhodes. This
was a brazen statue of Apollo, one hundred
and five feet high, standing at the mouth
of the harbor of Rhodes.
Sixth, the Statue of Jupiter Olympus,
at Athens ; it was made of ivory and gold,
and was wonderful for its beauty rather
than for its size.
Seventh, the Pharos of Ptolemy Phila-
delphus. This was a light-house, five hun
dred feet high, on the island of Pharos, at
Alexandria, in Egypt. A fire of wood was
kept burning on its summit during the
night, to guide ships to the harbor.
How much greater the wonders of mod
ern times ! Pre-eminently is this true of
those marvelous discoveries and inventions
which pertain to the application of steam
to locomotion on land and water — the sub
ject of the present article, the construction
of the Great Eastern and its memorable
voyage to New York, furnishing the most
magnificent illustration of the latter.
¦ It is an interesting fact, that, as early as
1818, American enterprise had inaugurated
ocean steam navigation, — at least to such
an extent as to demonstrate its practica
bility. This was the ship Savannah, of
about three hundred tons, built in New
York, from which place she sailed for
Savannah, where she was owned, in March,
1819. The trial trip was highly success
ful. The vessel then proceeded to Charles
ton, and after being lionized there for a
short time, took James Monroe, then pres
ident of the United States, to Savannah.
On the 26th of May, she sailed direct for
Liverpool, making the passage in twenty-
two days, partly by steam and partly by
sails. She was commanded by Capt. Ste
vens Sogers.
Several amusing incidents occurred in
connection with this voyage of the Savan
nah, one or two of which, as related in the

columns of a New York paper, will cer
tainly bear repetition. It appears that
when the ship was approaching Cape Clear
under steam, she was discovered by the
officers of the telegraph or signal station,
and was reported to the admiral in com
mand at Cork, as a ship on fire. The
admiral at once dispatched a fast cutter,
well manned, to her relief ; but great was
their wonder at their total inability, under
all sail and with a good breeze, to come up
with "a ship under bare poles." After
several shots had been fired from the
cutter, the engine of the ship was stopped
and the cutter permitted to approach, when
her officers were invited on board to exam
ine and admire tbe new invention. Soon
after dropping her anchor in the harbor of
Liverpool, a boat, manned with sailors in
naval uniform, commanded by a lieuten
ant, came alongside, and the officer, in a
tone more authoritative than pleasing,
demanded of the first man he saw —
" Where is your master ? "
" I have no master," replied the Ameri
can. " Where is your captain, then, sir ? "
" He is below, sir," was the reply.
Captain Rogers asked the Englishman
what he wanted. The officer replied, " My
commander demands to know by what
authority you wear that pennant, sir ? " —
pointing with llis sword to a coach-whip
pennant flying at the main-mast head. To
this tbe captain replied —
"By the authority of my government,
which is republican and permits me to do
so." The officer then remarked that his com
mander considered it as an insult to him,
and, commanding the American to haul
down the pennant, intimated that, if it was
not quickly done, he would be supplied
with help. This was a little too harsh for
Yankee spirit to endure, and Rogers in
stantly gave the order to haul down the
coach-whip, and supply its place with a
broad blue pennant, such as were worn by
the commanders of squadrons in the Amer
ican navy, and ranking with the highest
grade in that of the British, and then, in

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

731

a loud tone of voice — so that he might be
heard by the English — be directed the
engineer to get the hot-water pipes ready.
This order had the desired effect, although
there was no such apparatus on board, and
the gallant lieutenant and bis crew pulled
for dear life. The hot-water jeers, which
were subsequently leveled at tliese brave
specimens of the British navy, caused
them to start upon an early cruise.
In Liverpool, the Savannah attracted
great attention on tbe part of the authori
ties and citizens, and, as her fame spread
to London, the crown officers, noblemen,
and many leading merchants, visited her.
The officers were very anxious to ascertain
her speed, her errand, and her destination.
It was suspected by some that her design
was to rescue Napoleon Bonaparte, then a
prisoner at St. Helena. She was there
fore carefully watched by the British gov
ernment, and ships of war were stationed
at certain points for that purpose.
Proceeding to Copenhagen, the Savan
nah excited great manifestations of wonder
and curiosity. On arriving at Stockholm,
she was visited by the royal family, minis
ters of state, and naval officers, who, by
invitation, dined on board, and took an
excursion among the neighboring islands,
with which they were delighted, so easy,
rapid, and strange, were tbe movements of
the vessel.
The Savannah next proceeded to St.
Petersburg, where she was visited by the
entire court, who tested her qualities by a
trip to Cronstadt. So well pleased was
the emperor, that the officers were treated
with marked attention. They were in
vited to be present at a review of eighty
thousand troops by the emperor in person ;
and a frigate of the largest class was
launched on the "Camels," and taken
down to Cronstadt, as an exhibition of the
progress of the arts in Eussia. The em
peror also solicited Captain Eogers to
remain in the Eussian seas with his
steamer, offering him the protection of the
government and the exclusive navigation1
of the Black and Baltic seasffor a number
of years.

From St. Petersburg, tbe Savannah
sailed for Arendal, in Norway, and thence
to Savannah, making the passage in
twenty-five days, thus ending the first
voyage ever made across the Atlantic by
the aid of steam. But, though the practi
cability of trans-oceanic steam navigation
was, in effect, assured by this trip, — as
well as by the steam voyages of the Cura-
coa, which, in 1829, made two trips be
tween Holland and the West Indies, — sails
were depended upon, to a considerable
extent, by both vessels. The first perfect
realization of this marvelous idea was not
until some years later. The first keel laid
expressly for an Atlantic steamship was
that of the Great Western, of Bristol,
England, which, in April, 1838, crossed to
New York, and returned in May. She
was preceded, at an interval of three days,
by the Sirius, of Liverpool, a vessel not
built for but adapted to this service. Each
performed, without supplies, above three
thousand miles, at an average rate of two
hundred and ten miles a day.
But, without going into a history of the
splendid lines of trans-atlantic steamers
which followed the auspicious inauguration
above described, it may be said that the
most magnificent conception and achieve
ment, the great wonder of modern times,
in oceanic navigation, is to be found in tbe
construction and performances of the
steamship Great Eastern, the joint produc
tion of Mr. Scott Eussell and Mr. Brunei,
of England.
A brief description of this most stupen
dous and marvelous of steamships will here
be given, and then an account of that
memorable event — her voyage across the
Atlantic, and arrival and exhibition in
this country, which is the design of this
article. With one or two exceptions, this mam
moth ship is (the description here given
applies to the time when the Great Brit
ain was approaching completion) an ex
tended copy merely of all other iron
steamers built on the wave-line principle.
The most important of the exceptions
alluded to is the cellular construction of

732

OUE FIEST CENTUEY— 1776-1876.

the upper deck and the lower part of the
hull, up to the water-line, or about thirty
feet from her bottom, which is as flat as
the floor of a room. This system, while it
gives great buoyancy to the hull, increases
her strength enormously, and thus enables
her to resist almost any amount of outside
pressure. Again, two walls of iron, about
sixty feet high, divide tbe vessel longitu
dinally into three parts — tbe inner con
taining the boilers, the engine rooms, and
the saloons, rising one above the other, and
the lateral divisions the coal bunkers, and,
above them, the side cabins and berths.
The paddle-wheels are fifty-six feet in
diameter, and their weight one hundred
and eighty-five tons. Tbe engines for the
paddle-wheels are oscillating engines, of
one thousand nominal horse-power, with
four cylinders, the weight of each cylinder,
including piston and piston-rod, being
thirty-eight tons. There are four boilers
for the paddle-engine, seventeen feet nine
inches long, seventeen feet six inches wide,
thirteen feet nine inches high, and each
weighing about fifty tons, and containing
forty tons of water. The screw propeller,
which is twenty-four feet in diameter, and
forty-four feet pitch, is by far the largest
ever made. Its four fans, which were cast
separately, and afterwards fitted into a
large cast-iron boss, were compared to the
blade bones of some huge animal of the
pre-Adamite world. The weight of the
screw is thirty-six tons. The propeller
shaft, for moving the screw itself, is one
hundred and sixty feet long, and weighs
sixty tons ; the after-length of this shaft
is forty-seven feet long, and weighs thirty-
five tons.
The screw engines are horizontal direct-
acting, and of sixteen hundred nominal
horse-power. They are four in number,
and are the largest ever made for marine
purposes. The combined screw engines
work up to an indicator-power of four
thousand five hundred horses of thirty-
three thousand pounds, when working at
forty-five strokes a minute, with steam in
the boiler at fifteen pounds, and the expan
sion valve cutting off at one-third of tbe

stroke. They are, however, made to work
smoothly, either at forty strokes per min
ute, with steam at twenty-five pounds, with
out expansion or at fifty-five strokes per
minute, with the expansion cutting off
at one-fourth of the stroke. Under these
circumstances, they will be working at the
tremendous power of six thousand five
hundred horses.
There are six masts, five of them iron,
the after-mast wood. The standing rig
ging is seven and a half inch wire rope,
except for the sixth mast, which is hemp
rope. There is not a particle of iron about
this mast, it being intended for the posi
tion of the compass.
In the matter of accommodations, the
Great Eastern is designed to carry eight
hundred first-class, two thousand second-
class, and one thousand two hundred third-
class passengers, independently of the
ship's complement, making a total of four
thousand guests. For the convenience of
these, there are whole streets and squares
of apartments. The first thing that ar
rests the attention, on descending into the
saloons, is the handsome and roomy en
trances and the spacious stairs. The first-
class saloons and sleeping-cabins are in the
fore-part of the center of the vessel, the
second class abaft them, and the third
class still further aft. The largest saloon
is nearly one hundred feet long, thirty-six
feet wide, and thirteen feet high. Above
it are two other saloons, one above sixty
feet long, and a smaller one, about twenty-
four feet long, — the latter is a ladies' cabin.
The sleeping-cabins are about fourteen feet
long by seven or eight feet wide, and seven
feet four inches high. There are also six
other saloons, with their different sleeping
cabins, — the total length thus occupied hy
the cabins being more than three hundred
feet. Having been thoroughly tested in re
spect to her sea-going qualities, the mam
moth ship was advertised to the travel
ing public in a poster only sixteen
inches long, and of the following modest
tenor :
" Steam communication from Southamp-

GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS.

733

ton to New York. The steamship
" Great Eastern," 18,915 tons register,
J. Vine Hall, commander, will be dis
patched to New York on Saturday, June
9, 1860." Then followed a schedule of
prices for passengers, luggage, freight,
etc. Some delay attended the carrying out
of the programme for her departure for
the western world, but when, at last,
that event took place, it was witnessed
by tens of thousands of enthusiastic
spectators covering every available spot,
the scene being one of the grandest ever
presented to the human eye.
". On the 28th of June, the splendid ship
. made her appearance in the harbor of
g New York, reaching the light-ship at
fc half-past seven in the morning. There
£ she anchored; at two o'clock, in the
^ afternoon, high water, she crossed the
fc bar, and proceeded to the city, arriving
S at her dock at six p. m. The event
CO a created the greatest excitement through-
5 out tbe city; business was generally
g neglected, and multitudes of people
». thronged the wharves and roofs to get
| a glance at the monster.
a Some account of the voyage will be
" interesting at this point. She left the
S Needles at ten o'clock in the forenoon,
o June 17th. With the exception of two
^ days, she experienced fine weather.
2 She steamed the entire passage, ranging
A from 254 to 333 miles per twenty-four
hours. The engines were not stopped
until she was off George's Shoal, for
soundings. She came in a route south
east, direct to the light-ship, where she
was boarded by the ship news-collector
and Mr. John Van Dusen, of pilot boat
Wasbington, No. 4, a business partner
of Admiral Murphy, who went out to
Southampton for the ship. She drew
twenty-seven feet of water aft, but was
trimmed to an even keel before crossing
the bar. The following is the number of
miles made per day : June 1 7, 285 miles ;
18th, 296; 19th, — ; 20th, 276; 21st,
304 ; 22d, 280; 23d, 302; 24th, 299;
25th, 325; 26th, 333; 27th, 254.

734

OUE FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

The highest speed attained was fourteen
and a half knots; but the ship's bottom
being foul, an allowance of at least two
knots an hour should be made on that
account. The distance from Southampton
is reckoned at three thousand one hundred
and ninety miles, but to avoid tbe ice she
went further south.
The operation of crossing the bar was a
delicate and critical one. The order was
finally given by Mr. Murphy, under whose
command the ship had now passed, to " Go
ahead." The engineer waved his hand,
the officer below repeated the order to
those still further below, and in a minute
the great wheels commenced their revolu
tions. The stupendous fabric yielded to
the mighty power within her bowels, and,
moving slowly on its way, commenced, as
it were, a triumphal march toward the
city. Gradually the point of danger was
approached — the perilous bar was at hand.
Speed was accordingly slackened, and Mr.
Murphy from his position silently gave his
orders. A simple elevation or depression
of the hand indicated to the helmsmen the
course to be pursued, and the ship under
this skillful guidance — obeying her helm
with almost tbe readiness of a sail boat —
proceeded on her way.
Passing Fort Lafayette, a salute was
fired, which was promptly responded to
from the four guns of the Great Eastern,
and from this time onward, until her ar
rival in the North Eiver, it was one con
tinual ovation to the distinguished stranger.
Cannon boomed, steam whistles shrieked
until almost wheezy, flags were dipped in
graceful welcome, people hurrahed, hand
kerchiefs waved, swift-fleeting yachts dash
ed along in the huge shadow under a cloud
of canvas, as if bowing in acknowledgment
of the superior towering above them, and
demonstrations of a kindly nature came
from every quarter. Indeed, as far as the
eye could see, the tops of houses in New
York and its suburbs were thronged with
people excited to tbe highest degree of
curiosity and enthusiasm. The battery
was fairly black with the dense multitude,
and wharves, shipping, and every other

foothold commanding a view of the scene,
presented tbe same animated appearance.
As the vessel neared the city, the interest
ofthe occasion became, if possible, more and
more manifest. Hundreds of little craft
shot out into the stream, and fell in the
wake of the Great Eastern. Looking down
from herforetop — an elevation almost equal
to that of the tallest ordinary mast — it
seemed like a fairy spectacle on the grand
est scale. Below was the beautiful outline
of the largest steamer in the world, gliding
so majestically and quietly through the
water that her motion was hardly percepti
ble, while behind, as far. as the eye could
reach — commencing with a few fast steam
ers at tbe stern — spread out the escort in
the shape of an immense fan, every fold of
whicb was quivering with beautiful life.
When riearly off the battery, the chimes
of Trinity Church were heard across the
water, playing " Rule Britannia." Sa
lutes, also, were fired from all the steamers
in port, not excepting, of course, the
Cunarders at Jersey City, which, on this
occasion, did extra honors.
Before landing, the Great Eastern pro
ceeded up the North Eiver, as far as Forty-
fifth street ; but the distance was hardly
perceptible. Here, after some difficulty,
she was turned and headed down stream
for her dock, where, contrary to general
expectation, she was at once moored. The
manner in which this was done, reflected
the highest credit on Mr. Murphy, the
pilot ; and the reader can appreciate the
daring nature of the undertaking by con
sidering the fact that the immense ship
was carried alongside by the pilot — to the
no small astonishment of every individual
on board, including the officers, — with as
much ease, apparently, as he would have
handled his own pilot-boat, governed alone
by her own impetus, and without the aid
even of a single friendly hawser from a
steam tug. Here she was made to touch
the dock in a gentle way, clipping off only
a splinter, comparatively, as she came
alongside : hawsers were got out, the pas
sengers' luggage was duly inspected and
removed, a warm-hearted good-bye was

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

735

said all around, the company departed for
their respective destinations, and the
Great Eastern quietly settled her huge
body into its temporary rest. Strange to
say, only forty-three passengers could be
found in the year 1860 to " venture " on
the first voyage of the most splendid ship
that ever floated in tbe ocean; but this
was owing, of course, to the novelty and
vastness of the experiment, and to tbe
serious doubts which had been so freely
expressed from the very first conception of
the enterprise, as to the manageableness of
such a vessel in a storm at sea.
For many weeks, the Great Eastern was
visited by tens of thousands of persons,
who gladly paid the admission fee charged,
to inspect the majestic structure. They
saw, in the Great Eastern, a ship twice as
long (six hundred and eighty feet) as tbe
United States frigate Niagara, and nearly
five times the tonnage (about twenty thou
sand) of that giant of the American navy.
Pour times up and down ber deck will
make a mile's walk. Built wholly of iron
plates, the greatest possible amount of
strength seemed to be thus attained. Each
plate was separately designed by tbe
builder, Mr. Brunei, and there are but a
few amidships, out of the whole ten thou
sand, which resemble each other in shape.
He made an exact pattern in wood of each ;
steam shears cut tbe plates of iron to
match, a steam roller curved them to suit,
and a steam punch punched holes for
the bolts ; these were applied at a white
heat and riveted close — the contraction
which occurred when they cooled draw
ing the plates together with irresist
ible force. Ten thousand tons of iron, in
thirty thousand plates and three hundred
thousand rivets, were employed in the
construction of her hull. With accom
modations for four thousand passengers,
she can carry instead, if need be, ten
thousand soldiers, in addition to her crew
of four hundred.
The weight of this huge ship being
twelve thousand tons, and coal and cargo
*ont eighteen thousand tons more, - the
motive power to propel her must of course

be proportionate ; and it was this feature
in the majestic ship, not less than her
immense size, which astonished the visitor.
As he walked aft, and looked down a deep
chasm near the stern, he perceived an
enormous metal shaft, one hundred and
sixty feet in length, and weighing sixty
tons ; this extends from the engine-room
nearest tbe stern to the extremity of the
vessel, and is what moves the screw. As
tbe visitor next walked forward, and looked
over the side, he saw the immense paddle-
wheel, which, with its fellow, is driven by
the four great engines, already described,
having a nominal power of one thousand
horses, tbe nominal horse-power of the
screw being rated at sixteen hundred.
The screw engines, when making fifty rev
olutions a minute, exert an effective force
of not less than eight thousand horses.
This gigantic force would drive the ma
chinery of forty of the largest cotton mills,
giving employment to from thirty to forty
thousand operatives.
For several weeks, this grandest of nau
tical structures was the chief object of
attraction in the United States, and was
pronounced, by all, the most superb con
ception — the most wonderful achievement,
— of human mind and skill. Large excur
sion parties came from all the principal
cities of the Union, to view her lofty walls
of iron, her stupendous machinery, and her
marvelous internal arrangements ; and, in
due time, opportunity was afforded those
who wished to witness her sailing quali
ties, to be carried by the noble ship, on
pleasure excursions to Cape May and else
where, — a privilege which thousand?
availed themselves of, including many per
sons eminent in nautical and scientific
matters. One fact, for certain, in the construction
and appointments of this mighty ship, wae
made manifest to the satisfaction of even
the most critical, namely, that no discov
ery or invention of modern times, capable
of contributing to the ship's strength,
safety, and perfect completeness, was lost
sight of. Thus, the observer saw that she
was built in sixteen water-tight compart-

,T36

OUR FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876.

ments ; ten walls of iron, at distances of
sixty feet from each other, dividing her
transversely ; and a longitudinal wall bi
secting her for about half her length ; — so
that, in case of her running upon a rock, or
being shattered by storms, there would still
be safety on board. She is also lighted

throughout with gas, made on board, and,
on dark nights, an electric light shines
from the maintop ; the anchor is weighed,
the sails hoisted, and the pumps worked,
by steam ; and electric telegraphs enable
the captain to communicate instantane
ously with the most remote officers.

LXXXVI.
GENERAL WALKER'S FILLIBUSTERING EXPEDITIONS
TO SONORA, NICARAGUA, AND HONDURAS.— 1860.

Character, Method, and Object of His Schemes. — His Movements Marked by Bloodshed and Bold
Usurpation of Authority. — Retreat, Capture, anil Court-Martial at Truxillo — Cool Resignation to
His Death Sentence — Solemn March to the Piaee of Execution.— Is Shot, and Instantly Expires —
Walker's '' Star of Destiny." — Shortsighted Calculations. — Daring Qualities ofthe Man — Bitter Luck
in Sonora. — Starvation : Inglorious Flight. — Nicaragua the Land of Promise. — Contempt of Neutrality
Laws — United States Officials Outwitted. — Champagne vs Handcuffs. — Battles at Rivas and Virgin
Bay.— Splendid Successes of Walker — Styles Himself " the Regenerator." — Treaty between Generals
Walker and Corral. — Corral Charged with Treason and Shot. — Combination Against Walker. — llis
Escape to the United States — New but Abortive Attempts on Nicaragua. — Turns Up Next at
Truxillo. — Is Defeated by the Honduras Troops — His Doom Announced to Him — Dying Declara
tions —A Volley ; Three Cheers ; the End.

"Those who accompanied me are not to blame. I alone am guilty. I ask pardon of the people."— Walker's Last Words.

¦ " " - ¦ - •
UStt IXED and immovable in the belief that his I
" star of destiny " would guide him to ulti-
, . . ° ° EXECUTION OF GENERAL WALKER.
mate success as a military conqueror and place the scep
ter of power in his hands, William Walker blindly misinterpreted the "handwriting
on the wall," which the successive defeats of his various fiUibustering expeditions had
made so obvious to the understanding of others. Few adventurers of his class ever ran
such a race of shortsighted and fatal folly, and, though not without admiring friends
and followers, but little patriotic sympathy was evoked by the event which suddenly
closed his career.
The daring character of Walker as a fillibuster is a matter of astonishment, viewed
from the present point of time and history. In October, 1853, he was the leader of an
expedition which sailed from San Francisco, with the intention of taking rossession of
Sonora, then a northern state of Mexico, adjoining California. He landed at a small
place on the coast, called La Paz, with some fifty or sixty men, where he met but little
¦A7

738

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

resistance. He proclaimed " an independ
ent Republic of Lower California," and
himself president, at the same time ap
pointing each one of his party to some
official station. He very soon, however,
had to evacuate the premises, to save him
self from starvation, escaping to San Diego,
where he surrendered himself to the
United States authorities. On his arrival
in San Francisco, he was tried for a viola
tion of the neutrality laws, but was ac
quitted, the people in that part of the
country sympathizing with him.
Early in the summer of 1855, he placed
himself at the head of an expedition, num
bering about sixty men, for Nicaragua,
then in a state of internal conflict, and,
notwithstanding the watch kept upon his
movements by the government officials, he
managed to get all his men on board the
brig Vesta, which then lay in the harbor
of San Francisco, and to set sail during
the night. The vessel was at this very
time under seizure, and a deputy-sheriff's
officer had possession. At midnight, on
Monday, May 4th, Walker requested the
sheriff's officer to step below to examine
some documents in the cabin. The unsus
pecting official complied The door shut,
he was informed that he was a prisoner.
In a slow, drawling voice, Walker said —
" There, sir, are cigars and champagne ;
and there are handcuffs and irons. Pray
take your choice."
The deputy, a sensible man, took the
former, and was in a happy frame of mind
when he found himself being placed on
board the steam-tug to be taken back to
the scene of his official duties, — a wiser
and more thoughtful man, doubtless.
Walker landed at the port of Realejo,
and marched to Leon to join the head
quarters of the Nicaraguan democratic
party or' army. The legitimists, however,
though in a state of great consternation at
the approach of American rifles, had pre
pared to give Walker a warm reception.
Proclamations were issued with the object
of rousing the patriotism of the people,
calling on all to be ready to take up arms
to save the independence of the country,

and ordering all the inhabitants, on the
approach of Walker, to retire to the near
est garrison.
The first conspicuous service in which
Walker and his men were engaged was in
an expedition which was formed by Ihe
democrats to recapture the town of Rivas.
The expeditionary force consisted of
Walker's men, and two hundred native
troops under the immediate command of
their own officers. They embarked at
Realejo, in two or three small vessels, and,
landing in the neighborhood of San Juan
del Sur, marched across the country upon
the town of Rivas, distant about twenty-
five miles. The people of Rivas, when
the legitimists re-took the town some
months previously, had returned from
their voluntary exile in Costa Rica, and
now roused themselves to make a stout
resistance. When the democrats arrived,
and the fight began, Walker was inglori-
ously deserted by all the native troops,
and he found himself, with his fifty-six
Americans, opposed to a force of nearly
five hundred. His party, however, had
taken up their position in a house, from
which their rifles dealt sudden death most
profusely ; but at last they expended their
ammunition, and the legitimists setting
fire to the house, they were obliged to cut
their way through them, and retired to
San Juan del Sur. The loss on Walker's
side, in this affair, was only ten, while of
his opponents one hundred and eighty
were either killed or wounded.
At San Juan del Sur they found a small
schooner to take them back to Realejo.
He and his men had all embarked quietly
in the evening on board the schooner,
which was lying in the harbor, and were
waiting till morning for a breeze, when,
about midnight, two Americans, who did
not belong to the Walker party, and were
well known to be desperate characters, set
fire to a large wooden building which was
used as a barrack; their object being to
burn the town, and take the opportunity
of the confusion to rob and plunder the
inhabitants, expecting, no doubt, that
Walker's party would join them. But, on

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

739

going on board one of Walker's vessels,
and boasting of what they had done, he
immediately arrested them, and, as there
were no authorities ashore to whom he
could hand them over, he had them tried
by a court-martial at once, by which they
were sentenced to be shot. One was shot
while endeavoring to make his escape in a
boat ; the other was taken ashore to be
shot, where, in the darkness of the night,
he managed to escape from his guards.
About a month before this time, Gen
eral (Jhamorro, chief of the legitimist
party, died, and was succeeded by General
Corral, who had already been actually in
command for some time. Walker did not
attempt another descent upon that part of
the country till the month of August, when
he landed at San Juan del Sur, with about
seventy-five Americans and two hundred
native troops. There he met with no
opposition, the forces of the legitimists
being all concentrated in tbe town of
Rivas. He shortly marched to the village
of Virgin Bay, on the lake ; while there,
he was attacked by a vastly superior force
of legitimists under General Guardiola.
The fight lasted several hours, but Walker
succeeded in driving them back to Rivas
with considerable loss. After this, he
again returned to San Juan del Sur.
In the month of October, Walker — now
holding a regular commission as com
mander-in-chief of the democratic army,
and, haviug gradually augmented the
number of Americans under his command
to two hundred, and having a force of two
hundred and fifty native troops, — pro
ceeded to Virgin Bay, and taking posses
sion of one of the Transit Company's
steamers, he embarked his whole force.
After a few hours' passage he landed his
troops about two miles from Granada, and
marched directly on that stronghold of the
legitimists. General Corral was in Rivas,
with the greater part of his forces, expect
ing Walker would make that the first
Point of attack. The garrison in Granada
were completely taken by surprise, and,
after firing but a few shots, Walker had

in Nicaragua was complete. Walker had
always claimed to be the "Regenerator of
Central America."
A negotiation was afterwards entered
into, which resulted in a treaty of peace
being agreed upon, and signed by Walker
and Corral, as the representatives of their
respective parties. By this treaty, it was
agreed that the two governments which
had existed in tbe country since the com
mencement of the revolution, should cease.

full

possession of the city, and his power

Don Patricio Rivas was declared provis
ional president for fourteen months, and
Walker was made general-in-chief of the
army ; these, with four ministers to be
appointed by the president, were to form
the government.
General Corral, a day or two afterwards,
entered the city of Granada with bis
troops, and was received by Walker. The
two generals then went through an impos
ing ceremony of solemnly ratifying the
treaty in church. A Te Deum was sung,
the legitimist troops were joined to the
democrats, becoming one army under the
command of Walker, and the ministers of
state were then announced.
As the people found Walker to be a man
of ability, and maintaining strict discipline
among his troops, tranquillity soon pre
vailed throughout the land, the inhabit
ants being glad to see an end to those
scenes of plunder and excess which had
characterized the domestic struggles
through which they had so often and so

740

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

recently passed. And even foreign gov
ernments looked with satisfaction on the
apparently improved state of affairs in that
long distracted country. It was not, how
ever, to last long. A short time only,
after Walker's old foe, Corral, had sol
emnly ratified the treaty, he was charged
by Walker with plotting to upset the gov
ernment. He was immediately tried by a
court-martial, over which Walker himself
presided, and, being declared guilty, he
was sentenced to be shot the next day.
He was executed in the Plaza of Granada,
in presence of the whole army.
A few more military successes greatly
emboldened Walker, and, having in the
summer of 1856 caused himself to be
elected president, it was not long before
he entered upon a career which brought
him to an ignominious end. He revoked
by a decree tbe prohibition of slavery
which the country bad observed for more
than thirty years. He also revoked, with
out cause, the transit grant to the Nicara
gua Company, and seized steamers be
longing to American citizens. He made
war upon Costa Rica, the result proving to
his cause one of defeat, disaster, disap
pointment, and distress. The Nicara-
guans and Costa Ricans combined against
him, drove him from place to place, until,
resistance becoming hopeless, he gladly
availed himself of the refuge afforded by
the United States sloop-of-war St. Mary,
Commodore Davis, on board of which he
and a number of his followers were re
ceived, in due time reaching the United
States. Walker's third and fourth expeditions,
sailing from New Orleans and Mobile, and
directed against Nicaragua, were hasty,
ill-planned, and miserably failed. But
this did not deter Walker from undertak-
fng one more scheme of conquest — in this
instance directed against tbe Bay of Isl
ands, just then being ceded by Great
Britain to Honduras. For, though Walker
had long accustomed himself to look upon
Nicaragua as the land which was to real
ize to him all his golden visions of wealth
and power, there seemed now, even to his

fertile imagination, no hope of ever again
obtaining any such foothold in that coun
try as would lead to its subjugation.
It is a mistake, too, to suppose that in
the management of those Nicaraguan ex
peditions, Walker was acting without pub
lic sympathy at the south and in Cali
fornia. The following account of the
scenes and circumstances attending the
embarkation of re-enforcements from Sin
Francisco, to join Walker at Nicaragua, on
the occasion already alluded to, will shor
that there was no lack of enthusiasm for
his cause, at least in certain sections.
The vessel (to convey the above-named
re-enforcements) was advertised to sail at
nine o'clock in the morning, but long be
fore that hour the wharf was crowded with
spectators and those interested in the suc
cess of the expeditionists. Nearly four
hundred through passage tickets were sold
before the appointed sailing hour, and
officers were stationed in every part of
the vessel, with positive orders to allow
no one on board unless provided with a
passage ticket. There seemed to be no
disposition to infringe this order, and
everything went on quietly until about
noon, when it was discovered that some of
the passengers were in possession of arms
belonging to the San Francisco Blues' mil
itary corps. A search-warrant was imme
diately procured, and twenty-nine muskets,
identified by members of the company
named, were recovered. During this in
vestigation, two large crockery crates, full
of arms, were discovered, and which proved
to have been taken from the armory of the
Sacramento Rifie Company. General Kib-
bee, of the state militia, being notified of
the fact, at once instituted legal proceed
ings to recover the arms, but before the
necessary documents could be procured
and placed in the sheriff's hands, the hour
— already extended to four o'clock in the
afternoon— for the sailing of the steamer
had arrived. As the lines holding the
vessel to the wharf were cast adrift, there
was some indication of trouble between the
officers of the vessel and those persons on
the wharf anxious to obtain passage. The

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

741

wharf was densely packed with men, and
at the first move of the steamer's paddles,
a general rush was made to board her.
The officers of the boat resisted, and tbe
body of the crowd was driven back, at the
imminent risk of their being crushed
between the vessel and the wharf, or
launched overboard. About fifteen or
twenty succeeded in getting on board,
during this frightful scene, and the vessel
shot out into the stream, where she came
to, evidently with the view of compelling

when she was ordered to keep off, and at
the same time the steamer commenced
moving ahead. It was now beyond tbe
power of tbe schooner to work up to the
position of the steamer until the latter
would have sufficient time to send the
intruders ashore and get under way again.
Still tbe schooner persevered, and stood off
for another tack. In the meantime, a
posse of sheriff's officers, headed by Mr.
Dowdigan, with the writ of restitution,
bad procured a row-boat for the purpose of

LANDING OF GENERAL WALKERS FILLIBUSTERING EXPEDITION AT TRUXILLO.

those to return on shore who bad sue
ceeded in boarding the vessel by force.
By this time, the expeditionists, to the
number of three hundred, had chartered a
large schooner lying convenient to tbe
wharf. This movement was seen on board
the steamer, and as the schooner spread
her canvas, the steamer's paddles were
again put in motion ; but she had not pro
ceeded far when she again lay-to. The
schooner was now under full headway with
a fine breeze, and, tacking quickly, she
came up under the lee of the steamer,

boarding the steamer. This they were
unable to accomplish, as the steamer got
under way just as the sheriff's boat reached
her side, and was soon under full head of
steam, with her bows directed seaward.
The schooner landed the disappointed
expeditionists at tbe wharf; and a large
number of ships' launches and other small
craft, filled with men who evidently in
tended to take tbe first opportunity to
board the steamer, put back to the shore.
It seemed to be the universal impression
that the schooner's load would be per-

742

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

mitted to board, as it was rumored that
they had by some means obtained pas
sage tickets just as the steamer left the
wharf. This, however, proved erroneous.
Among the number who attempted to
board in small boats, was a man named
Henry Gray, who strenuously persisted
in his endeavors to get on board the
steamer, although forcibly resisted by
the officer. At last, Gray drew a revolver
and pointed it at the officer, who also
drew his pistol, when the boatmen in
the boat with Gray covered his person
with their own.
In New York city, a mass meeting was
held, at which the warmest speeches and
resolutions of sympathy for Walker and
his movements were indulged in. Even
General Cass lent the scheme his warm
support. " I am free to confess," he said,
" that the heroic effort of our countrymen
in Nicaragua excites my admiration, while
it engages all my solicitude. I am not to
be deterred from the expression of these
feelings by sneers, or reproaches, or hard
words. He who does not sympathize with
such an enterprise has little in common
with me. The difficulties which General
Walker has encountered and overcome will
place his name high on the roll of the dis
tinguished men of his age. He has con
ciliated the people he went to aid, the
government of which he makes part is
performing its functions without opposi
tion, and internal tranquillity marks the
wisdom of its policy. That magnificent
region, for which God has done so much
and man so little, needed some renovating
process, some transfusion, by which new
life may be imparted to it." That some,
at least, of the views thus so enthusiasti
cally expressed by the venerable statesman,
failed of fulfillment, must be attributed to
Walker's own injudicious acts, in the con
demnation of which none were more em
phatic than some of those who stood by bis
side and shared his fortunes.
But, as already remarked, Walker's ca
reer came to a speedy and inglorious ter
mination when he undertook to plant bis
standard of usurpation at Honduras. It

was in June, 1860, that he first landed at
Ruatan, but finding things there not in a
very favorable position for the success of
his movements, he proceeded to Truxillo
in the taking of which place he had three
men wounded, while the loss on the other
side was twelve killed and eighteen
wounded, the determination of the in
habitants to resist and defeat Walker's
schemes being very resolute.
A proclamation was now issued by
Walker to the people of Honduras, in
which he said, that, more than five years
ago, he, with others, was invited to the
republic of Nicaragua, and was promised
certain rights and privileges on the condi
tion of certain services rendered the state ;
that the services required were performed,
but the existing authorities of Honduras
joined a combination to drive him from
Central America. " In the course of
events," continues Walker, " the people of
the Bay Islands find themselves in nearly
the same position the Americans held in
Nicaragua, in November 1855. The same
policy which led Guardiola to make war on
us will induce him to drive the people of
the islands from Honduras. A knowledge
of this fact has led certain residents ofthe
islands to call on the adopted citizens of
Nicaragua to aid in the maintenance of
their rights of person and property; but
no sooner had a few adopted citizens of
Nicaragua answered this call of the resi
dents of the islands by repairing to Ruatan,
than the acting authorities of Honduras,
alarmed for their safety, put obstacles in
the way of carrying out the treaty of the
28th November, 1859. Guardiola delays
to receive the islands because of the pres
ence of a few men he has injured ; and
thus, for party purposes, not only defeats
the territorial interests of Honduras, but
thwarts, for the moment, a cardinal object
of Central American policy. The people
of the Bay Islands can be engrafted on
your republic only by wise concessions
properly made. The existing authorities
of Honduras have, by their past acts, given
proof that they would not make the requi
site concessions. The same policy which

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

743

Guardiola pursued toward the naturalized
Nicaraguans prevents him from pursuing
the only course by which Honduras can
expect to hold the islands. It becomes,
therefore, a common object with the natu
ralized Nicaraguans, and with the people
ofthe Bay Islands, to place in the govern
ment of Honduras those who will yield the
rights lawfully required in the two states.
Thus the Nicaraguans will secure a return
to their adopted country, and the Bay
Islanders will obtain full guaranties from
the sovereignty under which they are to
be placed by the treaty of the 28th No
vember, 1859." General Walker con
cludes this proclamation by assuring the
people of Honduras, that it is not against
them, but against the government, that he
had come to make war.
Some of the representations made in
Walker's proclamation will be better com
prehended when it is understood that, at
that time, Great Britain was just ceding to
Honduras the Bay Islands ; but some of
the Anglo-Saxon residents of those islands
objected strongly to such cession. Walker
availed himself of this state of things to
carry out his scheme of conquest, but,
aware of his plans, Honduras requested
Great Britain to retain her hold upon tbe
islands a while longer.
It was not long before Walker had to
confront an army of seven hundred men,
headed by the governor of Honduras, and
an English man-of-war lay near by with
hostile intent On the first of September
therefore, Walker retreated from Truxillo,
and retired lower down the coast with
about eighty men, the Honduras troops
being in close pursuit. After wandering
down the coast, Walker finally encamped
on the bank of the Rio Negro.
On the third of September, two British
cutters, carrying forty men, went up the
I'iver; and Captain Salmon, of the British
man-of-war Icarus, accompanied by Gen
eral Alvarez, of the Honduran army, went
ashore and walked to the house in which
General Walker was, and asked an inter
view with him, which was granted. Cap
tain Salmon— a burly, bluff young British

officer, of a very pompous and authoritative
manner, — introduced himself to General
Walker, informed him that Her Majesty's
sloop-of-war Icarus lay off tlie mouth of the
river, and that anchored near her was a
ship which had on board two hundred and
fifty Honduran soldiers ; and he thereupon
demanded the surrender of Walker and his
command. General Walker, with characteristic cool
ness and dignity, contrasting strongly
with the self-assurance of the liritish offi
cer, asked whether this demand was made
by Captain Salmon as a British officer, and
whether, if he surrendered, it would be to
the British authorities ? To this inquiry
Major Dolan and Captain West, who were
present at the interview, solemnly asserted
that Salmon replied, " Yes, you surrender
to me, as a British officer." The question
was repeated by Walker, and the same
answer given by Salmon, who rather
haughtily and patronizingly added, " You
may thank me, too, that you have a whole
bone in your body." The general then told
them that under these circumstances he
would surrender.
On the fourth, — General Walker and
Colonel Rudler having been taken, the
night before, under a guard, to the Icarus,
— the sloop-of-war weighed anchor and
steamed up to Truxillo, where she arrived
that night. Walker and Rudler were then
formally delivered over to the Honduran
authorities. The march of the captured men to prison
was slow and solemn. Walker, at the
head of his men, and dressed with much
simplicity, marched, keeping time to the
beat of the drum, and was the object upon
which every eye was fixed. As soon as
he entered tbe prison, he was placed in
heavy irons, and being asked if he needed
anything, replied with but one word—
" Water." Soon afterward, he sent for a
chaplain, and, declaring his faith as a
Roman Catholic, knelt at the feet of the
priest, in front of a small altar, on which
the glimmering light of some candles
faintly revealed an image of the Savior.
Among other things he said to tbe chap-

744

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

lain, was the remark, " I am resigned to
die ; my political career is finished."
On the eleventh, at seven o'clock in the
morning, Walker was informed that the
sentence of death had been passed upon
him by the court-martial; his only reply
to the fatal messenger was his asking at
what hour he would be executed, and if he
should have time to write. On the twelfth,
at eight o'clock in the morning, the con
demned man was marched to the place of
execution. He showed, throughout, the
greatest coolness, not even once changing
color, while walking from the prison to
the plaza where he was to be shot. Two
soldiers, with drawn swords, advanced in
front of him, and three, with fixed bayo
nets, followed behind. In his right hand
he carried a hat, and in his left a crucifix,
without looking at any one, and listening
to the devotional passages which the priest
was reciting to him. He entered the
square, where, at the place of execution,
the troops were drawn up, and there, before
taking the fatal seat, he requested the

priest in attendance, inasmuch as he him
self could not speak loud enough to be
heard, to say :
"I am a Roman Catholic. The war
which I made on Honduras, at the sugges
tion of certain people at Ruatan, was un
just. Those who accompanied me are not
to blame. I alone am guilty. I ask par
don of the people. I receive death with
resignation. Would that it were one for
the good of society."
He then sat down. A file of ten sol
diers advanced, and fired on the instant.
He died at once. The soldiers gave three
cheers, and all was over.
Walker was but thirty-six years of age,
at the time of his death. In personal
appearance, he showed little of the type of
a daring and capable fillibuster, being
rather below the middle size, slender, with
light hair, keen gray eyes, high cheek
bones, — a man of exceedingly quiet de
meanor, slow in speech, and of a mild
expression of face. His energy, persever
ance, and courage, were undoubted.

LXXXVII.
TOUR OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, ALBERT EDWARD,
PRINCE OF WALES, THROUGH THE UNITED
STATES.— 1360.

Friendly Letters between President Buchanan and Queen Victoria on the Subject. — The Prince's First
Entrance into American Waters. — Unbounded Hospitalities Extended Him. — Hunting Excursions,
Military Reviews, Balls, Illuminations, etc. — Splendid Banquet at the White House — England's
Appreciation of these Honors to Her Future King. — Heir to the British Throne — Arrival at Detroit,
Chicago, etc. — Enthusiastic Crowds Greet Him. — His Way Completely Blocked Up. — On a Hunt:
Fine Sportsman. — Receptions at Various Cities. — Locomotive Ride to Washington. — Guest of Presi
dent Buchanan. — Courtesies and Ceremonials — Visit to Mount Vernon. — At the Tomb of Washing
ton. — Unparalleled Historical Scene — He Plants a Tree at the Grave — Hare Scenes in Philadelphia.
—New York and Boston Festivities — Present from Trinity Church, New York. — Greatest Balls Ever
Known. — He Meets a Bunker Hill Veteran. — Impressions of America — Incidents, Anecdotes, Inter
views. — His Looks, Manners, Dress, etc. — Brilliant Farewell at Portland.

'' Vo-i may be well fissured that everywhere in thii country he will be greeted by the American people in each a manner aa cannot foil to
be gratifying to your Majesty."— Pkksidbnt Buchanan to Qukkn Victokia.

R. Buchanan's closing presidential year was ren
dered memorable by the visit to this country of
Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, who, being
the eldest son of Queen Victoria, and great
grandson of George IIL, — the king who waged
against America the wars of 1776 and 1812 —
naturally riveted all eyes, and excited univer
sal attention, as he journeyed from one part of
the Union to another. At the time of this
visit, the prince was in his nineteenth year;
bad been educated at Oxford University, and
was reputed a worthy son of a good mother, —
and destined, on the death of the latter, to be
King of the British realm. President Bu
chanan, having been informed of the Prince's
intention to make a Canadian tour, addressed
™SoE of wales at Washington's tomb, the following letter to the Queen, which was
presented by Mr. Dallas, United States Minister at the Court of St. James :
"To hek Majesty, Queen Victoria :
I have learned, from the public journals, that the Prince of Wales is about to visit

"46

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876.

your Majesty's North American domin
ions. Should it be the intention of His
Royal Highness to extend his visit to the
United States, I need not say how happy'
I should be to give him a cordial welcome
to Washington.
You may be well assured that every
where in this country he will be greeted
by the American people in such manner
as cannot fail to prove gratifj'ing to your
Majesty. In this they will manifest their
deep sense of your domestic virtues, as well
as their convictions of your merits as a
wise, patriotic, and constitutional sover
eign. Your Majesty's most obedient servant,
James Buchanan."
In reply to the foregoing highly courte
ous letter, dated at Washington, June 4,
1860, Queen Victoria dispatched the fol
lowing most happily worded response,
dated at Buckingham Palace, June 22d :
"Mt Good Eeiend:
I have been much gratified at the feel
ings which prompted you to write to me,
inviting the Prince of Wales to come to
Washington. He intends to return from
Canada through tbe United States, and it
will give him great pleasure to have an
opportunity of testifying to you in person
that these feelings are fully reciprocated
by him. He will thus be able, at the same
time, to mark the respect which he enter
tains for the Chief Magistrate of a great
and powerful state and kindred nation.
The Prince of Wales will drop all royal
state on leaving my dominions, and travel
under the name of Lord Renfrew, as he
has done when traveling on the continent
of Europe.
The Prince Consort wishes to be kindly
remembered to you.
I remain ever, your good friend,
Victoria R."
It was on the 23d of July, 1860, that
the prince arrived at St. Johns, N. F.,
and, after journeying for some weeks iu
the various British Provinces, where he
was received with the most distinguished
and enthusiastic attentions, he finally en

tered American waters, between Windsor,
Canada, and Detroit, Mich. When the
boat reached the center of the stream, the
Mayor of Detroit stepped forward and
said : "Baron Renfrew, we welcome you to
the United States, trusting that your visit
may be a happy one — that you may long
remember it with pleasure and satisfac
tion." At least fifty thousand persons
were present, and when the band struck
up The Star Spangled Banner, the cheer
ing and enthusiasm were tremendous.
After witnessing a magnificent illumin
ation in his honor, the next morning he
departed for Chicago. He was attended,
as usual, by his somewhat numerous suite,
the Duke of Newcastle being chief. A
magnificent open barouche, drawn by four
superb white horses, had been provided to
convey him from the hotel. The party
seated themselves in the barouche, when
the immense crowd gathered around, and
blocked up the avenues so thickly as to
make it next to impossible to proceed.
Cheer after cheer was given for the baron,
and tbe wildest enthusiasm prevailed.
The carriage was followed by prodigious
throngs on foot, many hanging to the
wheels, while the streets and sidewalks on
the route were so obstructed by people,
that the royal party were intercepted at
every turn. Arriving at Chicago, a vast
assembly greeted him. Baron Renfrew
rode along a line of excited people, — who
were kept from him by ropes, — bowing,
with hat off, amidst repeated cheers. As
he passed, a rush was finally made, and,
in spite of every effort of the policemen,
the crowd surged in like the sea. Ar
riving, at last, at the hotel, five thousand
persons were there found gazing at the
windows, in almost perfect silence and
order, waiting to see the prince's shadow
even. Here, the most splendid honors
and hospitalities were heaped upon him,
exceeding anything of tbe kind ever be
fore known in that young and powerful
city of the west.
Leaving Chicago in a special train for
Dwight's Station— from which place the
prince was to start on a hunting excursion,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

747

—he arrived there at dark, on Saturday
evening The next day, the prince at
tended divine service at the Presbyterian
church. In the afternoon, a courier ar
rived with dispatches from the queen, and
the party spent the rest of the day in read
ing their letters and answering them. On
Monday they shot prairie chickens ; on
Tuesday, they went in pursuit of quail,
and were very successful, tbe prince, who
enjoyed the sport highly, bagging over a
hundred birds. His host, Mr. Spencer,
an experienced hunter, pronounced tbe
prince an excellent sportsman, handling a
gun finely. The whole party dressed
roughly, and walked about the village
smoking pipes in the most free-and-easy
style. A couple of Irishmen called to see
the prince, who welcomed and shook hands
with them. Before leaving this place, he
expressed his regret that he could not
make his stay longer, and presented his
hosts with several beautiful gifts, among
which was a Manton gun, etc.
From this place he went to St. Louis,
and thence to Cincinnati. When he
landed at the former place, loud cheers
greeted him, and the crowd surrounded his
carriage to such an extent, that he was
obliged to close the windows of the vehi
cle; the carriages of the suite were also
driven in opposite directions, to divide the
throng. At the agricultural fair at St.
Louis, the royal party passed twice around
the arena, and then alighted in the center.
After this, they ascended to the second
story of the pagoda, where the band struck
up God Save the Queen. This was followed
by Hail Columbia and Yankee Doodle.
At Cincinnati, the prince attended a ball
given at the opera-house, Saturday even
ing, and the next day attended worship at
St. John's church, and heard a sermon
from Bishop Mcllvaine. In the evening
he dined with the mayor and other citi
zens. From Cincinnati the prince went
to Pittsburg; dined at Altona; and ar
rived at Harrisburg late in the evening of
October 2d, where he was received by Gov
ernor Packer, in the following unique and
off-hand address of welcome :

"Lord Renfrew, — It affords me infinite
pleasure to welcome your lordship to the
capital of the commonwealth of Pennsyl
vania, one of the old thirteen colonies that
originally acknowledged allegiance to the
crown of Great Britain, and, notwithstand
ing that allegiance has been severed, your
lordship will perceive, by a glance at that
long line of colonial and state governors
(pointing to the portraits which adorn tbe
executive chambers), that we still have a
very, very great veneration and regard for
our ancient rulers. That line of portraits
is almost a perfect type of our American
families. We cannot follow our ancestry
more than a few generations back, without
tracing the line to a British red-coat."
On the third of October, be left Harris
burg, early in the morning, for Baltimore
and Washington. On his way, in descend
ing the mountain, the prince and his
friends rode upon the locomotive, so as to

obtain a better view of the magnificent
scenery of the eastern slope of tbe Alle
ghanies, and expressed themselves much
gratified with their ride. Declining any
reception at Baltimore, the prince pro
ceeded at once to Washington.
It would be as impossible to describe
the varied honors and ceremonials which
were showered upon the prince during his
stay in tbe nation's metropolis, as to detail
tbe fetes, ovations, and multitudinous pa
geants, which attended him at every prin
cipal point along bis journey from one end

748

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

of the country to the other. Suffice it to
say, in brief, that at Washington he was
received by General Cass, secretary of
state, and two nephews of President Bu
chanan. He was at once conducted to the
White House, where he was welcomed by
the president. At six o'clock he dined,
the members of the cabinet and one or two
senators with their wives being of the
party. On Thursday, October 4th, the
prince and suite visited the capitol and
the patent office. A reception was given
at the White House, at one o'clock, in
honor of the prince, and an immense
crowd was present. On this occasion, the
prince was dressed in blue coat and gray
pants, and, with ungloved hands, stood
upon the right of the president ; near the
prince stood Lord Lyons. As each person
passed, the president shook hands with his
customary urbanity, and the prince bowed
as usual, though several ladies succeeded
in shaking his hand. In the evening, a
diplomatic dinner took place at the White
House, at which were present a splendid
array of high officials and foreign dignita
ries, the banquet being, in all respects,
one of the most splendid of its kind ever
given on this continent.
The next day, the prince, with his suite
and a distinguished company, visited
Mount Vernon and the Tomb of Washing
ton. It was a scene never before enacted
by any prince or potentate, — the heir to
the proudest throne in the world making a
pilgrimage to the tomb of a rebel general,
one who, though once pronounced a traitor
by the very ancestors of the prince, now
ranks above all kings — the Father of a
Country second to none. The day was all
that could be desired, one of October's
finest. The prince and his suite, accom
panied by President Buchanan and other
eminent persons, went on board the gov
ernment steamer Harriet Lane, and in
i short time reached their destination.
Having carefully inspected tbe various
apartments of the mansion — the place
where the patriot wrote, the room in which
he slept, the bed on which he expired, and
examined the key of the Bastile, the piano

presented by Washington to Mrs. Lewis,
and other relics and curiosities, the party
then proceeded in silence to the great
patriot's last resting-place.
Approaching the hallowed spot, each
one reverentially uncovered his head. The
Marine Band had arrived before them, and,
concealed by a neighboring thicket, began
playing a dirge composed by the leader.
The scene was most impressive. The vis
itors, ranging themselves in front of the
tomb, looked in, through the iron-grated
door, at the sarcophagus which contains
the mortal remains of the illustrious chief
tain. Then, retiring a few paces, the
prince, the president, and the royal party,
grouped in front, silently contemplated the
Tomb of Washington.
Turning their attention once more to
the surrounding grounds and scenery, one
cut a cone to carry back to England, as a
relic of the place ; another plucked a
flower, as a memento of the day and scene ;
and the prince, at the request of the
Mount Vernon Association, planted, with
but little formality, a tree, upon a beauti
ful little mound near the tomb, and took
with him a companion seed to plant in
Windsor forest.
This pleasant commemorative ceremony
being over, the visitors again stood for a
few moments before the tomb, and then,
turning away in thoughtful silence, slowly
retraced their way to the Harriet Lane,
which during their absence had been trans
formed, by means of canvas and' gay flags,
into a beautiful dining saloon, with covers
laid for the entire party.
Going from Washington to Richmond,
Va., he there attended St. Paul's church,
on Sunday, after which he visited Gov
ernor Letcher. Baltimore was the next
place visited, and, after a drive around the
city, with the mayor, he left for Philadel
phia, on arriving at which city, he put up
at the Continental. As he reached this
hotel, an amusing incident transpired.
He sprang out of his carriage with his
usual agility, and, to avoid the crowd.
rushed for the stairs, and into the arms of
the superintendent of order, who, presum-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

749

ing him to be an interloper, stopped him,
and would not allow him to pass. In vain
the prince struggled and kicked. The
superintendent kept fast hold of the " in
truder," until Mayor Henry rushed up and
relieved His Royal Highness from this
international embrace. The superintend
ent bowed low, and begged pardon, but,
with the natural tendency to self-defense,
asked, "Why didn't he just speak?"
"Oh," said the prince, running ahead,
"that would have spoiled the joke."
Some time before the prince arrived in
Philadelphia, the ladies swarmed in large
numbers to the Continental, to inspect the
prince's splendid apartments, to sit where
he was to sit, etc. They were escorted
in and out of the rooms in parties of three
and four, and seemed to feel easier after
the visit. After his arrival, hundreds of
people stood around the hotel all day
Some, indeed, mostly ladies, who had
fought or bribed their way up stairs, hung
around the door of his apartments, and
touched him curiously as he slipped past.
The principal receptions of the prince,
after his departure from Philadelphia, were
at New York, West Point, and Boston ;
but no account of these receptions, short
of an elaborate volume, would be equal to
their variety, extent, and magnificence,
and consequently only a few incidents can
be here narrated.
While at New York, he attended wor
ship at Trinity church, three front pews
in the center aisle being reserved for the
prince and suite. In one of them, and
immediately in front of the prince's seat,
two magnificent prayer-books were depos
ited, the one a small octavo size, the other
a half-quarto. They were both got up in
the most perfect style of typographical art,
and the skill of the binder had exhausted
itself on the exterior decorations. The
large one was bound in bright red morocco,
and was fastened by a golden clasp,
chastely embellished with filigree work,
and finely worked with the Prince of
Wales's plume and his motto " Ich Dien,"
("I serve.") The clasp alone cost two
hundred and fifty dollars. On its outer

cover, the book bore this inscription : " To
His Royal Highness, Albert Edward,
Prince of Wales, from the Corporation of
Trinity Church, New York, in Memory of
the Munificence of the Crown of En
gland." At the Academy of Music, October 12th,
there was given the greatest ball, in honor
of the prince, ever known in this country.
Over three thousand persons were present
— tbe crime de la crime of New York soci
ety. The ball-room comprised the par
quette of the academy, and embraced the
stage. It was one hundred and thirty-five
feet in length by sixty-eight feet in breadth.
The end toward the stage was arranged in
a semi-circular form, while toward the
other end were placed three superb couches.
The central one was for the prince, while
those on either side were for his suite.
The decorations were floral throughout the
ball-room. The scene was magnificent.
There was a sea of heads in a sea of colors
— the light flashing back from the gayest
and richest of dresses, from pearly white
shoulders and brilliant complexions, and
from jew els iris-hued and rivaling the stars
in brightness. The full-dress black coats
absorbed the superfluous light, and softened
the blaze of the thousand lamps. The
rich military uniforms, ornamented with
golden lace and epaulettes, relieved the
uniformity of the gentlemen's toilets.
While the royal party were observing
the throng and the decorations of the
room, a sudden rustle and movement of the
crowd backward indicated that some acci
dent was about to happen, and, in a mo
ment after, one of the flower vases upon
tbe front tier fell with a great crash to the
floor, scattering its roses upon all who
stood near.
The supper-room was especially erected
for tbe occasion, and its length was one
hundred and forty-four feet, by twenty-
eight feet breadth. Tbe entire vast apart
ment was draped in alternate strips of pink
and white muslin, with twenty-four splen
did mirrors intervening; magnificent
chandeliers, suspended from the roof, con
tributed to the brilliancy of the display.

("50

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

GRAND BALL GIVEN TO THE PRINCE OF WALES, IN BOSTON.

All along the supper-room were two tables,
gorgeous in all the appointments of gold,
silver, and china ware, and tbe feast was
magnificent. It was at first contemplated to give the
prince a grand public dinner, but this was
changed to a ball, because the prince, being
so young a man, could not be expected to
make an extemporaneous speech, and eti
quette forbade any one speaking as his
substitute. From New York, the prince sailed in the
government steamer Harriet Lane, for
West Point. Here he was received with
the highest honors known to the military
service; and after visiting the command
ant, and riding round the place, he ac
cepted an invitation to review the cadets.
Eight battalion companies of cadets, eleven
files front, presented themselves on the
right of the line; then the company of
sappers and miners ; then the battery of
four guns of light artillery, with a corps of
cadets acting as cannoneers ; and the left
was occupied by a detachment of dragoons.

In a few minutes after the formation of
the line, the prince and suite, with Lieu
tenant-General Scott, appeared on the
parade ground, when Major Reynolds gave
the order to " Prepare for Review." The
ranks of the, troops were opened, the artil
lery unlimbered, the officers and colors to
the front, when the reviewing party
marched to the head of the military col
umn, while the band played the air of
God Save the Queen. As the prince and
escort passed down the military line, the
band played the very elegant air of the
Flowers of Edinburgh. The reviewers
passed down the front, and between the
open ranks of tbe troops, back to their
original position on the parade ground.
The troops were then broke into column
by companies and marched in review-
first in common time, then in quick time,
and finally in double quick time. As the
commandants of the companies passed and
saluted the prince, he gracefully raised his
hat in acknowledgment.
Leaving West Point, the prince pro-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

75L

ceeded to Albany, where he was received
by Governor Morgan and the state author
ities. After spending an hour or two at
the capitol, he repaired to the governor's
residence, and dined there, Mr. Seward
and others being guests. The next day
he took, a special train for Springfield,
Mass., and thence to Boston. He was
conducted to his quarters by the Boston
authorities, an immense crowd following.
The principal occasions of interest, while
stopping in Boston, were as follows : On
Thursday he witnessed a great political
procession, then received Ralph Farnham,
the survivor of Bunker Hill battle ; re
viewed the troops on Boston Common ;
attended a children's musical entertain
ment at the music hall ; and went to the
ball in the evening. On Friday, visited
Harvard college, and examined all the
objects of interest at that venerable seat of
learning ; and subsequently visited Mount
Auburn, Bunker Hill, and the Charles
town navy yard.
A very interesting interview was that
with Ralph Farnham. The Duke of New
castle, who, with most of the suite, was
present, asked the revolutionary veteran
if he saw Burgoyne when he surrendered,
adding, "You rather had him there!"
The old soldier then remarked, chucklingly,
that hearing so much said in praise of the
prince, he began to fear that the people
were all turning royalists. This and Mr.
Farnham's manner elicited much laughter,
in which the prince fully joined. The
prince then sent for pen and ink, and
exchanged autographs with his visitor —
one of the men who had stood before Brit
ish Soldiers in 1776,. in a manner and with
a bearing very different from that with
which he received the prince's courtesies
and exchanged glances with the majors,
colonels, and guardsmen of the royal suite.
Mr. Farnham afterwards spoke of the
interview with the greatest pleasure, re
marking that "h« wished to show the boy
and his soldiers that he bore no anger for
old times."
The musical festival was a novel and
pleasant entertainment, at Music Hall.

Twelve hundred school children were ar
ranged upon seats sloping from the floor to
the ceiling, and from the platform one
could see two large triangles of boys, and
two immense parallelograms of gayly-
dressed girls, while between them was an
orchestra of sixty performers. As the
prince entered, the whole company rose,
and the masses of children waved handker
chiefs and clapped hands, producing a fine
effect. A grand success, too, was the ball, given
at the Boston Theater, — not exceeded in
splendor by that in New York. If one
can imagine the immensity of this thea
ter ; the dancing floor inclosed as by a
pavilion, each tier differently and most
richly decorated, and crowded with su
perbly dressed ladies ; the royal box all
aglare with light, and rich in gilt, purple,
and azure ; the frescoed ceiling, with its
pendant dome of light, the marquee, with its
groves, flowers, mirrors, arabesque ceiling,
its multiform and varied decorations, and
its view of Windsor Castle, seen as if from
some immense window ; — if one can imag
ine this scene, and then crowd it with
richly dressed ladies, with gentlemen in
every variety of ball costume, while,- over
all, the lights streamed their brilliant
radiance, mirrors and jewels flashing back
and reduplicating the rays, and the soft,
sweet swell of the music bearing with it
the graceful moving throng in a bewilder
ing maze of beauty, an adequate idea of
the magnificent occasion may possibly be
gained. Curiously enough, the Boston ball op
ened something like that in New York ;
for all the committees, being anxious to
speak to the prince, and leaning forward
to do so, crash went a large vase of flowers,
scattering its contents over the prince.
There were profuse apologies, but the
prince was laughing so heartily, that he
could not hear nor speak.
The prince's appreciation of American
ladies was very marked. At the Boston
ball, he remarked slyly to a beautiful
belle, "They made me dance with the old
chaps in Canada." At Montreal, be

752

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

danced with Miss Blackburn, of Natchez,
a lady of great beauty ; so enchanted did
the prince become, that he afterward in
quired for her and expressed a desire to
meet again. Among those with whom he
danced, at the Cincinnati ball, was the
beautiful Miss Groesbeck, daughter of
Hon. John Groesbeck. The reporters
represent that Miss Groesbeck, who was
the belle of the evening, wore a white
tulle dress, puffed to the waist, low neck,
but wore no jewelry ; her mother, however,
wore elegant diamond ear-drops, rings, and
pins. When, therefore, one of the officers
of the evening announced to Miss Groes
beck that she was to be honored with the
prince's hand for the second dance, Mrs.
Groesbeck quietly took off her own jewelry
and passed them to her favored daughter ;
the latter declined them. Her mother
insisted; but Miss Groesbeck, with equal
determination, positively refused to wear
any kind of ornament other than her sim
ple dress and the wealth of beauty which
Nature had bestowed on her.
It is not exaggerating, to say that the
prince made an agreeable impression
wherever he went. He was described by
one of the newspaper reporters, as follows :
" He seems to be about five feet four inches
high ; his eye is beautifully blue, mild,
funny, clear, and jolly ; his nose is well
defined, not perfectly straight, but clean-
cut and prominent ; his mouth is full, and
his chin retreats wonderfully. His coun
tenance indicates a happy dispositioned,
good-natured, humorous, fun-loving boy,
who knows what he is about, and can't
easily be fooled. His hair is soft and fine,
though disposed to grow rather low down
the neck and on the forehead, whilst his
head is well shaped, and would indicate
firmness, benevolence, quickness of percep
tion, and love of music. The very, very
large hands and feet of the young gentle
man are but reproductions of those of his

royal mother, to whom Dame Nature has
been very generous in that regard. His
form is small and very well proportioned,
and his bearing is dignified, manly, and
modest." His dress varied much, of
course, with the place and occasion, but
was always simple, elegant, and appro
priate. Portland, Me., was the place from which
the illustrious guest of the nation took his
departure for England. As the royal
barge leftrthe wharf to convey the prince
to the Hero, the British squadron all fired
a royal salute of twenty-one guns, and sim
ilar salutes were fired from the city and
from Fort Preble. The harbor was full of
steamers, sail-boats, barges, etc., which
accompanied the royal barge from the
wharf. As tbe flotilla neared the royal
squadron, the yards were manned, and this,
with the strings of bunting and flags flying
from every point of the fleet, formed a
magnificent spectacle, which was witnessed
by an immense concourse of people. To
all the parting salutations, the British
ships responded by dipping their colors ;
and, as the squadron sailed, the bands on
board each vessel played Yankee Doodle,
and Fort Preble saluted the party with
farewell guns as they passed.
So heart-felt, generous, and enthusiastic
a reception of the prince, in America, pro
duced the highest satisfaction throughout
England. The queen, at an early day,
caused to be officially communicated to the
president and to the people of the United
States, "her grateful sense of the kindness
with which they received her son ; " the
hospitality shown him was warmly com
plimented in parliament ; and Prince Al
bert, as chancellor of tbe University of
Cambridge, directed that the annual gold
medal there given for the encouragement
of English poetry, should, that year, be
awarded for the best poem on " The Prince
of Wales at the Tomb of Washington."

LXXXYIII.
BOMBARDMENT AND REDUCTION OP FORT SUM
TER,— 1861.

Inauguration of Civil War in the United States. — First Military Act in the Long and Bloody Struggle
to Dismember the Union. — Organization of the Southern Confederacy. — President Lincoln's Procla
mation for 75,000 Volunteers. — Spontaneous Uprising of the Loyal People — Calling the Battle-Roll
ofthe Republic. — Supreme Crisis in the Fate of the Nation. — Northern and Southern Variances. — Slav
ery the Cause of Contention. — Culmination of the Antagonism. — Disunion the Banner ofthe South.
—Secession of Several States. — War Wager Boldlv Staked — Vain Efforts at Reconciliation. — Federal
Property Seized at the South. — Batteries Erected at Charleston. — Fort Sumter Closely Besieged.
—Beauregard Demands its Surrender. — Major Anderson's Flat Refusal. — Weakness of His Garrison.
—Attempts to Reenforce It — Prevented by Confederate Batteries. — All Eyes Riveted on the Fort. —
Opening of the Attack, April 14th — Incessant and Tremendous Fire — Terms of Evacuation Accepted.
—Southern Rejoicings. — The Great Military Outlook. — Washington the National Key.

u Can either of yon to-day name one single act of wrong, deliberately and purpoaely done by the government at Washington, of which
the South has a right to complain ? 1 challenge an answer." — Hon. Alex. U. Stephens, before tub Georgia Secession Conven
tion.

IGHTY-EOUR years had now
sped their course, since the
republic of the United States,
with the immortal Declara
tion of Independence as its Magna Char
ta of sovereignty, took a place among
the governments of the earth as a free
and independent nation, and, during all
that long period, the federal armies had
been called to face — with but an occa
sional local and transient exception —
only external or savage foes. Party
JXAS OF FORT SUMTER.AFTER THE BOMBARDMENT." .^ ^ jg ^^ had not ^frequently
wn high, and hurled defiance at law and its administrators, and at times, the strain
upon the ship of state seemed near to proving its destruction ; but forbearance, com
promise, fraternity and patriotism, smoothed the rough waves of contention, and peace
regained her benign sway.
But the long existing and bitter antagonism of opinion on the subject of slavery,
between the North and the South, culminated at last— on the inauguration of Mr.
^coln as president, in 1861,— in a civil war, the extent, duration, and horrors of
which have never been paralleled in any age or among any people, since tbe world
48

F51

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

began. In vain did President Lincoln de
clare, in his inaugural, his opposition to
any interference with slavery in the states
where it existed, in vain were assurances
to the same effect proffered by the party
that had just triumphed in the presiden
tial contest, and in vain were conferences
and consultations held by the leading
statesmen and politicians of different sec
tions, with a view to avert the calamity of
war. Intent on a separate national existence,
under which they might maintain unmo
lested, as well as extend, the institution of
slavery, the southern states recalled their
senators and representatives from congress,
flung out the banner of Secession — which
was the wager and signal of War, — and,
as an initial step, commenced the seizure
of United States custom-houses, arsenals,
forts, and other public property, within
their borders.
First in order of importance, in this
startling programme of overt acts, was the
movement of the authorities of South Car
olina to possess themselves of Port Sum
ter, in Charleston harbor, before opportu
nity should be gained by the national
government to re-enforce its scanty re
sources of men and provisions. To this
end, extensive batteries were erected on
the shores opposite the fort, by means of
which, any ordinary naval force which the
federal authorities then had available for
conveying supplies, could easily be crippled
in attempting such assistance.
In this besieged condition, the brave
and loyal commander of the fort, Major
Robert Anderson, and his true-hearted
men, were kept for several weeks, with the
eager eyes of millions of admiring coun
trymen riveted upon them. The vessel
which was finally dispatched by the navy
department for their relief, was shelled by
the batteries and compelled to return
without fulfilling her mission. This was
done in accordance with the orders received
from the secession authorities at Mont
gomery, Ala., where a government styled
the Confederate States of America had
been formally established, with Jefferson

Davis as president, and which was to as
sume all the responsibility and direction
of that mighty struggle through which, as
they expected, southern independence was
to be secured, and the Republic of the
United States rent in twain.
After various official preliminaries, on
either side, but without arriving at any
satisfactory understanding, a demand was
made, April llth, by General Beauregard,
commander of the insurgent batteries, for
the surrender of the fort. This demand
was declined by Major Anderson — all the
officers having been consulted by him in
regard to the summons. At about three
o'clock, on the morning of the 12th, notice
was given that fire would be opened on the
fort in one hour, unless the demand to
surrender was instantly complied with.
Major Anderson resolved not to return fire
until broad daylight, not wishing to waste
any of his ammunition. From the state
ments made by the officers of Fort Sumter,
it appears that fire was opened upon the
fort from all points at once, and, to the
astonishment of its defenders, a masked
battery of heavy columbiads opened on
them from that part of Sullivan's Island
near the floating battery, of the existence
of which Major Anderson had not the
slightest intimation. It was covered with
brush and other materials, which com
pletely concealed it, and was skillfully con
structed and well secured. Seventeen
mortars, firing ten-inch shell, and thirty-
three heavy guns, mostly columbiads, were
engaged in the assault. The crash made
by the shot against the walls was terrific,
and many of the shells took effect inside
the fort. The inmates took breakfast at
half-past six o'clock, leisurely and calmly,
after which the command was formed into
three reliefs, equally dividing the officers
and men. The first relief was under the
command of Captain Doubleday, of the
artillery, and Lieutenant Snyder, of the
engineer corps. This detachment went to
the guns and opened fire upon the Cum-
mings's Point battery, Fort Moultrie, and
Sullivan's Island. The Iron Battery was
of immense strength, so that most of the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

755

shots from Fort Sumter struck and glanced
off again. The fire was so terrible on the
parapet of Fort Sumter, that Major Ander
son refused to allow the men to man the
guns. Had they been permitted to do so,
every one of them would have been sacri
ficed. Fort Moultrie was considerably
damaged by the cannonading from Fort
Sumter, a great many shots having taken
effect on the embrasures. A new English
rifled gun, which was employed by the
insurgents, was fired with great accuracy,
several of its shots entering the embra
sures of Fort Sumter, and one of them
slightly wounded four men.

The reliefs were changed every four
hours, and the men owed their safety to
the extraordinary care exercised by the
officers in command. A man was kept
constantly on the look-out, who would cry
'shot,' or 'shell,' at every shot the enemy
made, thus affording the men exposed
ample opportunity for shelter. The gar
rison was lamentably weak in numbers;
but the workmen, though at first rather
reluctant to assist the soldiers in handling
the guns, gradually took hold and rendered
valuable assistance. Indeed, but few shots
were fired before every one of them be
came desperately engaged in the conflict.
They had to abandon one gun, on account
M the close fire made upon it. Hearing
'he fire renewed with it, however, an offi-
CM went to the spot, and there found a
PMty of workmen still employed in serving
une of the workmen was stooping

over it with his hands on bis knees, con
vulsed with joy, with the tears rolling
down his powder-begrimmed cheeks.
"What are you doing here with that
gun?" the officer asked. "Hit it right
in the center,'' was the reply, — the man
meaning that his shot had taken effect in
tbe center of the floating battery.
The aim of the insurgents was particu
larly directed at the flag-staff, from which
waved proudly the stars and stripes ; and,
after two days' incessant firing, the flag
staff was finally shot away. The effect
of such continuous firing was terribly
damaging. "One tower," says one of
the garrison, " was so completely de
molished that not one brick was left
standing upon the other. The barracks
caught fire on the first day several times,
but in every instance was put out by Mr.
Hart, of New York, a volunteer, who par
ticularly distinguished himself for his
coolness and bravery. On the second day,
the barracks caught fire from a ten-inch
shell, and the danger to be encountered in
the attempt to extinguish it being so great,
the major concluded not to attempt it.
The effect of the fire was more disastrous
that we could have supposed. The subse
quent shots of the enemy took more effect
in consequence ; the walls were weakened,
and we were more exposed. The main
gates were destroyed by fire, thus leaving
us exposed to the murderous aim of the
enemy. Five hundred men could have
formed on the gorge, and marched on us
without our being able to oppose them.
The fire spread around the fort on all sides.
Fearful that the walls might crack, and
the shells pierce and prostrate them, we
commenced taking the powder out of the
magazine before the fire had fully envel
oped it. We took ninety-six barrels of
powder out, and threw them into the sea,
leaving two hundred barrels in. Owing
to a lack of cartridges, we kept five men
inside the magazine, to sew them up as we
wanted them, thus consuming our shirts,
sheets, blankets, and all the available ma
terial in tbe fort. When we were finally
obliged to close tbe magazine, and our

756

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

material for cartridges was exhausted, we
were left destitute of any means to con
tinue the contest. We had eaten our last
biscuit thirty-six hours before. We were
very nearly stifled with the dense smoke
from the burning buildings. The men lay
prostrate on the ground, with wet hand
kerchiefs over their mouths and eyes, gasp
ing for breath. It was a moment of immi
nent peril. If an eddy of wind had not
ensued, we all, probably, would have been
suffocated. The crashing of the shot, the
bursting of the shells, the falling of walls,
and the roar of the flames, made a Pande
monium of the fort. We nevertheless
kept up a steady fire. Early in the after
noon of the 13th, ex-senator Wigfall, of
Texas, — who had become an officer in tbe
Confederate military service, — seeing the
inequality of the contest, made bis appear
ance at one of the embrasures with a white
handkerchief on the end of a sword, and
begged for admittance. He asked to see
Major Anderson. While Wigfall was in
the act of crawling through the embrasure,
Lieutenant Snyder called out to him,
"Major Anderson is at the main gate."
He passed through the embrasure into the
casement, paying no attention to what the
lieutenant had said. Here be was met
by Captain Foster and Lieutenants Mead
and Davis. In an excited manner be
said —
" Let us stop this firing. You are on
fire, and your flag is down. Let us quit."
"No, sir," replied Lieutenant Davis,
" our flag is not down. Step out here, and
you will see it waving over the ramparts."
"Let us quit this," said Wigfall;
" here's a white flag — will anybody wave
it out of the embrasure ? "
"That is for you to do, if you choose,"
replied one of the officers.
" If there is no one else to do it, I will,"
said Wigfall.
He immediately jumped into the em
brasure, and waved the flag towards Fort
Moultrie. The firing, however, still con
tinued from Moultrie and the batteries of
Sullivan's Island. In answer to his re
peated request, one of the officers said

that one of Sumter's men might hold the
flag, and Corporal Binghurst jumped into
the embrasure. The shot continuing to
strike all around him, he leaped down
again, after having waved the flag a few
moments, and exclaimed —
" They don't respect this flag ; they are
firing at it." •
" They fired at me two or three times/'
replied Wigfall, "and I stood it, and I
should think you might stand it once. If
you will show a white flag from your ram
parts, they will cease firing."
" If you request," said Lieutenant Da
vis, "that a flag shall be shown there,
while you hold a conference with Major
Anderson, and for that purpose alone, it
may be done."
At this point Major Anderson came up.
Wigfall said, " I am General Wigfall, and
come from General Beauregard, who
wishes to stop this."
Major Anderson, rising to his full
height, replied, " Well, sir ! "
" Major Anderson," exclaimed Wigfall,
"you have defended your flag nobly, sir.
You have done all that it is possible for
men to do, and General Beauregard wishes
to stop the fight. On what terms, Major
Anderson, will you evacuate this fort ? "
"General Beauregard is already ac
quainted with my only terms," was Major
Anderson's reply.
"Do I understand that you will evacuate
upon the terms proposed the other day?"
inquired Wigfall.
" Yes, sir, and on those conditions only."
"Then, sir," said Wigfall, "I under
stand that the fort is to be ours."
" On these conditions only, I repeat."
" Very well," said Wigfall, and he re
tired. A short time afterwards, a deputation,
consisting of Senator Chesnut, Roger A.
Pryor, Capt. S. D. Lee, and W. Porcher
Miles, came from General Beauregard and
had an interview with Major Anderson,
when it came out that Wigfall had no
authority to speak for General Beauregard,
but acted on his own responsibility.
" Then," said Lieutenant Davis, " we have

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

757

been deceived;" and Major Anderson,
perceiving tbe state of the, case, ordered
the American flag to be raised to its place.
The deputation, however, requested him
to keep the flag down until they could
communicate with General Beauregard, as
matters were liable to be complicated.
They left, and, between two and three
hours after, the garrison meanwhile exert
ing themselves to extinguish the fire in
the barracks, another deputation came
from General Beauregard, agreeing to the
terms of evacuation previously proposed.
This was on Saturday evening. That
night the garrison took what rest they
could'. Next day, the steam-boat Isabel
came down and anchored near the fort.

^o?y^

The steamer Clinch was used as a trans
port to take the garrison to the Isabel, but
the transfer was too late to allow the Isa
bel to go out with that tide. The terms
of evacuation agreed to were, that the gar
rison should take their individual and
company property, and that they should
march out with their side and other arms,
with all the honors of war, in their own
way, and at their own time, and that they
should salute their flag and take it with
them. The insurgents agreed to furnish trans-
Ports, as Major Anderson might select, to
any part of the country, either by land or
hy water. When the baggage of the gar

rison was all on board of the transport, the
soldiers remaining inside under arms, a
portion were designated as gunners to
serve in saluting the American flag.
When the last gun was fired, the flag was
lowered, tbe men cheering. At the fiftieth
discbarge there was a premature explosion,
which killed one man instantly, seriously
wounded another, and two more not so
badly. The men were then formed and
marched out, the band playing " Yankee
Doodle " and " Hail to the Chief."
In regard to the mode of action pursued
by Major Anderson, during the bombard
ment, bis sagacity was everywhere mani
fest. So small was the number of his
men, as to necessitate their division into
reliefs, or equal parties, so as to work
the different batteries by turns, each
four hours. Another account of this
terrible scene states that the first relief
opened upon the iron batteries at Cum
mings Point, at a distance of sixteen
hundred yards, the iron floating bat
tery, distant some eighteen hundred or
two thousand yards at the end of Sulli
van's Island, the enfilading battery on
Sullivan's Island, and Fort Moultrie,
— Captain Doubleday firing the first
gun, and all the points just named be
ing opened upon simultaneously. For
the first four hours, the firing was kept
up with great rapidity ; the enthusiasm
of the men, indeed, was so great that
the second and third reliefs could not be
kept from the guns. This accounts for
the fact that double the number of guns
were at work during the first four hours
than at any other time.
Shells burst with the greatest rapidity
in every portion of the work, hurling the
loose brick and stone in all directions,
breaking the windows, and setting fire to
whatever wood-work they burst against.
The solid shot firing of the enemy's bat
teries, and particularly of Fort Moultrie,
was directed at tbe barbette guns of Fort
Sumter, disabling one ten-inch and one
eight-inch columbiad, one forty-two pound
er, and two eight-inch sea-coast howit
zers, and also tearing away a large portion

758

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

of the parapet. The firing from the bat
teries' on Cummings Point was scattered
over the whole of the gorge, or rear, of the
fort. It looked like a sieve. The explo
sion of shells, and the quantity of deadly
missiles hurled in every direction and at (
every instant of time, made it almost cer
tain death to go out of the lower tier of
casements, and also made the working of
the barbette, or upper uncovered guns,
which contained all the heaviest metals,
and by which alone shells could be thrown,
quite impossible. During the first day
there was hardly an instant of time that
there was a cessation of the whizzing of
balls, which were sometimes coming half a
dozen at once. There was not a portion of
the work which was not seen in reverse —
that is, exposed by the rear — from mor
tars. On Friday, before dinner, several of the
vessels of the fleet beyond the bar were
seen through the port-holes. They dipped
their flag. The command ordered Sum
ter's flag to be dipped in return, which
was done, while the shells were bursting
in every direction. The flagstaff was lo
cated in the open parade, being about tbe
center of the open space within the fort.
Sergeant Hart saw the flag half-way down,
and, supposing that it had been cut by the
enemy's shot, rushed out through the fire
to assist in getting it up. Shortly after it
had been re-raised, a shell burst and cut
the halyards, but the rope was so inter
twined around the halyards, that the flag
would not fall. Sergeant Hart also par
ticularly distinguished himself in trying to
put out the flames in the quarters, with
shells and shot crashing around him; and,
though ordered away by Major Anderson,
he begged hard to be permitted to remain
and continue his exertions.
One great misfortune was, that there
was not an instrument in the fort by which
they could weigh powder, which of course
destroyed all attempt at accuracy of firing.
Nor were there any tangent scales, breech
sides, or other instruments with which to
point a gun. When it became so dark as
to render it impossible to see the effect of

their shot, tbe port-holes were closed for
the night, while the batteries of the seces
sionists continued, their fire the whole
night. The firing of tbe rifled guns from
the iron battery on Cummings Point be
came extremely accurate in the afternoon
of Friday, cutting out large ' quantities of
the masonry about the embrasures at every
shot. One piece struck Sergeant Kearnan,
an old Mexican war veteran, striking him
on the bead and knocking him down.
Upon being revived, he was asked if he
was hurt badly. He replied, " No ! I was
only knocked down temporarily ; " and he
went to work again. On Saturday, when
the barracks were on fire, the wind so
directed the smoke as to fairly fill the fort,
so that the men could not see each other,
and, with the hot, stifling air, it was as
much as a man could do to breathe. Soon
they were obliged to cover their faces with
wet cloths in order to get along at all, so
dense was the smoke and so scorching the
heat. But few cartridges were left, and
the guns were fired slowly ; nor could morn
cartridges be made, on account of the
sparks falling in every part of the works.
A gun was fired every now and then, only
to let the people and the fleet in the town
know that the fort had not been silenced.
The cannoneers could not see to aim, much
less where they hit.
After the barracks were well on fire, the
shells and ammunition in the upper ser
vice-magazines exploded, scattering the
tower and upper portions of the building
in every direction. The crash of the
beams, the roar of the flames, the rapid
explosion of the shells, and the shower of
fragments of the fort, with the blackness
of the smoke, made the scene indescriba
bly terrific and grand. This continued for
several hours. Meanwhile, the main gates
were burned down, the chassis of the bar
bette guns were burned away on the gorge,
and the upper portions of the towers had
been demolished by shells. There was not
a portion of the fort where a breath of air
could be got for hours, except through a
wet cloth. The fire spread through to the
men's quarters, on the right hand and on

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

759

INTERIOR OF FORT SUMTER AFTER THE BOMB AKDMEU i
the left, and endangered the powder that
had been taken out of the magazines.
The men went through the fire and cov
ered the barrels with wet cloths, but the
ger of the fort's blowing up became so
imminent, that they were obliged to heave
the barrels out of the embrasures. While
the powder was being thrown overboard,
all the guns of Moultrie, of tbe iron float
ing battery, of the enfilade battery, and
the Dahlgren battery, worked with in
creased vigor.
The interior of Fort Sumter, as seen
after the evacuation and described by the
newspaper reporters, showed the work that
had been done during the bombardment.
Every point-and every object, to which tbe
eye was turned, except the outer walls and
casements, bore the impress of ruin. The
walls of the internal structure, roofless,
hare, blackened and perforated by shot and
shell, hung in fragments, and seemed in
instant readiness to totter down. Near
the center of the parade ground was the
hurried grave of one who had fallen in
defense of his country's flag. To tbe left
of the entrance was a man who seemed at
the verge of death. In the ruins to tbe
right there was another. The shattered
%-staff, marked by four balls, lay on the

ground. The parade ground was strewn
with fragments of shell and of the dilapi
dated buildings. At least four guns were
dismounted on the ramparts, and at every
step the way was impeded by materials o£
the broken structure. The whole scene
was one of frightful desolation, causing
indescribable feelings in every loyal heart.
On the 18th of April, Major Anderson,
then on his way to New York, in the
steamship Baltic, penned his official dis
patch to Mr. Cameron, secretary of war,
stating that, "having defended Fort Sum
ter for thirty-four hours, until the quar-

760

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ters were entirely burned, the main gates
destroyed by fire, the gorge wall seriously
injured, the magazine surrounded by
flames, and its door closed from the effects
of the heat, four barrels and three car
tridges of powder only being available,
and no provisions but pork remaining, I
accepted terms of evacuation offered by
General Beauregard, being the same of
fered by him on the llth instant, prior to
the commencement of hostilities, and
marched out of the fort Sunday afternoon,
the 14th instant, with colors flying and
drums beating, bringing away company
and private property, and saluting my flag
with fifty guns." Major Anderson and his
men received the thanks of the govern
ment for their gallant defense of the fort
against such odds.
As soon as the national flag had ceased
to wave over Fort Sumter, tbe president
issued a proclamation for an extra session
of congress, to convene July 4th, and also
calling for seventy-five thousand men, in
order "to maintain the honor, the integ
rity, and existence of our national Union
and the perpetuity of popular government,
and to redress wrongs already long enough
endured." This proclamation was of
course spurned and ridiculed by the seven
states — South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama,
Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas
— that had formed themselves into the
Southern Confederacy ; and, by the other
southern states, as also by the border
states, it was treated with mingled con
tempt and indignation. But, throughout
the vast North and West, it was received
and responded to with an enthusiasm
which showed that the attempt to dismem
ber the North American Republic and
blot it out from the map of nations, was to
be resisted to the last dollar and the last
man. The supreme hour in the history of
the nation had now arrived, and, reluctant
as were the loyal states to engage in the
horrors of fratricidal strife, the wager of
war was the only alternative which now
presented itself. The national fate hung
trembling in the scale of destiny, and the

people rose in their might; party lines
were obliterated; the battle-roll of the
republic was called; the old flag seemed
never before so dear to the patriot's heart.
On the other hand, the successful reduc
tion of Fort Sumter inspired universal
enthusiasm at the south, in behalf of the
secession cause, — Virginia, Tennessee,
North Carolina, Arkansas, and Missouri
joined the Confederacy, — and gigantic
preparations were made for a contest which
should result in separation and independ
ence. Armies were formed and equipped,
and defensive fortifications erected, in all
the disunion states.
At the head of the armies of the loyal
states was Lieutenant-General Scott, di
recting all the preparations and move
ments for the impending conflict, and espe
cially devoting his military skill to the
protection of the federal capital. It was
said that he had all along been averse,
from purely military considerations, to the
re-enforcement of Fort Sumter, it being,
like Charleston, of no strategic importance,
requiring a valuable force to hold it, with
no adequate advantage gained. He re
garded Fort Pickens, in the Gulf, and
Washington, the capital, as the two keys
of the position. On the 4th of March, and
for some weeks afterward, it would have
been almost impossible for the federal gov
ernment to defend Washington against
such a force as had already been collected
by the. secessionists before Sumter, and
which could be marched at any time on a
capital unprepared for defense. General
Scott's plans, based on these facts, were at
once laid. No time was lost in strength
ening the capital. Success attended the
effort to increase the garrison of Fort
Pickens, and at last Washington was rea
sonably safe.
And thus commenced what finally
proved to be the most gigantic and bloody
struggle in the annals of human strife, the
result of the conflict, too, being the most
momentous, perhaps, in its relations to the
interests of the human race, of any since
the world began.

LXXXIX.
ASTONISHING FEATS OF HORSE-TAMING PERFORMED
BY MR. JOHN S. RAREY.— 1861.

The Most Savage and Furious Animals Made Tractable as Lambs.— The Ferocious and Far Famed
"Cruiser" Lies Docile at His Master's Feet —Acclamations of Wonder and Admiration by Crowded
Audiences.— Brilliant Honors from Monarchs and Courts Abroad.— Philosophy of Mr. Rarey's
Method and Success.-Mr. Rarey Personally.-Boyhood Fondness for Horses.-Aptness in Training
Them—Discovers an Improved Method.— Its Perfect Success.— Wild Prairie Horses Subdued —
-Determines to Exhibit Abroad —His Skill Challenged in London.—" Cruiser " to be the Great Test.
-Rage and Fury of the Animal.— Plunging, Rearing, Yelling, Biting —Rarey's Complete Triumph —
Monarchs and Princes Present.-Their Surprise and Delight.- Victoria's Rapturous Applause -
Exhibitions in the United States.-Terrible Cases Dealt With.— Rarey Always Conqueror.-His
Calm, Fine, Firm Voice.— Cool, Quiet, Quick Movements.— Magnetism of His Presence —Details of
the System.

Staat^'S^^^^^ ' — m0ke "» "nta"J B™">'° °f ^ Power-make Mm gentle .d

' ORtJISEB." DKTAMED.

OVEL and extraordinary, to a degree bordering
on the marvelous, were the exhibitions
with which the name of John S. Rarey,
of Ohio, became so popularly identified,
both in America and Europe, in the
management of that noblest, as well as
most useful and beautiful, of animals, the
horse. Wondering and delighted crowds
attended these exhibitions, in all
the principal cities of this country ;
and, abroad, crowned heads and
titled dignitaries were among the
gifted champion's most enthusias
tic auditors, — and there, as well as
at home, every American felt a
just pride in the laurels achieved
by their countryman. Such a
decided sensation, — at once so
exciting, pleasant, and universal, may well have a place in the
national gallery of things noteworthy and agreeable. Surely,
few, if any, of tbe marvels recorded in that wonderful French
book, " The Great Wizard,"' which Dr. R. Shelton McKenzie

762

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

has given to the English reader in so fasci
nating a dress, can be said to equal the
feats performed by the very practical wiz
ard of Ohio, in the different cities of the
Union in 1861, and which cast all that is
merely ideal or legerdemain far and for
ever into the shade.
At the time of these astonishing tri
umphs, Mr. Rarey was a slightly built
man, about thirty years of age. He was
the son of a stock farmer and breeder of
horses, who lived in Franklin county, Ohio,
and was himself engaged in a similar occu
pation at a place called Groveport, about
ten miles from Columbus, the capital of
that state. From boyhood he is stated to
have exhibited an intense fondness for
horses and a remarkable aptitude for
breaking and training them after the old
fashion, until be discovered a more humane
mode of treatment, and which he soon
put into practice with the greatest success
m his native state. The subjects on which
he operated were in many cases horses
reclaimed in a perfectly wild condition
from the western prairies, and in the
course of his experience he had several of
his limbs broken, but without at all damp
ening his enthusiasm or diminishing bis
faith. Appreciating the Englishman's superior
love and care for the horse, Mr. Rarey
visited England at the outset of his career,
for the purpose of exhibiting and introduc
ing his system of training in that country.
His success was such as to elicit the most
unbounded admiration, mingled with at
least an equal degree of astonishment, on
the part of audiences the most crowded
and brilliant, including veteran horse-
trainers from far and near. Among the
latter class, were not a few who regarded
the American performer with somewhat of
professional jealousy, and it was not long
before the following challenge of his skill
was received by him from a high source :
" Mr. Rarey is a public man, and of course
exposed to criticism. Some of his experi
ments have proved successful, but there
has not been time enough to develop
whether the docility of these horses upon

whom he has operated is as durable as he
alleges. If, however, he would 'walk over
the course,' and set criticism at defiance,
let him go down some morning to Mur-
rell's Green, with a few of his aristocratic
friends, and try, ' Cruiser,' and if he can
ride him as a hack I guarantee him immor
tality, and an amount of ready money that
would make a British bank director's
mouth water. The 'initiated' will not be
surprised at my selecting Cruiser; but as
the public may be ignorant of him, I will
append some particulars of his history:
Cruiser was the property of Lord Dor
chester, and was a favorite of the Derby
in Wild Daynell's year, but broke down
about a month before the race. Like all
horses of Venison blood, his temper was not
of the mildest kind, and his owner was glad
to get rid of him. When started for Raw-
cliffe, the man who had him in charge was
told on no account to put him in a stable,
as he would never get him out. This
injunction was of course disregarded, for
when the man wanted some refreshment
he put Cruiser in the public stable and
left him. To get him out, the roof of the
building had to be ripped off. At Raw-
cliffe, Cruiser was always exhibited by a
groom with a ticket-of-leave bludgeon in
his hand, and few were bold enough to
venture into the animal's inclosure, the
cordial wish of every visitor being ' that
some friendly bullet would lay him low.'
This animal, then, whose temper has
depreciated his value perhaps a thousand
pounds, I think would be ' the right horse
in the right place,' to try Mr. Rarey's
skill ; and as the locale is so near London,
the sooner the experiment is made the
better." This challenge was no sooner
received than accepted, and, as the vicious.
ness and ferocity of Cruiser had hitherto
utterly baffled every attempt at subjection,
the trial of Mr. Rarey's skill was looked
forward to with intense interest.
Cruiser's habit, it appears, was to
scream and yell when any one approached
him, to smash up his stall "into lucifcr
matches," and to attempt to bite and de
stroy every living thing in his neighbor-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

763

hood. Noblemen used to go and throw
articles into his brick box, in order to see
him fight. When he was to be fed or
watered, the first proceeding with his
groom was to ascertain, by thrusting a long
pole in at the stable door, where the en
emy stood, and then to deposit the food,
shut the door, and vanish as soon as pos
sible. Mr. Rarey changed all this in a
moment, as it were. He ordered the sta
ble door to be thrown open, introduced
himself according to his system, without
delay, and in half an hour the indomitable
Cruiser might be ridden by a child, could
listen tranquilly to the beating of a drum,
and stand serene even if an umbrella
were flourished in bis face. Gentle as a
lamb, he followed his teacher about the
arena like a dog, stopping when he pointed
his finger, lying down when be was told,
rising again when he obtained permission,
and doing all this in a mild, good-humored
sort of way, as if tbe wish to oblige was
the sole ruling motive, and that the now
docile Cruiser was totally unaware of that
terrible array of wh'ps and spurs, bits and
muzzles, with which his first teachers had
sought to check his ferocity and bring him
to reason. The speedy, easy, and com
plete success of Mr. Rarey, in this remark
able case, gave him, at once, the most flat
tering and exalted reputation from one end
of Europe to the other.
On Mr. Rarey's appearance at Niblo's,
in New York, he exhibited this renowned
specimen of the equine race — an animal
over sixteen hands high, and of immense
bone and muscle, — and said: "When I
went to England and exhibited there, the
papers all said, ' This is very well, but try
Cruiser!' I immediately wrote to Lord
Dorchester, about the horse, and he replied
that the horse could not be brought to me,
but that I must come to him. I did go to
him. The horse had not been out of his
box for three years ; a brick stable had to
be built for him, and he would have been
shot, but he was the last of a race of splen
did blood-horses, and his owner was anx
ious to preserve him if possible. I found
that by his biting and kicking he had so

injured himself that he could not be taken
out of his box, and so I had to wait for his
recovery. I went down to see him, quietly
and unknown, but somehow the papers got
hold of it, and everybody said that I dared
not go near Cruiser." Under these cir
cumstances, Mr. Rarey was detained some
three weeks, when he went to London,
accompanied by the now subdued steed.
The collar and muzzle which Cruiser
used to wear were exhibited by Mr. Rarey.
His owner could place them upon him
only by letting a rope down through the
roof of his stall, fastening it under his
neck, and raising him off his fore feet.
The exhibition at Niblo's was the first
time Cruiser had been on the stage in
America. " We have," said Mr. Rarey,
" had no rehearsal ; but instead of kicking,
as he used, he will now (as you see) give
me his foot like a gentleman." Two

JOHN S. KAUEY.
straps were now shown, being all that had
been used in taming this horse. Mr.
Rarey, on being asked to explain, more
particularly, how he approached Cruiser,
said: "I think horses have a reason for
everything they do. I knew if I ap
proached Cruiser with a stick he would
fight me, as he had fought others who
came to whip him. In the box was a
double door, so that I could open the
upper half. I went quietly; opened the
door noiselessly. Cruiser turned round, saw
me, started back frightfully, but did not
attempt to come at me. He came slowly
up to smell of me after a while, and, in
spite of Lord Dorchester's entreaties, I

764

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

stood still. Presently, when I saw that
he stood naturally, I began to fondle him.
Lord Dorchester begged me to tie his
head, and I did so, but you never saw
such fighting. Finding that he would
either kill himself or tear down the box, I
released him, and began all over again.
After he allowed me to fondle him, I took
him into the straw-yard, and proceeded as
with any other horse, until at last he
would let me take any liberty with him,
and Lord Dorchester mounted him with
impunity." Mr. Rarey declared that
Cruiser was about as celebrated for his
viciousness as he himself was for taming
him. A horse of the Messenger breed, excita
ble and ferocious, was next operated upon.
By gently fondling his bead and caressing
him, Mr. Rarey succeeded in managing
him perfectly. " See," said Mr. Rarey,
" I place this horse's foot upon me. There
is no danger. He would no more tread
heavily upon me than a mare upon her
foal." He sat upon the animal, put his
hoofs playfully together, and rested his
'•nead composedly between the horse's heels.
At first, Mr. Rarey fastened a strap round
the horse's fore leg, so as to make him
limp on three legs and finally kneel.
When the second strap was attached, a
struggle ensued, which ended in the ani
mal's lying down, and here the art of Mr.
Rarey, in its perfect adaptedness to the
end sought, was made apparent.
Next in course was a wild horse from
South America, which threw Mr. Rarey
several times, plunging, rearing, and bit
ing with rage and fury. On his leg, too,
Mr. Rarey attached the fatal strap, and,
after a prolonged struggle, the animal was
thrown, and his conquerer was upon him.
After rising up and sitting down again on
the horse's back several times, in order to
accustom the horse to the sensation, Mr.
Rarey raised him up, and, addressing the
audience from the animal's back, said :
"It is entirely wrong to leap upon a
horse's back and hold fast, no matter how
frightened he may be. There is now a
perfect understanding between us. All

horses like me after this process. They
all come to me gladly. This is the test of
breaking : If they fly away from you, then
know you have treated them badly ; if
they come to you, they know you are a
friend." No better illustration of the
truth of these remarks was needed than the
case then in hand.
Perhaps the most brilliant and magnifi
cent reception ever accorded in Europe to
a private, untitled American, was on the
occasion of Mr. Rarey's performances in
London, when there were present the
Queen, Prince Albert, the princess royal,
the Prince of Wales, Prince Alfred, and
other members of the royal family, with
the ladies of the court and most of the
foreign princes and distinguished visitors
then in the metropolis, including Prince
Frederick William of Prussia, the prince
of Prussia ; the Princes Frederick Charles,
Albert, Frederick Albert, and Adelbert, of
Prussia ; Prince Hohenzollern Sigmarin-
gen, tbe Duke of Saxe Coburg and Gotha,
the Duke of Brabant, the Count of Flan
ders, Prince William of Baden, Prince
Edward of Saxe Weimer, and Prince Jul
ius of Holstein Glucksburg. The Duke
of Wellington, Major-General Sir Richard
Airey, Lord Paget, and countless other
dignitaries were also present.
The subjects on which Mr. Rarey oper
ated were decided cases. One was a fine-
spirited black horse, of high nervous tem
perament, which had been returned to Mr.
Anderson, of Picadilly, of whom he had
been bought for a large sum of money, on
the ground of his being all but unmanage
able. At the first private interview of
Mr. Rarey with this horse, the animal was
placed in a loose box, which Mr. Rarey
entered, cracking a whip. Startled by
this unusual exhibition of violence, the
horse struck out with both his hind legs,
and uttered a kind of savage yell. The
company who had assembled to witness
the experiment were then asked to with
draw, and Mr. Rarey was left alone with
the horse. On being called in again, in
less than quarter of an hour, they were
amazed to find the animal prostrate on his

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

765

side among the straw in the stall, with
his head slightly raised, and Mr. Rarey,
whom he was eyeing without the slightest
symptom of alarm, lying beside him. Mr.
Earey remained with him in this position
for some time, during which he knocked
the horse's fore and hind hoofs together,
made a pillow of his thighs, and finally got
up and ran a heavy wheelbarrow up to and
around the still prostrate creature, without
producing in him the slightest sensation
of fear. Subsequently, the mastery of
Mr. Earey became so complete over this
horse, that, when laid on his side in a
loose box, a plank was placed against his
shoulder in sight of the horse, and a bar
row run up it. He never moved. A
drum was also beaten on his back, and an
umbrella opened in his very face ; but he
remained stock still, and evinced no sign
of apprehension.
The next subject on which Mr. Rarey
experimented was a young unbroken colt,
brought from Prince Albert's farm, and
which had never been bandied in any
way. This colt was led into the arena in
halter, and, after being left alone with the
horse-tamer a few minutes, the company
saw, as in the former case, this wild colt
lying on the ground, and the horse-tamer
by his side, who sat upon him and handled
his legs, feet, and every other part by
turns, — a process during which the creat
ure remained as gentle and passive as a
child. After Mr. Rarey had parted with the
colt, a handsome bay-charger, belonging to
Prince Albert, was brought forward. This
horse was one of high spirit, which had
always shown great restlessness while be
ing mounted and a constant tendency to
take fright, and, it was thought, would
thoroughly defy all of Mr. Rarey's at
tempts to tame him. In a short time,
however, the horse-tamer had him down
also, as submissive as all the rest, and was
seen crawling among his legs, sitting upon
nis shoulders and hips, and knocking his
hoofs together. Then, bidding the horse
rise, which he did instantly, Mr. Rarey
jumped upon his back, and held by turns

an umbrella over his head and beat a tat
too on a drum, the hitherto proud, restless
animal, now owning subjection to a new
master, remaining tbe while almost as
motionless as a statue.
All these remarkable feats were watched
throughout with the most intense interest
— the Queen, in the enthusiasm of the
moment, herself rapturously applauding
with her own hands, and the whole com
pany joining in prolonged demonstrations
of astonishment and delight.
In Paris, Mr. Rarey's method produced
unbounded excitement. In order to put
the system to a vigorous test, the emperor
caused to be purchased, at Caen, a four-
year-old horse, by "Tipple Cider," noted
for its violence, and for kicking furiously
whenever an attempt was made to put a
crupper on it. In the space of four days,
this horse was as docile with the saddle
and the harness as could be desired, and
he allowed a whip to be cracked about bis
head, and a drum to be beaten on his back,
without any manifestation of fear.
Another most notable case was that of a
stallion belonging to the government, and
which was so untamable, so vicious, so
furious, in fact, that a resolution had been
adopted to kill it. The animal was lent
for the purpose by M. de Baylen, and as
many as three hundred members of the
Jockey and other clubs assembled to see
what Mr. Rarey could do with him. In
company with this horse, which arrived
with a noose-band on, and muzzled, and
led by two men, Mr. Rarey fastened him
self up in a stall, and, in an hour after, he
came out mounted on its back. Although
the horse had always previously bitten the
legs of everyone who mounted him, he was
then perfectly quiet ; and though the very
sight of a whip was accustomed to put it
in a fury, it received a correction as qui
etly as the best broken-in horse would
have done. The members of the Jockey ,
Club were astonished at what they wit
nessed, and broke out into loud acclama
tions of admiration, after which they
gathered round Mr. Rarey to compliment
him.

766

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

In London, again, Mr. Rarey tested his
skill successfully, in the space of an hour,
on a famous bay mare, long pronounced
incurable — who was so dangerous to ap
proach in any way that she could not be
ridden, would strike with ber fore feet like
a pugilist, and kick as well with her hind
feet. So savage was she, that no horse
man had been able to ascertain her age by
looking at her teeth ; yet Mr. Rarey not
only opened her month, but put his hand
into it several times, and told his audi
ence that, in his opinion, she was eight
years old. Great cheers followed this tri
umph of skill, but it was to be still

vast audience — who sat in silence and sur
prise almost approaching to awe — was
greeted at its close with rounds of ap
plause, and Mr. Rarey was tumultuously
called for twice to receive an ovation of
cheers. Visiting Russia, a special exhibition
was given, by request, before the emperor
and bis court. All etiquette was laid
aside by the royal spectators — the em
peror, and empress, and all present, enter
ing into the humors of the evening with a
hearty abandonment, not only deeply grat
ified at the novelty of the entertainment,
but also with the privilege of giving vent

ME. EAEEY EXHIBITING HIS CELEEEATED METHOD OF TAMIKG HOESES.

further demonstrated on a thorough-bred,
high-spirited Arabian stallion, extremely
vicious, perfectly uncontrollable, biting at
every one that approached him, and that
would not suffer himself to be bridled ex
cept blindfolded. On his arrival on this
occasion, at the railway station, he knocked
down his groom by kicking him on the
head ; and on being taken into the ring,
nearly broke the arm of the man who led
him in, by striking him with his fore feet.
Mr. Rarey, notwithstanding, succeeded
after a desperate struggle, which lasted
for about an hour, in rendering him as
tractable as a lamb. This feat, which was
witnessed throughout by the whole of the

to their natural feelings. That nothing
might be wanting to fulfill the object of
the exhibition, the emperor had shrewdly
availed himself of his varied resources,
in procuring such an animal as would test
Mr. Rarey's powers to the greatest extent
— the Russian wilds affording, as is well
known, fearful specimens of untutored and
savage horse life. At a certain signal,
therefore, a perfectly wild brute from the
Steppes was brought into the arena, and
for the first time introduced to Mr. Rarey's
notice. Two peasants, themselves semi-
barbarous, awed by the presence of the
emperor, and filled with intense fear by
the plunging and rearing of the horse in

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

767

their charge, with difficulty restrained him
from breaking away, biting their flesh,
or knocking their brains out with his
heels which at times cleaved the air with
fearful velocity, for the infuriated animal,
in the insanity of his captivity, absolutely
bit at interposing objects as if he were a
tiger. Mr. Rarey, perfectly self-possessed,
and to the surprise of all present, boldly
laid his hand upon his neck, and then
passed it gently over the ears, and in a
few moments ordered the peasants to un
loose their rigorous hold on the ropes,
when Mr. Rarey proceeded to further pac
ify the creature, his success being com
plete. The emperor and the imperial
family looked on with amazement, while
the two peasants were struck dumb with
awe and wonder — the effect being height
ened when the emperor, half sternly and
half playfully, asked them "why they
could not thus handle the horse ! "
One of the worst specimens that Mr.
Earey had to deal with in America, was a
New York car-horse, — a very bad kicker,
striking with her fore feet, allowing no
»ne to approach her in her stable, very
treacherous, and giving no warning. When
the horse appeared upon the stage, it
was pronounced a tough-looking customer
enough, — thin, wiry, dirty, stubborn, vic
ious, evil-eyed. It had not been shod
except with all its feet tied, and then with
difficulty. Every time Mr. Rarey touched
it, the horse kicked most savagely. First
one little strap was tied on, however, and
then another. The horse fell easily, as it
had been used to be thrown thus to be
shod. But, when the straps were taken
off, and Rarey began his familiarities, then
came the tug of war. It was kick and
bite, soothe and fondle, get up and fall
down, until at last the struggling beast
completely succumbed to the tamer's
kindness. Mr. Rarey's head lay be
tween those formidable hoofs; his hand
unloosed the bridle which had not been
removed for months; he played black
smith, too, hammering at the shoe without
any difficulty, and curing the last bit of
restlessness by turning the horse round

and round awhile. Mr. Rarey led off the
subdued old equine hag with as much com
placency as if biting and kicking had
never been known. The astonishment of
the owner, who knew the horse so well,
only outran that of the audience.
The theory proclaimed by Mr. Rarey,
in his lectures and performances, was, that
hitherto the mode of treating this noble
animal — at least in the preliminary stages
of breaking, etc., — had proceeded on ideas
of his nature altogether erroneous and
cruel, and been invariably characterized
by unnecessary violence, provoking the
display of resistance and other kindred
qualities on his part, and so the evil has
been perpetuated. On the other hand,
the principle advocated by Mr. Rarey and
constituting the key to his success — that of
extreme kindness and tenderness, — con
vinces the animal that man is his natural
master and friend, and elicits his confi
dence and kindly regard. Appealing to
" the intellect and affections of the horse,"
as the basis of his system of treatment,
Mr. Rarey was enabled to say, to his vast
and admiring audience at Niblo's Garden,
New York :
"I have never had an accident since I
became perfect in my system, and I don't
fear any. I have been among horses since
I was twelve years old, and at first had a
great many accidents. Every limb has
been broken, except my right arm ; but be
ing young, when these accidents happened,
the bones fortunately healed strongly.
Now I know horses' every thought, and
can break any animal, of whatever age
and habits, in the world. I can make any
animal sensible of my power — make him
gentle and even affectionate."
The mechanical process employed in
this system, as described, consists in fast
ening one fore leg by a strap — first allow
ing the horse to see and smell it — passed
around the pastern and buckled close to
the forearm. Another strap is then fast
ened to the pastern of the other fore leg,
and is either passed under a belt, previ
ously buckled about the horse's body, and
its end held in one hand, or it may be held

768

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

over his back. The horse is then gently
urged forward, and as he raises his free
fore foot to step, it is pulled from under
him by'the operator. This brings him
upon his knees. A struggle ensues, in
which the man is sure to be the victor.
Next, by a sufficient pressure, the horse is
thrown upon his side and lies helpless.
Tbe operator then soothes him with the
hand and voice, removes the straps, and
after a short period allows him to rise.
A single application is generally sufficient.
Mr. Rarey's cool, quiet, quick move
ments, his calm, fine, firm voice, gave to
his presence a peculiar magnetism and
contributed greatly to his power over the
horse ; so that, in this respect, he achieved
a world-wide reputation, without a peer or
rival to divide his fame. The courage and
self-possession exhibited by him were ex
traordinary, — a patience, too, that nothing
could wear out, and a temper that nothing
could ruffle. Never in a hurry, he went
through his work in a way that showed it
to be, to him, a labor of love. There was

no mystery, no charm, no drugs, employed
by him in his performances. He ex
plained everything he was about to do
and gave a reason for it; and then, by
doing it, successfully proved that his rea
soning was correct. At the end of the
performance, the horse would walk quietly
about without the slightest appearance of
excitement or fatigue. But, while thus
sparing the horse, Mr. Rarey evidently
took an immensity of work out of himself,
seemingly undergoing a sustained mental
strain, in order that the horse, whose
instinct is so sharp, might not see the
slightest faltering in his proceedings.
His system, a slow and gentle, but irre
sistible pressure, aimed not to crush, but
to subdue, and, to this end, perfect self-
control was indispensable. If, therefore,
at the most critical moment, he required
a riding-whip or a pocket handkerchief, he
called for it as coolly as one would for a
glass of lemonade, or as Nelson called for
the sealing-wax during the bombardment
of Copenhagen.

xc.

BATTLE AT BULL RUN, VA., BETWEEN THE
AND CONFEDERATE ARMIES.— 1861.

FEDERAL

First Important Engagement in the Great Civil War. — Severe Fighting for Many Hours. — Most Disas
trous Defeat of the Federal Troops. — Their Uncontrollable Panic and Headlong Flight. — The South
Jubilant. — Gloom and Humiliation of the Loyal States. — Three Months Sinee Sumter Fell. — Armies
Massed at Washington and Richmond. — Threats Against the Federal Capital. — Irritation and Impa
tience ofthe North. — "On to Richmond!" the Union War- Cry. — March of McDowell's Army. —
Plan of the Movement. — Rousing the Southern Forces. — Their Unexpected Strength. — Uncertain
Fate of the Day. — Re-enforcement for Confederates. — Davis's Arrival on the Ground. — He Exclaims,
"Onward, My Brave Comrades! " — Their Wild Enthusiasm. — A Lost Battle for the Union. — Com
plete Demoralization. — Three Miles of Scattered Troops. — Arms, Stores, etc., Flung Away. — Dis
tressing Sights and Sounds. — Thanksgiving Appointed by Davis. — Te Deums Sung in the Southern
Churches.— Lessons Taught by this Battle.

" The sainted patriots cry, M It cannot be!"
From heaven thev speak, and from their graves revered;
The God who gave them victory will not see
The temple shattered which their toil has reared I '

HOMUMEKT O.V THE BATTLE-FIELD.
49

'ORE than three months had passed since the caj,
ture of Fort Sumter, and, during this exciting
period, throughout the country, the great contend
ing parties had massed, respectively, immense bodies
of troops at Washington and Richmond, and their
vicinities. So deep was the indignation felt by the
upholders of the national cause, at the fall of Sum
ter, and at the various hostile movements and expe
ditions by the confederates which followed that
even^ — such as the fearless assault made upon the
federal soldiers while passing through Baltimore,
the destruction of railroads and telegraphs, the
seizure of Northerners' property at the South, the
loss of the Norfolk navy yard, the rout at and the
defiant threats of an advance on Washington,— that
the cry of " On to Richmond," into which city the
confederate forces had poured from every part of
the South, both for defensive and aggressive opera
tions, was heard on every side. Indeed, the pa
tience of the North had become strained to its
utmost tension toward those whose alleged official
inactivity or tardiness was the assumed cause of the
insurgent army not having been, long since, scat
tered and destroyed.

770

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

There were of course those who did not
share this impetuosity, — knowing well the
capacities of defense peculiar to Richmond
and its approaches, and keenly comprehend
ing the disastrous effect upon the loyal
states of a lost battle in the open field,
immediately after the siege and reduction
of Sumter.
To the pressure, however, of this almost
universal demand for an "onward move
ment," General Scott at last yielded, and,
on the 21st of July, 1861, the first really
important engagement between the union
and confederate forces took place on the
banks of a stream called Bull Run, a few
miles to the north-west of Manassas Junc
tion, Va., and about thirty miles south of
the Potomac at Washington. It was on
tbe 16th of July, that the union army;
commanded by Gensral McDowell, and
officered by Generals Tyler, Hunter,
Richardson, Heintzelman, Patterson, and
Miles, commenced its march, the whole
number of men being some forty-five thou
sand. The confederate force which they
were soon to encounter, was much larger,
and consisted of the division of General
Beauregard, intrenched at Manassas Junc
tion, re-enforced by the division under
General Johnston, previously stationed at
Winchester, in the valley of the Shenan
doah, and a large body of reserves advanced
from Richmond and Aquia Creek.
On the 17th, the union army, in three
columns, continued their line of march,
the advance column occupying Fairfax
Court House about one hour before noon,
the confederates withdrawing as the union
ists advanced. Tlie cavalry pushed on to
Centreville; and, on the 18th, the army
took up its march for the same place. The
advance, to this date, had been steadily
made on all sides, and the reported posi
tions of the troops considered good at head
quarters. In the afternoon, an engage
ment took place at Blackburn's Ford. But
the character of this conflict, as well as the
general plan of the whole movement, will be
best understood by presenting here the im
portant portion of General McDowell's offi
cial report, or an abstract of the same.

On the evening of July 20th, McDow
ell's command was mostly at or near Cen
treville, and the confederate forces at or
near Manassas, about seven miles to the
south-west. Centreville is a place of a few
houses, mostly on the west side of a ridge
running nearly north and south. The
road from Centreville to Manassas Junc
tion is along this ridge, crossing Bull Run
about three miles from the former place.
The Warrenton turnpike, which runs
nearly east and west, goes over this ridge,
through the village, and crosses Bull Run.
about four miles from it, Bull Run having
a course between the crossing from north
west to south-east. The first division,
Tyler's, was stationed on the north side of
the Warrenton turnpike, and on the east
ern slope of the Centreville ridge, two
brigades on the same road, and a mile and
a half in advance, to the west of the ridge,
and one brigade on the road from Centre
ville to Manassas, where it crosses Bull
Run at Blackburn's Ford. The second
division, Hunter's, was on the Warrenton
turnpike, one mile east of Centreville.
The third division, Heintzelman's, was on
a road known as the Old Braddock road,
which comes into Centreville from the
south-east, about a mile and a half from
the village. The fifth division, Miles's,
was on the same road with the third divis
ion, and between it and Centreville.
The fight at Blackburn's Ford, on the
18th, showed that the confederates were
too strong at that point for the unionists
to force a passage there without great loss,
and, from all the information that could be
ohtained, McDowell found that his only
alternative was to turn the extreme left of
the confederate position. Reliable infor
mation was also obtained of an undefended
ford about three miles above the bridge,
there being another ford between it and
the bridge, which was defended. It was
therefore determined to take tbe road to
the upper ford, and, after crossing, to get
behind the forces guarding the lower ford
and the bridge, and after occupying the
Warrenton road east of the bridge, to send
out a force to destroy the railroad a| or

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

771

near Gainesville, and thus break up the
communication between the confederate
forces at Manassas and those in the valley
of Virginia, before Winchester, which had
been held in check by Major-General Pat
terson. Brigadier-General Tyler had been
directed to move with three of his brigades
on the Warrenton road, and commence
cannonading the enemy's batteries, while
Hunter's division, moving after him,
should, after passing a little stream called
Cub Run, turn to the right and north, and
move around to the upper ford, and there
turn south and get behind the enemy.
Heintzelman's division was to follow Hun
ter's as far as the turning off place to the
lower ford, where he was to cross after the
enemy should have been driven out by

Hunter's division; the fifth division,
Miles's, to he in reserve on the Centreville
ridge. The fourth division, Runyon's,
had not been brought to the front farther
than to guard the federal communications
hy way of Vienna and the Orange and
Alexandria railroad.
The divisions, says General McDowell,
were ordered to march at half-past two
0 c'°°k> A- M., so as to arrive on the ground
early in the day, and thus avoid the heat.
There was delay in the first division get-
tlnS out of its camp on the road, and the
0 ^er divisions were in consequence be

tween two and three hours behind the time
appointed — a great misfortune, as events
turned out. General Tyler commenced
with his artillery at half-past six a. m.,
but the enemy did not reply, and after
some time it became a question whether he
was in any force in our front, and if he did
not intend himself to make an attack, and
make it by Blackburn's Ford. After firing
several times, and obtaining no response, I
held, (says this officer,) one of Heintzel
man's brigades in reserve, in case we should
have to send any troops back to re-enforce
Miles's division. The other brigades
moved forward as directed in the general
orders. On reaching the ford, at Sudley's
Spring, I found part of the leading brig
ade of Hunter's division, Burnside's, had
crossed, but the men were slow in
getting over, stopping to drink. As
at this time the clouds of dust from
tbe direction of Manassas indicated
the immediate approach of a large
force, and fearing it might come
down on the head of the column be
fore the division could all get over
and sustain it, orders were sent back
to the heads of regiments to break
from the column and come forward
separately as fast as possible. Orders
were sent by an officer to the reserve
brigade of Heintzelman's division to
come by a nearer road across the
fields, and an aid-de-camp was sent to
Tyler to direct him to press forward
his attack, as large bodies of the
enemy were passing in front of him
to attack the division which had crossed
over. The ground between the stream
and the road leading from Sudley's
Spring south and over which Burnside's
brigade marched, was for about a mile
from the ford thickly wooded, whilst on
the right of the road, for about the same
distance, the country was divided between
fields and woods. About a mile from the
road, the country on both sides of the
road is open, and, for nearly a mile
further, large rolling fields extend down
to the Warrenton turnpike, which crosses
what became the field of battle, through

772

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the valley of a small water course, a tribu
tary of Bull Run.
Concerning the general action, the offi
cial report says : Shortly after the leading
regiment of the first brigade reached the
open space, and whilst others and the
second brigade were crossing to the front
and right, the enemy opened his fire,
beginning with artillery and following up
with infantry. The leading brigade, Burn
side's, had to sustain this shock for a short
time without support, and did it well.
The battalion of regular infantry was sent
to sustain it, and shortly afterwards the
other corps of Porter's brigade, and a reg
iment detached from Heintzelman's divis
ion to the left, forced the enemy back far
enough to allow Sherman's and Keyes's
brigades of Tyler's division to cross from
their position on the Warrenton road.
These drove the right of the enemy from
the front of the field, and out of the de
tached woods, and down to the road, and
across it up the slopes on the other side.
Whilst this was going on, Heintzelman's
division was moving down the field to the
stream, and up the road beyond. Beyond
the Warrenton road, and to the left of the
road, down which our troops had marched
from Sudley's Spring, is a hill with a
farmhouse on it. Behind this hill, the
enemy had, early in the day, some of his
most annoying batteries planted. Across
the road from this hill was another hill,
and the hottest part of the contest was for
the possession of this hill with a house on
it. The force engaged here was Heintzel
man's division, Wilcox's and Howard's
brigades on the right, supported by part
of Porter's brigade and the cavalry under
Palmer, and Franklin's brigade of Heint
zelman's division, Sherman's brigade of
Tyler's division in the center and up the
road, whilst Keyes's brigade of Tyler's
division was on the left, attacking the bat
teries near the stone bridge. The Rhode
Island batteiy of Burnside's brigade also
participated in this attack by its fire from
the north of the turnpike. Rickett's bat
tery, which did such effective service and
played so brilliant a part in this contest,

was, together with Griffin's battery, on the
side of the hill, and became the object of
the enemy's special attention, who suc
ceeded — our officers mistaking one of his
regiments for one of our own, and allowing
it to approach without firing upon it — in
disabling the battery, and then attempted
to take it. Three times was he repulsed
by different corps in succession, and
driven back, and the guns taken by hand,
the horses being killed, and pulled away.
The third time it was supposed by all that
the repulse was final, for he was driven
entirely from the hill, and so far beyond
it as not to be in sight, and all were cer
tain the day was ours. He had before this
been driven nearly a mile and a half, and
was beyond the Warrenton road, which
was entirely in our possession from the
stone bridge westward, and our engineers
were just completing the removal of the
abattis across the road, to allow our re-en-
forcementsr— Schenck's brigade and Ayers's
battery — to join us.
After describing tbe condition of the
confederate army at this time as disheart
ened and broken, , General McDowell ex
plains some of the causes that led to the
disastrous fate which befell the federal
army. They had been fighting since half-
past ten o'clock in the morning, and it was
after three in the afternoon. Th e men had
been up since two o'clock in the morning,
and had made what to those unused to
such things seemed a long march before
coming into action, though the longest
distance gone over was not more than nine
and a half miles ; and though they had
three days' provisions served out to them
the day before, many no doubt either did
not eat them, or threw them away on the
march or during the battle, and were
therefore without food. They had done
much severe fighting. Some of the regi
ments which had been driven from the
hill in the first two attempts of the enemy
to get possession of it had become shaken,
were unsteady, and had many men out of
the ranks.
It was at this time, says McDowell,
that the enemy's re-enforcements came to

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

773

his aid from the railroad train. They
threw themselves in the woods on our
right and towards the rear of our right,
and opened a fire of musketry on our men,
which caused them to break and retire
down the hillside. This soon degenerated
into disorder, for which there was no rem
edy. Every effort was made to rally them,
even beyond tbe reach of the enemy's fire,
but in vain. The battalion of regular
infantry alone moved up the hill opposite
to the one with the house on it, and there
maintained itself until our men could get
down to and across the Warrenton turn
pike, on the way back to the position we
occupied in the morning. The plain was
covered with the retreating troops, and

j.^/^u^r-

they seemed to infect those with whom
they came in contact. The retreat soon
became a rout, and this soon degenerated
mto a panic. Finding this state of affairs
*as beyond the efforts of all those who
iad assisted so faithfully during the long
¦ind hard day's work in gaining almost the
object of their wishes, and that nothing
remained on the field but to recognize
what could no longer be prevented, Gen
eral McDowell gave the necessary orders
to protect their withdrawal, begging the
men to form in line, and after the appear
ance, at least, of organization. They re
turned hy the fords to the Warrenton road,
protected hy Colonel Porter's force of reg
ulars. Once on the road, and the different
corps coming together in small parties,

many without officers, they became inter
mingled, and all organization was lost.
The onset of that tumultuous retreat is
described by those who witnessed it as ter
rific. For three miles, hosts of federal
troops — all detached from their regiments,
all mingled in one disorderly rout — were
fleeing along the road, but mostly through
the lots on either side. Army wagons,
sutlers' teams, and private carriages,
choked the passage, tumbling against each
other, amid clouds of dust, and sickening
sights and sounds. Hacks, containing
unlucky spectators of the battle, were
smashed like glass, and the occupants were
lost sight of in the debris. Horses, flying
wildly from the battle-field, many of them
in death agony, galloped at random for
ward, joining in the stampede. Those
on foot who could catch them rode them
bare-back, as much to save themselves
from being run over, as to make quicker
time. Wounded men, lying along the
banks — tbe few neither left on the field
nor taken to the captured hospitals —
appealed with raised bands to those
who rode horses, begging to be lifted
behind, but few regarded such peti
tions. Then the artillery, such as was
saved, came thundering along, smashing
and overpowering everything. The cav
alry added to all these terrors, for they
rode down footmen without mercy.
An artilleryman was seen running between
the ponderous fore and after wheels of his
gun-carriage, hanging on with both hands,
and vainly striving to jump upon the
ordnance; but the drivers were spurring
the horses; he could not cling much longer,
and a more agonized expression never
fixed the features of a drowning man ; the
carriage bounded from the roughness of a
steep hill leading to a creek, he lost his
hold, fell, and in an instant the great
wheels had crushed the life out of him.
And still the flight continued. It did not
slack in the least until Centreville was
reached. There the sight of the reserve
— Miles's brigade — formed in order on the
hill, seemed somewhat to reassure the van.
But still the teams and foot soldiers pushed

774

OUR FIRST CENTURY —1776-1876.

on, passing their own camps and heading
swiftly for the distant Potomac, until for
ten miles the road over which the grand
army had so lately marched southward,
gay with unstained banners, and flushed
with surety of strength, was covered with
the fragments of its retreating forces, shat
tered and panic-stricken in a single day.
From the branch route the trains attached
to Hunter's division had caught the con
tagion of the flight, and poured into its
already swollen current another turbid
freshet of confusion and dismay. The
teamsters, many of them, cut the traces of
their horses, and galloped from their
wagons. Others threw out their loads to
accelerate their flight, and grain, picks,
and shovels, and provisions of every kind,
lay trampled in the dust for leagues.
Thousands of muskets strewed the route,
and when some of the fugitives were ral
lied and induced to form into a line, there
was hardly one but had thrown away his
arms. Many who went into the battle with
Heintzelman and Hunter fled by the road
over which Tyler had advanced. In the
general race, all divisions and all regiments
were mingled. There was not even an
attempt to cover the retreat of Tyler's
division. With Heintzelman's it was bet
ter ; Lieutenant Drummond's cavalry
troop keeping firm line, and protecting the
artillery until its abandonment was imper
atively ordered. Regulars and volunteers
shared the disorder alike. Whole batter
ies were left upon the field, and the cutting
off of others was ordered when the guns
had already been brought two miles or
more from the battle-ground. A perfect
frenzy was upon almost every man. Some
cried piteously to be assisted in their help
lessness, and. others sought to clamber into
wagons, the occupants resisting them with
bayonets. Even the sentiment of shame
had gone. Some of the better men tried
to withstand the rush, and cried out
against tbe flying groups, calling them
"cowards, poltroons, brutes," and reviling
them for so degrading themselves, espe-
cially when no enemy was near.

There were, of course, numerous excep
tions to the general spirit of fear and
frenzy. Thus, when the order was given
at head-quarters for retreat, the word was
passed down the line to the New York
Zouaves. " Do not ! " exclaimed a score
of the "pet lambs" in a breath; "Do
not ! " " We are ordered to retreat," said
the commander, to his brave men.
"Wot'n thunder's that?" responded one
of the hard-heads, who evidently did not
comprehend the word exactly. " Go back
— retire," continued tbe commander. "Go
back — where?" "Leave the field."
" Leave ? Why, that ain't what we come
for. We're here to fight," insisted the
boys. " We came here with one thousand
forty men," said the commander ; " and
there are now six, hundred left. Fall
back, boys ! " and the " lambs " sulkily
retired, evidently displeased with the
order. It was these who received the first
charge of tbe famous Black Horse Guard,
a splendid corps of cavalry, all the horses
of which were .coal-black. They came
upon the Zouave regiment at a gallop, and
were received by the brave firemen upon
their poised bayonets, followed instantly
by a Volley, from which they broke and
fled, though several of the Zouaves were
cut down in the assault. They quickly
returned, with their forces doubled — per
haps six or seven hundred — and again they
dashed with fearful yells upon the excited
Zouaves. This time they bore an Ameri
can flag, and a part of the Zouaves sup*
posed for an instant that they were friends,
whom they had originally mistaken. The
flag was quickly thrown down, however,
the horses dashed upon the regiment, ths
ruse was discovered, and the slaughter com
menced. No quarter, no halting, no flinch.
ing, marked the rapid and death-dealing
blows of the men, as they closed in upon
each other, in mutual madness and despera
tion. The brave fellows fell, the ranks filled
up, the sabers, bowie-knives, and bayonets,
glistened in the sunlight, horse after horse
went down, platoon after platoon disap
peared, — the carnage was dreadful, the
bravery on both sides unexampled.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

775

BATTLE OF BULL RUN.

Blenker's brigade did heroic service.
Steady and watchful, he held his line
throughout the evening, advancing his
skirmishers at every token of attack, and
spreading a sure protection over the multi
tudes who fled disordered through his col
umns. With three regiments he stood to
fight against an outnumbering host al
ready flushed with victory and eager to
complete its triumph. As the darkness
increased, his post became more perilous
andmore honorable. At eleven o'clock, the
attack came upon the advance company of
Colonel Stahel's rifles, not in force, but
from a body of cavalry whose successful
passage would have been followed by a full
torce, and the consequent destruction of
the broken hosts of the routed army. But
the cavalry was driven back, and never
.returned, and at two in the morning, the
great body of federal troops having passed
c«ud found their road to safety, the com

mand was given to retreat in order, and
the brigade fell slowly and regularly back,
with the same precision as if on parade.
Over and over again, Blenker begged per
mission to maintain bis post, or even to
advance. "Retreat!" said he in a voice
of thunder, to the messenger from head
quarters, " bring me the word to 170 on,
sir ! " But the command was peremptory,
and he was left no alternative.
As an illustration of the almost univer
sal lack of military order and discipline
characterizing the conduct of the federal
army, after being seized with panic, the
following is in point: At five o'clock p.
m., the New York Sixteenth and Thirty-
first regiments being well in advance
toward Blackburn's ford, were called upon
to stem the tide of the Virginia cavalry,
who were swooping at the retreating
forces. An order from Miles, conse
quently, sent the First California regi-

776

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

ment, under Colonel Matheson of the New
York Thirty-second, forward to their sup
port ; but, though the cavalry was thus
turned to the right about, it was found
impossible to withstand the mad career of
the extraordinary mass that came pouring
back upon Centreville. The best that
could be done, therefore, was for the Cali
fornia regiment to stay just where it was,
and, in absence of further orders, lend
what aid it could to the protection of
Green's battery, which was busily plying
its fire upon the harassing approaches of
the Virginia horse. While the Thirty-
second was in this position, the Sixteenth
and Thirty-first having passed within its
range, a youthful orderly rode up to Colonel
Matheson to inform that the Black Cav
alry, sheltered from his observation by a
piece of woods, were coming upon the
right, and if he would take a cut with his
regiment across the fields, they would be
turned back upon their errand. The evo
lution was performed, gave the protection
that was desired, and the Black Horse
gave up its purpose in that quarter.
While the regiment, however, was adher
ing to this position, the same youth who
had imparted the previous suggestion rode
up to the regiment again, and told
Matheson he had better fall back on
Centreville, as his duty at that spot
bad been thoroughly performed. As this
was the first sign of orders (with one
single exception) he had received dur
ing the entire day, Matheson felt some
curiosity to learn who this young lieu
tenant was, and whence these orders
came ; he therefore turned sharply on
the youth, who, he now perceived, could
not be more than twenty-two or three,
and said:
" Young man, I would like to know your
name." "lama son of Quartermaster-General
Meigs." " By whose authority, then, do you de
liver me these orders ? "
" Well, sir," replied the youth, smiling,
"the truth is, that for the last few hours
I have been giving all tbe orders for this

division, and acting as general, too, for
there is no general on the field."
The fortunes of war seemed to favor the
confederate army, in some respects quite
unlooked for, during the day's struggle
though at one time their fate hung trem
bling in the balance. Generals Bartow and
Bee had been stricken down ; Lieutenant-
Colonel Johnson, of the Hampton Legion,
had been killed; and Colonel Hampton
had been wounded. General Beauregard,
however, promptly offered to lead the
Legion into action, which he executed in
a style unsurpassable. He rode up and
down tbe lines between the federal troops
and his own men, regardless of the heavy
firing, cheering and encouraging his
troops. About this time, a shell struck
his horse, taking his head off, and also
killing the horses of two of his aids.
General Johnston threw himself into the
thickest of the fight, seizing the colors of
the Georgia regiment, and rallying them
to the charge. At this critical moment,
General Johnston was heard to exclaim to
General Cocke, " Oh, for four regiments ! "
His wish was answered, for in the distance
some re-enforcements appeared. The tide
of battle now turned in their favor, for
Gen. Kirby Smith had arrived from Win
chester with four thousand men. General
Smith heard while on the Manassas rail
road cars the roar of battle. He stopped
the train and hurried his troops across the
field to the point just where he had been
most needed. They were at first supposed
to be federal troops, their arrival at that
point of the field being so entirely unex
pected. Jefferson Davis left Richmond
at six o'clock in the morning, and reached
Manassas Junction at four, where, mount
ing a horse, and accompanied by numerous
attendants, he galloped to the battle-field
just in time to join in the pursuit by a
magnificent body of cavalry. As he waved
his hat, and exclaimed "Onward, my brave
comrades!" cheer after cheer went up
from the enthusiastic host. Thus, with
the arrival of Davis on the field, the con
federate army may be said to have had
three commanders-in-chief during the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

777

course of the battle. The whole south
was, of course, jubilant over the victory
which their arms had achieved. Te
Beums were sung in the churches, and a
day of thanksgiving observed. Through
out the north, the gloom and humilia
tion at this most unlooked-for defeat was
intense. According to General McDowell's report,
the federal army's losses in this engage
ment were 481 killed and 1,011 wounded.
The confederate losses, according to Gen
eral Beauregard's report, counted up 269
killed and 1,533 wounded. An immense
quantity of ordnance, ammunition, etc.,
fell into the hands of the victors.

In the summer of 1865, on the return of
peace, a monument was erected by friends
of the Union, about three-fourths of a mile
beyond Bull Run bridge, in "memory of
the patriots" who fell in this celebrated
battle, and the dedicatory ceremonies
consisted of a solemn dirge, the reading
of the Episcopal burial-service, the singing
of an original hymn composed by Pierpont,
and addresses by Generals Wilcox, Farns
worth, Heintzelman, and others. The
interest attaching to this famous battle
field, viewed in all its historic circum
stances and consequences, is not exceeded
by that of any other on the American con
tinent.

XOI.
EXTRAORDINARY COMBAT BETWEEN" THE IRON-CLADS
MERRIMAC AND MONITOR, IN HAMPTON
ROADS.— 1862.

Sudden Appearance of tlie Merrimac Among the Federal Frigates — Their Swift and Terrible Destruc
tion by Her Steel Prow. — Unexpected Arrival of the " Little Monitor" at the Scene of Action —She
Engages and Disables the Monster Craft in a Four Hours' Fight. — Total Eevolution in Naval War
fare the World Over by this Remarkable Contest. — How the Merrimac Changed Hands.— Burned and
Sunk at Norfolk, Va — Her Hull Raised by the Confederates. — She is Iron Roofed and Plated.— Proof
Against Shot and Shell. — A Powerful Steel Beak in Her Prow — Most Formidable Vessel Afloat.—
In Command of Commodore Buchanan. — Departs from Norfolk, March 8th. — Pierces and Sinks the
Cumberland.— Next Attacks the Congress. — The Noble Frigate Destroyed. — Fight Begun with the
Minnesota. — Suspended at Nightfall. — Trip of the Monitor irom New York. — Her New and Singular
Build. — Lieutenant Worden Hears of the Battles. — Resolves to Grapple with the Monster. — The Two
Together, Next Day. — A Scene Never to be Forgotten. — Worden Turns the Tide of Fortune.—
Repulse and Retreat of the Merrimac.

"Bb it Rrsolveo, kto., That the thanks of Congress and of the American people are due, and are hereby tendered, to Lieutenant J.
I* Worden. of the United States Navy, and to the ofScerp and men ot the iron-clad gun-boat Monitor, under his command, for the skill and
fillantry exhibited by them in the late remarkable battle between the Monitor and the rebel iron-clad steamer Merrimac."— Resolution
ASSKD UY UOKORKSS.

fTJITTING the city of Norfolk, Va., on the eighth
of March, 1862, the confederate iron-clad steam-
ram Merrimac sailed down Elizabeth river into
Hampton Roads, Chesapeake Bay, and there sig
nalized the naval history o: the civil war in Amer
ica by an action not only memorable beyond all
others in that tremendous conflict, but altogether
unprecedented in the annals of ocean warfare in
any country or in any age. On the abandonment
and destruction, by fire, of the Norfolk navy yard,
in April, 1861, by the United States officers in
charge, among the vessels left behind was the
steam frigate Merrimac, of four thousand tons
burden, then under repair. In the conflagration
she was burned to ber copper-line, and down
interior op the toweb of the monitor, through to her berth-deck, which, with her spar
and gun-decks, was also burned. Soon after the confederate authorities took possession
of the navy yard, the Merrimac was raised and converted into an iron-plated man-of-war
of the most formidable character. Immediately after this, she was placed upon the dry

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

779

dock, and covered with a sloping roof of
iron plates three inches thick, the weight
of which nearly broke her down upon the
dock. Owing to some miscalculation when
launched, she sank four feet deeper than
before, and took in considerable water. She
was, in consequence, obliged to be docked a
second time. Her hull was cut down to
within three feet of her water-mark, over
which the bomb-proof house covered her
gun-deck. She was also iron-plated, and her
bow and stern steel-clad, with a projecting
snout of iron for the purpose of piercing
an antagonist. She had no masts, and
there was nothing to be seen over her gun-
deck but the pilot-house and smoke-stack.
Her bomb-proof was three inches thick,
and consisted of wrought iron. Her arma
ment consisted of four eleven-inch navy
guns, broadside, and two one-hundred-
pounder rifled guns at the bow and stern.
She was now named the Virginia, though
she continued to be known as the Merri
mac. She was commanded by Com. Frank
lin Buchanan, formerly commandant of the
Washington navy yard.
The time chosen for her departure for
Hampton Roads was one peculiarly adapted
for the trial of her prowess. The federal
fleet in that vicinity comprised the sloop-
of-war Cumberland, the sailing-frigate
Congress, the steam-frigates Minnesota,
St. Lawrence, and Roanoke — the latter in
a disabled condition from a broken shaft,
together with a number of improvised
gun-boats of a small grade. The Cumber
land and Congress were anchored before
the entrenched federal camp at Newport
News, the Roanoke and St. Lawrence near
the Eip Eaps, and the Minnesota in front
of Portress Monroe.
On the Merrimac coming out, on Satur
day, the eighth of March, she stood directly
across the roads toward Newport News.
What followed was, according to the nar
rative published in the Baltimore Ameri
can by one who had unusually favorable
opportunities of observation, in the order
of occurrence given below :
As soon as the Merrimac was xnade out
^d W direction ascertained (says the

narrative referred to), the crews were beat
to quarters on both the Cumberland and
Congress, and preparations made for what
was felt to be an almost hopeless fight, but
the determination to make it as desperate
as possible. The Merrimac kept straight
on, making, according to the best estimates,
about eight miles an hour. As she passed
the mouth of Nansemond river, the Con
gress threw tbe first shot at her, which
was immediately answered. The Merri
mac passed the Congress, discharging a
broadside at her, — one shell from which
killed and disabled every man except one
at gun No. Ten, — and kept on toward the
Cumberland, which she approached at full
speed, striking her on the port side near
the bow, her stem knocking port No. One
and the bridle-port into one, whilst her
ram, or snout, cut the Cumberland under
water. Almost at the moment of collision,
the Merrimac discharged from her forward
gun an eleven-inch shell. This shell raked
the whole gun-deck, killing ten men at
gun No. One, among whom was master-
mate John Harrington, and cutting off
both arms and legs of quarter-gunner
Wood. The water rushed in from the hole
made below, and in five minutes the ship
began to sink by the head. Shell and
solid shot from the Cumberland were rained
upon the Merrimac as she passed ahead,
but the most of them glanced off harm
lessly from the incline of ber iron-plated
bomb-proof. As the Merrimac rounded to and came
up, she again raked the Cumberland with
a heavy fire. At this fire, sixteen men at
gun No. Ten were killed or wounded, and
all subsequently carried down in the sink
ing ship. Advancing with increased mo
mentum, the Merrimac now struck the
Cumberland on the starboard side, smash
ing her upper works and cutting another
hole below the water-line.
The ill-fated Cumberland now began to
rapidly settle, and the scene became most
horrible. The cock-pit was filled with the
wounded, whom it was found impossible
to bring up. The former magazine was
under water, but powder was still supplied

780

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

from the after-magazine, and the firing
kept steadily up by men who knew that
the ship was sinking under them. They
worked desperately and unremittingly, and
amid the din and horror of the conflict
gave cheers for their flag and the Union,
which were joined in by the wounded.
The decks were slippery with blood, and
arms and legs and chunks of flesh were
strewed about. The Merrimac laid off at
easy point-blank range, discharging her
broadsides alternately at the Cumberland
and the Congress. The water by this time
had reached the after-magazine of the
Cumberland. The men, however, kept at
work, and several cases of powder were
passed up and the guns kept in play. A

drowned. When the order wtis given to
cease firing, and to look out for their safety
in the best way possible, numbers scam
pered through the port-holes, whilst others
reached the spar-deck by the companion-
ways. Some were unable to get out by
either of these means, and were carried hy
the rapidly sinking ship.
The Cumberland sank in water nearly to
her cross-trees. She went down with her
flag still flying, and, for some time after,
it might still be seen flying from the mast
above the water that overwhelmed the
noble ship, — a memento of the bravest,
most daring, and yet most hopeless defense
that was ever made by any vessel belong
ing to any navy in the world. The men

^P/t£t^/t %7/u /a

number of men in the after shell-room lin
gered there too long in their eagerness to
pass up shell and were drowned.
By this time the water had reached the
berth or main gun-deck, and it was felt
hopeless and useless to continue the fight
longer. The word was given for each man
to save himself ; but after this order, gun
No. Seven was fired, when the adjoining
gun, No. Six, was actually under water.
This last shot was fired by an active little
fellow named Matthew Tenney, whose
courage had been conspicuous throughout
the action. As his port was left open by
the recoil of the gun, he jumped to scram
ble out, but the water rushed in with so
much force that he was washed back and

fought with a courage that could not be
excelled ; there was no flinching, no thought
of surrender. The whole number lost, of
the Cumberland's crew, was one hundred
and twenty. Many of the scenes on board
were deeply affecting. Two of the gunners
at the bow-guns, when the ship was sink
ing, clasped their guns in their arms, and
would not be removed, and went down
embracing them. One gunner had both
his legs shot away; but he made three
steps on his bloody thighs, seized the lan
yard and fired his gun, falling back dead.
Wood, who lost both arms and legs, on
being offered assistance, cried out, "Back
to your guns, boys! Give' em fits! Hur
rah for the flag I " He lived till she sank.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

781

Having thoroughly demolished the Cum
berland, the Merrimac now proceeded to
deal with the Congress, the officers of
which, having seen the fate of the Cum
berland, and aware that the Congress must
also be sunk if she remained within reach
of the iron monster's beak, had got all sail
on the ship, with the intention of running
her ashore. The tug-boat Zouave also
came out and made fast to the Cumberland,
and assisted in towing her ashore.
The Merrimac then surged up, gave the
Congress a broadside, receiving one in
return, and getting astern, raked the Con
gress fore and aft. This fire was terribly
destructive, a shell killing every man at
one of the guns except one. Coming again
broadside to the Congress, the Merrimac
ranged slowly backward and forward, at
less than one hundred yards distant, and
fired broadside after broadside into the
Congress. The latter vessel replied man
fully and obstinately, every gun that could
be brought to bear being discharged rap
idly, but with little effect upon the iron
monster. Some of the balls caused splint
ers of iron to fly from her mailed roof, but
still she seemed well nigh invulnerable.
The Merrimac's guns appeared to be spe
cially trained on the after-magazine of the
Congress, and shot after shot entered that
part of the ship.
Thus slowly drifting down with the
current and again steaming up, the Merri
mac continued for an hour to fire into her
opponent. Several times the Congress was
on fire, but the flames were kept down.
Finally, the ship was on fire in so many
places, and the flames gathering such force,
that it was hopeless and suicidal to keep
up the defense any longer. The federal
flag was sorrowfully hauled down and a
white flag hoisted at the peak. After it
was hoisted, the Merrimac continued to
fire, perhaps not discovering the white flag,
but soon after ceased firing.
A small confederate tug that had fol
lowed the Merrimac out of Norfolk then
came alongside the Congress, and a young
officer gained the gun-deck through a port
hole, announced that he came on board to

take command, and ordered the officers on
board tbe tug. The officers of the Con
gress refused to go, hoping from the near
ness to the shore that they would be able
to reach it, and unwilling to become pris
oners whilst the least chance of escape
remained. Some of the men, thinking the
tug was a federal vessel, rushed on board.
At this moment, the members of an Indi
ana regiment, at Newport News, brought
a Parrott gun down to the beach and
opened fire upon the tug. The latter
hastily put off, and the Merrimac again
opened fire upon the Congress. The fire
not being returned from the ship, the Mer
rimac commenced shelling tbe woods and
camps at Newport News.
By the time all were ashore, it was
seven o'clock in the evening, and the Con
gress was in a bright sheet of flame fore and
aft. She continued to burn until twelve
o'clock at night, her guns, which were
loaded and trained, going off as they became
heated. Finally, the fire reached her mag
azines, and with a tremendous concussion
her charred remains blew up. There were
some five tons of gunpowder in her mag
azines, and about twenty thousand dollars
in the safe of paymaster Buchanan, the
latter officer being an own brother to the
commander of the Merrimac. The loss of
life on board the Congress was lamentable.
After sinking the Cumberland and firing
the Congress, the Merrimac (with her
companions the Yorktown and James
town,) stood off in tbe direction of the
Minnesota, which, in trying to reach the
scene of action, had run aground, and
could not be moved. An exchange of shot
and shell, however, took place between the
vessels, after which, nightfall setting in,
the Merrimac steamed in under Sewall's
Point, expecting the next day to capture
the Minnesota as a prize, instead of destroy
ing her. The day thus closed dismally for
the federal side, and with the most gloomy
apprehensions of what would occur the
next day. The Minnesota was at the
mercy of the Merrimac, and there appeared
no reason why the iron monster might not
clear the Roads of the whole fleet, and

782

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

destroy all the stores and warehouses on
the beach. Saturday, therefore, was a
night of terror at Fortress Monroe.
But just here, the chief event of interest
centers. It was at night, the moon shin
ing brightly, when, totally unexpected,
there came into those blood-dyed waters,
the little gun-boat Monitor, from New York,
— a vessel which had just been completed,
from designs of Mr. Ericsson, and differ
ing materially from any vessel ever before
constructed, and believed by its inventor
to be absolutely invulnerable. Externally,
it had the appearance of .a long, oval raft,
rising only eighteen inches above the
water, with a low, round tower upon its
center. This raft was the upper part of
the hull of the vessel, and was plated with
iron so as to be ball-proof ; it projected on
every side beyond the lower hull, which
contained the machinery. The tower, con
taining two heavy guns, the only arma
ment of the battery, was of iron, and nearly
a foot in thickness, and so constructed as
to revolve, bringing the guns to bear upon
any point. This tower, nine feet high and
twenty in diameter, and a pilot-house, ris
ing three feet, were all that appeared upon
the smooth, level deck. She was com
manded by Lieutenant Worden, U. S. N.,
and, though a mere pigmy, in size and
armament, compared with the Merrimac,
was soon to measure her prowess with the
latter, in a contest such as had never
entered into the imagination even of Mr.
Ericsson himself.
The succeeding day, Sunday, dawned
fair. As the sun broke on the horizon, a
slight haze was visible on the water, which
prevented an extended vision. At half
past six, a. m., this haze cleared away.
Looking toward Sewall's Point, there
appeared the Merrimac, and her attend
ants, the steamers Yorktown and Patrick
Henry. They were stationary, — the Mer
rimac to the right of the others, blowing
off steam. They seemed deliberating what
to do — whether to move on to attempt the
destruction of the Minnesota, which was
yet aground, or move on to the federal
fleet anchored near the Rip Raps. At

seven o'clock, a plan seemed to have been
adopted, and the Merrimac steamed in the
direction of the Minnesota, which was still
aground. The Yorktown and Jamestown
were crowded with troops, and steamed
slowly after the Merrimac. The latter
steamed along with boldness until she was
within three miles of the Minnesota, when
the Monitor essayed from behind the lat
ter, and proceeded toward the Merrimac.
It should here be mentioned, that when
Lieutenant Worden first arrived in the
Roads and was informed of what had
occurred, though his crew were suffering
from exposure and loss of rest from a
stormy voyage around from New York, he
at once made preparations for taking part
in whatever might take place tbe next day.
To this end, the Monitor moved up, before
daylight on Sunday morning, and took a
position alongside the Minnesota, lying
between the latter ship and the fortress,
where she could not be seen by the enemy,
but was ready, with steam up, to slip out,
At the sudden appearance of so strange-
looking and diminutive a craft as the Mon
itor, the confederate monster seemed non
plussed, and hesitated, no doubt in wonder
ment that such an unaccountable and
apparently insignificant an object should
be making so bold an approach.
The Merrimac now closed the distance
between her and the Monitor, until they
were within a mile of each other. Both
batteries stopped. Tbe Merrimac fired a
shot at the Minnesota, to which no reply
was made. She then fired at the Monitor ;
the latter replied, hitting the Merrimac
near the water-line. The Merrimac then
commenced firing very rapidly, first from
her stern gun at the Monitor, and then
her broadside guns, occasionally firing a
shot at the Minnesota. The fight went on
in this way for an hour or two, both ves
sels exchanging shots pretty freely. Some
times the Merrimac would retire, followed
by the Monitor, and sometimes the reverse.
While the fight between the batteries
was going on, one hundred solid nine-inch
shot were sent up from Fortress Monroe
on the steamer Rancocas to the Minnesota.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

783

At a quarter-past ten o'clock, the Merri
mac and Monitor had come into pretty
close quarters, the former giving the latter
two broadsides in succession. It was
replied to promptly by the Monitor. The
firing was so rapid that both craft were
obscured in columns of white smoke for a
moment or more. The ramparts of the
fort, the rigging of the vessels in port, the
houses, and the bend, were all crowded
with sailors, soldiers and civilians. When
the rapid firing alluded to took place, these
spectators were singularly silent, as if
doubtful as to the result. Their impatience
was soon removed by the full figure of the
Monitor, with the stars and stripes flying
at her stern, steaming around the Merri
mac, moving with the ease of a duck on
the water. The distance between the ves
sels was forty feet. In this circuit, the
Monitor's guns were not idle, as she fired
shot after shot into her antagonist, two of
which penetrated the monster's sides.
At eleven, A. m., the Minnesota opened
fire, and assisted the Monitor in engaging
the Merrimac. She fired nine-inch solid
shot with good accuracy, but with appar
ently little effect. The Merrimac returned
the fire, firing shell, one of which struck
and exploded the boiler of the gun-boat
Dragon, which was alongside the Minne
sota, endeavoring to get her off. For the
next hour, the battle raged fiercely between
the Merrimac on tbe one side, and ber
antagonists, the Monitor, Minnesota, and
Whitehall, but with no important result.
The Minnesota being the best mark for
the Merrimac, the latter fired at her fre
quently, alternately giving the Monitor a
shot. The Merrimac made several attempts,
also, to run at full speed past the Monitor,
to attack and run down the Minnesota.
All these attempts were parried, as it were,
by the Monitor. In one of these attempts
by the Merrimac, she ran her prow or ram
with full force against the side of the
Monitor; but ifc only bad the effect of
careening the latter vessel in the slightest
degree. The Yorktown and Patrick Henry
kept at a safe distance from the Monitor.
The former vessel, at the beginning of the

784

OUR FIRST CENTURY —1776-1876.

fight, had the temerity to come within
respectable range of the Monitor. The
latter fired one shot at her, which carried
away her pilot-house, and caused her to lose
no time in retiring.
As the Monitor carried but two guns,
whilst the Merrimac had eight, of course
she received two or three shots for every
one she gave. The fight raged hotly on
both sides, the opposing batteries moving
around each other with great skill, ease,
and dexterity. The Merrimac, though the
strongest, did not move with the alertness
of her antagonist ; hence the Monitor had
the advantage of taking choice of position.
At a quarter before twelve o'clock, noon,
Lieutenant Hepburn, the signal officer on
the ramparts at Fortress Monroe, reported
to General Wool that the Monitor had
pierced the sides of the Merrimac, and -...
a few minutes the latter was in full retreat.
Whether true, or not, that the Merrimac's
armor had actually been penetrated, ber
iron prow had become so wrenched in
striking the sides of her antagonist, that
the timbers within were started, and the
vessel leaked badly. The little Monitor
followed the retreating Merrimac until she
got well inside Sewall's Point, and then
returned to the Minnesota. It is probable
that tbe pursuit would have been con
tinued still farther, but Lieutenant Worden
had previously bad his eyes injured, and it
was felt that, as so much depended on the
Monitor, it was imprudent to expose ber
unnecessarily. At the time he was injured,
Lieutenant Worden was looking out of the
eye-holes of the pilot-house, which were
simply horizontal slips, half an inch wide.
A round shot struck against these slits as
Lieutenant Worden was looking through,
causing some scalings from the iron and
fragments of cement to fly with great force
against his eyes, utterly blinding him for
some days, and permanently destroying
the power of his left eye. Stunned by
tbe concussion, he was carried away
helpless. On recovering sufficiently to speak, he
asked —
" Have I saved the Minnesota ? "

" Yes, and whipped the Merrimac," was
the answer.
" Then I don't care what becomes of me,"
said Lieutenant Worden.
No other real damage was received by
tbe Monitor, during the action ; the deep
est indentation received by her was on
the side, amounting to four and one-hair
inches ; on the turret, the deepest was one
and one-half inches ; and on the deck, one-
half inch. The Merrimac, in addition to
the injury already mentioned, had her
anchor and flag-staff shot away, her smoke'
stack and steam-pipe riddled, two of her
crew killed and eight wounded, including
her commander, Buchanan. The latter
officer went out on his deck, was seen by
the federal sharp-shooters at Camp Butlei,
and was shot with a minie rifle ball in his
left leg, which maimed him for life. His
exploits gained him great favor at the
south, and he was subsequently made
Admiral of the Confederate States navy.
The praises of Lieutenant Worden filled
every loyal mouth, and he was successfully
promoted to tbe highest rank in the ser
vice. Withdrawing to Norfolk, the Merrimac
underwent extensive repairs for some
weeks, and was provided with ordnance of
great power. She then took her station
at the mouth of the Elizabeth river, guard
ing it, and threatening tbe United States
vessels in the Roads, but, on account of
some defects in her working, not ventur
ing an attack. Finally, Norfolk having
surrendered to the Union forces, May 10th,
and the Merrimac being found to draw too
much water to admit of her being removed
up the river, she was on the 12th aban
doned and set on fire, and soon after blew
up. The loss of two such fine war vessels as
the Cumberland and Congress, with some
four hundred brave men, cast a gloom over
the nation, the weight of which was only
relieved by the heroism displayed in their
defense. Indeed, one of the greatest in
stances of patriotic devotion ever recorded
in our own or any other nation's naval his
tory, is that which narrates the closing

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

785

scene on board the Cumberland. Neither
the shots of the Congress, nor of the Cum
berland, had any more effect, for the most
part upon the iron-mailed Merrimac, than
if they had been so many peas. But if
they could have kept the Merrimac off, she
never could have sunk the Cumberland.
They had then nothing to do but stand and
fight and die like men. Buchanan asked
their commander, Lieutenant Morris — ¦
" Will you surrender the ship ? "
"Never," said Morris, "never will we
surrender the ship."
Buchanan then backed his huge ram off
again, and the Cumberland fired as rapidly
as she could, but the Merrimac came once
more and ran her steel beak in ; and now
it was that Buchanan asked Lieutenant
Morris, calling him by name —

"Mr. Morris, will you surrender that
ship?" "Never," said Morris, "sink her ! "
The remaining act in this startling
drama is well known. The guns of the
Cumberland were coolly manned, loaded
and discharged, while the vessel was in a
sinking condition, and the good ship went
down with her flag flying defiantly at the
gaff Similar was the bravery exhibited on
board the ill-fated Congress. The father
of the gallant commander of that ship
(Lieutenant Joseph Smith), who lost .his
"fe in that terrible encounter, was Com-
5

modore Joseph Smith, of Washington. It
appears that the elder Smith had exerted
himself specially to finish the work on the
Monitor, and hasten her departure. The
son, too, had written repeatedly to the
naval authorities at Washington, express
ing his fears for the consequences of an
attack from the Merrimac, and urging
plans for guarding against it. The father
knew the spirit of his son, and that the
only issue of a battle for him was death or
victory. When he saw, therefore, by the
first dispatch from Fortress Monroe, that
the Congress had raised the white flag, he
only remarked quietly, "Joe is dead!"
No Roman father ever paid a nobler or
more emphatic tribute of confidence to a
gallant son than is contained in the words
so uttered, nor ever gave that son to his"
country with more cheerful and
entire devotion. The sad assur
ance was well founded. The flag
was not struck until his son had
fallen. Not less conspicuous was the
conduct of Charles Johnston, boats
wain of the Congress — a fine speci
men of the thorough seaman, who
had been in the navy some thirty
odd years — who greatly excited the
admiration of the officers by his
cool, unflinching courage. Sta
tioned in the very midst of the
carnage committed by the raking
fire of the Merrimac, he never lost
his self-possession, and not for a
moment failed to cheer on and encourage
the men. Blinded with the smoke and
dust, and splashed with the blood and
brains of his shipmates, his cheering words
of encouragement were still beard. After
the engagement, from which he escaped
unwounded, his kindness and care in pro
viding for the removal of the wounded,
were untiring. The fact bas already been
mentioned that the paymaster of the Con
gress was. an own brother of the com
mander of the Merrimac. His position
was one of extreme agony, but his loyal
heart did not fail him. " Just before the
sanguinary engagement," said paymaster

786

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Buchanan, "I volunteered my serv
ices to Lieut. Commanding Joseph B.
Smith for duty on either of the upper
decks, although the rebel steamer Mer
rimac was commanded by my own
brother, when I received an order to take
charge of the berth-deck division, which
order I promptly obeyed, and, thank

God, I did some service to my beloved
country." The character of this contest may truly
be said to have astonished the world and
its effect has been to revolutionize the
principles and mode of naval warfare, ren
dering wooden vessels of war practically
useless for active service.

XCII.
BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD.— 1862,

Bloodiest Day That America Ever Saw. — Nearly One Hundred Thousand Men on Each Side. — General
McClellan Declares on the Field that it is " the Battle of the War." — Four Miles and Fourteen Hours
of Fighting and Slaughter — The Shock and " Glory " of War on a Colossal Scale. — Obstinate Brav
ery of the Contending Foes. — Some of the Regiments Almost Annihilated. — The Union Troops
Hold the Disputed Ground. — Lee's Great Military Object. — His Troops Enter Maryland. — Frowning
Masses of Soldiery. — Surrender of Harper'a Ferry. — McClellan's Army in Motion. — He Attacks the
Enemy in Position. — Hooker Leads the Advance. — He is Shot and Disabled. — Death of General
Mansfield. — Other Union Generals Wounded. — Reno's Untimely End. — Rain of Shot and Shell. —
Various Fortunes of the Day. — Close and Stern Ordeal — Feat of Burnside's Corps — Their Struggle
for the Bill. — A Fearful Crisis with General Burnside. — He Asks for Re-enforcements. — McClellan's
Memorable Reply. — Driving the Enemy en masse. — Forty of their Colors Taken. — Tlie After-Scene
of Horror

" Our fore** slept thai night conquerors on a field won by tlieir vaior, and covered with the dead and wounded of the enemy."
ekal McClsllavs Official Report.

E A VY and melancholy as was the loss of life
attending the bloody battle of Antietam, on the
17th of September, 1862, between the Union
and confederate armies — numbering about one
hundred thousand brave soldiers each — and com
manded, respectively, by General McClellan and
General Lee, a burden of anxiety was rolled off
the loyal hearts of the North, when, on the
evening of that day, there came from General
Hooker the following thrilling dispatch, dated
at Centreville, Md. :
" A great battle has been fought, and we are
victorious. I had the honor to open it yesterday
afternoon, and it continued until ten o'clock this
morning, when I was wounded, and compelled
to quit the field. The battle was fought with
great violence on both sides. The carnage has
I been awful. I only regret that I was not per-
- '""" ' " I mitted to take part in the operations until they
^ amnio the dead at antietam. were concluded, for I had counted on either cap
turing their army or driving them into the Potomac. My wound has been painful, but
rt is not one that will be likely to lay me up. I was shot through the foot."
One great object of General Lee, during the summer of this year, was to possess

788

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

himself of Harper's Ferry, as the base of
future and more important operations. To
this end, the confederate forces under Gen
erals Jackson, Longstreet, and Hill, en
tered Frederick, Md., in the early part of
September, and occupied all the adjoining
country, their right resting on tbe Mono-
cacy river. The federal army, which with
the exception of about fourteen thousand
men at Harper's Ferry, had been concen
trated near Washington, and had been
placed under the immediate command of
General McClellan, advanced to meet the
enemy. Passing up the Potomac, they
interposed in force between the confeder
ates and the fords by which they had
crossed, threatening to cut off their re
treat in case they should be defeated.
Perceiving this, the confederates aban
doned Frederick, and went northward to
Hagerstown, which was occupied Septem
ber llth. A strong body was then sent to
attack Harper's Ferry. The assault was
opened on the 12th and continued on the
following day, when the federal troops
were driven from the heights on the Mary
land side. On Monday morning the place
was fairly surrounded, and fire was opened
from seven or eight different points. On
the morning of the 15th, .Colonel Miles,
commander at Harper's Ferry, ordered the
white flag to be raised, to General Jackson ;
a few moments after, he was struck by a
shot which mortally wounded him. The
cavalry, numbering some two thousand,
who had been at the Ferry, cut their way
through the enemy's lines and escaped;
the remainder of the troops, to the number
of about eleven thousand, surrendered, and
were immediately paroled. The posses
sion of the place was of considerable ad
vantage to the confederates, though they
retained it but for one day; the bridge
over the Potomac not being destroyed
enabled them to cross the river, and take
part in the battle of Antietam, which fol
lowed on the 17th.
A close pursuit was kept up by the fed
eral army, and, early on the morning of
the 14th, the advance — the right and
center under Hooker and Reno, the left

under Franklin — came up with the enemy,
who were strongly posted on the crest of
the South Mountain, commanding the road
to Hagerstown. The attack on both wings,
which lasted from noon until nightfall, re
sulted in forcing the confederates from all
their positions, so that they retreated during
the night in the direction of Williamsport.
In this action, General Reno was killed.
Having hastily abandoned Harper's Ferry,
the confederates re-crossed the Potomac,
and joined the main body under Lee.
In the meantime, McClellan had defi
nitely made his arrangements for giving
battle to the opposing hosts. In accord
ance with this plan, as detailed by McClel
lan, in his official report, Hooker's corps,
consisting of Rickett's and Doubleday's
divisions, and the Pennsylvania reserves,
under Meade, was sent across the Antie
tam creek, by a ford and bridge to the
right of Kedysville, with orders to attack,
and, if possible, turn tbe enemy's left.
Mansfield, with his corps, was sent in the
evening to support Hooker. Arrived in
position, Meade's division of the Pennsyl
vania reserves, which was at the head of
Hooker's corps, became engaged in a sharp
contest with the enemy, which lasted until
after dark, when it had succeeded in driv
ing in a portion of the opposing line, and
held the ground. At daylight the contest
was renewed between Hooker and the
enemy in his front. Hooker's attack was
successful for a time, but masses of the
enemy, thrown upon his corps, checked it.
Mansfield brought up his corps to Hook
er's support, when the two corps drove the
enemy back, the gallant and distinguished
veteran Mansfield losing his life in the
effort. General Hooker was, unhappily,
about this time wounded, and compelled to
leave the field, where his services had
been conspicuous and important. About
an hour after this time, Sumner's corps,
consisting of Sedgwick's, Richardson's, and
French's divisions, arrived on the field-
Richardson's some time after the other
two, as he was unable to start as soon as
they. Sedgwick, on the right, penetrated
the woods in front of Hooker's and Mans-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

789

field's troops. French and Richardson
were placed to the left of Sedgwick, thus
attacking the enemy toward their left
center. Crawford's and Sedgwick's lines,
however, yielded to a destructive fire of
masses of the enemy in the woods, and,
suffering greatly, (Generals Sedgwick and
Orawford being among the wounded,) their
troops fell back in disorder ; they, never
theless, rallied in the woods. The enemy's
advance was, however, entirely checked
by the destructive fire of our artillery.
Franklin, who had been directed the day
before to join the main army with two
divisions, arrived on the field from Browns
ville about an hour after, and Smith's
division replaced Crawford's and Sedg
wick's lines. Advancing steadily, it swept

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over the ground just lost, but now perma
nently retaken. The divisions of French
and Richardson maintained with consider
able loss the exposed positions which
they had so gallantly gained, among the
wounded being General Richardson.
The condition of things (says General
McClellan,) on the right, toward the mid
dle of the afternoon, notwithstanding the
success wrested from the enemy by the
stubborn bravery of the troops, was at this
time unpromising. Sumner's, Hooker's,
and Mansfield's corps had lost heavily,
several general officers having been carried

from the field. I was at one time com
pelled to draw two brigades from Porter's
corps (the reserve) to strengthen the right.
This left for the reserve the small division
of regulars who had been engaged in sup
porting during the day the batteries in the
center, and a single brigade of Morell's
division. The effect of Burnside's move
ment on the enemy's right was to prevent
the further massing of their troops on
their left, and we held what we had gained.
Burnside's corps, consisting of Wilcox's,
Sturgis's, and Rodman's divisions, and
Cox's Kanawha division, was intrusted
with the difficult task of carrying the
bridge across the Antietam, near Roll
back's farm, and assaulting the enemy's
right, the order having been communicated
to him at ten A. m. The valley of the
Antietam, at and near the bridge, is nar
row, with high banks. On the right of
the stream the bank is wooded, and com
mands the approaches both to the bridge
and the ford. The steep slopes of the
bank were lined with rifle-pits and breast
works of rails and stones. These, together
with the woods, were filled with the enemy's
infantry, while their batteries completely
commanded and enfiladed the bridge and
ford and their approaches. The advance of
the troops brought on an obstinate and san
guinary contest, and from the great natu
ral advantages of the position, it was
nearly one o'clock before the heights on
the right bank were carried. At about
three o'clock, P. m., the corps again ad
vanced, and with success, driving the
enemy before it, and pushing nearly to
Sharpsburg, while the left, after a hard
encounter, also compelled the enemy to re
tire before it. The enemy here, however,
were speedily re-enforced, and with over
whelming masses. New batteries of their
artillery, also, were brought up and opened.
It became evident that our force was not
sufficient to enable the advance to reach
the town, and the order was given to retire
to the cover of the hill, which was taken
from the enemy earlier in the afternoon.
Of these brilliant movements, thus so
briefly referred to by General McClellan,

790

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

a most graphic and admirable account was
furnished by Mr. Smalley, a brilliant
writer and an eye-witness, for the New
York Tribune, a portion of which is here
transcribed. After describing the gloomy condition
of the federal troops on the right at one
o'clock, Mr. Smalley says r All that had
been gained in front had been lost ! The
enemy's batteries, which, if advanced and
served vigorously, might have made sad
work with the closely-massed troops, were
fortunately either partially disabled or
short of ammunition. Sumner was confi
dent that he could hold his own, but an-

Wl/WvWe

other advance was out of the question.
The enemy, on the other hand, seemed to
be too much exhausted to attack. At this
crisis Franklin came up with fresh troops
and formed on the left. Slocum, com
manding one division of the corps, was
sent forward along the slopes lying under
the first ranges of rebel hills, while Smith,
commanding the other division, was or
dered to retake the cornfields and woods
which all day had been so hotly contested.
It was done in tbe handsomest style. His
Maine and Vermont regiments and the
rest went forward on the run, and, cheer
ing as they went, swept like an avalanche
through the cornfields, fell upon the woods,
cleared them in ten minutes, and held
them. They were not again retaken.

The field and its ghastly harvest which
the reaper had gathered in these fatal
hours finally remained with us. Four
times it had been lost and won.
The splendid feat of Burnside holding
the hill was one of the memorable deeds on
that day of earnest action. At four o'clock
(says Mr. Smalley,) McClellan sent simul
taneous orders to Burnside and Franklin ;
to the former to advance and carry the
batteries in his front at all hazards and at
any cost ; to the latter, to carry the woods
next in front of him to the right, which
the rebels still held. The order to Frank
lin, however, was practically counter
manded, in consequence of a message from
General Sumner, that if Franklin went on
and was repulsed, his own corps was not
yet sufficiently reorganized to be depended
on as a reserve. Burnside obeyed the
order most gallantly. Getting his troops
well in hand, and sending a portion of his
artillery to the front, he advanced them
with rapidity and the most determined
vigor, straight up the hill in front, on top
of which the confederates had maintained
their most dangerous battery. The move
ment was in plain view of McClellan's
position, and as Franklin on the other side
sent his batteries into the field about the
same time, the battle seemed to open in
all directions with greater activity than
ever. The fight in the ravine was in full
progress, the batteries which Porter sup
ported were firing with new vigor, Frank
lin was blazing away on the right, and
every hill-top, ridge, and piece of woods
along the whole line was crested and veiled
with white clouds of smoke. All day had
been clear and bright since the early
cloudy morning, and now this whole mag
nificent, unequaled scene, shone with the
splendor of an afternoon September sun.
Four miles of battle, its glory all visible,
its horrors all veiled, the fate of the re
public hanging on the hour— could any
one be insensible to its grandeur ? There
are two hills on the left of the road, the
furthest the lowest. The rebels have bat
teries on both. Burnside is ordered to carry
the nearest to him, which is the furthest

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

791

from the road. His guns opening first
from this new position in front, soon
entirely controlled and silenced the ene
my's artillery. The infantry came on at
once, moving rapidly and steadily up,
long dark lines, and broad dark masses,
being plainly visible without a glass as
they moved over the green hill-side.
Underneath was a tumult of wagons,
guns, horses, and men flying at speed
down the road. Blue flashes of smoke
burst now and then among them, a
horse or a man or a, half-dozen went
down, and then the whirlwind swept on.
The hill was carried, but could it be
held ? The rebel columns, before seen
moving to the left, increased their pace.
The guns, on the hill above, sent an
angry tempest of shell down among
Burnside's guns and men. He had
formed his columns apparently in the
near angles of two fields bordering the
g road — high ground about them every-
h where except in rear. In another mo
ll ment a rebel battle-line appears on the
b brow of the ridge above them, moves
H swiftly down in the most perfect order,
U and though met by incessant discharges
b of musketry, of which we plainly see
the flashes, does not fire a gun. White
spaces show where men are falling, but
they close up instantly, and still the
line advances. The brigades of Burn
side are in heavy column ; they will not
give way before a bayonet charge in line.
The rebels think twice before they dash
into these hostile masses. There is a
halt ; the rebel left gives way and scat
ters over the field; the rest stand fast
and fire. More infantry comes up ;
Burnside is outnumbered, flanked, com
pelled to yield the hill he took so bravely.
His position is no longer one of attack ;
he defends himself with unfaltering
firmness, but he sends to McClellan for
help. McClellan's glass for the last half
hour has seldom been turned away from
the left. He sees clearly enough that
Burnside is pressed — needs no messen
ger to tell him that. His face grows
darker with anxious thought. Look-

792

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

ing down into the valley, where fifteen
thousand troops are lying, he turns a half-
questioning look on Fitz John Porter,
who stands by his side, gravely scan
ning the field. They are Porter's troops
below, are fresh, and only impatient to
share in this fight. But Porter slowly
shakes his head, and one may believe that
the same thought is passing through the
minds of both generals —
" They are the only reserves of the
army ; they cannot be spared."
McClellan remounts his horse, and with
Porter and a dozen officers of his staff rides
away to the left in Burnside's direction.
Sykes meets them on the road — a good
soldier, whose opinion is worth taking.
The three generals talk briefly together.
It is easy to see that the moment has come
when everything may turn on one order

GENERAL "STONEWALL" JACKSON.
given or withheld, when the history of the
battle is only to be written in thoughts
and purposes and words of the General.
Burnside's messenger rides up. His mes
sage is —
"I want troops and guns. If you do
not spare them, I cannot hold my position
for half an hour."
McClellan's only answer for the moment
is a glance at the western sky. Then he
turns and says very slowly —
" Tell General Burnside that this is the
battle of the war. He must hold his
ground till dark at any cost. I will send
him Miller's battery. I can do nothing
more. I have no infantry."
Then, as the messenger was riding
away, he called him back :

" Tell him if he can not hold his ground,
then the bridge to the last man ! — always
the bridge ! If the bridge is lost, all is
lost." The sun was already down ; not half an
hour of daylight was left. Till Burnside's
message came, it had seemed plain to every
one that the battle could not be finished
to-day. None suspected how near was the
peril of defeat, of sudden attack on ex
hausted forces — how vital to the safety of
the army and the nation were those fifteen
thousand waiting troops of Fitz John Por
ter in the hollow. But the rebels halted
instead of pushing on ; their vindictive can
nonade died away as the light faded. Be
fore it was quite dark, the battle was over.
With the day, (says the official report of
the commanding general,) closed this
memorable battle, in which, perhaps,
nearly two hundred thousand men were
for fourteen hours engaged in combat.
We had attacked the enemy in position,
driven them from their line on one flank,
and secured a footing within it on the
other. Under the depression of previous
reverses, we had achieved a victory over an
adversary invested with the prestige of
former successes and inflated with a recent
triumph. Our forces slept that night con
querors on a field won by their valor, and
covered with the dead and wounded of the
enemy. This has been called the bloodiest day
that America ever saw, and the fighting
was followed by the most appalling sights
upon the battle-field. Never, perhaps, was
the ground strewn with the bodies of the
dead and the dying in greater numbers or
in more shocking attitudes. The faces of
those who had fallen in the battle were,
after more than a day's exposure, so black
that no one would ever have suspected
that they were once white. All looked
like negroes, and as they lay in piles where
they had fallen, one upon another, they
filled the bystanders with a sense of horror.
In the road, they lay scattered all around,
and the stench which arose from the
bodies decomposing in the sun was almost
unendurable. Passing along the turnpike

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

793

from Sharpsburg to Hagerstown, that
night, it required the greatest care to keep
one's horse from trampling upon the dead,
so thickly were they strewn around. Along
the line for not more than a single mile, at
least one thousand five hundred there lay
unburied. Such a spectacle was in keeping, of
course, with the terrible carnage incident
to such a prolonged and constant contest
between two such vast armies. The loss
of the union forces in this battle was,
according to General McClellan, two thou
sand and ten killed, nine thousand four
hundred and sixteen wounded, and one
thousand and forty-three missing; and
their total loss in the battles of the 14th
and 17th amounted to fourteen thousand
seven hundred and ninety-four. Of the
confederates killed, about three thousand
were buried by the unionists, and their

f- s&rz^-v/Cc^

total loss in tbe two battles was estimated
by General McClellan at four thousand
killed, eighteen thousand seven hundred
and forty-two wounded, and five thousand
prisoners, besides stragglers sufficient to
make the number amount to some thirty
thousand. From the time the union
troops first encountered the confederates in
Maryland until the latter were driven back
into Virginia, (says McClellan,) we cap
tured thirteen guns, seven caissons, nine
limbers, two field forges, two caisson bod
ies, thirty-nine colors, and one signal flag ;
the union army lost neither gun nor color.

The confederates also lost three of their
bravest generals, Starke, Branch, and
Anderson. General Reno's death was a severe blow
to the union army. He had been most
active all day, fearing no danger, and
appearing to be everywhere at the same
time. Safe up to seven o'clock, no one
dreamed of such a disaster as was to hap
pen. He, with his staff, was standing a
little back of the wood, on a field, the con
federate forces being directly in front. A
body of his troops were just before him,
and at this point the fire of the confeder
ates was directed. A minie-ball struck
him and went through his body. He fell,
and, from the first, appeared to have a
knowledge that he could not survive the
wound he had received. He was instantly
carried, with the greatest care, to the rear,
followed by a number of the officers, and
attended by the division surgeon, Doctor
Cutter. At the foot of the hill he was laid
under a tree ; he died without the least
movement, a few minutes after. The
grief of the officers at this calamity was
heart-rending. The old soldier, just come
from the scene of carnage, with death star
ing him in the face on every side, here
knelt and wept like a child; indeed, no
eye was dry among those present. Thus
died one of the bravest generals that was
in the service of his country, and the intel
ligence of his death was received by all
with the greatest sorrow, as it was well
known that but few could take the place
of so able and brave an officer. The com
mand of the corps devolved upon General
Cox, who, from that time, directed the
movements of the army.
The fighting qualities of the southern
soldiers, in this battle, may be judged of
by the fact that the Fiftieth Georgia regi
ment lost nearly all their commissioned
officers, and that at night, after the battle,
only fifty-five men, of the whole regiment,
remained fit for duty,— nor did they have
anything to eat and drink for more than
forty-eight hours. This regiment was
posted in a narrow path, washed out into
a regular gully, and was fired into by the

794

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

unionists from the front, the rear and left
flank. The men stood their ground un
waveringly, returning fire until nearly
two-thirds of their number lay dead or
wounded in that lane. Out of two hun
dred and ten carried into the fight, over
one hundred and twenty-five were killed
and wounded in less than twenty minutes.
The slaughter was horrible. When or
dered to retreat, the living could scarcely
extricate themselves from the dead and
wounded lying around — a man could have
walked from the head of the line to the
foot on their bodies. The survivors of the
regiment retreated very orderly back to
where General Anderson's brigade rested.
The brigade suffered terribly. James's
South Carolina battalion was nearly anni
hilated. There were not wanting, also, incidents
of that class which show the qualities of
ludicrousness and cunning in human na
ture, as, for instance, the following :
The New York One Hundred and Sev
enth regiment supported Cotheren's bat
tery ; and, during the hottest part of the
fight, the confederates massed themselves
opposite the union front, for an assault on
Cotheren's position. The battery was
short of ammunition, and so reserved their
fire, while throughout the whole field there
came a lull in the tumult. The confeder
ates advanced in a solid mass, with a pre
cision of movement perfectly beautiful.
It was a moment which tried the nerves of
the bravest. In the meantime, one of the
lads, — a noted sporting character — becom
ing quite interested in the affair, had
climbed a rock where he could view the
whole scene. He occupied the place, un
mindful of the bullets which were buzzing
like bees all around. The confederates
came on until the unionists could see their
faces, and then Cotheren poured the canis
ter into them. The advancing column
was literally torn to pieces by the fire.
At this, the lad on the rock became almost
frantic in his demonstrations of delight,
and as one of the battery sections sent a
shrapnel which mowed down in an instant
a long row of confederates, he swung his

cap, and, in a voice that could be heard by
the flying enemy, shouted out, " Bull-e-e-
e-e ! Set 'em up on the other alley ! "
General Sumner had a son, a captain on
his staff, who was but twenty-one years of
age. During the battle, when the bullets
were whistling around the general's ears,
he found it necessary to send the young
man upon a mission of duty to a certain
portion of the field. After giving him the
requisite instructions, the general em
braced him and said, " Good-by, Sammy."
" Good-by, father," was the response, and
the captain rode forth upon his mission.
On his return from his perilous errand, the
fond father grasped his hand, with the
simple remark, " How d'ye do, Sammy ? "
The spectators of this filial scene were
much affected.
A union soldier belonging to a New
York regiment was wounded in the should
ers. After dark, missing his regiment, he
became lost in the woods, and went in the
direction of the enemy. Seeing a party of
men ahead, he called out, "Wliat regiment
do you belong to ? " They answered,
" The Third South Carolina. What do you
belong to ? " " The Tenth Virginia," was
the ready and apt reply ; saying which, he
moved off in the opposite direction, and
soon joined some union soldiers. His wits
saved him.
The report of this battle by Mr. Smal
ley, in the New York Tribune, was pro
nounced by General Hooker, in a conver
sation with Mr. George Wilkes (himself an
accomplished journalist), a perfect repro
duction of the scene and all its incidents.
In reply to a question by Mr. Wilkes, if
he knew who the Tribune reporter was,
General Hooker said: "I saw him first
upon the battle-field, when we were in the
hottest portion of the fight, early in the
morning. My attention was then attracted
to a civilian, who sat upon his horse, in
advance of my whole staff ; and though he
was in the hottest of the fire, and the shot
and shell were striking and sputtering
around us like so much hail, he sat gazing
on the strife as steady and undisturbed as
if he were in a quiet theater, looking at a

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

795

scene upon the stage. In all the experi
ence which I have had of war, I never saw
the most experienced and veteran soldier
exhibit more tranquil fortitude and un
shaken valor than was exhibited by that
young man. I was concerned at the need
less risk which he invited, and told one of
my aids to order him in our rear. Pres
ently, all my aids had left me, on one serv
ice and another; whereupon, turning to
give an order, I found no one but this
young stranger at my side. I then asked
him if he would oblige me by bearing a
dispatch to General McClellan, and by
acting as my aid, until some of my staff
should come up. He rode off with alacrity,

through a most exposed position, returned
with the answer, and served me as
an aid through the remainder of the
fight, till I was carried from the ground."
" His name, General ? " asked Mr. Wilkes.
"He was a young man, recently from
college, named George W. Smalley,
and I am writing to him now." No
one will regard General Hooker's opin
ion of Mr. Smalley as any too high.
Similar, too, in descriptive ability and
power, was the war correspondence of
such men as Knox, Richardson, Conying-
ham, Coffin, Browne, Taylor, Bickbam,
Crounse, Colburn, Davis, Reid, and some
others.

XCIII.
PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION, AS A WAR MEAS
URE, BY PRESIDENT LINCOLN— 1863.

More than Three Millions, in Bondage at the South, Declared Forever Free. — Most Important Amer
ican State Paper 6ince July 4th, 1776. — Pronounced, by the President, " the Great Event of the
Nineteenth Century." — The Whole System of Slavery Finally Swept from the Republic, by Vic
tories in the Field and by Constitutional Amendments. — Mr. Lincoln's Views on Slavery. — Opposed
to all Unconstitutional Acts. — His Orders to Union Generals. — Prohibits the Arming of Negroes. —
Alarming Progress of Events. — The Great Exigency at Last — Slavery versus the Union. — Solemn
and Urgent Alternative — Emancipation Under the War Power. — Preparation of the Great Document.
— Its Submission to the Cabinet. — Opinions and Discussions — Singular Reason for Delay. — Mr. Lin
coln's Vow to God. — Waiting for a Union Triumph. — Decided by the Battle of Antietam. — Final
Adoption of the Measure. — Mr. Carpenter's Admirable Narrative. — Public Reception of the Procla
mation. — Promulgation at the South. — Scenes of Joy Among the Freedmen. — Enfranchisement
Added to Freedom.

" And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act or justice, warranted by the Constitution, upon military necessity, I invoke the con
siderate judgment of mankind, and the gracious favor of Almighty God."— I'iie Proclamation.

EALOUSLY cherishing the humane personal wish, " that all men every
where might be free," — as expressed by himself in one of his most mem
orable political letters, — and inflexibly objecting to the introduction of
slavery into the new national territories, President Lincoln, nevertheless,
on every occasion avowed his opposition to all unconstitutional meas
ures of interference with that system, as it existed in the States of the
South. Only under the stupendous exigency precipitated upon him
and upon the country, by the war inaugurated at Fort Sumter, and
now carried on with such direful loss of blood and treasure for two long
years, for the destruction of the Union, did he avail himself of the high
and solemn prerogative of his position, as the sworn protector and
defender of the nation, to decree, substantially, the utter extinction of
slavery throughout all the borders of the land.
It was a war measure, done " upon military necessity," and in the
grave performance of which President Lincoln said : " I could not feel
that, to the best of my ability, I had even tried to preserve the Constitu
tion, if, to preserve slavery, or any minor matter, I should permit the
wreck of government, country, and constitution altogether. When, early
in the war, General Fremont attempted military emancipation, I forbade
it, because I did not then think it an indispensable necessity. When, a
little later, General Cameron, then secretary of war, suggested the arm
ing of the blacks, I objected, because I did not yet think it an indispen
sable necessity. When, still later, General Hunter attempted military

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

797

emancipation, I again forbade it, because
I did not yet. think the indispensable
necessity had come. When, in March and
May and July, 1862, I made earnest and
successive appeals to the border states to
favor compensated emancipation, I believed
the indispensable necessity for military
emancipation and arming the blacks would
come, unless averted by that measure.
They declined the proposition; and I
was, in my best judgment, driven to the
alternative of either surrendering the
Union, and with it the Constitution, or of
laying strong hand upon the colored ele
ment. I chose the latter." It will thus
be seen that, so far from being rash or
aggressive in his anti-slavery policy, he
favored no step in that direction, until
driven to it as a last and remediless alter
native, from which there seemed no possi
ble escape.

Singularly enough, this great measure
—involving as mighty a moral, social, and
political revolution as was ever accom
plished in any age or in any country — was
distinctly expounded and foreshadowed by
John Quincy Adams, in a remarkable
debate which took place inthe lower house
of congress, in 1842, and in the course of
which he said : " I believe that, so long as
the slave states are able to sustain their
institutions, without going abroad or call-
"»g upon other parts of the Union to aid
them or act on the subject, so long I will
consent never to interfere. I have said

this ; and I repeat it ; but, if they come to
the free states and say to them, ' You must
help us to keep down our slaves, you must
aid us in an insurrection and a civil war,'
then I say that, with that call, comes a full
and plenary power to this house, and to the
senate, over the whole subject. It is a
war power ; I say it is a war power ; and
when your country is actually in war,
whether it be a war of invasion or a war
of insurrection, congress has power to carry
on the war, and must carry it on according
to the laws of war ; and, by the laws of war,
an invaded country has all its laws and
municipal institutions swept by the board,
and martial law takes the place of them.
This power in congress has, perhaps, never
been called into exercise under the present
constitution of the United States. But,
when the laws of war are in force, what,
I ask, is one of those laws ? It is this :
that when a country is invaded, and two
hostile armies are set in martial array, the
commanders of both armies have power to
emancipate all the slaves in the invaded
territory." In proof of the correctness of
his assertion, Mr. Adams cited the well-
known historical case of the abolition of
slavery in Colombia, first by Murillo, the
Spanish general, and subsequently by
Bolivar, the American general, in each case
as a military act, and observed and main
tained to this day.
Though the great American Proclama
tion of Emancipation did not appear until
January 1, 1863, President Lincoln's mind
had for some months previously been drift
ing in the direction of some such act. As
he himself expressed it, everything was
going wrong — the nation seemed to have
put forth about its utmost efforts, and he
really didn't know what more to do, unless
he did this. Accordingly, he prepared a pre
liminary proclamation, nearly in the form
in which it subsequently appeared, called
the cabinet together, and read it to them,
with the following result, as reported:
Mr. Montgomery Blair was startled.
"If you issue that proclamation, Mr. Pres
ident," he exclaimed, "you will lose every
one of the fall elections."

798

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Mr. Seward, on the other hand, said, " I
approve of it, Mr. President, just as it
stands. I approve of it in principle, and
I approve the policy of issuing it. I only
object to the time. Send it out now, on
the heels of our late disasters, and it will
be construed as the convulsive struggle of
a drown ing man. To give it proper weight,
you should reserve it until after some vic
tory." The president assented to Mr.
Seward's view, and held the document in
reserve. It appeared to the president,
that Mr. Seward's opinion was of great
wisdom and force.
Perhaps no account of this most memo
rable event can be said to equal, in relia
bility and graphic interest, that which is
furnished by Mr. F. B. Carpenter, in his
reminiscences of " Six Months at the
White House," while employed there in

C^^joj^oJIAa ^XCv/vO

.XaTv*.,

executing that unrivaled masterpiece of
American historical painting — the Procla
mation of Emancipation — which, by uni
versal consent, has placed Mr. Carpenter's
name second to none on the roll of eminent
modern artists. Enjoying, too, as he did,
the most intimate personal relations with
the author of that proclamation, the infor
mation which he thus obtained from the
president's own lips, as to its origin, dis
cussion, and final adoption, must forever
be the source from which, on this subject,
all historians must draw.
As already stated, the opinion of the

secretary of state in regard to the effect of
issuing such a proclamation at such a time,
impressed Mr. Lincoln very strongly. "It
was an aspect of the case that" — said
President Lincoln to Mr. Carpenter, — " in
all my thought upon the subject, I had
entirely overlooked. The result was that
I put the draft of the proclamation aside,
as you do your sketch for a picture, wait
ing for a victory. From time to time I
added or changed a line, touching it up
here and there, anxiously watching the
progress of events. Well, the next news
we had was of Pope's disaster at Bull Run.
Things looked darker than ever. Finally,
came the week of the battle of Antietam.
I determined to wait no longer. The news
came, I think, on Wednesday, that the
advantage was on our side. I was then
staying at the Soldiers' Home (three
miles out of Washington). Here I fin
ished writing the second draft of the pre
liminary proclamation ; came up on Sat
urday ; called tbe cabinet together to hear
it, and it was published the following
Monday." At the final meeting of Sep
tember 20th, another incident occurred in
connection with Secretary Seward. The
president had written the important part
of the proclamation in these words : —
" That, on the first day of January, in
the year of our Lord one thousand eight
hundred and sixty-three, all persons held
as slaves within any State or designated
part of a State, the people whereof shall
then be in rebellion against the United
States, shall be then, thenceforward, and
forever Fkee ; and the Executive Govern
ment of the United States, including the
military and naval authority thereof, will
recognize the freedom of such persons, and
will do no act or acts to repress such per
sons, or any of them, in any efforts they
may make for their actual freedom."
"When I finished reading this para
graph," resumed Mr. Lincoln, "Mr. Seward
stopped me, and said, ' I think, Mr. Presi
dent, that you should insert after the word
" recognize," in that sentence, the words
" and maintain." ' I replied that I had
already considered the import of that ex-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

799

pression in this connection, but I had not
introduced it, because it was not my way
to promise what I was not entirely sure
that I could perform, and I was not pre
pared to say that I thought we were
exactly able to 'maintain'' this. But
Seward insisted that we ought to take this
ground, and the words finally went in. It
is a somewhat remarkable fact," he subse
quently added, " that there were just one
hundred days between the dates of the two
proclamations issued upon the 22d of Sep
tember and the 1st of January."

bany, N. Y., in 1864 ; it is in the proper
handwriting of Mr. Lincoln, excepting two
interlineations in pencil, by Secretary
Seward, and the formal heading and end
ing, which were written by the chief clerk
of the state department. The final proc
lamation was signed on New Year's Day,
1863. The president remarked to Mr.
Colfax, the same evening, that the signa
ture appeared somewhat tremulous and
uneven. "Not," said he, "because of any
uncertainty or hesitation on my part ; but
it was just after the public reception, and

The original draft of the proclamation
was written upon one side of four half-
sheets or official foolscap. " He flung down
upon the table one day for me," continues
Mr. Carpenter, " several sheets of the same,
saying, 'There, I believe, is some of the
very paper which was used — if not, it was,
at any rate just like it.'" The original draft
is dated September 22, 1862, and was pre
sented to the Army Relief Bazaar, at Al-

three hours' hand-shaking is not calculated
to improve a man's chirography." Then
changing his tone, he added : " The south
had fair warning, that if they did not
return to their duty, I should strike at
this pillar of their strength. The promise
must now be kept, and I shall never recall
one word."
In answer to a question from Mr. Car
penter, as to whether the policy of eman-

800

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

cipation was not opposed by some mem
bers of the cabinet, the president replied :
"Nothing more than I have stated to you.
Mr. Blair thought we should lose the fall
elections, and opposed it on that ground
only." " I have understood," said Mr.
Carpenter, " that Secretary Smith was not
in favor of your action. Mr. Blair told me
that, when the meeting closed, he and the
secretary of the interior went away to
gether, and that the latter said to him,
that if the president carried out that pol
icy, he might count on losing Indiana,
sure ! " " He never said anything of the
kind to me," responded the president.
"And what is Mr. Blair's opinion now ? "
I asked. " Oh," was the prompt reply,
" he proved right in regard to the fall elec
tions, but he is satisfied that we have since
gained more than we lost." " I have been
told," I added, " that Judge Bates doubted
the constitutionality of the proclamation."
" He never expressed such an opinion in
my hearing," replied Mr. Lincoln ; "no
member of the cabinet ever dissented from
the policy, in conversation with me."
It is well known that the statement
found very general currency and credence,
that, on the proclamation having been
read to the cabinet, Secretary Chase ob
jected to the appearance of a document of
such momentous character without one
word beyond the dry phrases necessary to
convey its meaning, and finally proposed
that there should be added to the presi
dent's draft, the sentence — 'And upon this
act, sincerely believed to be an act of jus
tice, warranted by tlie constitution, I
invoke the considerate judgment of man
kind, and the gracious favor of Almighty
God.' The facts of the case, however, as
learned by Mr. Carpenter were these :
While the measure was pending, Mr. Chase
submitted to the president a draft of a
proclamation embodying his views of the
subject, and which closed with the solemn
and appropriate words referred to. Mr.
Lincoln adopted the sentence intact, as
Mr. Chase wrote it, excepting that he
inserted after the word 'constitution,' the
words ' upon military necessity ; ' aud in

that form the document went to the world,
and to history.
Mr. Carpenter also makes an interesting
statement touching the religious aspect of
Mr. Lincoln's mind, concerning this mo
mentous matter, as follows : Mr. Chase
told me that at the cabinet meeting, imme
diately after the battle of Antietam, and
just prior to the September proclamation,
the president entered upon the business
before them, by saying that "the time
for the annunciation of the emancipation
policy could be no longer delayed. Public
sentiment," he thought, "would sustain it
— many of his warmest friends and sup
porters demanded it — and he had prom
ised his God that he would do it!"
The last part of this was uttered in a low
tone, and appeared to be heard by no one
but Secretary Chase, who was sitting near
him. He asked the president if he had
correctly understood him. Mr. Lincoln
replied: "I made a solemn vow before
God, that if General Lee was driven back
from Pennsylvania, I would crown the
result by the declaration of freedom to the
slaves." In February, 1865, a few days
after the passage of the Constitutional
Amendment, Mr. Carpenter went to Wash
ington, and was received by Mr. Lincoln
with the kindness and familiarity which
had characterized their previous inter
course. I said to him at this time, (says
Mr. Carpenter,) that I was very proud to
have been the artist to have first conceived
the design of painting a picture commem
orative of the Act of Emancipation ; that
subsequent occurrences had only confirmed
my own first judgment of that act as the
most sublime moral event in our history.
" Yes," said he, — and never do I remem
ber to have noticed in him more earnest
ness of expression or manner, — '' as affairs
have turned, it is the central act of my
administration, and the great event of the
nineteenth century. "
The scope of this most important state
paper ever issued since the Declaration of
Independence, was, to give liberty to more
than three millions of people, — a number
eoual to. the whole population of the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

801

802

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

United States when the revolutionary
struggle with Great Britain commenced,
and about four-fifths of the whole slave
population. The work of emancipation
throughout all the borders of the land was
completed by victories in the field, and the
adoption of the Constitutional Amendment,
Article XIII., by which slavery was for
ever and entirely swept from the Republic.
The reception of the proclamation by
the millions who were ranged on the side
of their country, praying and fighting for
the success of the union cause, was warm
and enthusiastic, the feeling being almost
universally prevalent that the nation had
entered upon a new and auspicious era,
and that, under such a banner, heaven
would crown our armies with victory, and
give perpetuity to our republic among the
governments of the earth. Generally, the
great document was the theme of earnest
and eloquent discourses from the northern
pulpits, the current of the preachers'
thoughts showing itself in the various sub
jects or titles under which the event was
discussed, such as 'The Conflict between
Despotism and Liberty,' 'The duty of
uniting with our whole energies in execut
ing the Emancipation Edict of the presi
dent, to accomplish, by the blessing of
God, its beneficent results, without possi
bility of failure,' ' The Jubilee of Free
dom,' 'The Influence of Christianity on
the Abolition of Slavery,' — these, though
but a few among thousands elicited by the
proclamation, indicate the hearty appreci
ation of President Lincoln's course in issu
ing the decree. From countless pulpits,
too, the momentous document was simply
read, without comment.
Great public meetings of congratulation
and rejoicing were held in almost every
large town and city in the various north
ern states. At the Cooper Institute, New
York, a grand jubilee came off, the colored
people of that city and of the surrounding
towns for many miles, gathering together
to do honor to so great a boon to their
race. The large hall was completely
packed, long before the hour at which the
proceedings were appointed to take place,

and multitudes had to be turned away
from the feast of eloquence and music
which was there enjoyed for several hours.
Two days after the issue of the procla
mation, a large body of people assembled
before the White House, in Washington,
with a band of music, and called for the
president. He appeared, and made an
address of thanks to them for their cour
tesy, in which, alluding to the proclama
tion, he said, " What I did, I did after a
very full deliberation, and under a heavy
and solemn sense of responsibility. I can
only trust in God I have made no mis
take." From the colored people of Balti
more, Mr. Lincoln was the recipient of a
superb copy of the Bible, of the largest
size, and bound in violet-colored velvet.
The corners were bands of solid gold, and
the event carved upon a plate also of gold,
not less than one-fourth of an inch thick.
Upon the left-hand cover, was a design
representing the president in a cotton-
field, knocking the shackles off the wrists
of a slave, who held one hand aloft as if in
voking blessings upon the bead of his ben
efactor, — at whose feet was a scroll upon
which was written " Emancipation ; " upon
the other cover was a similar plate, bear
ing the inscription : " To Abraham Lin
coln, President of the United States, the
friend of Universal Freedom. From the
loyal colored people of Baltimore, as a
token of respect and gratitude. Baltimore,
July 4, 1864."
But the greatest interest necessarily
attaches to the reception which such an
amazing document met with on the part
of those who were or had recently been
slaves. Although by tbe terms of the
proclamation, tbe cities of Norfolk and
Portsmouth, Va., were excluded from its
operation, the slaves fully believed that
' Massa Lincoln ' had emancipated them all ;
with this view, they refused to work with
out wages, and, their former masters ac
ceding to this, virtual emancipation was
the result in that region. On New Year's
day, the slaves of Norfolk, Portsmouth,
and Gosport, with the African strangers
gathered there, to the number of some

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

803

thousands, turned out en masse, and by
processions, speeches, hymns and songs of
jubilation, and by other demonstrations,
celebrated what was ever afterward to be
their Fourth of July. The exultation of
the slaves was great, and many a notice
able incident presented itself. "Massa,"
said an old woman to a stranger near by,
"I have had twenty children. My Massa
and Missus sole 'em all off; one of my
gals was sole to buy young Missus her
piano. I used to stop my ears when I
heard her play on dat ar; I thought I
heard my chile a crying out dat it was
bought wid her blood. Dey was all sole
off, — I'se not got one left to bury me.
But I'se free ! and my ole heart is glad
agin. I'll go happy to my grave." In
one of the colored churches in Norfolk, the
preacher took for his text, " Stand fast,
therefore, in the liberty wherewith Christ
has made you free," and with great inge
nuity, and without irreverence, the
preacher showed how President Lincoln,
in emancipating them, had stood in Christ's
stead to them, and how it was now their
duty to stand fast, and fight for the liberty
which he, under God, had given them.
Singular enough, there rose from the
whole congregation a cry, as if with one
voice, "Amen ! glory be to God ! we'll
fight till de cows' tails drop off ! "
In the Department of the South, em
bracing Port Royal, S. C, and other
islands, it was very difficult to convince
the colored people that they were free, and
that the government, or Yankees, could be
in earnest. Christmas was to most of
them a sad day. General Saxton, there
fore, who spared no effort to disabuse
their minds and inspire them with confi
dence, issued his proclamation inviting the
people to assemble at the head-quarters of
the First South Carolina Volunteers, on
the first of January. Missionaries, min
isters, superintendents and teachers, offi
cers and privates, joined heartily in the
gathering.. The word went out far and
Bear, but the people were suspicious.
Mischievous ones had told them it was a
trap to force them into the army ; others

that they were to be collected on steam
boats that would run them to Cuba ; oth
ers that they were to be got away from
their homes and sent into exile. But, at
an early hour of the sublimely beautiful
day, the people began to arrive at the
camping-ground, and, despite their fears,
thousands were there. The proceedings
opened with prayer and music, after which,
Judge Brisbane, of Wisconsin, but a son
of South Carolina who, twenty-five years
previously, set all his slaves free, read the
emancipation act amidst the jubilant
shouts of the vast multitude; and when,
succeeding this, the proclamation of Gen
eral Saxton was read, declaring that the
great act should be enforced, twelve deaf
ening cheers burst forth from the thou
sands of grateful and joyous hearts to
whom the good tidings of liberty and pro
tection had thus come. An original ode
was then sung to the tune of ' Scots wha'
ha' wi' Wallace bled," and then came the
crowning feature of the day, the presenta
tion by the Rev. Mr. French of a splendid
silk flag, with the embroidered inscription :
" To the First South Carolina Regiment.
The year of jubilee has come."
It was a very elegant flag, a gift from
Doctor Cheever's church in the city of
New York. As it passed from the hands
of Mr. French, the negroes struck up the
national air, " My country, 'tis of thee,"
with fine effect. Colonel Higginson, who
had received the flag, stood waiting his
time to reply, with the golden tassels in
his hands. After an eloquent speech by
the colonel, he called the sergeant of Com
pany A, "Prince Rivers," and a corporal
of another company, named Sutton, both
black men, and, handing over the flag
which had been presented, called upon
both to speak, which they did with great
acceptance. Other exercises of rejoicing
took place, and then attention was paid to
the physical wants of the happy throng.
For this purpose, ten beeves had been
slaughtered and were roasting in their
pits ; and these, with several hundred gal
lons of molasses and water, — a favorite
beverage of the negroes, — and a full supply

804

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

of hard bread, awaited the hungry expect
ants. Thus ended the grand celebration
of the emancipation of the slaves of South
Carolina. The observance of the event in other
parts of the south, wherever the authority
of the union forces was present to permit
it, was so similar in its character and
enthusiasm to what has already been nar
rated, that it is unnecessary here to extend
the descriptions. By the army and its
officers, with here and there an exception,
the proclamation was regarded as an act to
which things had long been tending, and
which, under the circumstanced of peril in
which the union had so long been placed,
was inevitable. Of course, no such proc
lamation, in time of war, could have any
weight in the section of country at which
it was aimed, excepting as the union mili
tary successes made it effective. Those
successes in due time reached every por
tion of the south, and the fetters of every
bondman on American soil were thus
broken. Congress subsequently passed an
amendment to the constitution, forever
prohibiting slavery in any portion of the
republic, and this amendment, on being
ratified by the requisite number of states,
became a part of the organic law of the
land. The original draft of tbe emancipation
proclamation, in the president's handwrit
ing, was presented by Mr. Lincoln to the
great Northwestern Sanitary Fair, held at
Chicago, in the autumn of 1803. The fol
lowing letter accompanied the gift:
Executive Mansion,
Washington, October 26, 1863.
To the Ladies having in charge the
Northwestern Fair for the Sanitary Com
mission, Chicago, Illinois: —
According to the request made in your
behalf, the original draft of tbe emancipa
tion proclamation is herewith enclosed.
The formal words at the top, and the con
clusion, except the signature, you perceive,
are not in my handwriting. They were
written at the State Department, by whom
I know not. The printed part was cut

from a copy of the preliminary proclama
tion and pasted on, merely to save writing.
I had some desire to retain the paper-
but if it shall contribute to the relief or
comfort of the soldier, that will be better.
Your obedient servant,
A. Lincoln.
This chief treasure of that great fair was
purchased for three thousand dollars, by
the Hon. Thomas B. Bryan, for the Chi
cago Soldiers' Home, of which he was
president. Lithographic copies ofthe doc
ument were also sold for the benefit of the
same institution, and netted it thousands
of dollars. One of the most important results of this
great measure, whether considered from a
moral, political, or social point of view,
was the Fifteenth Amendment to the Con
stitution of the United States, by which
all citizens were made equal before the
law. It was on the twenty-seventh of Febru
ary, 1869, that congress passed a resolu
tion in the following words :
A resolution proposing an amendment
to the Constitution of the United States.
Resolved, By the Senate and House of
Representatives of the United States of
America, in Congress assembled, two-
thirds of both Houses concurring, that the
following article be proposed to the legis
latures of the several States as an amend
ment to the Constitution of the United
States, which, when ratified by three-
fourths of the said legislatures, shall be
valid as a part of the Constitution, namely:
— Article 15, Section 1. The right of
citizens of the United States to vote shall
not be denied or abridged by the United
States, or by any State, on account of race,
color, or previous condition of servitude.
Section 2. Congress shall have power to
enforce this article by appropriate legisla
tion. In about one year's time from the pas
sage of this resolution, proclamation was
made by the secretary of state, Hon. Ham
ilton Fish, that the proposed amendment
had been ratified by the legislatures of the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

805

states of North Carolina, West Virginia,
Massachusetts, Wisconsin, Maine, Louisi
ana, Michigan, South Carolina, Pennsyl
vania, Arkansas, Connecticut, Florida,
Illinois, Indiana, New York, New Hamp
shire, Nevada, Vermont, Virginia, Ala
bama, Missouri, Mississippi, Ohio, Iowa,
Kansas, Minnesota, Rhode Island, Ne
braska, and Texas, — twenty-nine in all,
and constituting three-fourths of tbe whole
number of states, and thus becoming valid,
to all intents and purposes, as a part of
the constitution of the United States.
Though not obligatory, as an executive
duty, President Grant communicated the
fact of the ratification to congress, in a
special message, on the thirtieth of March,
1870. "The measure" — said the presi
dent — " which makes at once four millions
of the people voters who were heretofore
declared by the highest tribunal in the
land not citizens of the United States, nor
eligible to become so, with the assertion
that at the time of the Declaration of In

dependence the opinion was fixed and uni
versal in tbe civilized portion of the white
race, and regarded as an axiom in morals
as well as in politics, that black men had
no rights which white men were bound to
respect, is, indeed, a measure of grander
importance than any other one act of the
kind from the foundation of our free gov
ernment to the present time. Institutions
like ours, in which all power is derived
directly from the people, must depend
mainly upon their intelligence, patriotism,
and industry. I call the attention, there
fore, of the newly enfranchised race to the
importance of their striving, in every hon
orable manner,, to make themselves worthy
of their new privilege. To a race more
favored heretofore by our laws, I would
say, withhold no legal privilege of advance
ment to the new citizens." So great an
event was not suffered to pass without pub
lic demonstrations of joy commensurate
with its grand, beneficent, and elevating
scope, in almost all parts of the country.

XCIV.
CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBURG, " THE GIBRALTAR OF
THE MISSISSIPPI," BY THE UNION FORCES.-1863.

The Genius, Valor, and Resources of Both Armies Tasked to their Utmost.— Final Capitulation of the
City by General Pemberton, After a Prolonged and Brilliant Siege — Heaviest Blow Yet Dealt the
Secession Cause.— General McPherson Receives the Formal Surrender.— Thirty-seven Thousand
Prisoners, Fifteen Generals, Arms and Munitions for Sixty Thousand Men, the Trophies. — Geograph
ical Importance of Vicksburg — Its Commanding Fortifications. — Farragut's Naval Siege Powerless.
— Sherman's Attack Repulsed. — Grant Assumes Active Command — Vigorous Operations Undertaken.
— His Series of Victorious Battles— Futile Attempt to Storm Vicksburg.— Hours of Terrific Can
nonading—A Systematic Siege Begun.— Thorough Investment at all Points.— Federal Sapping and
Mining.— They Mine and Blow up Fort Hill —Awful Spectacle of Blood and Ruin.— Deadly Strug
gle for a Foothold — Success of the Forty-fifth Illinois —Tlieir Colors Surmount the Work.— Pember
ton Sends a Flag of Truce.— His Interview with Grant— Grant's Terms : " Unconditional Surrender."
—The Victors Enter the City, July 4th.— Curious Reminiscences.

" No thought of flight.
None of retreat, no unbecoming deed
That argued fear; each one hiniBelr relied
As only in his arm the moment lay
Of Victory I"

OPERATIONS AT VIOKSBUKG.

OUAVES, infantry, cavalry, artillery — offi
cers and privates — picket, scout, and spy, —
brave legions, led on by brave generals of
Upt heroic purpose to noblest deeds, — won glo
rious honor to American arms, and to the
still more sacred cause of the American Union,
by the capture of the city of Vicksburg, the
stronghold of Mississippi, with all its defenses
and munitions, and its valorous army ; — an event
which, occurring on the fourth of July, filled the
hearts of all loyal Americans with peculiar joy,
while it was confessedly the heaviest and most
disastrous military blow which the confederate
cause had yet received during the two long years
of most eventful struggle.
Situated on the Mississippi river, on a com
manding elevation, four hundred miles above New
Orleans, and fifty miles west of Jackson, it was the most
important point on the river between Natchez and Memphis,
and, at an early day, was strongly fortified by the confeder
ate authorities of the state, forts being erected and abundance
of artillery supplied. More than a year before the final

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

807

capitulation of the place under General
Pemberton to General Grant, the union
forces laid siege to the city, and Farragut
demanded the surrender of the forts ; the
silencing of the confederate batteries at
Grand Gulf, was among the earlier opera
tions of the union gun-boats, which also
shelled the city for several weeks. Farra
gut raised the naval siege, July 24, 1862.
General Grant had taken command of the
union army in that quarter in June, of the
same year, and, in December, organized
his army into four grand corps, — the Thir
teenth, Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seven
teenth, commanded respectively by Gen
erals McClernand, Sherman, Hurlbut, and
McPherson. At the close of this month,
Sherman started from Memphis, passed
down the Mississippi to the mouth of the
Yazoo, some ten miles above Vicksburg,
and ascending that river, advanced upon
Vicksburg on the north side, but, after
three days of severe fighting, was com
pelled to retire with heavy loss. For a
time, the attack on the city was abandoned
as futile.
Early in February, 1863, General Grant
arrived and assumed active personal com
mand of military operations, which he con
ducted with great tact and vigor, succes
sively defeating his opponents in engage
ments at Port Gibson, Fourteen Mile
Creek, Raymond, Jackson, Champion's
Hill, and Big Black Bridge. The naval
forces co-operating in these movements
were under the efficient direction of Ad
mirals Farragut and Porter.
After thoroughly investing the city on
all sides, the union troops forming a semi
circle, with both flanks resting on the
river, an unsuccessful assault was made,
May 23d, by the combined land and naval
forces. The attack was a terrible one.
According to the correspondent of the Chi
cago Tribune, it was characterized by the
following incidents: During the night,
the gun-boats and mortars lying in front of
the city kept up a continual fire, and
dropped their fiery messengers right and
left without distinction. During this bom
bardment ' several buildings were set on

fire by the exploding shells, and lighted
up the darkness, revealing strange shapes
and wonderful outlines, standing out in
relief against the dark sky, which added
wonderful interest to the bombardment as
witnessed by the distant observer. It is
impossible to estimate the damage occa
sioned by thus dropping into Vicksburg
those heavy eleven and thirteen inch shells.
Imagination falls far short of its reality.
Before the union forces approached the
city, General Pemberton ordered all the
women and children for miles around
Vicksburg to go within the intrenchments,
assuring them that in that way they would
escape all danger. The consequence was,
that there were a large number of non-
combatants in the city, exposed to all the
dangers of siege and bombardment. At
eight o'clock in the morning the cannon
ading began, and continued, with scarcely
a moment's intermission, along the entire
line, until ten o'clock. From every hill
top in front of the confederate works,
cannon were belching forth, and the fiery
tempest raged fearfully. Guns were dis
mounted, embrasures torn up, parapets
destroyed, and caissons exploded. It was
a fearful demonstration. For two long
hours did this cannonade continue, when
a general charge was made. Winding
through the valleys, clambering over tbe
hills everywhere, subjected to a murder
ous enfilading and cross-fire, the advance
pressed up close to the confederate works
— to find that a deep ditch, protected by
sharp stakes along the outer edge, lay
between them and the intrenchments.
They planted their flag directly before the
fort, and crouched down behind the em
bankment, out of range of the confederate
fire, as calmly as possible, to await devel
opments. The soldiers within the forts
could not rise above the parapet to fire at
them, for if they did, a hundred bullets
went whizzing through the air, and the
adventurers died. The confederates, how
ever, adopted another plan ; taking a shell,
they cut the fuse close off, lighted it, and
rolled it over the outer slope of the em
bankment. Subsequently, with picks and

808

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

shovels, a way was dug into one fort, and
through the breach the boys walked
bravely in. The first fort on the left of
the railroad was stormed by a portion of
General Carr's division, and gallantly
taken ; the colonel that led the charge was
wounded. On the center the fire was per
sistent and terrible. Many brave officers
were killed and many more wounded.
Colonel Dollins, of the Eighty-first Illinois,
fell dead while leading his men to the
charge. Later in the afternoon, General
Ransom's brigade charged the works oppo
site his position, with heavy loss. Steele
and Tuttle, on the right, were also vigor
ously engaged, the loss sustained by the
former being considerable.

GENEKAL J. C. PEMBERTON.
The result of this assault rendered it
quite certain that Vicksburg could not be
taken by storm, and every possible appli
ance was immediately put into requisition
by General Grant to accomplish his pur
pose by systematic siege, and sappers and
miners performed an important part in
this great undertaking. The details of
this kind of work are well understood by
all, and need not be repeated here. Suf
fice it to say, that one of the principal con
federate forts was soon reached by this
subterranean process, — the miners keeping
incessantly busy, day and night, until they
arrived far under the confederate fortifica
tions, and within such near proximity to
the enemy, that the picks and shovels of
the latter, similarly engaged in the bowels
of the earth, could frequently be heard, —

necessitating, above all things, incessant
wariness and the utmost possible expedi
tion. How the matter was carried through,
the following account, made up from the
admirable dispatches of Messrs. Keim and
Fitzpatrick, of the New York Herald, will
abundantly show :
On the morning of June 25th, the work
of mining (says Mr. Fitzpatrick,) was com
pleted, an immense quantity of gunpowder
was stored in the cavity prepared to re
ceive it, and the fuse train was laid. At
noon, the different regiments of the Sev
enteenth corps, selected to make the assault
on the breach when it should have been
effected, were marshaled in long lines
upon the near slopes of the hills immedi
ately confronting the doomed fortifications,
where, disposed for the attack, impatiently
awaited the event. The confederates
seemed to have discovered that some move
ment was on foot, for, from the moment
the federal troops came into position, until
the explosion took place, their sharpshoot
ers kept up an incessant fire from th»
whole line of their works.
At length all was in readiness ; the fuse
train was fired, and it went fizzing and
popping through the zigzag line of
trenches, until for a moment it vanished.
Its disappearance was quickly succeeded
by the explosion, and the mine under Fort
Hill was sprung. So terrible a spectacle
is seldom witnessed. Dust, dirt, smoke,
gabions, stockades, timber, gun-carriages,
logs — in fact, everything connected with
the fort — rose hundreds of feet into the
air, as if vomited forth from a volcano. It
is described by all who saw it as an awful
scene. No sooner had the explosion taken place
(writes Mr. Keim), than the two detach
ments acting as the forlorn hope ran into
the fort and sap. A brisk musketry fire
at once commenced between the two par
ties, with about equal effect on either side.
No sooner had these detachments become
well engaged than the rest of Leggett's
brigade joined them and entered into the
struggle. The regiments relieving each
other at intervals, the contest now grew

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS

809

severe, both sides, determined upon holding
their own, were doing their best. Volley
after volley was fired, though with less car
nage than would be supposed. The Forty-
fifth Illinois now charged immediately
up to the crest of the parapet, and here
suffered its heaviest, losing many officers
in the assault. After a severe contest of
half an hour, with varying results, the
flag of the Forty-fifth appeared upon the
summit of the work ! The position was
gained. Cheer after cheer broke through
the confusion and uproar of the contest,
assuring the troops everywhere along the
line that tbe Forty-fifth was still itself.
The colonel was now left alone in command
of the regiment, and he was himself badly
i bruised by a flying splinter. The regi-
I ment had also suffered severely in the line,
g and the troops were worn out by excessive
I heat and hard fighting. Relief was nec
essary. Accordingly, another Illinois reg-
| iment was ordered up, and the Forty-fifth
g drawn off ; this was at six o'clock p. m.
I After this, the action was kept up briskly
1 but steadily for several hours, until dusk,
g when the firing lulled and the men took a
3 respite. While the Forty-fifth was so
p hotly engaged in the fort, the Twenty-third
Indiana followed its first detachment into
the sap, from which place they were to
hold the confederates at bay during the
contest for the fort. The confederates
fought desperately, as well at this point as
the other ; but the character of the engage
ment was different, the troops firing at
each other over breastworks of earth.
This regiment did excellent service.
The explosion of the mine was the signal
for the opening of the artillery of the
entire line. The left division of General
McPherson's Seventeenth or center corps
opened first, and discharges were repeated
along the left, through General Ord's
Thirteenth corps and Herron's extreme
left division, until the sound struck the
ear like the mutterings of distant thunder.
General Sherman, on the right, also opened
his artillery about the same time and occu
pied the enemy's attention along his front.
Every shell struck the parapet, and, bound-

810

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

ing over, exploded in the midst of the
opposing forces beyond. The scene at this
time was one of the utmost sublimity.
The roar of artillery, rattle of small
arms, the cheers of the men, flashes of
light, wreaths of pale blue smoke over dif
ferent parts of the field, the bursting of
shells, the fierce whistle of solid shot, the
deep boom of the mortars, the broadsides
of tbe ships of war, and, added to all this,
the vigorous replies of the confederates,
set up a din which beggared all powers of
description. After the possession of the confederate
fort was no longer in doubt, the pioneer
federal corps mounted the work with their
shovels and set to throwing up earth vig
orously, in order to secure space for artil
lery. A most fortunate peculiarity — for
the union army — in the explosion, was the
manner in which the earth was thrown
out. The appearance of the place was
that of a funnel, with heavy sides running
up to the very crest of the parapet, afford
ing admirable protection not only for the
union troops and pioneers, but turned out
a ready made fortification in the rough,
which, with a slight application of the
shovel and pick, was ready to receive the
guns to be used at this point.
The capture of Vicksburg was now a
foregone conclusion, admitted even by its
devoted defenders themselves, as appeared
from the contents of a confederate mail-
bag, captured just at this time. At about
•eight o'clock, therefore, on the morning of
July 3d, flags of truce appeared before
General Smith's front, when General
Bowen and Colonel Montgomery were led
blindfolded into the union lines. They
bore a sealed communication from General
Pemberton to General Grant, in which the
former proposed an armistice, with a view
to arranging terms for the capitulation of
Vicksburg — three commissioners to be
appointed from each army, for this pur
pose. General Pemberton added that he
made this proposition to save the further
effusion of blood, and feeling himself fully
able to maintain his position for a yet
indefinite period.

To this document, General Grant made
immediate reply, assuring General Pem
berton that the effusion of blood could at
any time be avoided by an unconditional
surrender of the city and garrison — that
men who had shown so much endurance
and courage as those in Vicksburg would
be treated with all the respect due them as
prisoners of war by their adversary, — and
concluded by informing General Pember
ton that he did not favor the appointment
of commissioners to arrange for a capitula
tion, as he had no other terms than those
just indicated.
General Pemberton then solicited a per
sonal interview, which was acceded to hy
General Grant, and appointed for three
o'clock p. M., General Pemberton's mes
sengers returning with the answer at
eleven A. M. At three o'clock precisely,
one gun, the prearranged signal, was
fired, and immediately replied to by the
confederates. General Pemberton then
made his appearance on tbe works in
McPherson's front, under a white flag,
considerably on the left of Fort Hill.
General Grant rode through the union
trenches until he came to an outlet, lead
ing to a small green space, which had not
been trod by either army. Here the party
halted, until General Pemberton appeared,
accompanied by General Bowen and
Colonel Montgomery. Thousands of sol
diers looked upon this strange scene. Two
men, who had been lieutenants in the
same regiment in Mexico, now met as foes,
with all the world, in a certain sense,
looking upon them. When they had ap
proached within a few feet, Colonel Mont
gomery said —
"General Grant, General Pemberton."
They shook hands and greeted each
other familiarly, Pemberton remarking,
playfully, " I was at Monterey and Buena
Vista. We had terms and conditions
there." It was beneath the outspreading
branches of a gigantic oak that the confer
ence of the generals took place. Here
presented the only space which had not
been used for some purpose or other by

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

811

the contending hosts. The ground was
covered with a fresh, luxuriant verdure ;
here and there a shrub or clump of bushes
could be seen standing out from the green
growth on the surface, while several oaks
filled up the scene, and gave it character.
Some of the trees in their tops exhibited
the effects of flying projectiles, by the loss
of limbs or torn foliage, and in their
trunks the indentations of smaller missiles
plainly marked the occurrences to which
they had been silent witnesses. The party
made up to take part in the conference
was composed as follows : Major-Generals
Grant and McPherson, and Brigadier-Gen
eral Smith, of the union army ; and Lieu-
tenantrGeneral Pemberton, Major-General
Bowen, and Colonel Montgomery, of the
confederate army. It was not long before
the momentous business which brought
the party together was begun by General
Pemberton saying —

GENEEAL J. B. MCPHEKSON.
" General Grant, I meet you in order to
arrange terms for tbe capitulation of tbe
city of Vicksburg and its garrison. What
terms do you propose ? "
" Unconditional surrender," was the
reply. "Unconditional surrender?" repeated
General Pemberton; "Never, so long as I
have a man left me ! I will fight rather."
"Then, sir," rejoined General Grant,
'you can continue the defense. My army
has never been in a better condition for
the prosecution of the siege."
During the passing of these few prelim
inaries, General Grant manifested all his

natural self-possession, and evinced not
the least sign of embarrassment ; and after
a short conversation standing, the two
generals, as by a kind of mutual tendency,
wandered off from the rest of the party
and seated themselves on the grass, in a
cluster of bushes, where alone they talked
over the important events then pending.
Here they sat more than an hour. Pem
berton played with the grass and pulled
leaves. Grant, as usual, talked coolly,
occasionally giving a few puffs at his favor
ite companion — his black cigar. Gener
als McPherson, Smith, and Bowen, and
Colonel Montgomery, imitating the exam
ple of the commanding generals, seated
themselves at some distance off, while the
respective staffs of the generals formed
another and larger group in the rear.
After a lengthy conversation the generals
separated. General Pemberton did not
come to any conclusion on the matter, but
stated his intention to submit the matter
to a council of general officers of his com
mand ; and, in the event of their assent,
the surrender of the city should be made
in the morning. Until morning was given
him to consider and determine upon the
matter, and send in his final reply. The
generals then rode to their respective
quarters. It was, however, agreed that
General Grant should confer with his offi
cers, and transmit, in writing, to General
Pemberton, the terms he would accept.
Promptly the note was sent by the hands
of General Logan and Lieutenant-Colonel
Wilson. It demanded, as from the first,
the entire surrender of the place, the gar
rison, and the stores. " On your accepting
the terms proposed," General Grant's note
stated, " I will march in one division as a
guard, and take possession at eight o'clock
to-morrow morning. As soon as paroles
can be made out, and signed by the officers
and men, you will be allowed to march out
of our lines, tbe officers taking with them
their regimental clothing, and staff, field,
and cavalry officers one horse each. The
rank and file will be allowed all their
clothing, but no other property."
Early the next morning, the glorious

812

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

Fourth of July, General Pemberton's reply
was returned. He accepted the terms on
condition that his troops should be per
mitted to march out with their colors and
arms, stacking them outside of their works.
To this, Grant made no objection.
In his account of the grand closing
scene in this momentous military transac
tion, Mr. Keim states that it was about
one o'clock p. m., before matters had as
sumed such a state of completion as would
admit of the entrance of the city by the
union army. To General McPherson was
accorded the honor of formally receiving
the stipulated surrender. He met Pem
berton half a mile within the lines, where
they were soon joined by Grant, and all,
after a few minutes' parley, rode together
into town. Upon arriving at the court
house, the troops were drawn up in line,
facing the building, and the national en
sign raised from its towering dome. This
done, the ceremony of possession was com
pleted by the display of the flags of the
Forty-fifth Illinois infantry, and of the
head-quarters of the Seventeenth corps.
Upon the appearance of the flags, the
troops joined in singing "Rally Round
the Flag," with tumultuous enthusiasm,
and cheered vociferously — making the city
ring and echo to its very suburbs. In
consideration of the active part taken by
the Seventeenth corps in the campaign

which culminated in the capture of Vicks
burg, that command was designated hy
General Grant to take possession of the
city. No sooner was the flag thrown to
the breeze from the court-house, than the
admiral's glass caught sight of its beauti
ful folds, and in due time his vessel
steamed down to the city, followed by all
the gun-boats in the neighborhood, and
took possession of a few feet of river front.
All this was duly done, after the authority
of the army of the United States was
secured beyond doubt.
Rarely if ever before was such a Fourth
of July celebrated as this of 1863. The
tidings of the victories of Gettysburg and
Vicksburg mingled together, and in every
part of the loyal north enthusiastic demon
strations of joy were indulged in. On the
fifteenth of July, President Lincoln issued
a proclamation appointing August sixth as
a day of national thanksgiving.
The result of this memorable campaign
and siege, as stated by General Grant,
was, ' the defeat of the confederates in five
battles outside of Vicksburg ; the occupa
tion of Jackson, the capital of Mississippi ;
a loss to the confederate army of thirty-
seven thousand prisoners, among whom
were fifteen general officers — and at least
ten thousand killed and wounded, and
among the killed Generals Tracy, Tilgh-
man, and Green, and hundreds, perhaps

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

813

thousands, of stragglers, who can never be
collected and reorganized. Arms and
munitions of war for an army of sixty
thousand men have fallen into our hands ;
besides a large amount of other public
property, consisting of railroads, locomo
tives, cars, steam-boats, cotton, etc' The
losses of the union army were about one
thousand killed and a little more than
seven thousand wounded — about one-half
of them only slightly, and between five
and six hundred missing.
In all respects, the campaign resulting
in the capture of Vicksburg was one of the
most skillful in the annals of military
strategy, and has justly been pronounced
unequaled in brilliancy of conception and
the masterly tact with which it was exe
cuted. One specially grand feature in the
result was, that by silencing the confeder
ate batteries that had so long controlled
the Mississippi, that most majestic river
on the globe was again thrown open for
the unrestricted commerce of the United
States from Cairo to the Gulf — or, as
President Lincoln expressed it, 'The
Father of Waters again goes unvexed to
the sea.'
One of the most interesting chapters in
the history of this campaign is that con
tained in a narrative of General Grant's
interview with his friend Mr. Dubois, of
Illinois, the facts of which, as given some
time after in the public journals, were as
follows :
Early in April, 1863, Generals Grant,
Sherman, and Oglesby, Secretary of State
Hatch, and Auditor Jesse R. Dubois, of
Illinois, with some others, were on board
the flagship of Commodore Porter's squad
ron, the party having been up the Yazoo
nver to Haines's Bluff, on a reconnoisance
of the fortifications. While the other
gentlemen were in the cabin, discussing
public questions, General Grant and his
friend Dubois withdrew, and being in
company together on the deck, the follow-
1]ig conversation, in substance, ensued.
General Grant said—
"Uncle Jesse, to tell you the truth, I
have come to my wit's end as regards the

capture of Vicksburg. I really do not
know what next move to make. I have
tried everything I could think of, and here
we are yet. I have been advised that we
go back to Memphis, and commence an
overland march from that point."
"General Grant, you cannot do that.
If you take this army back to Memphis,
with all this array of gun-boats and trans
ports and all your material of war, the
effect will be disastrous on tbe country.
. . . . If you can do no better, you
must storm Vicksburg. If it costs the
lives of forty thousand men, it must be
taken. It is a terrible thing to think of,
but it must be done."
General Grant replied that he would
reflect upon the matter during the night,
and let Mr. Dubois know of his determin
ation in the morning. When the morning
came, General Grant said —
" Uncle Jesse, you are going home to
day ; tell Governor Yates and the people
of Illinois for me, that I will take Vicks
burg in sixty days."
" General Grant, I am glad to hear you
say this ; but all I ask you will allow me
to tell them is, that you will take Vicks
burg, — I don't care whether in sixty days
or six months."
" I am bound to take it. I have decided
on my plans. I will not tell you what
they are. Even with the best intentions,
you might disclose them to tbe detriment
of the movement."
They then parted, and General Grant
detailed his plan to General Sherman, who
protested in writing, but placed himself
under the general's orders.
Auditor Dubois went home and told
Governor Yates that Grant would take
Vicksburg; that he had no doubt of it;
that General Grant told him to tell him
so, and that he must tell it to the people
as coming from General Grant. This
promise of General Grant was published
in the papers at the time, and Governor
Yates repeated it from the stump.
Not the least interesting incidents in
connection with this matter, in view of the
final result, are, the written protest by

814

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

General Sherman against General Grant's
circuitous march around Vicksburg, and
by which he cut himself off from his base
of supplies ; General Sherman's direction
that the protest be forwarded to Washing
ton, and General Grant's never so forward
ing it; and afterward, when Vicksburg
was about to surrender, the tearing up of
said protest, by General Grant, in General
Sherman's presence, much to the satisfac
tion of the latter.
A more humorous incident, and which
will bear to be repeated, was that which
transpired in the presence of President

Lincoln, to whom complaint had been
made that General Grant was in the habit
of using intoxicating drinks to excess.
'.' So I understand Grant drinks whiskey to
excess ? " interrogatively remarked the
president. " Yes," was the reply. " What
whiskey does he drink?" inquired Mr.
Lincoln. " What whiskey ? " doubtfully
queried his hearers. " Yes. Is it Bour
bon or Monongahela ? " " Why do you
ask, Mr. President?" "Because, if it
makes him win victories like this at Vicks
burg, I will send a demijohn of the same
kind to every general in the army."

XCY.
THEEE DATS' BATTLE BETWEEN THE CONCENTRATED
ARMIES OF GENERALS MEADE AND LEE, AT
GETTTSBURG, PA.— 1863.

Overwhelming Invasion of Pennsylvania by the Confederate Forces. — The Union Army Drives Them
with Great Slaughter Across the Potomac. — Unsuccessful Attempt to Transfer the Seat of War from
Virginia to Northern Soil. — One of the Most Decisive and Important Federal Victories in the Great
American Civil Conflict. — Lee's Army Impatient to go North. — Order of March at Last. — Consterna
tion in the Border States. — Call for One Hundred Thousand More Men. — Advance of Meade's Army.
—Face to Face with the Foe. — Engagement Between the Vanguards. — Terrific Artillery Contests. —
Movements and Counter Movements. — Severe Reverses on Both Sides. — Carnage at Cemetery
Hill.— Longstreet's Furious Onset — Most Destructive Cannonade. — Gettysburg a Vast Hospital. —
Crawford's Grand Charge. — Standing by the Batteries ! — Hand-to-Hand Conflict. — Following the
Battle-Flag.— Deadly and Impetuous Fighting. — Forty-one Confederate Standards Taken. — Un
bounded Joy of the Victors. — President Lincoln's Announcement.

 " this day hath made
M.nch work for tears in many a hapless mother.
Whose. Bona Ue scattered on the bleeding ground."

( _^&t| EE'S vast and powerful army had long waited, with eager and restless
expectation, for the order of march from their chieftain which should
,v enable them to transfer the seat of civil war
from the familiar encampments and blood
stained battle-fields of Virginia to the soil of
the North. The plans of the commanding
general were in due time arranged with this
end in view, and, about the middle of June,
1863, be began to move his troops across the
Potomac, and soon took possession of Hagers
town, Md., intending immediately to move
thence, in full force, direct to Pennsylvania.
Such a movement, on the part of the con
federate army, so sudden and well executed, produced great consternation
throughout the north. President Lincoln issued a call for one hundred thousand addi
tional men from the loyal states nearest the theater of military operations ; and Gen
eral Meade, who had just succeeded General Hooker in command of the army of the
Potomac, lost no time in advancing his army northward, as far as Harrisburg, Pa., the
place of destination of Lee's forces. The army of General Meade consisted of the fol-
'owing corps : First, under command of General Reynolds, and subsequently under

MEADE'S HEAD-QUARTERS.

816

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

General Doubleday ; second, under Gen
eral Hancock ; third, under General Sick
les ; fifth, under General Sykes ; sixth,
under General Sedgwick ; eleventh, under
General Howard ; twelfth, under General
Slocum. Total number of men, sixty to
eighty thousand, with two hundred guns.
The army of General Lee consisted of
General Hill's corps, General Longstreet's,
and General Ewell's ; in all, about ninety
thousand men, and two hundred guns.
On the first of July, the advanced corps
of the union army, led by Reynolds and
Howard, engaged the confederate forces
near Gettysburg. General Reynolds ap
proached the town from the south-east, the
confederates evacuating it on his arrival.
He passed through and out (says the
account of a writer in the Philadelphia
Age) on the west side toward Chambers-
burg. He marched several miles, was met
by the enemy in stronger force, and after
a slight contest was compelled to retire.
The confederates pushed him very hard,
and he came into the town on a run, his
troops going along every available road,
and rushing out on the east side, closely
pursued. One of his brigades with a con
federate brigade on each side of it. All
three were abreast, running as hard as
they could, — the two outside ones pouring
a heavy fire into the center, out of which
men dropped, killed or wounded, at almost
every footstep. This federal brigade, in
running that terrible gauntlet, lost half its
men. General Reynolds was killed, and
Gettysburg was lost; but the federal
troops succeeded in mounting the Ceme
tery Hill, and the confederates ceased pur
suing. At night, the latter encamped in
the town, and the union troops on the
hill. During Wednesday night and
Thursday morning, the two armies were
concentrating on the two ridges, which
were to be the next day's line of battle,
and by noon on Thursday each general
had a force of eighty thousand men at his
disposal. Then began the great artillery
contest, the infantry on both sides crouch
ing behind fences and trees and in rifle-
pits. The federal soldiers in the cemetery

laid many of the tombstones on the ground
to prevent injury, so that many escaped.
There was but little infantry fighting on
Thursday, and neither party made much im
pression on the other. The confederates in
the other town erected barricades, and had
their sharpshooters posted in every availa
ble spot, picking off federal soldiers on the
hills to the north of the cemetery. The
cannonade was fierce and incessant, and
shells from both sides flew over and into
the devoted town. Beyond killing and
wounding, breaking trees and shattering
bouses, and making an awful noise, how
ever, this cannonade had but little effect
on the result of the battle. Both sides
fought with great ferocity, and neither
could drive the other out of position.
On Thursday night, fearing that the
enemy had flank parties which might turn
his rear, General Meade had serious inten
tions of a change in his plan of movements,
and he called a council of war. The ad
vice of some of his generals, however, and
the capture of a courier with dispatches
from Richmond, from which it was learned
that the confederates could receive no
re-enforcements, made him decide not to
alter his programme. On Friday morning,
General Lee did not desire to make the
attack. He saw the superiority of the
federal position, and wished to entice them
out of it, and down into the valley. With
this design in view, be withdrew all his
sharpshooters and infantry from Gettys
burg. The deserted town lay there a very
tempting bait, but General Meade's men
hid quietly behind the fences and trees,
and the banks upon the hills. They could
look down into the streets and see every
thing that was in progress. They saw the
confederates march out and retire to the
seminary, but made no advance, and the
confederates gained nothing by the move
ment. A parting salute of musketry,
however, from a knoll north of the came-
tery, accelerated the confederate retreat.
For some time the town had scarcely a
soldier in it. Scores of dead and wounded
men and horses, with broken wagons,
bricks, stones, timber, torn clothing, and

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

817

abandoned accoutrements, lay there. The
frightened inhabitants peered out of their
windows to see what the armies were doing
to cause such a lull, and, almost afraid of
their own shadows, they hastened away
and crouched in corners and cellars at the
sound of every shot or shell.
Of the stirring scenes that so soon fol
lowed, the same correspondent says : Gen
eral Lee's evacuation, however, had no
effect. Meade was neither to be enticed
into the town nor into the valley. Enough
dead bodies lay in the fields and streets to
give him warning of what happened to
poor Eeynolds two days before, and he
wisely determined to stay where he was
and let events shape themselves. The
confederates soon became impatient. They
could wait no longer; and after much
solicitation from his subordinates, General

Lee permitted General Longstreet to send
his grand division on a charge upon the
cemetery. The federal soldiers were on
the alert. They were hid behind their
embankments, some kneeling, and some
flat on the ground. The confederate artil
lery opened. It was as fierce a cannonade
as the one the day before, but instead of
being spread all over the line, every shell
was thrown at the cemetery. Experienced
soldiers soon divined what was coming,
and, in every portion of the federal line,
the cannon were directed toward the valley
m tront of the cemetery. All were ready.
Amidst the furious fire from the confeder-
52

ate cannon scarcely a federal shot was
heard. The artillerists, implements in
hand, crouched in the little ditches dug
behind their .cannon. With arms loaded,
the infantry awaited the charge. It soon
came. From the woods of short, scrubby
timber and the rocks near the seminary,
there rose a yell, lt was a long, loud,
unremitting, hideous screech, from thou
sands of voices. At the yell, the federal
cannon opened. Soon the confederate col
umns emerged from the woods. They
came on a rush down the hill, waving their
arms and still screeching. They climbed
the fences and rushed along, each one bent
upon getting first into the cemetery. The
cannon roared, and grape and canister and
spherical case fell thick among them.
Still they rushed onward, hundreds falling
out of the line. They came within musket-
shot of the federal troops. Then the small
arms began to rattle. The confederates
approached the outer line of works. They
were laboring up the hill. As they
mounted the low bank in front of the rifle-
pits, the federal soldiers retreated out of
the ditch behind, turning and firing as
they went along. It was a hand-to-hand
conflict. Every man fought for himself
and by himself. Myriads of confederates
pushed forward down the hill, across into
the works, and up to the cemetery. All
were shouting, and screaming, and swear
ing, clashing their arms and firing their
pieces. The confederate shells flew over
the field upon the federal artillerists on
the hills above. These, almost disregard
ing the storm which raged around them,
directed all their fire upon the surging
columns of the enemy's charge. Every
available cannon on Cemetery Hill, and to
the right, and left, threw its shells and
shot in the valley. The fight was terrible ;
but, despite every effort, the confederates
pushed up the hill and across the second
line of works. The fire became hotter.
The fight swayed back and forth. One
moment the confederates would beat the
railings of the cemetery; then a rush
from the federal side would drive them
down into the valley. Then, with one of

818

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

their horrid screeches, they would fiercely
run up the hill again into the cemetery,
and have a fierce battle among the tomb
stones. It was the hardest fight of the
day, and hundreds were slain there. Sev
eral attempts were made to take the place,
but they were not successful, and late in
the afternoon, leaving dead r.nd vounded
behind them, the confederate forces re
treated upon their own hill and into their
woods again. They were not routed.
They can scarcely be said to have been
driven. They made an attack and were
repulsed, and, after renewed attempts,
feeling that it was useless to try any more,
they retreated. It was now General
Meade's turn to make an attack. Though
they had lost heavily they felt elated.
They saw hopes of a victory, and were
ready to do almost anything to secure it.
Although there had been a battle in the
valley below Gettysburg, yet the town was
as quiet and as much deserted as ever.
Shells flew over it, and now and then one
of its houses would have a wall cracked or
a roof broken, but neither force possessed
it. General Meade turned his attention
there. The day was waning and the battle had
lulled, and Meade determined, if possible,
to drive the confederates out of the semin
ary. This was done, according to the
writer already quoted, as follows : His
troops were placed in order, and charged
down the hill and into the town. They
ran along every street, chasing a few of
tbe enemy still hid there, before them.
They came out upon the west side, along
the Emmettsburg and Chambersburg
roads, and ascended the enemy's hills
amidst a storm of grape and shell. At
the seminary the confederates were not
very strong. They had weakened that
portion of the line to make their attack
further to the south upon the cemetery.
They had but few cannon; and though
they resisted some time, they finally re
treated from the edge of the hill and aban
doned the seminary. The federal troops
did not chase them. The land back of the
seminary was rather flat and cut up into

grain fields, with here and there a patch
of woods. The rifle-pits on the brow of
the hill proved an effectual aid to the fed
eral soldiers in maintaining their ground ;
and as they lay behind the'bank, with the
ditch in front, they could pick off the
stragglers from the retreating enemy.
There was but little serious fighting after
that, and night put an end to Friday's
struggle, the confederates having retired
about a mile on the north, near the semin
ary, and half a mile on the south, at a
little stream. During the night, the dead
in the streets of Gettysburg were buried>
and the wounded on all parts of the field
were collected and carried to the rear. On
the next morning, General Meade expected
another attack ; but, instead of making it,
the confederates retreated further, aban
doning their entire line of battle, and the
pickets reported that they were intrench
ing at the foot of South Mountain. The
federal army was terribly crippled and
sadly in need of rest, and no advance was
made, although pickets were thrown across
the enemy's old line of battle, and toward
the place where they were building in>
trenchments. All the day was spent in
feeding and resting the men. Gettysburg
was turned into a vast hospital, and im
promptu ones were made at a dozen places
on the field. The rain came, too, and with
it cool air and refreshment both from wind
and rain. No one could tell what the con
federates were doing ; every picket reported
that they were intrenching, and the night
of the fourth of July closed upon the field,
the federal army being in full possession.
The gallant charge made by the division
under Crawford's command, contributed
very materially to saving the left of the
federal army. The confederates had
massed their troops on Crawford's left.
The third corps, Sickles's, had been en
gaging the enemy, but were overpow
ered, and several guns had been lost
Two divisions, of the fifth corps, Sykes's,
had been also engaged, but nothing could
withstand the confederate pressure, and
their troops gave way. Several thou
sand arms had been lost. On came the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

819

- 'U '<s'tM':

820

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

confederates in a dark mass, across the
wheat field, over the stone wall, and across
the ravine. At this moment, wliile the
fugitives were rushing through Crawford's
ranks, he ordered a charge. He was
drawn up in line of battle, and in column
of division. His men, with loud cheers,
rushed forward. Crawford himself rode to
the front, and, seizing tbe flag of the lead
ing regiment, encouraged the men. They
dashed in ; volley after volley was poured
into the confederate ranks. The federals
got ahead, and drove the confederates back
across the ravine, over tbe stone wall, and
through the wheat field, retaking the
unionists' ground and an immense quantity
of arms. The left of the federal position
was saved by this charge, enabling them
to remain masters of the field.
A fit illustration of the sanguinary char
acter of the afternoon struggle already de
scribed, is that given by Mr. Whitelaw Reid,
one of the gifted correspondents of the Cin
cinnati Gazette. Mr. Reid says that some
Massachusetts batteries — Captain Bige-
low's, Captain Phillips's, and two or three
more under Captain McGilvry, of Maine
— were planted on the extreme left, ad
vanced now well down to the Emmettsburg
road, with infantry in their front, — the
first division of Sickles's corps. A little
after five, a fierce confederate charge drove
back the infantry and menaced the batter
ies. Orders were sent to Bigelow on the
extreme left, to hold his position at every
hazard short of sheer annihilation, till a
couple more batteries could be brought to
his support. Reserving his fire a little,
then with depressed guns opening with
double charges of grape and canister, he
smote and shattered, but could not break
the advancing line. His grape and canis
ter became exhausted, and still, closing
grandly up over their slain, on they rushed.
He fell back on spherical ~case, and poured
this in at the shortest range. On, still
onward, came the artillery-defying line,
and still he held his position. They got
within six paces of the guns — he fired
again. Once more, and he blew devoted
soldiers from their very muzzles. And,

still mindful of that solemn order, he held
his place ; they spring upon his carriages,
and shoot his horses ! And then, his
Yankee artillerists still about him, he
seized the guns by hand, and from the
very front of that line dragged two of them
off. The caissons were farther back — five
out of the six are saved. That single com
pany, in that half hour's fight, lost thirty-
three of its men, including every sergeant
it had, and the captain himself was
wounded. Yet it was the first time it was
ever under fire. So they fought along
that fiery line ! The confederates now
poured upon Phillips's battery, and it, too,
was forced to drag off the pieces by hand
when the horses were shot down. From a
new position, it opened again ; and at last
the two re-enforcing batteries came up on
the gallop. An enfilading fire swept the
confederate line ; Sickles's gallant infantry
charged, the confederate line swept back
on a refluent tide — the unionists regained
their lost ground, and every gun they had
just lost in this splendid fight.
Mr. Reid, as an eye witness, character
izes the sanguinary struggle at four o'clock
as the great, desperate, and final charge.
The confederates seemed to have gathered
up all their strength and desperation for
one fierce, convulsive effort, that should
sweep over and wash out all resistance.
They swept up as before ; the flower of
their army to the front — victory staked
upon the issue. In some places, they lit
erally lifted up and pushed back the union
lines; but, that terrible ' position ' of the
federals ! — wherever they entered it, enfi
lading fires from half a score of crests
swept away their columns like merest
chaff. Broken and hurled back, they
easily became prisoners ; and on the center
and left, the last half hour brought more
prisoners than all the rest. So it was
along the whole line ; but it was on the
second corps that the flower of the confed
erate army was concentrated ; it was there
that the heaviest shock beat upon, and
shook, and even sometimes crumbled, the
federal line. The federals had some shal
low rifle-pits, with barricades of rails from

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

821

the fences. The confederate line, stretch
ing away miles to the left, in magnificent
array, but strongest here, — Pickett's splen
did division of Longstreet's corps in front,
the best of A. P. Hill's veterans in support
—came steadily, and as it seemed resist-
lessly, sweeping up. The federal skir
mishers retired slowly from the Emmetts-
burgroad, holding their ground tenaciously
to the last. The confederates reserved
their fire till they reached this same Em-
mettsburg road, then opened with a ter
rific crash. From a hundred iron throats,
meantime, their artillery had been thun
dering on the union barricades. Hancock
was wounded; Gibbon succeeded to the
command — approved soldier, and ready for

mere machine strength of their combined
action — swept the confederates on. The
federal thin line could fight, but it had not
weight enough to oppose to this momen
tum. It was pushed behind the guns.
Right on came the confederates. They
were upon the guns — were bayoneting the
gunners — were waving their flags above
the federal pieces. But they had pene
trated to the fatal point. A storm of
grape and canister tore its way from man
to man, and marked its track with corpses
straight down their line ! They had ex
posed themselves to the enfilading fire of
the guns on the western slope of Cemetery
Hill ; that exposure sealed their fate. The
line reeled back — disjointed already — in

Y~^^

the crisis. As tbe tempest of fire ap
proached its height, he walked along the
line, and renewed his orders to the men to
reserve their fire. The confederates —
three lines deep— came steadily up. They
were in point-blank range. Af last the
order came! From thrice six thousand
guns, there came a sheet of smoky flame,
a crash, a rush of leaden death. The line
literally melted away ; but there came the
second, resistless still. It had been the
unionists' supreme effort — on the instant,
they were not equal to another. Up to
the rifle-pits, across them, over the barri-
s — the momentum of their charge, the

an instant in fragments. The union
troops were just behind the guns. They
leaped forward upon the disordered mass ;
but there was little need for fighting now.
A regiment threw down its arms, and,
with colors at its head, rushed over and
Surrendered. All along the field, smaller
detachments did the same. Webb's bri
gade brought in eight hundred ; Gibbon's
Old division took fifteen stand of colors.
Over the fields, the escaped fragments of
the charging line fell back — the battle
there was over. A single brigade, Har
row's, came out with fifty-four less officers,
and seven hundred and ninety-three less

822

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

men (the Seventh Michigan regiment was
of this brigade,) than it took in. So the
whole corps fought — so too they fought
farther down the line. It was fruitless
sacrifice. They gathered up their broken
fragments, formed their lines, and slowly
marched away. It was not a rout, it was
a bitter, crushing defeat.
Among the individual instances of brav
ery narrated of this terrible combat be
tween the two great armies, that of Henry
Shaler, of Indianapolis, will bear repeti
tion, for he seems to have more than
equaled the self-told mythical performance
of the Irishman who ' surrounded ' a half-
dizen of the enemy and bagged them
plump. Shaler took more prisoners in
this battle than any other man in the
army — in all, twenty-five men, including
one lieutenant and eighteen privates at
one swoop. He took them by strategy of
the most undoubted kind ; that is, he sur
rounded them, and they had to give up.
On the morning of the fourth, he went out
with his 'poncho' over his shoulders, ' so
that the confederates couldn't see his coat,
and thus they thought he was one of their
own men. He went up and told them to
lay down their arms and come and help
carry some "wounded off the field; they
did so. When he got them away from
their arms, be rode up to the lieutenant
and told him to give up his sword. The
lieutenant refused at first, but Shaler drew
his revolver, and the lieutenant yielded
without a shot, and the whole squad were
then escorted by their gallant captor into
camp. The heroism of General Kilpatrick —
like that of Couch, Geary, Buford, Birney,
Newton, Gregg, Mcintosh, Neil, and oth
ers — was conspicuous from first to last.
On the thirteenth, some ten days after the
close of the conflict, General Kilpatrick
was anxious to make an advance, but
could not obtain orders. Some of the
Pennsylvania militia having been placed
at his disposal, he thought he would try
one regiment under fire. The Philadel
phia Blues were selected, and, accompa
nied by the First Vermont cavalry, a dem

onstration was made on the right — th,e
confederates then occupying a fortified
position. The militia were now deployed,
the general desiring them to move to the
crest of a knoll, where the bullets were
flying pretty lively. There was some hes
itancy at first, whereupon a battle-flag pre
sented to the division by the ladies of
Boonsboro' was sent to the front. Ser
geant Judy, bearer of the flag, cried out—
" This is General Kilpatrick' s battle-
flag ; follow it ! "
The militia obeyed the summons
promptly, and fell some distance in front
of the line, and it was supposed for some
time that the enemy had captured the flag;
but at night, when Judy was brought in
on a litter, he proudly waved the battle-
flag. The novelty of being thus under
fire for the first time was keenly felt by
the militia. About the first man touched
had the top of his head grazed just close
enough to draw blood. He halted — threw
down his musket — truly an astonished
man ! One or two oflicers and a dozen or
more privates ran hurriedly to see what
the matter was. - Running both hands over
his pate, and seeing blood, he exclaimed,
"A ball ! a ball ! " — while the others stood
on agape with astonishment, until the
shrill voice of the general sounded in their
ears : " Move on there ! "
On the opening movement being made
to baffle Lee's march toward Pennsylva
nia, the spirit which animated those who
had gone forth in defense of the American
Union — "man's last, best hope, of free
government," — was conspicuously mani
fest. At a distance of fifteen miles from
Gettysburg, where the armies were mass
ing, were first caught the murmurs of the
opening battle, and from that time the
scene was all enthusiasm among the weary,
foot-sore federals, who counted as nothing
all tbe pains of a march of nearly two hun
dred miles, now that they were within
striking distance of the foe. Most of the
way, the ambulance train had been crowded
with both officers and men, weary, worn,
and haggard; but the cannon's rattle, as
it became more and more distinct, changed

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

823

them in a twinkling into new creatures.
The New Jersey brigade, in Sedgwick's
corps, was of this body. At about three
o'clock on the afternoon of July 3d, the
head of the column arrived on the battle-
around. As it came to a halt, a poor f el-

SOLBIERS' MONUMENT AT GETTYSBURG).
fow, who looked the very image of death,
hobbled out of the ambulance in which he
had been lying, and, shouldering his
musket, was just starting forward, when
the surgeon stopped him with —
" Where are you going, sir ? "
"To the front, doctor," — and the brave
fellow tried hard to stand firm and speak
boldly as he saluted the surgeon.
"To the front! What ! a man in your
condition ? Why, sir, you can't march

half a mile ; you haven't the strength to
carry yourself, let alone your knapsack,
musket, and equipments. You must be
crazy, surely."
" But, doctor, my division are in the
fight," (here he grasped the wheel of an
ambulance to support himself,) "and I have
a younger brother in my company. I
must go."
"But I am your surgeon, and I forbid
you. You have every symptom of ty
phoid fever; a little over-exertion will kill
you." "Well, doctor, if I must die, I would
rather die in the field, than in an ambu
lance." The doctor saw it was useless to debate
the point, and the soldier went as he de
sired. But on the evening of the next
day he was buried where he fell — for fall
he did — his right arm blown off at the
elbow, and his forehead pierced by a minie
ball. The impetuous bravery with which the
confederate troops fought is illustrated by
the fact that every brigadier in Pickett's di
vision was killed or wounded ; out of twen
ty-four regimental officers, only two escaped
unhurt ; the colonels of five Virginia reg
iments were killed; the ninth Virginia
went in with two hundred and fifty men,
and came out with only thirty-eight.
These data show that the total casualties
of the confederate army, though never
officially published, must have been im
mense — greater, probably, than those of
the victorious. The latter, as given by
General Meade, were as follows: two
thousand and eight hundred and thirty-
four killed; thirteen thousand and seven
hundred and nine wounded; six thou
sand and six hundred and forty-three
missing. The union army took forty-
one standards, nearly twenty-five thou
sand small arms, and about fourteen
thousand prisoners.
So great was the joy throughout the
loyal states, as the tidings of victory
flashed across the wires, that, on the fore
noon of July 4th, President Lincoln offi
cially telegraphed as follows :

824

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

" The President announces to the coun
try that news from the Army of the Poto
mac, up to 10 p. M. of the 3d, is such as to
cover that army with the highest honor ;
to promise a great success to the cause of
the Union, and to claim the condolence

of all for the many gallant fallen ; and
that for this he especially desires that
on this day, He, whose will, not ours,
should ever be done, be everywhere re
membered and reverenced with profound-
est gratitude."

XCVI.

ORATORICAL CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN
ENGLAND, BY REY. H. W. BEECHER.— 1863.

flis Olympian Speeches, in Defiance of British Sentiment, in the Great Cities of the Kingdom. — His
Eloquence Rises to the Very Crown of the Occasion. — Superb Exhibition of Forensic Power in Liv
erpool. — He Wrestles, Single-Handed and Triumphantly, for Three Hours, with a Vast and Tumul
tuous Mob in that City. — Reception at Exeter Hall, London. — Mr. Beecher's Tour Undertaken for His
Health. — Reaches England, Homeward Bound. — Civil Conflict Raging in America — Mr. Beecher
Urged to Speak on United States Affairs. — Opening Speech in Manchester. — Great Audience of
SeYen Thousand. — Attempts to Silence Him. — Powerlessness of the Opposition. — Splendid Qualities
as an Orator. — Discussions in Glasgow and Edinburgh. — Battle Waged by Mr. Beecher in Liverpool.
—Violent Efforts to Gag Him. — A Maddened Sea of Insult. — Taunts, Curses, Hisses, Fury. —
Stampings, Hootings, Yellings. — Beecher's Pluck, and Good Humor. — He Triumphs Over the Wild
Tempest. —A Spectacle Never Before Witnessed. — Grand Closing Scene in the British Capital. —
Vast and Excited Assembly.— He Carries the House by Storm.— Plaudits and Congratulations.

A more remarkable embassy than any envoy who haa represented ub in Europe since Franklin pleaded the cause of the young Repub-
the Court of Versailles."— Tub "Atlantic Monthly/'

^

ECIDEDLY the most memorable oratorical success ever achieved by an Amer
ican citizen abroad, in behalf of the name and honor of his country, was that
by the Kev. Henry Ward Beecher, in England
during the great conflict of arms then raging in
the United States. Leaving his great parish in
the city of Brooklyn, N. Y., in the summer of
1863, for a tour in Europe, with a view to the
restoration of his health, it was not until October
following, soon after reaching England, with his face set
homeward, that he was prevailed upon to address a public
audience, as the champion of the American Union, and de
fender of the national government.
Beginning at Manchester, October 9th, Mr. Beecher de
livered five great speeches in the great cities of the king
dom—Manchester, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Liverpool, and
London,— each speech being devoted to some special train of
thought and argument bearing upon the issues involved in
the momentous contest ; and the whole series, taken together,
did more for the Union cause in Great Britain than all that
had before been said or written. Possessing the faculty,
beyond any other American orator, of combining close,
rapid, powerful, practical reasoning, with intense passion,— his mind
always aglow with his subject,-the effect of Mr. Beecher's speaking

826

OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

is to kindle sympathy, even if it does not
flash conviction. It is this quality, ac
cording to the opinion of those who are
best acquainted with Mr. Beecher's oratory,
which, combined with his marvelous power
of illustration — marvelous alike for its
intense vividness and unerring pertinency
— and his great flexibility, whereby he
adapts himself completely to the exigency
of the instant, gives him a rare command
over a popular assemblage.
Pree Trade Hall was the place selected
for Mr. Beecher's appearance in Man
chester. Though capable of holding seven
thousand persons, the hall was densely
crowded, and the speaker received a wel
come such as, in point of enthusiasm, had
rarely fell to the lot of any other man.
On this occasion, he gave a history of that
series of political movements, extending
through half a century, the logical and
inevitable end of which was open conflict
between the two opposing forces of free
dom and slavery. There were in the
meeting a few hundred opponents who
frequently interrupted Mr. Beecher, but
these checks only served to show how
powerless was the opposition, and how
forcible was the impression made by the
speaker. His pointed remarks were fre
quently greeted with rounds of applause,
and when, at the close of his address, he
read a telegram just received from Liver
pool, that the " broad arrow " of the British
government had that day been placed upon
the suspected steam-rams in the Mersey,
the enthusiasm reached its climax. The
whole audience rose, vociferously cheering,
and waving hats and handkerchiefs.
Not to dwell upon the scenes character
izing Mr. Beecher's efforts in Glasgow
and Edinburgh, it may be remarked that,
in Liverpool, he waged such a battle with
the vast and tumultuous throng assembled
there to gag and stifle him, as, perhaps,
no other public speaker in the world could
have fought, in a strange land, and not
been utterly vanquished. He here, in this
great center of commercial and manufac
turing interests, labored to show how
those interests are injured by slavery, —

that the attempt to cover the fairest por
tion of the earth with a slave population
that buys nothing, and a degraded white
population that buys next to nothing,
should array against it the sympathy of
every true political economist and every
thoughtful and far-seeing manufacturer, as
tending to strike at the vital want of com
merce, namely, not the want of cotton, but
the want of customers. Amidst the most
violent attempts to drown his voice and
shut his lips, Mr. Beecher remained
master of the platform, abundantly prov
ing to the mob the truth of his asser
tion, " I am born without moral fear. I
have expressed my views in any audience,
and it never cost me a struggle. I never
could help doing it." So, too, in answer
to the taunts and sarcasm of those who
wished ill to the Union and looked with
satisfaction upon the evidences of its ap
proaching dismemberment, came the dec
laration :
" Standing by my cradle, standing by
my hearth, standing by the altar of the
church, standing by all the places that
mark the name and memory of heroic men
who poured their blood and lives for prin
ciple, I declare that in ten or twenty years
of war we will sacrifice everything we
have for principle. If the love of popular
liberty is dead in Great Britain, you will
not understand us ; but if the love of
liberty lives as it once lived, and has
worthy successors of those renowned men
that were our ancestors as much as yours,
and whose example and principles we
inherit to make fruitful as so much seed-
corn in a new and fertile land, then you
will understand our firm, invincible deter
mination — deep as the sea, firm as tbe
mountains, but calm as the heavens above
us — to fight this war through at all hazards
and at every cost. "
Throughout all the tumultuous demon
strations on the part of his Liverpool
audience, his pluck and good humor never
for a moment forsook him. His perfect
self-possession, his readiness, his jovial
wit, gave him the mastery in the fearful
odds against which he had to battle.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

827

Another orator might have withered the
moh with invective, but he conquered them
with humor. He turned the laugh against
them. He parried their blows, and at the
same time struck home, so that the recoil
made them wince in spite of their bravado.
It was a grand spectacle, in St. George's
Hall, Liverpool, when he struggled for
nearly three livelong hours against that
raging sea of insult, taunt, irony, imper
tinent questioning, blackguardism, curses,
hisses, cat-calls, stampings, hootings, yell-
ings — everypossible manifestation of hate,
every possible form of disorder ; but this
strong-winged bird of the storm matched
his might against it — now soaring up to

In the course of this great and exciting
discussion, the orator touched upon a point
or question frequently asked and honestly
entertained by those not acquainted with
the structure of the American government.
" It is said, ' Why not let the South go ? '
[Hear, hear, and cheers.] 'Since they
won't be at peace with you, why do you
not let them separate from you ? ' Because
they would be less peaceable separated
than they are together. [Hear, hear.]
Oh, if the South only would go ! [Laugh
ter.] They are determined to stay — that
is the trouble. [Hear, hear.] We would
furnish free passage to every mother's son
of them, if they would go. [Laughter.]

KEV. H. W. BEECHER DEFENDING THE AMERICAN CMON, IN EXETER HALL, LONDON.

overcome it — now sinking down to under
mine it — now dashing in its teeth — now
half-choked in the gust of its fury, but
always moving onward, and in the end rid
ing triumphant on the very crest of its
wildest billows. There was not a more
heroic achievement on any field of battle
during the Great American Conflict, than
the successful delivery of Mr. Beecher's
speech against the tempest of odds which
opposed it. This is the testimony which
ne loyal American press universally bore
to the value of Mr. Beecher's efforts in
vindicating the national cause so courage
ously and ably.

But we say, ' That territory is ours ! '
[Cheers.] Let them go, and leave the
nation its territory, and they will have our
unanimous consent. [Renewed cheers.]
But I do not wish to discuss this even in
in this ad captandum way. I wish —
because this seems to me the very marrow
of the matter — I wish to ask you to stand
in our place for a little time, and see this
question as we see it, then afterwards
make up your judgment as you think best.
[Hear, hear.] And first, this war began
by the act of the South — firing at that
old flag that had covered both sections
with glory and protection. [Applause.]

828

OUR FIRST CENTURY —1776-1876.

(Some gentleman on the platform here
offered Mr. Beecher a glass of water.)
No, thank you (said Mr. Beecher) ; I
want neither water nor lozenges. [Laugh
ter.] Time, patience, and my own good
lungs, will make me heard. I expect to
be hoarse ; I am willing to be hoarse. I
think that if I might but bring the mother
and the daughter heart to heart and hand
to hand [loud applause], I would be will
ing to be silent for a twelvemonth in so
good a work as that. [Cheers.] The war
began under circumstances that obliged
the North to join issue in order to prevent
actual humiliation and subjugation. . .
. . And for the North to have lain down
like a spaniel — to have given up the terri
tory that every child in America is taught,
as every child in Britain is taught, to
regard as his sacred right and his trust —
to have given that territory up without a
thought, without a blow, would have
marked the North to all eternity as craven
and mean beyond expression." [Loud
cheers and some hisses.]
Equally forcible and felicitous was the
manner in which Mr. Beecher met his oppo
nents on another point. " But I hear,"
said Mr. Beecher, " a loud protest against
war. [Hear, hear.] Ladies and gentle
men, Mr. Chairman : There is a small
band in our country and in yours — I wish
their number were quadrupled — who have
borne a solemn and painful testimony
against all wars, under all circumstances ;
and although I differ with them on the
subject of defensive warfare, yet when
men that rebuked their own land, and all
lands, now rebuke us, though I cannot
accept their judgment, I bow with pro
found respect to their consistency. [Hear,
hear, and cheers.] But excepting them,
I regard this British horror of the Ameri
can war as something wonderful. [Re
newed cheers and laughter.] Why, it is
a phenomenon in itself ! On what shore
has not the prow of your ships dashed ?
[Hear, hear.] What land is there with a
name and a people where your banner
has not led your soldiers ? [Hear,
hear.] And when the great resurrection

reveille shall sound, it will muster British
soldiers from every clime and people under
the whole heaven. [Cheers.] Ah, but it
is said this is a war against your own
blood. [Hear, hear.] How long is it
since you poured soldiers into Canada, and
let all your yards work night and day to
avenge the taking of two men out of the
Trent? [Loud applause.] Old England
shocked at a war of principle ! She gained
her glories in such a war. [Cheers.]
Old England ashamed of a war of princi
ple ! Her national ensign symbolizes
her history — the cross in a field of
blood. [Cheers.] And will you tell us —
who inherit your blood, your ideas, and
your pluck [cheers] — that we must not
fight ? " [Cheers.]
Exeter Hall, London, was the scene of
Mr. Beecher's last and, perhaps, greatest
oratorical effort, in defense of the Ameri
can Union — the undivided nationality of
the American Republic. This speech was
delivered under the auspices of the Eman
cipation Society, October 20th, and the
meeting was one of the most enthusiastic
ever held in the English metropolis. The
admission was by tickets, the lowest
charge for which was one shilling, and for
tbe reserved seats, of which there were
four hundred, the charge was two shillings
and sixpence. More than an hour before
the time for the proceedings to commence,
the main entrance in tho Strand was
besieged by crowds of persons anxious to
obtain egress, and, soon after the doors
were opened, the vast hall was filled to
suffocation, and thousands were outside
seeking but unable to obtain admission.
Outside, the scene was of a most extraor
dinary description. The speech, as adver
tised, was to begin at seven o'clock, and it
was announced that the doors would be
opened at half-past six. The crowd, how
ever, began to assemble as early as five
o'clock, and, before six, it became so dense
and numerous, as completely to block up
not only the footway but the carriage-way
of the Strand, and the committee of man
agement determined, therefore, to throw
open the doors at once. The rush that

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

829

took place was of the most tremendous
character, and the hall, in every available
part, became filled to overflowing, in a
few minutes. But, notwithstanding this,
no perceptible diminution was made in the
crowd outside, and, at half-past six, there
were thousands of well-dressed persons
struggling to get in, despite the placards
exhibited, announcing the hall to be
"quite full."
The policemen and hall-keepers were
powerless to contend against this immense
crowd, who ultimately filled the spacious
corridors and staircases leading to the hall,
still leaving a prodigious multitude both
in the Strand and Burleigh street. At ten
minutes before seven o'clock, Mr. Scott,
the city chamberlain, and the chairman of
.the meeting, accompanied by a large body
of the committee of the Emancipation
Society, arrived, but were unable to make
their way through the crowd, and a mes
senger was dispatched to the Bow street
police station, for an extra body of police.
About thirty of the reserve men were
immediately sent, and these, aided by the
men already on duty, at last succeeded in
forcing a passage for the chairman and his
friends. Mr. Beecher at this time arrived,
but was himself unable to gain admit
tance to the hall until a quarter of an hour
after the time appointed for the commence
ment of his address. The reverend gen
tleman hore his detention in the crowd
with great good humor, and was received
with a perfect ovation, the crowd pressing
forward in all directions to shake hands
with him. He was at last fairly carried
into the hall on the shoulders of thepolice-
men, and the doors of the hall were at
once closed and guarded by a body of
police, who distinctly announced that no
more persons would be admitted, whether
holding tickets or not. This had the effect
of thinning to some extent the throng out-
Bide, but thousands yet remained there,
«&ger to seize any chance for admission
that arose.
At a quarter-past seven o'clock, a tre
mendous burst of cheering from within
the building, plainly proclaimed that Mr.

Beecher had made his appearance on the
platform. Tlie cheering was taken up by
the outsiders, and re-echoed again and
again. The bulk of tho crowd had now
congregated in Burleigh street, which was
completely filled, and loud eries were raised
for some members of the emancipation
committee to address them, but the call
was not responded to. Several impromptu
speakers, mounted upon the shoulders of
some workingmen and addressed the peo
ple in favor of the policy of the federal
government, their remarks being received
with loud cheering from the large majority
of those present.
One or two speakers raised their voices
in opposition to the views which had been
advocated by Mr. Beecher, but they were
speedily dislodged from their position by
the mass of the crowd, whose sympathies
were thus unmistakably exhibited. Every
burst of cheering that resounded from
within the hall was taken up and as
heartily responded to by those outside.
This scene continued without intermission,
until the close of the meeting. When
Mr. Beecher and his friends issued from
the hall, they were again received with
loud cheers ; and, a call being made for a
cheer for Abraham Lincoln, a response
went up from thousands of voices, like the
noise of many waters, deep answering unto
deep. A strong body of police were sta
tioned in the Strand and Burleigh street,
but no breach of the peace occurred calling
for their interference.
In this London speech, Mr. Beecher
gave a passing resume of his discussions
of the American question during the last
few weeks : At Manchester, he attempted
to give the history of the external polit
ical movements for fifty years past, so far
as was necessary to elucidate the fact that
the war was only an overt form of the con
test between liberty and slavery which had
been going on politically for half a cen
tury. At Glasgow, he undertook to show
that the condition of work and labor ne
cessitated by any profitable system of
slavery was, that it brought labor into
contempt, affixing to it the badge of deg-

830

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

radation, and that the struggle to ex
tend servile labor across the American
oontinent interested every free working-
man on the face of the globe — the southern
cause being the natural enemy of free
labor and the laborer all over the world.
In Edinburgh, he endeavored to sketch
how, out of separate colonies and states,
intensely jealous of their individual sover
eignty, there grew up a nation, and how
in that nation of the United States there
grew up two distinct and antagonistic
systems of development, striving for the
possession of government and for the con
trol of the national policy, in which the
north gained the control, and that the
south joined the Union simply and only
because it believed the government would
be in the hands of men who would give
their whole influence against the cause of
freedom. In Liverpool, he labored to
show that slavery was, in the long run,
hostile to commerce and manufactures all
the world over, as it was to every other
interest of human society ; that a slave
nation must be a poor customer, buying
the smallest quantity and the poorest
goods, at the lowest profit, and that the
interest of every manufacturing nation
was to promote freedom, intelligence, and
wealth, among all nations ; and that the
attempt to cover the fairest portion of the
earth with a slave population which buys
nothing, and a degraded white population
which buys next to nothing, should array
every political economist, every far-seeing
manufacturer, against it, as striking at the
vital interest of the manufacturer, not by
want of cotton, but by want of customers.
From beginning to ending, the orator's
address was a clear, forcible, and thoroughly
earnest exposition of the principles under
lying the great conflict, the course of
policy that led to it, and the tremendous
issues at stake in its decision. Many of
the points specially dwelt upon — such as
the legal position of slavery in the South
under the constitution, as a state and not
a Union question, a matter of local juris
diction, with which the national govern
ment had nothing to do — were presented

by Mr. Beecher with such happy illustra
tions, accurate logic, and fervent zeal, as to
render them more broadly intelligible to
the popular mind than ever they had been
made before, and showed the orator to be
not only a practiced and powerful speaker,
but remarkably skilled in the management
of large audiences, so that, by a happy
mixture of sterling sense, good humor, and
downright earnestness, combined with a
rare talent for effective retort, he suc
ceeded in carrying his entire audience, foea
as well as friends, along with him.
As an instance of the speaker's last
named faculty, nothing could be more
apposite than his plump and dexterous
retort to an indignation cry from some one
in the audience about tbe feting of the
Russian naval officers at New York, — Mr.
Beecher's sarcasm at the attentions paid
by the English to Mr. Mason, the southern
commissioner, being in his best vein. "A
gentleman asks me," said Mr. Beecher,
" to say a word about the Russians.
[Hear, hear.] Well, what about the-
Russians in New York harbor ? [Cheers.]
The fact is, that that is a little piece of
coquetry. Don't you know that when a
woman thinks her suitor is not attentive
enough, she picks out another,' and flirts
with him in her lover's face ? Well,
New York is in the same way flirting with
Russia at this moment, but she has her
eye on Russia, you may depend. [Hear.]
When I hear men say, this is a piece of
national folly, which is not becoming in a
people reputed wise and under the solemn
circumstances in which America is now
placed ; when I hear it said, that while
Russia is actually engaged in treading
down the liberties of Poland — [Hear,
hear,] — it is not even decent of a free
country like the Northern States of Amer
ica to make believe to flirt with her
—[Hear, hear, and " That is true,"]—
well, I think so too, and now you knww
how we felt when you flirted with Mason
at your Lord Mayor's banquet ! "
Mr. Beecher's justification of the presi
dent's proclamation of emancipation, as at
once a war necessity and a philanthropic

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

831

act, told with admirable effect upon his
hearers. He said : " The great conflict
between the north and the south when we
began this war was, which should control
the government of the territories — slave
institutions, or free institutions. That
was the conflict. It was not emancipation
or no emancipation — the government had
no business with the question. The only
thing the government could join issue on
was, shall the national policy be free or
slave. ... It was for this the north
went to war. It produced emancipation ;
but she went to war to save national insti
tutions, to save territories, to save those
laws which, if allowed to act through a
series of years, would infallibly first cir
cumscribe, then suffocate, and finally de
stroy slavery. This is the reason why

MB. BEECHER'S CHURCH, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.
that truly honest, just, and conscientious
magistrate, Mr. Lincoln — [the remainder
of the sentence was lost amid tumultuous
cheering, the people rising and waving
their hats]. How did the matter pass to
a conflict with the south, in place of a
direct attack upon the institution of
slavery itself ? Because, in an ill advised
hour, according to the foreshadowing of the
wisest men of the south, they mixed the
national government and national life with
the institution of slavery, and obliged the
people and obliged the president, who was
under oath to defend the constitution and
the national government, to take their
choice between the safety of the life of the
government itself and slavery. We were

content to wait the issue, as one of policy,
but when they threw drown the gauntlet,
and said that slavery shall be established
and extended, we could not do any other
wise than accept the challenge. [Cheers.]
The police have no right to interfere with
you so long as you keep the law, but when
you violate the law they have a right.
And so in constitutional government, it
has no right to attack slavery when slavery
is merely a state institution ; but when
that state institution comes out of its own
limits and attacks other states, it becomes
a national enemy. [Cheers.] But it is
said the president issi'ed his proclamation
for political effect, and not from humanity.
[Hear, hear.] Why, the act of issuing
the proclamation was political, but the
disposition to do it was not. [Cheers.]
Mr. Lincoln is an officer of the state, and
in the presidential chair has no more right
to follow his private feelings, than any
one of your judges has a right to follow his
private feelings on the bench. A judge is
bound to administer the law, but when he
sees that a rigid administration of the law
goes with purity of justice, with human
ity, and with pity, he is all the more plad,
because his private feelings go with his
public duties."
But the most striking and important
parts of Mr. Beecher's address were his
noble and earnest efforts to promote, to the
utmost of his ability, that supreme inter
national object of his oratorical efforts — a
good understanding between England and
America, in which all the higher interests
of civilization, freedom, and progress, are
so directly involved. In discussing this
great and vital question, he rose to a pitch
of moral enthusiasm and elevation which
— stranger, as he was, in the midst of his
country's reputed enemies, and standing,
as he did, the solitary spokesman for that
country, in the presence of a surging and
excited multitude— presented a spectacle
of moral and forensic sublimity, rarely
witnessed in any country.
As the sequel of his series of public
addresses in the various cities of the king
dom, this at London completed the dis-

832

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

cussion of the whole round of points in
American affairs which the British found
it most difficult to understand. That the
address excited a prodigious degree of
attention in Great Britain was evident on
all sides. Its great effectiveness con
sisted in its being an American's present
ation of the American question, and never
before did an orator make such triumph
ant use of his opportunity. There had
been symptoms of an attempt to pack the
meeting — if possible to fill the hall with
an opposition which should prevent a
hearing for the speaker, or at least disturb

him by unmannerly interruptions as at
Liverpool. To this end, the walls of the
city were placarded with enormous posters,
designed to excite ill feeling against Mr.
Beecher, and hand-bills of a similar char
acter were distributed to all who entered
the hall. But all such effort to disparage
the speaker with his audience was entirely
overwhelmed, chiefly by the hearty enthu*
siasm with which he was greeted by the
great majority, while his good nature, fine
tact, resoluteness, and easy address, quite
conquered the remaining malcontents and
reduced them to silence.

XCVII.
ERECTION AND INAUGURATION OF THE GREAT ORGAN
IN THE BOSTON MUSIC HALL.— 1863.

Most Majestic and Perfect Instrument of the Kind in America. — Almost Without an Equal in the
Whole World.— Height, Sixty Feet ; Width, Forty-eight Feet ; Depth, Twenty-tour Feet ; Weight,
Seventy Tons; Cost, $60,000. — Its Vast and Enchanting Harmonies and Wondrous Frame of Archi
tectural Beauty. — The Masterpiece of Musical Art. — Origin of the Enterprise. — Dr Upham's Grand
Conception. — FuU Powers Conferred Upon Him. — His Seven Years' Labor and Care. — America and
Europe Explored. — A Colossal Instrument Decided On. — Object and Influence of Such. — Contract
for Its Construction in Germany. — Unrivaled Mechanism of the Work. — Completed, and Shipped
for Boston. — Three Months' Tempestuous Voyage. — Enshrinement of the Organ in a Case. — Its
Towers, Domes, and Sculptures. — Wind Pipes, Thirty-two Feet Long. — Eighty-nine Full Registers.
—Total Numberof Pipes, Five Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy-four. — Capacity of the Organ,
Six Thousand Voices. — Ease with which it is Performed. — Marvelous Lights and Shades of Tone. —
First Exposition to the Public. — Enthusiasm and Joy on the Occasion. — Music, Poetry, Art, Beauty.

u  Loud was the peal: so loud
As would hare quite o'erwhelmed the human eenee;
But soon it came n genii?, heavenly .-train.
Li ke softest uote breathed from jEuliun lute."

STATUE OF

BEETHOVEN, IN BOSTOH.
53

IELIGHTFUL and self-gratulatory as were the sensations
with which the citizens of the metropolis of New
England justly contemplated the completion of their
incomparable Music Hall, the enthusiasm of their satis
faction was intensified to the highest degree when, in
November, 1863, there was added to the attractions of
that magnificent edifice, and of the city itself as well,
the mightiest and most superb organ on the American
continent, and equaled in its vast dimensions and won
derful musical capacity by only two or three in the
whole world.
The acquisition of this great instrument — so much
the object of pride and enjoyment on the part of Boston-
ians, and scarcely less on the part of all lovers of the
divine art of music, who have come in throngs from every
part of the Union, to witness its form of beauty and
listen to its marvelous sounds of enchantment,— is due
to the large conception of Dr. J. Baxter Upham, for
many years the accomplished president of the Music
Hall Association. From his deep thought, comprehen
sive plans, severe labor, and constant care, came forth
this splendid embodiment of musical science and artistic
construction.

834

OUE FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

At an early period in the history of the
association, (the official report of the
enterprise is here followed,) a committee
was appointed for the study and investi
gation of all matters relating to the fu
ture procurement of an appropriate in
strument for the hall. After a sufficient
time spent in understanding the theory
and philosophy of the subject, the com
mittee betook themselves to more practi
cal inquiries, by a personal examination
of the best productions to be found in
this department of mechanical and artistic
achievement, in different sections. But
no one state, or country, or continent,
could furnish the sum of that knowledge
which was requisite for the full under
standing of the matter, and the bringing
to pass of that perfection of results at
which they aimed. In the summer and
autumn of 1853, the committee extended
their researches in Great Britain, France,
Switzerland, and Germany, collecting such
written works and specimens of mechani
cal structure in the niceties of the art, as
they could obtain in the countries visited.
On their return, the facts and experiences
in the art of organ-building thus gained
were compared, patiently and candidly,
with the conditions that obtained at home,
and, without any disparagement of the
skill and ingenuity of American manufac
turers, the committee concluded that the
vantage ground lay unmistakably in the
acquisitions which the accumulated experi
ence of centuries had given to the handi
craft of the old world.
After the subject had been Considered
and discussed at various meetings held
from time to time, a subscription paper
was directed to be opened, it being pro
posed thereby to obtain an organ of the
first class, one that should rival in power,
in magnitude, and in excellence, the most
famous instruments of Europe, — those
which have for so many years excited the
wonder and admiration of travelers on
that continent. "Just such an instru
ment," says the official report of the direc
tors, "the capacity of our hall allows and
requires. Without it, its beautiful archi

tecture will always be incomplete, and its
acoustic qualities fail to reach their full
perfection. Of the influence of such an
instrument upon the Association, the value
can hardly be estimated. It would place
this hall at once, in point of attraction,
immeasurably above that of any other
institution of the kind in the land; and
every year, and at all seasons of the year,
we see no reason to doubt, would draw as
many pilgrims to its shrine as do the
world-renowned organs at Haarlem, at
Hamburg, at Ulm, and in the Church of
St. Nicholas at Freyburg. To the city
and to New England it would be an object
of just pride, and to the public would
prove a source of the purest enjoyment, an
inculcator of a taste for music in its high
est and holiest forms, for many generations
to come. And in the consideration of a
matter so important, it seems particularly
desirable to set our standard of excellence
high, — to be satisfied with nothing infe
rior to the greatest and the best, since we
are providing for a work that shall stand,
it is to be hoped, not for decades only, hut
for centuries of years." The cost of such
an instrument was estimated at twenty-
five thousand dollars, but the total expen
diture proved in the end to be only a little
short of sixty thousand.
The next step taken by the directors
was to delegate Doctor Upham, as chair
man of the organ committee, to proceed to
Europe and complete the investigation of
the subject, make choice of a builder, and
execute a contract. To this end, that
eminent gentleman critically examined the
principal organs and organ factories in
Great Britain, Holland, Belgium, France,
and Germany; and, finally, Herr E. Fr.
Walcker, of Ludwigsburg, in Germany,—
a name long famous in the annals of organ-
building throughout tbe continent of Eu
rope, and whose recent colossal structures
at Stuttgard and in the cathedral at Ulm
had given to him a world-wide reputation,
— was selected as the builder. The con
tract was a document covering forty pages
of manuscript.
An emphatic condition of this contract

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

835

was that the character of the construction
of the instrument should represent all the
resources and possibilities of the art up to
the time of its completion, and this was
strictly fulfilled. The brilliant trumpets
in the swell, for instance, are fashioned
like orchestral trumpets of brass, and pol
ished and burnished with the greatest
care, although hidden forever from view.
Its bassoons and oboes are tuned and
voiced in strictest imitation of the instru
ments of their kind. Its traverse flute is

and the difficulties arising from sudden
atmospheric changes are almost wholly
counteracted. The swell organ includes
within its walls a portion of the pedal, and
is an instrument complete in itself.
Added to this is an apparatus attached to
some of the individual stops, by which to
effect the increase or diminution of the
sound at pleasure ; besides all which is the
grand crescendo and diminuendo to the
whole work. By means, also, of an exten
sive application of the pneumatic lever,

THE GREAT ORGAN IN BOSTON MUSIC HALL.

of choice wood, in shape like actual flutes,
turned and varnished, and fitted with em
bouchures of brass ; its concert flute, too,
is of wood, of choicest selection and finest
grain. So, likewise, with tbe accessory
parts of the instrument ; the wind-chests
are constructed after a new and admirable
invention of the builder, by which the
faults that, under the common system of
sliders, have been for centuries justly com
plained of in tlie best works, are avoided,

lightness is given to the touch ; and by a
combination of ingenious contrivances, the
whole resources of the instrument are
brought within easy reach and control of
the player.
On the completion of the instrument, its
qualities were tested at the factory, in
presence of the most competent and criti
cal judges that could be found in England
and on the continent, and pronounced
incomparable; and in due time, namely,

836

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

in December, 1862, the great work was
shipped on board the Dutch brig Presto,
for Boston, at which place she arrived after
a tempestuous and perilous winter's voyage
of three months.
No slight task presented itself in deter
mining what should be the architectural
form and enshrinement of the instrument,
and it was only after years of patient effort
and trial that the present wondrous frame
of beauty for the noble instrument was
obtained. The gem of the structure is a
design by Hammatt Billings. But the
finally adopted plan, in its artistic and
elaborate beauty and grandeur, belongs to
tbe brothers Gustave and Christian Herter,
of New York, and the character of the
work executed; by them has justly immor
talized their name in this sublime enter
prise. This great organ has been fitly described
as being a choir of nearly six thousand
throats. Its largest wind pipes are thirty-
two feet in length, and a man can crawl
through them. Its finest tubes are too
small for a baby's whistle. The instru
ment may fairly be said to consist of five
distinct organs, or systems of pipes, which
are capable of being played on alone, or in
connection with each other. Four of these
are played upon by manuals or hand key
boards and the other by pedals or a foot
key-board. The lowest of the former con
trols tbe swell organ, the pipes of which,
as in other instruments, are enclosed in a
box, — in this case, itself as large as many
complete organs, — and so arranged that it
may be open or perfectly tight at the will
of the performer, thus giving opportunity
for light and shade in endless variety.
This organ contains eighteen registers, or
stops, with which are drawn on or shut off
an equal number of ranks or series of
pipes, all of which, or any of them sepa
rately or in combination, may be made to
speak through the swell manual. Next
above this is placed the key-board of the
' great organ,' as it is technically called.
Here there are twenty-five registers, all of
which connect with pipes on a large scale,
and are tbe loudest voiced pipes in the

whole organ. Here are the grand diapa
sons which form the foundation of the
whole sound superstructure, and the im
mense trumpets and clarions which ring
out like a call to battle. Above the great
organ manual comes that of the choir
organ, which has fifteen registers, and is
in many respects the 'great organ' on a
softer scale, but without the harsher reed
stops. The last and upper manual belongs
to the solo organ, which also answers for
the echo organ, containing eleven stops,
and among them the famous vox humana.
The pedals are the only remaining key
board, and in connection with them are
twenty distinct stops, fifteen loud and the
rest soft. The total number of speaking
stops is eighty-nine, which may all be
combined ; and the grand total of pipes is
five thousand four hundred and seventy-
four. The breath to these pipes was at
first furnished by twelve pairs of bellows,
moved by water-power derived from the
city reservoirs, — steam, however, being
subsequently used for this purpose.
Not only is this wonderful instrument
different from others in size and wonder
ful variety of stops, but it excels them in
almost every detail that can be mentioned.
The dip of the keys of ordinary organs is
three-eighths, or at most three-eighths and
a sixteenth of an inch, while the keys of
this organ dip no less than five-eighths of
an inch. But tbe difficulties which would
arise from such a vast amount of mechan
ism connecting with the keys, asking of
an organist's finger the strength of a
blacksmith's arm, are overcome with ease
by the delicate pneumatic action which is
provided. The arrangement of the stops
is controlled to a great extent by the feet,
there being twelve separate pedals for this
purpose, so that the most beautiful and
changeful effects can be made without
removing either hand from the key-board.
There is also the pedal, already alluded to,
by which all the stops of the organ may be
gradually, one by one, or instantaneously,
drawn on or shut off, thus producing tlie
most magnificent crescendo and diminu
endo, as well as explosive effects. Thus a

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

837

tone which is scarcely heard at first can be
augmented by degrees until it makes tbe
air quiver with its thunders, and then
slowly sink again to hushed repose.
This great instrument is placed upon a
low platform, the outlines of which are in
accordance with its own. Whole height
of the organ, about sixty feet; breadth,
forty-eight feet; average depth, twenty-
four feet ; weight, sixty to seventy tons.
The beauty of its exterior is such as to
call forth the highest enthusiasm of the
beholder. Doctor Holmes, in an article such
as, perhaps, no other pen could produce, says
of it : " The structure is of black walnut,
and is covered with carved statues, busts,
masks, and figures, in the boldest relief.
In the center, a richly ornamented arch
contains the niche for the key-boards and

GENIUS OF MUSIC AND AST.

stops. A colossal mask of a singing
woman looks from over its summit. The
pediment above is surmounted by the bust
of Johann Sebastian Bach. Behind this
rises the lofty central division containing
pipes ; and crowning it is a beautiful sit
ting statue of St. Cecilia, holding her lyre.
On each side of her a griffin sits as a
guardian. This center is connected by
harp-shaped compartments filled with
pipes, to the two great round towers, one
°n each side, and each containing three
colossal pipes. These magnificent towers
come boldly forward into the hall, be

ing the most prominent, as they are the
highest and stateliest part of the facade.
At the base of each, a gigantic half-carya
tid, in the style of the ancient hermse, but
finished to the waist, bends beneath the
superincumbent weight, like Atlas under
the globe. These figures are of wonderful
force, the muscular development excessive,
but in keeping with their superhuman
task. At each side of the base, two lion-
hermae share in the task of the giant.
Over the base rise the round pillars which
support the dome, and enclose the three
great pipes already mentioned. Graceful
as these look in their positions, half a
dozen men might creep into one of them
and be hidden. The three great pipes are
crowned with a heavily sculptured, ribbed
round dome ; and this surmounted on each
side by two cherubs, whose heads almost
touch the lofty ceiling. This whole por
tion of the sculpture is of eminent beauty.
All the reliefs that run around the lower
portion of the dome are of singular rich
ness. The whole base of the instrument,
in the intervals of the figures described,
is also covered with elaborate carvings.
Groups of musical instruments, standing
out almost detached from the background,
occupy the panels. Ancient and modern,
clustered with careless grace and quaint
variety, from the violin down to a string
of sleigh bells, they call up all the echoes
of forgotten music, such as the thousand-
tongued organ blends together in one
grand harmony. As we return to the
impression produced by the grand facade,
we are more and more struck with the
subtle art displayed in its adaptations and
symbolisms. Never did any structure we
have looked upon so fully justify Madame
de Stael's definition of architecture, —
'frozen music' The outermost towers,
their pillars and domes, are all square,
their outlines thus passing without too
sudden transition from the sharp square
angles of the vaulted ceiling, and the rec
tangular lines of the walls of tbe hall itself,
into the more central parts of the instru
ment, where a smoother outline of harmony
is predominant. For in the great towers,

838

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

which step forward, as it were, to repre
sent the meaning of the entire structure,
the lines are all curved, as if the slight
discords which give sharpness and variety
to its less vital portions were all resolved
as we approach its throbbing heart."
It devolved upon Doctor Upham, as
chairman of the committee under whose
direction the organ was built, to make
formal transfer of the instrument to the
Music Hall Association, and this happy
ceremony took place on the evening of
October 31st. At about eight o'clock,
strains of sweet music were for the first
time heard from the great instrument,
which was completely hidden from the
gaze by a screen of green, extending from
floor to ceiling. So thoroughly rapt were
the audience in the rich swelling notes of
the organ, that they hardly observed the
dimness of the light, which seemed to
throw a veil of solemnity over the whole
scene. For nearly twenty minutes the
audience sat thus ; then the music ceased ;
the gas-lights flashed forth in all their
brilliancy, and the huge curtain began to
descend. Not a whisper broke tbe charmed
spell. All eyes were riveted on the open
ing space. First appeared the little cher
ubs that surmount the domes of the main
towers of the structure, then the domes
themselves, and the triple columns of great
pipes, and quickly upon this the full
breadth of the wondrous instrument, re
splendent with its burnished columns and
golden reliefs, and grand and majestic in
the symmetry of its massive and beautiful
architecture, burst upon the view.
And now the silence was broken by one
universal cheer, given with genuine enthu
siasm. The audience rose to their feet,
positively enraptured, and cheers upon
cheers marked the auspicious moment.
The scene, so grandly impressive, was
worthy an occasion so memorable. After
three rousing cheers for Doctor Upham,
and after the tumult of applause had
subsided, Mr. Morgan, the organist of
Grace church, New York, was introduced,
and performed the William Tell overture
(Rossini), at the conclusion of which he

retired amid hearty applause. Doctor
Upham then stepped forward and read the
report of the seven years' labor of the
building committee. After this, Mr. Lang
was introduced and played some beautiful
light music, giving a choice extract from
Mendelssohn and a bit of Rink's flute con
certo ; to him succeeded Mr. Paine, who
gave Bach's Toccata in D minor; Mr.
Thayer, of Worcester, who played a
Marche Triumphale, of his own composi
tion ; and Mr. Wilcox, who chose several
selections, nicely adapted for displaying
the solo stops and ingenious adaptations.
The public inauguration of this most
magnificent elaboration of artistic genius
and beauty was fixed for the evening of
November 2, 1863, and the event took
place at that time, in the presence of an
audience which, for numbers and distinc
tion, has seldom if ever been matched in
this country, so remarkable for its popular
gatherings. The programme for the occa
sion was prepared with great care, with a
view to represent, so far as time and oppor
tunity admitted, the principal worthy
schools of organ music ; above all, to reveal
something of the proper grandeur and
beauty of the organ in its impersonality.
The vast hall was crowded to overflow
ing, every foot of space being occupied by
men and women renowned in intellectual,
scientific, and artistic attainments. The
exercises of the evening commenced with
an original ode, written for the occasion
by Mrs. James T. Fields, and recited by
Miss Charlotte Cushman, who paused in
her route to Rome to assist at this festival.
Then followed the musical part of the pro
gramme, the opening performance being
appropriately delegated to Herr Friedrich
Walcker, son of the eminent organ-builder,
E. Fr. Walcker, of Ludwigsburg, kingdom
of Wurtemburg. And then followed per
formances by Messrs. Paine, Thayer, Mor
gan, Lang, Tuckerman, and Wilcox, the
whole concluding with Handel's magnifi
cent Hallelujah Chorus. The music ended,
there was a general flocking of the com
pany toward the stage, for a nearer exam
ination of the beautiful details of the work.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

839

They seemed a crowd of worshipers going
up to a cathedral ; and the bronze Beetho
ven, looking down benignly in the very
focus of all that architectural beauty,
seemed like the idol of their homage. All
mouths were warm in praise of Doctor Up-
ham,forhis original conception of the enter
prise, his admirable wisdom in devising
means for carrying it into execution, — in
a word, for his intelligent, enthusiastic
direction and oversight of the work in
general and in detail, from its beginning
to its successful completion.
It would be impossible to portray the
effect produced upon the audience by the
grand harmonies of this majestic instru
ment, when thus handled by the masters
of musical science. Suffice it to say, that,
in all that brilliant multitude, composed
largely of musical performers, critics, and
connoisseurs, there was no dissenting opin
ion in regard to the qualities of the instru
ment, all agreeing as to its vast volume of
tone — so evenly balanced through its en
tire compass, so full and rich in every
part, and supported and sustained by
the pedale of twenty stops ; all agreeing,
too, as to the beauty of tone of such
stops as could be displayed on an occasion
like this, and as to the perfection of
the* mechanism which permitted a first
performance marked by no accident and
no failure.
One of the most intelligent critics con
nected with the New York press, in writ
ing an account of this instrument, spoke
of it as the last best gift of the Old World
to the New. "There is nothing on the
continent comparable with it; and I should

hold it not a sin to worship it, — or rather
worship at its sacred shrine. The case
has been minutely described, but not ade
quately ; it never can be. Seen last night,
in the mingled gas and electric light, it
was like a vision. The full scope of the
design is known only by careful study, and
the perfection of it is no less wonderful
than the instrument itself." Another cor
respondent of the press of that city wrote,
in relation to the same point: "As I
looked at it again and again, during the
evening, I found new beauties. In tbe
softened gas-light and the dazzling glare
of the electric light, burning on the pol
ished pipes, I hardly thought of its being
real. But on ascending the stage after
wards, and standing by the two figures
which support the two groups of large
pipes, I saw the majesty of the design. It
is only by standing close by, that an idea
of the scope and marvelous creation in it
can be fully attained ; for this facade is a
creation, — a thing of perfect beauty. In
itself alone we might behold art enshrined ;
but when there is behind all this, as its
lord and occasion, a thousand-tongued soul,
we may be reverently glad at having on
American soil what is at least, if not the
largest, as perfect an organ as any in the
world." Such, indeed, was the involuntary
and enthusiastic testimony borne by all
those whose good fortune it was to be
present on this occasion, and such, too, has
been the verdict of the great public, who,
in ceaseless throngs and untold numbers,
have from that day to the present, made
the Gkeat Okgan the object of their glad
pilgrimage.

XCVIII.
COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA, CAPTAIN SEMMES,
AND THE KEARSARGE, CAPTAIN WINSLOW,
OFF CHERBOURG.— 1864.

The Alabama is Sunk after an Hour's Engagement, in Sight of the Two Great Maritime Powers of
Europe. — Semmes Throws His Sword Away, Jumps Overboard, and Escapes. — Relative Equality, in
Size and Armament, of the Two Vessels — The Previous Destructive Career of the Alabama against
Northern Commerce —Causeless Raid on Marine Property.— Fault in the Law of Nations.— British
Origin of the Alabama— Her Unmistakable Character.— Peculiar Model and Equipment —Adapted
to Destroy, Fight, or Run.— Adroit Shipment of Stores and Guns.— Ready for a Start.— All Hands
Mustered Aft.— Semmes Reads Aloud His Commission. — Cheers for Davis, Semmes, etc.— Salute
Fired : Hoisting the Flag.— A Long Cruise : Terrible Ravages —Puts in, at Cherbourg, Franee.^-
The United States Ship Kearsarge on His Track.— Semmes Boldly Offers to Fight.— Preliminary
Maneuvers of the Ships —Seven Circles Round Each Other.— Semmes's Rapid and Furious Fire.—
Superior Gunnery of the Kearsarge.— Its Fatal Effect on the Alabama.— Incidents of this Renowned
Fight.

" Sink, burn, and destroy everything which flies the ensign of the so-called United 8tate9."— Semmes's Commission from Jeffeeso*
Davis.

fUSTICE, reason,' and law, will eventually unite, in
all the states of Christendom, in exempting the
merchant vessels of belligerent nations, engaged in
the transport of goods on the high seas, not contra
band of war,from capture by privateers. Had this
wise and equitable principle prevailed during the
four years of the American Civil Conflict, the
commerce of the United States would not have been
swept from the ocean by a few predatory cruisers
like the Sumter, the Florida, the Georgia, and
chief of all the Alabama, the latter commanded by
Captain Raphael Semmes, formerly an officer of
merchant vesseiTbcbised by the Alabama, the United States navy, and a man of acknowledged
professional abilities. So feature in the devastations which accompanied that sanguin
ary conflict appears now, at this remote view of the period when it occurred, more
causeless and deplorable than this indiscriminate destruction of merchant shipping, the
hapless cre_ws of which were composed largely of natives of other countries, and there
fore in no wise involved in or responsible for the war.
On this account, the devastations of the Alabama — so famous for its successful career
as " the scourge of the seas," as well as for the grave complications between England
and America to which her career subsequently gave rise, and especially for the sum-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

841

mary doom which at last overtook her in
an engagement with the United States
gun-hoat Kearsarge, commanded by Capt.
John A. Winslow, U. S. N., will here
form the subject of a few pages. The
engagement which at last sealed her doom,
took place Sunday forenoon, June 19,
1864, off Cherbourg, in the English chan
nel, in plain sight of the two great mari
time powers of Europe.
Originally known as the "290," this
vessel was built by Mr. Laird, the eminent
ship-builder, at Liverpool, or Birkenhead,
and presented the following peculiarities
in her make, appointments, and manage
ment : Of about twelve hundred tons bur
den ; draught some fourteen feet ; engines
hy Laird and Sons, Birkenhead, 1862. She
was a wooden vessel, propelled by a screw,
copper bottom, two hundred and ten feet
length on water-line, rather narrow, painted
black outside and drab inside ; had a round
stern, billet head, very little shear, flush
deck fore and aft; a bridge forward of the
smoke-stack carried two large black boats
on cranes amidships forward of the main
rigging; two black quarter-boats between
the main and mizzen masts, one small
black boat over the stern, on cranes ; the
spare spars, on a gallows between the
bridge and foremast, showed above the
rail. In respect to armament, she carried three
long thirty-two pounders on a side, and
was pierced for two more amidships ; had
a one hundred pound rifled pivot gun for
ward ofthe bridge, and a sixty-eight pound
pivot on the main deck ; also, a pivot bow-
gun, and a pivot stern chaser. This was
her armament when she began her career,
her guns being of the well-known Blakely
pattern, manufactured in Liverpool, in
1862. She was bark-rigged; had very long,
bright lower masts, and black mast-heads ;
yards black, long yard-arms, short poles —
about one to two feet — with small dog-
vanes on each, and a pendant to the main ;
studding-sail booms on the fore and main,
and wire rigging. Carried on her fore
mast a square foresail ; large try-sail with

two reefs, and a bonnet top-sail with two
reefs, top-gallant sail and royal. On the
mizzen-mast a very large spanker and a
short three-cornered gaff top-sail ; a fore
and foretop-mast stay-sail and jib; no
stay-sail to the main or mizzen mast bent
or royal yards aloft. On the mainmast a
large try-sail with two reefs and a bonnet.
No square main-sail bent, top-sail two
reefs, top-gallant sail and royal.
Of her appearance and management at
sea, she was rated, in respect to speed, at
thirteen knots under canvas and fifteen
under steam ; could get steam in twenty
minutes, but seldom used it except in a
chase or emergency. Had all national
flags, but usually set the St. George's
cross on approaching a vessel. Her com
plement of men varied from one hundred
to considerably more than that number.
A man was kept at the mast-head from
daylight until sunset. Her sails were of
hemp canvas, made very roaching ; the
top-sails had twenty cloths on the head
and thirty on the foot. The general
appearance of tbe hull and sails was de
cidedly English. She was generally un
der two top-sails, fore and main try-sails ;
fore and foretop-mast stay-sails ; some
times top-gallant sails and jib, but seldom
any sails on the mizzen except while in
charge of a vessel. She was very slow in
stays ; generally wore ship. Being built
expressly for a privateer, she was adapted,
in all respects, to destroy, fight, or run,
according as the character of her opponent
might be.
She left Birkenhead, towards the end of
July, ostensibly on a trial trip, having on '
board a large party of ladies and gentle
men. On getting out of the Mersey, this
party was sent back in a tug-boat, and the
290, as had been previously arranged,
neglected to return to Birkenhead, but
steamed direct for the island in the Atlan
tic where she was to take in her guns,
ammunition, etc.
On leaving England, the privateer had
a crew of ninety-three men, for the most
part belonging to the English naval re
serve, all being trained gunners, and the

842

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

majority old men-of-war's men. She was
temporarily commanded by Captain Bul
lock, who had under him the proper com
plement of commissioned and petty officers.
Captain Bullock having learned that the
Tuscarora, a United States war vessel, lay
in wait for him in St. George's channel,
took his departure by what is known as
the north channel, thus eluding pursuit;
though, even had he been intercepted, the
Tuscarora would have found herself in a
dilemma, as the escaped vessel had a set
of English papers, and other presumptive
proofs of her neutrality, in the face of
which, interference might have been diffi
cult. At this time, she carried no guns,
nor any warlike stores, but consisted

^Wz^^

merely of the hull, spars, and engines, with
sufficient coal and other requisites to ena
ble her to reach her destination, which was
Tarissa, one of the Azores, or Western
Islands, belonging to Portugal. This des
tination the vessel duly reached, after a
favorable run of eight days, nothing of any
moment having occurred to break the usual
monotony of a sea voyage.
Some time before her departure from
the Mersey, a large bark left the Thames,
— clearing for Demerara, West Indies, —
to meet the privateer at Tarissa, and there
transfer to the latter vessel the guns and
stores destined for her, and which formed
the cargo of the bark. Some reason re
quired to be assigned to the Portuguese
authorities for the 290 having anchored in

this way, in their bay, and accordingly the
excuse furnished them was that her en
gines had broken down. This plea was
accepted as valid, and, during the week
that intervened betwixt the arrival at
Tarissa of the privateer and the bark, the
crew of the former vessel were engaged
ostensibly in repairing her engines, but
really in preparing her to receive her guns,
etc. About the lapse of a week from the
arrival of the 290, the bark above men
tioned sailed in and anchored, her captain
alleging as a reason to the Portuguese offi
cials that his vessel had sprung a leak,
which would require to be repaired ere she
could resume her voyage; and on this
understanding, the Portuguese at once
placed her in quarantine, which in
the Azores lasts three days.
On the day after the bark's arrival,
Captain Bullock, being anxious to
get his guns on board, hauled along
side of the bark, and erected a pair
of large shears to effect the transfer
of her cargo from the bark's hold to
the privateer's deck. This brought
off the Portuguese in a fury, that their
rules should have been broken by the
290 having dared to communicate
with a vessel that had still quarantine
time to run, and they angrily de
manded to know tbe reason why
their regulations had been infringed.
They were told that the bark was in a
sinking state, and the erection of the
shears was accounted for by urging the
necessity of an immediate transfer, tempo
rarily, of her cargo, that the leak might
be reached and stopped ; and Captain Bul
lock finally succeeded in bearing down all
opposition by feigning to get into a pas
sion, saying that he was doing no more for
the bark than any Englishman would do
for another in distress. The Portuguese
were content to leave the vessel, and the
transhipment proceeded without further
hindrance from those on shore.
About the afternoon of the second day,
and when the transfer was nearly complete,
the British screw-steamer Bahama came
in, having on board Captain Semmes and

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

843

other late oflicers of the privateer Sumter
(cut short in her career), besides the re
mainder of the 290's armament, and an
addition of twenty or more men to her
crew. On the Bahama's arrival and an
chorage, on a somewhat similar pretext to
those given by her two predecessors, the
Portuguese apparently lost all patience,
and peremptorily insisted on the instant de
parture of all three vessels. The Bahama
at once communicated with the 290, and
having handed over to the latter everything
destined for her, got up steam and left,
followed hy the 290, towing the now empty
bark. All three went, not to sea, as they had
been ordered to do, but to Angra Bay — a
bay in the same island, and only a few
leagues distant from Tarissa Roads. Here
they remained unmolested until noon of
the following day, Sunday, when, for the
second time, all three vessels were ordered
out of Portuguese waters. All the 290's
guns being now mounted, and the vessel
otherwise ready for a cruise, the order was
obeyed, and all took their departure, the
bark as before in tow of the 290, which,
having convoyed her well out to sea, cast
her off, and, with a favoring breeze, she
steered for Cardiff, to bring out a further
supply of coal for the 290's future use.
The privateer and the Bahama now
steamed around the island, and Captain
Semmes, coming out of his cabin, ordered
his first lieutenant to muster the crew aft.
This having been done, and all the officers
assembled on the poop in their full uni
form, namely, the confederate gray frock-
coat and trousers, Captain Semmes en
joined silence, and read his commission as
post-captain in the confederate navy. It
was a document duly attested at Rich
mond, and bore the signature of ''Jeff
Davis, President Confederate States of
America." He then opened and read his
sealed orders from Mr. Davis, directing
him to assume command of the confederate
sloop-of-war Alabama, hitherto known as
the 290, in which, having been duly com
missioned, he was to hoist the confederate
ensign and pennant, and " sink, burn, and

destroy everything which flew the ensign
of the so-called United States of America."
Captain Semmes then ordered the first
lieutenant to fire a gun and run up the
confederate flag and pennant. The gun
was fired by the second lieutenant, and,
ere its smoke had cleared away, the stars
and bars of the southern confederacy were
floating on the breeze, and the ceremony
was complete, — Semmes declaring the
vessel, henceforth to be known as the Ala
bama, to have been duly commissioned.
The next step was formally to engage
the crew to serve and fight under the
southern flag, which having been done, the
men were addressed by their captain in a
stirring speech, in the course of which ho
said there were only four vessels in tho
United States navy that were more than a
match for the Alabama ; but, he added, in
an English-built heart of oak as the Ala
bama was, and surrounded as he then saw
himself by British hearts of oak, he
wouldn't strike his newly-hoisted flag for
any one of the four. This elicited a hearty
burst of applause for Davis, the confeder
acy, and Semmes, and, when it had sub
sided, the captain said that the Bahama
was on the point of leaving for England,
and intimated that if any of his crew
repented of the step they had taken, they
were free to return in her. This alterna
tive none would accept, and Captain Bul
lock and a few of the other officers who
had taken the 290 from England to the
Azores finding their occupation gone,
through the arrival of those who had held
similar appointments in the Sumter, hav
ing gone on board the Bahama, that vessel
and the Alabama, amid hearty cheering
from the crews of both, parted company,
the former pursuing her course back to
England, and the latter making chase for
an American whaler, which she soon cap
tured and burned.
This was the first prize taken by
Semmes, in that long and successful career
in the South Atlantic and Indian oceans,
during which he inflicted almost untold
damage upon the merchant marine service
of the United States, and successfully

844

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

eluding the most diligent pursuit and the
best-laid plans of capture.
Nor is it possible to conjecture how
much longer this prosperous career of the
Alabama would have continued, but for the
fortuitous circumstance which suddenly
arose, and which as suddenly terminated
in her complete destruction.
Making good her escape from the United
States naval vessels at the Cape of Good
Hope and Straits of Sunda, and after com
mitting sundry devastations, the Alabama
returned westward, in June, 1864, and
took refuge under the guns of Fort Du
Romet, off Cherbourg, a French port. At
the same time, the United States gun-boat
Kearsarge, Captain Winslow, was lying at

Flushing, Holland, when a telegram came
from Mr. Dayton, the American ambassa
dor at Paris, stating that the Alabama was
at Cherbourg. The Kearsarge immedi
ately put to sea, and arrived at Cherbourg
in quick time, taking the Alabama quite
by surprise by so sudden an appearance on
her track. Through the consular agent, a
sort of challenge was received by Captain
Winslow from Captain Semmes, the latter
stating that he would like to measure the
strength of his vessel with that of the
Kearsarge, — that if the latter remained
off the port he would come out and fight
her, — and that he would not detain the
vessel long.
After cruising off the port for five

days, until Sunday, June 19th, at about
half-past ten o'clock, in the forenoon, Cap
tain Winslow descried the starry ensign
of the Alabama floating in the breeze, as
she came boldly out of the western en
trance, accompanied by the French iron
clad steamer Couronne and the English
yacht Deerhound, the latter having on
board its owner, Mr. Lancaster — a member
of the Royal Yacht Club — together with
his wife and family. The Couronne re
tired into port, after seeing the combatants
outside of French waters. Captain Wins
low had previously had an interview with
tbe admiral of Cherbourg, assuring him
that, in the event of an action occurring
with the Alabama, the position of the
vessels should be so far off shore that no
question would be advanced about the line
of jurisdiction. When the Alabama was
first descried, the Kearsarge was about
three miles from the entrance of the har
bor, and, to make certain that none of the
maneuvers of battle took place within the
French waters, as well as to draw the Ala
bama so far off that, if disabled, she could
not flee in to the shore for protection from
her French allies or sympathizers, the
Kearsarge stood to seaward until she had
attained the distance of about seven miles
from the shore.
At ten minutes before eleven, the Kear
sarge came quick about and approached
the Alabama. When within about three-
quarters of a mile, the Alabama opened
her guns with her starboard broadside.
The Kearsarge made no reply for some
minutes, but ranged up nearer, and then
opened her starboard battery, fighting six
guns, and leaving only one thirty-two
pounder idle. The Alabama fought seven
guns, working them with the greatest
rapidity, sending shot and shell in a con
stant stream over her adversary. Both
vessels used their starboard batteries, the
two being maneuvered in a circle about
each other at a distance of from five hun
dred to one thousand yards. Seven com
plete circles were made during the action,
which lasted a little over one hour. At
the last of the action, when the Alabama

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

845

would have made off, she was near five
miles from the shore ; and, had the action
continued from the first in parallel lines,
with her head in shore, the line of juris
diction would, no doubt, have been reached.
From the first, the firing of the Ala
bama was rapid and wild; toward the
close of the action, the firing became bet
ter. The Kearsarge gunners, who had
been cautioned against firing rapidly, with
out direct aim, were much more deliberate ;
and the instructions given to point the
heavy guns below rather than above the
water-line, and clear the deck with lighter
ones, was fully observed.
Captain Winslow had endeavored, with
a port helm, to close in with the Alabama ;
but it was not until just before the close
of the action, that he was in position to
use grape. This was avoided, however, by
the Alabama's surrender. The effect of
the training of the Kearsarge's men was
evident; nearly every shot from their
guns told fearfully on the Alabama, and on
the seventh rotation in the circular track.
she winded, setting fore-trysail and two
jibs, with head in shore. Her speed was
now retarded, and by winding her port
broadside was presented to the Kearsarge,
with only two guns bearing, not having
been able to shift over but one. Captain
Winslow now saw that she was at his
mercy, and a few more guns brought down
her flag, though it was difficult to ascer
tain whether it had been hauled down or
shot away ; but a white flag having been
displayed over the stern, the fire of the
Kearsarge was reserved.
Two minutes had not more than elapsed
before the Alabama again opened fire on
the Kearsarge, with the two guns on the
port side. This drew Captain Winslow's
fire again, and the Kearsarge was immedi
ately steamed ahead and laid across her
bows for raking. The white flag was still
flying, and the Kearsarge's fire was again
reserved. Shortly after this, her boats
fere to he seen lowering, and an officer in
one of them came alongside and stated that
the ship had surrendered, and was fast
sinking. In twenty minutes from this

time the Alabama went down, her main
mast, which had been shot, breaking near
the head as she sank, and her bow rising
high out of the water, as her stern rapidly
settled. At precisely twenty-four minutes past
twelve, twenty minutes after her furnace
fires went out, the Alabama being on the
point of making her final plunge, the word
went forth for every man to take care of
himself, which they did by jumping over
board, Semmes throwing his sword into the
ocean and then taking a swim himself,
making for the Deerhound, which rescued
him and thirteen other officers. None of
the men who had been killed were left to
sink; of the twenty-one wounded, some
were in the quarter-boats with the boys,
and others on board the Kearsarge ; the
rest of the crew were all afloat, and some
of them drowning. Every available boat
of both vessels was now employed in their
rescue ; and besides these, the Deerhound
and a French pilot-boat shared in this
humane service. In this way, one hun
dred and nineteen were saved, the greater
number by the boats of tbe Kearsarge.
Semmes's three waist-boats had been torn
to shreds in the fight, and he had left only
two quarter-boats ; tliese were filled with
the wounded and with boys unable to
swim. The chances of this conflict, estimated
from the relative strength and speed of
the two vessels, were nearly equally bal
anced. Thus, the length over all, of the
Alabama, was two hundred and twenty
feet, and of the Kearsarge, two hundred
and fourteen; the Alabama's length on
water-line, two hundred and ten feet, and
of the Kearsarge, one hundred and ninety-
eight ; the Alabama's beam was thirty-two
feet, being one less than the Kearsarge's ;
depth of the Alabama, seventeen feet, or
one more than the Kearsarge; the two
engines of the Alabama were of three hun
dred horse-power each, while the horse
power of the Kearsarge was four hundred.
Tonnage of the Alabama, eleven hundred
and fifty ; of the Kearsarge, one thousand
and thirty.

846

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

The complete armament of the Alabama
consisted of one seven-inch Blakely rifle,
one eight-inch smooth bore sixty-eight
pounder, and six thirty-two pounders.
The armament of the Kearsarge consisted
of two eleven-inch smooth bore guns, one
thirty-pounder rifle, and four thirty-two
pounders. In the combat, the Kearsarge
used but five guns ; the Alabama, seven.
The Kearsarge had one hundred and sixty-

from the Alabama struck these chains, and
fell harmlessly into the water. The Ala
bama, it was estimated, discharged three
hundred and seventy or more shot and
shell, but inflicted no serious damage on
the Kearsarge ; some thirteen or fourteen
took effect in and about the hull, and six
teen or seventeen about the masts and
rigging- The Kearsarge fired one hun
dred and seventy-three projectiles, of

NAVAL CONTEST BETWEEN THE KEARSARGE AND ALABAMA

two men, including officers ; the Alabama,
about one hundred and fifty.
For five days the Alabama had been in
preparation. She had taken in three hun
dred and fifty tons of coal, which brought
her down in the water. The Kearsarge
had only one hundred and twenty tons in ;
but, as an offset to this, her sheet-chains
were stowed outside, stopped up and down,
as an additional preventive and protection
to her more empty bunkers. Two shots

which one alone killed and wounded eight
een of the Alabama's men, and disabled
one of her guns.
On board the Kearsarge, three men
were badly wounded, one of them — Wil
liam Gowin, of Michigan — mortally.
Though struck quite early in the action,
by a fragment of a shell, which badly shat
tered his leg, near the knee-pan, Gowin
refused assistance, concealed the extent of
his injury, and dragged himself from the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

847

after pivot gun to the fore-hatch, unwilling
to take any one from his station. During
the progress of the action, he comforted
his suffering comrades by assuring them
that " Victory is ours ! " Whenever the
guns' crews cheered at the successful effect
of their shot, Gowin waved his hat over
his head and joined in the shout. When
brought at length to the surgeon, he ap
peared with a smile on his face, though
suffering acutely from his injury. He
said, " It is all right, and I am satisfied,
for we are whipping the Alabama. I wil
lingly will lose my leg or life, if it is nec
essary." Ih the hospital, he was calmly
resigned to bis fate, repeating again and
again his willingness to die, since his ship
had won a glorious victory.
The following conversation with one of
the crew of tbe Alabama, as given in the
London "Cornhill Magazine," furnishes
some interesting memorabilia concerning
this remarkable encounter :
"But I thought you had been in the
confederate navy."
" I was," said Aleck. " I was with
Semmes everywhere he went. I was in
the naval brigade and blockade-running,
and on the Alabama all tbe while he com
manded her."
" But not when she sank, I suppose."
" Well, I was, and was picked up with
him by the Deerhound."
"It, was. a pretty sharp fight, wasn't
it?", " It was that ! "
"I suppose it was the eleven-inch shells
that did her business ? "
"Oh, no; we never had any chance.

We had no gunners to compare with the
Kearsarge's. Our gunners fired by rou
tine, and when they had the gun loaded,
fired it off blind. They never changed the
elevation of their guns all through the
fight, and the Kearsarge was working up
to us all the wliile, taking advantage of
every time she was hid by smoke to work
a little nearer, and then her gunners took
aim for every shot."
" Then it isn't true that the Alabama
tried to board the Kearsarge ? "
"No, sir! She did her best to get
away from her from the time the fight
commenced. We knew well that if we
got in range of her Dahlgren howitzers
she would sink us in ten minutes."
'• But don't you believe that Semmes
supposed he would whip the Kearsarge
when he went out to fight her ? "
" No ; he was bullied into it, and took
good care to leave all his valuables on
shore, and had a life preserver on through
the fight. I saw him put it on, and I
thought if it was wise in him it wouldn't
be foolish in me, and I put on one too.
When Semmes saw that the ship was
going down, he told us all to swim who
could, and was one of the first to jump
into the water, and we all made for the
Deerhound. I was a long way ahead of
Semmes, and, when I came up to the
Deerhound's boat, they asked me if I was
Semmes, before they would take me in. I
said I wasn't, and then they asked me
what I was on the Alabama. Said I, No
matter what I was on the Alabama, I shall
be a dead man soon if you don't take me
in."

XC1X.

ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS AT NEW OR
LEANS IN 1862, AND AT MOBILE BAY IN 1864 ; AND
ADMIRAL PORTER'S CROWNING VICTORY
IN 1865, AT FORT FISHER.— 1864.

His Astonishing Feat of Running Past the Confederate Batteries — Fierce and Sanguinary Contest
between the Admiral's Flagship, the Hartford, and Admiral Buchanan's Monster Kam, the Ten
nessee. — The Latter Proves Herself, for a Time, a Match for the Whole Union Fleet. — Farragut's
Overwhelming Victory. — Farragut Pressed to Join the South. — His Unswerving Fidelity to the Old
Flag. — High Trust Committed to Him. — Sailing of His Great Fleet. — Bold and Successful Plan of
Battle. — Admiral Porter's Splendid Services. — Forts Jackson and St. Philip Wrecked. — New Orleans
Again Under the United States Flag. — Another Theater of Naval Operations. — Forts, Rams, Iron-
Clads, etc., to Fight — Powerful Build of the Tennessee. — Makes for Her Antagonist at Full Speed. —
Intended Running Down of the Hartford. — Farragut's Masterly Maneuvers — Unexpected Feature in
His Tactics. — Deadly Contact of the Various Craft — Tremendous Cannonade. — The "Glory" and
Horrors of War. — Stubborn Bravery of the Great Ram — Crippled at Last: The White Flag. — The
Stars and Stripes on Her Staff. — Buchanan Yields His Sword.

"Admiral for admiral— flagihip for flagship — I'll fight him I "— Faeraqut, on the Approach OF tiie Tennessee.
EARS before the breaking out of the civil war between the national govern-
ju=. ment and the Southern states, in the spring of 1861, the name of David G.
Earragut was one of the most illustrious on the roll of the United States
Navy, for those sterling qualities, both as a
man and officer, which command universal
respect. Having in mind, therefore, his South
ern birth, and his presumed sympathy with
the disunion movement for a Southern confed
eracy, he was invited by those representing the
latter cause to join his fortune to theirs. He
promptly declined. The effort to change his
purpose was repeated. He was urged hy every
consideration that it was supposed could influ
ence his action, to side with his native south ;
he still refused. The men who made these
proposals well knew Farragut. They knew
him better than his own government then did,
— knew the lion-like qualities that slumbered
beneath his modest and habitually retiring
demeanor, and the achievements of which he
was capable when the latent powers of the
man should be roused to active energy. As a
last effort to win him over, they offered him
any position which he should be pleased to
h-ahkuh.t-s flaU.Suih ¦ 11 AitxKoBo.' name. This mercenary assault upon his loy-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

84 a

alty was more than his nature could endure,
and, with a sudden and sailor-like burst of
indignation, he replied, as he pointed to
the emblem of the republic, which floated
near him, —
"Gentlemen, your efforts are useless.
I tell you I would see every man of you
 , before I would raise my arm against
that flag!"
That flag he nobly upheld in more than
one fierce conflict, during the ensuing
four years, conferring the brightest and
widest luster on his country's renown,
and sharing, with his eminent colleagues,
Porter, Foote, Dupont, Gillmore, Golds
borough, Bailey, Boggs, Worden, Wins
low, and others, the honors of a grateful
country. Before presenting the narrative of his
superb achievements in Mobile harbor, in
1864, some account of tbe brilliant and
terrible operations on the Mississippi, in
the spring of 1862, will be interesting.
Knowing the qualifications of Farragut,
the government put him at the head of
the great naval expedition which, in con
junction with General Butler's army, was
to undertake the capture of New Orleans.
This task he prosecuted in a manner
which fully justified the confidence reposed
in his indomitable heroism and splendid
executive abilities, and the prize obtained
was one of the richest and most important
ever presented by a victorious chieftain to
a grateful and admiring country.
It was on the 17th of April, 1862, that
the mortar fleet of Commodore Porter —
one of the bravest captains that ever trod
a man-of-war's deck — began the bombard
ment of Forts Jackson and St. Philip,
and, on the 24th, Commodore Farragut,
with his entire fleet, ran past the forts,
encountering a fire almost unparalleled in
severity, a fleet of gun-boats, including
several iron-clads, fire-rafts, obstructions
and torpedoes innumerable. The mortar
fleet rained down shells on Fort Jackson,
to try and keep the men from the guns,
whilst the steamers of the mortar fleet
poured in shrapnel upon the water-battery
commanding the approach, at a short dis-
54

tance, keeping them comparatively quiet.
The squadron was formed in three lines to
pass tlie forts, the divisions being led,
respectively, by Farragut, Bailey, and
Bell. Perfect success attended the flag-officer's
boldly executed plan of battle . Fort Jack
son became a perfect wreck ; everything in
the shape of a building in and about it
was burned up by the mortar shells, and
over eighteen hundred shells fell in the
work proper, to say nothing of those which
burst over and went around. It was an
exciting scene when, on the morning of
the 24th, that signal "to advance" was
thrown out from the flag-ship. The Ca
yuga led on the column. They were dis
covered at the boom, and a little beyond
both forts opened fire. , When close up
with St. Philip, Bailey opened with grape
and canister, still steering on ; and after
passing this line of fire, he encountered
the " Montgomery flotilla," consisting of
eighteen gun-boats, including the ram Ma
nassas, and iron-battery Louisiana. This
was a moment of anxiety, as no supporting
ship was in sight. By skillful steering,
however, their attempts to butt and board
were avoided, and after forcing three of
them to surrender, aid came very oppor
tunely from the Varuna, Captain Boggs,
and the Oneida, Captain Lee.
The Cayuga received most of the first
fire, but was not severely damaged. On
her falling back, the flag-ship Hartford
took her place. The latter had only two
guns — which were placed on the top-gal
lant forecastle — that could bear on the
enemy until within half a mile. The
Hartford now sheered off, and gave forth
a most terrible fire. The Pensacola ran
up after a while, and dealt with the star
board battery, and in a few minutes the
Brooklyn ranged up and did gallant
service. The passing of Forts Jackson
and St. Philip, Farragut describes as one
of the most awful sights and events he
ever witnessed. The smoke was so dense
that it was only now and then anything
could be seen but the flash of the cannon
and the fire-ships or rafts, one of which

850

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

was pushed down upon the Hartford by
the ram Manassas. In his effort to avoid
this, Farragut ran his ship on shore, and
then the fire-raft was pushed alongside, —
the ship in a moment being one blaze all
along the port side, half-way up to tbe
main and mizzen tops. But, by adroit
management, the flames were extinguished,
and the Hartford backed off and got clear
of the raft. But all this time she was
pouring shells into the forts, and they into
her. At length the fire slackened, the

then sent on board of her, but she was
riddled and deserted, and after a while she
drifted down the stream, full of water, 
the last of eleven that the union army had
destroyed. The larger ram, at Fort Jack
son, was subsequently blown up. On the
28th, General Butler landed above Fort
St. Philip, under the guns of the Missis
sippi and the Kineo.
So desperate was the proposed attempt
to run past Forts Jackson and St. Philip
regarded at tbe time, that some French

F OOTE

smoke cleared off, and the forts had been
passed. Here and there was a confeder
ate gun-boat on fire, trying to make their
escape, but they were fired into and rid
dled and soon became wrecks. The Mis
sissippi and the Manassas made a set at
each other at full speed, and when they
were within thirty or forty yards, the ram
dodged the Mississippi and ran on shore,
when the latter poured her broadside into
her, knocked away her smoke-stack, and

and English oflicers, who had been to New
Orleans and inspected the fortifications,
pronounced such an undertaking abso
lutely insane. Nor were they alone in
their military opinion of its rashness and
impossibility. It is related that when
that brave veteran, Commodore Goldsbor
ough, first heard the news of Farragut's
exploit, — communicated to him by a news
paper correspondent who boarded the
Minnesota at Fortress Monroe, while on

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

851

his way north with dispatches, — some
thing like the following conversation took
place :
"Commodore," said the correspondent,
"I have the pleasure of informing you
that Commodore Farragut has run past
Forts Philip and Jackson with his fleet,
and taken New Orleans."
"Eun past the batteries ? " exclaimed
Commodore Goldsborough.
" Yes, sir."
" It's not true, sir — it's a lie ! It
couldn't be done."
A blunt and sailor-like demand for the
unconditional surrender of the city was
made upon Mayor Monroe, — a demand
which, of course, he was in no condition
to resist ; and it was not long before the
venerable national flag was floating over
the city hall, the mint, and the custom
house, and, at the same time, all flags
emblematic of any other sovereignty than
that of the United States were instantly
removed, and never reappeared.
It was in the early part of August,
1864, however, that the country was elec
trified by that signal achievement by Far
ragut, in Mobile Bay, which placed him in
the very foremost rank among the naval
heroes of modern times. Guarded at its
entrance by two imposing fortifications, of
immense strength, the bay also floated at
this time a formidable naval fleet, under the
command of Admiral Buchanan, one of
the ablest officers in the confederate serv
ice. For a long time, Farragut watched
for his opportunity, and it came at last,
under circumstances the most favorable,
as the result proved, for union success.
Prom the official reports, and the vari
ous accounts furnished by the reporters
for the press, the following sketch of this
celebrated achievement is prepared. For
some months, Farragut — now holding the
rank of Rear- Admiral — had commanded the
United States blockading fleet off Mobile,
and it was with some impatience that he
awaited the means necessary to justify
mm in moving up and attacking the
defenses of the city. Knowing the disad
vantage of attacking iron-cased vessels

with wooden ones, and that, too, in tbe
face and under the guns of heavy fortresses,
without a co-operating land force, he de
ferred the movement until those essential
helps were provided, though holding him
self in readiness to meet, at any time, the
fleet of Buchanan, should it venture out.
In the summer, Farragut found himself
in command of four iron-clads and four
teen wooden ships-of-war, aided by a small
land force under Gen. Gordon Granger.
On the morning of August 5th, therefore,
all things being ready, he went up the
bay, passing between Forts Morgan and
Gaines, and encountering the formidable
confederate ram Tennessee, and also the
gun-boats of the enemy, Selma, Morgan,
and Gaines. The attacking fleet was
under way by quarter before six in the
morning, in the following order : The
Brooklyn, with the Octorara on her port
side ; Hartford, with the Metacomet ;
Richmond, with the Port Royal ; Lacka
wanna, with the Seminole ; Monongahela,
with the Tecumseh ; Ossipee, with the Itas-
co ; and the Oneida, with the Galena. On
the starboard of the fleet was the proper
position of the monitors or iron-clads.
The wind was light from the south-west,
and the sky cloudy, with very little sun.
Fort Morgan opened upon them at ten
minutes past seven, and soon after this
the action became lively. As they steamed
up the main ship channel, there was some
difficulty ahead, and the Hartford passed
on ahead of the Brooklyn. At twenty min
utes before eight, the Tecumseh was struck
by a torpedo and sunk, going down very
rapidly, and carrying down with her all
the officers and crew, with the exception
of the pilot and eight or ten men, who
were saved by a boat sent from the Meta
comet. The Hartford had passed the forts before
eight o'clock, and, finding himself raked
by the confederate gun-boats, Farragut
ordered the Metacomet to cast off and go
in pursuit of them, one of which, the
Selma, she succeeded in capturing. All
the vessels had passed the forts by half-
past eight, but tbe confederate ram

852

OUR FIRST CENTURY —1776-1876.

Tennessee was still apparently uninjured,
in the rear of the union vessels. A signal
was at once made to all the fleet to turn
again and attack the ram, not only with
guns, but to run her down at full speed.
The Monongahela was the first that struck
her, but did not succeed in disabling her.
The Lackawanna also struck her, but inef
fectually. The flag-ship gave her a severe
shock with her bow, and as she passed
poured into her a whole port broadside of
solid nine-inch shot and thirteen pounds
of powder, at a distance of not more than
twelve feet. The iron-clads were closing
on her, and the Hartford and the rest of
the fleet were bearing down upon her,
when, at ten o'clock, she surrendered.
The rest of the confederate fleet, namely,
the Morgan and the Gaines, succeeded in
getting back under the protection of Fort
Morgan. This terminated the action of
tbe day. Admiral Buchanan was himself
badly wounded with a compound fracture
of the leg.
On the following day, one of the iron
clads shelled Fort Gaines, and with such
effect, that Colonel Anderson, the com
mander, sent a communication to Farra
gut, offering to surrender. General Gran
ger, commanding the military forces, was
sent for, and the terms of capitulation
were signed by the respective parties on
board of the Hartford. From this time
onward, movements were in progress for
capturing Fort Morgan, and, on the 22d
of August, at day dawn, a bombardment
was opened from the shore batteries, the
monitors and ships inside, and the vessels
outside the bay. At six o'clock in the
morning, August 23d, a white flag was
displayed by the confederates, and, at two
o'clock in the afternoon, the fort was un
conditionally surrendered to- the navy and
army of the United States. Fort Powell
had been already attacked on the night of
the fifth, and blown up.
With what spirit the fierce and sanguin-
inary conflict between the Tennessee and
Hartford was carried on, may be judged
irom the fact, that, when it was reported
to Farragut that the monster was bear

ing down upon him, he hastened on deck
with the remark —
" He is after me ! let him come on if it
must be so ; admiral for admiral— flag
ship for flag-ship — I'll fight him ! "
The Tennessee was close at hand, and
coming with all her speed directly at the
Hartford, evidently with the intention of
running her down. Farragut mounted to
the maintop and surveyed his ground,
arranging hastily his plan of battle. This
settled quietly in his own mind, he awaited
the approach of the monster. Perfect
quiet prevailed on board the Hartford;
not a gun was fired ; no crew was to be
seen ; her broadside lay plumply exposed
to the tremendous blow the Tennessee was
hastening to give. But, suddenly, there
was a change !
When the monster had approached near
enough to answer the purpose which Far
ragut had in view, the helm of the Hart
ford was put hard a port, her machinery
started, she described a segment of a circle,
and, just as Buchanan had thought to
strike her squarely amidship and cut her
in two, — as he was capable of doing, — the
towering brow of the noble old ship struck
him a tremendous blow on his port quartei
forward, that knocked every man aboard
his craft off his feet. The force of the
collision checked the headway of both ves
sels. The blow given by the Hartford
was a glancing one, and the two vessels
came up broadside to broadside. At this
moment, a full broadside from the Hart
ford was let go at her antagonist, but it
was like throwing rubber balls against a
brick wall, — nine-inch solid shot though
they were, and fired from the muzzles of
her guns scarcely twelve feet distant.
Simultaneously, Buchanan also discharged
his broadside of four Brookes's rifles, which
passed completely through the Hartford,
and expended their force in the water
beyond. Tbe Tennessee immediately put on
steam again, and started to try her strength
with some other of the wooden vessels.
The Brooklyn lay nearest, and for that
ship she headed. Here she was met with

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

853

almost precisely the same reception as
with the Hartford. Instead of butting
she received a butt — both vessels came
together, broadside to broadside ; both
broadsides were discharged, and the ram
went on her way to try another, and
another, — and all of them, — but with no
better success.
She now started to run back through
the fleet, but here a new combination
awaited her. The monitors had come vp !
— the appearance of which seemed for a
moment to disconcert the monster. From
the first, he had shown a wholesome dread

he signaled to the whole fleet. The little
monitor Manhattan appeared directly in
front of the ram, to head him off. The
rest of the fleet formed a circle about the
monster, and all commenced paying him
their heaviest compliments. It was a ter
rible fire — every ball that struck the union
vessels did execution, making great holes
in their sides and reddening their decks
with blood ; but every shot that struck tbe
Tennessee glanced away like a rubber ball.
To meet the exigency at this critical state
of affairs, Farragut's vessels were put in
motion, describing a circle about the mon-

ONION SAVAL VICTOIty, IN MOBIL1S BAY.

of them, and by skillful maneuvering and
his greater speed had managed to avoid
them. Now they hammered him to the
utmost of their ability. The three had
managed each to get a position in a differ
ent direction from each other, and which
ever way the ram turned he met these
ugly and invincible foes. At first he was
shy, and seemed irresolute as to what
course to pursue, but finally seemed deter
mined to get out of the bad scrape by run
ning through the fleet back to the friendly
protection of Fort Morgan.
Now, then, Admiral Farragut's fine
tactics developed themselves, and which

ster, the sloops and monitors being directed
to ram her every time they came around,
which was done with deadly effect. Each
vessel chased its leader about, throwing a
broadside at the enemy at every opportun
ity, and at every chance getting a ball at
her. In this way the plucky fellow was ter
ribly used. Every time one of the sloops
came on to the Tennessee, the concussion
was such as to throw the crew of the mon
ster off their feet. The frequency with
which she was thus rammed, and the con,
tinuous artillery fire that was rained upon
her, so demoralized ber men, that they

854

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

are said to have begged to surrender, fear
ing, at every new shock, that they would
be sent to the bottom. The course pur
sued by the vessels was such that the ram
was unable to get range upon any of them
so as to run them down, thus compelling
the ram to remain passive. Or, if she
attempted to escape the tormentors, an
unlooked for enemy would come and strike
her on the quarter, and throw her out of
her course. During this melee, the Man
hattan got one good shot in directly at the
ram's broadside. The huge ball of iron
struck fairly at the lower angle of the
heavy casemates and penetrated into the
inside, spending its force in the effort.
This was the only shot that ever passed
through her iron. Against such odds in
number, such cannonading and punching
and entanglement, the ram could not con
tinue ; and so the formidable craft — her
smoke-stack shot away, her steering chains
gone, several of her port-shutters so jam
med by the shot that they could not be
opened, and one of them battered to
fragments, with the Chickasaw boring
away at her stern, and four other great
vessels coming at her full speed — finally
succumbed, after a fight of somewhat more
than an hour.
On its being reported to Admiral Far
ragut that the Tennessee had duly' sur
rendered, and that Admiral Buchanan
was wounded, he sent a staff officer off to
receive the confederate admiral's sword.
Some one asked Farragut if he would not
go off himself and see Buchanan. The
former merely replied, " No, sir, he is my
enemy." Subsequently, when the staff
officer returned, with Buchanan's sword,
it was represented to the admiral that
Buchanan had expressed a wish to see
him. " Well, sir, he shan't see me ! "
replied the old Salamander. Then, look
ing with most concentrated expression of
countenance upon the bloody decks of his
ship, he added —
" I suppose he would be friends ; but
with these brave men, my comrades, man
gled, dying and dead about me, and,
looking upon the destruction caused

in the fleet, I can only consider him an
enemy." On the staff officer getting on board,
Admiral Buchanan was found to be severely
wounded in the leg. He yielded with a
very bad grace — in fact, it was said that,
after receiving his wound, he gave orders
to his next in command to continue the
fight as long as there was a man left ; and
then, when he found he could do no more,
to run the vessel ashore and blow her up.
But there was no alternative — the ram
must be surrendered ; and this was done.
The stars and stripes were hoisted upon
the staff of the magnificent ram — truly
one of the most powerful and perfectly
constructed of her class — greeted, as they
went up, by the hearty and long-continued
cheers of the whole fleet.
Nothing could exceed the devotion of
Admiral Farragut's men to their com
mander. Thus, after the Hartford had
hauled off from her fierce assault upon the
Tennessee, and as she was again pointed
fair for another blow, and fhunderingly
going down upon her to dash into her a
second time, — suddenly, to the surprise of
all, the Hartford was herself tremendously
struck by one of the heaviest union vessels
which was also coming down upon the con
federate monster, and it was thought for a
brief moment, so fearful was the blow,
that she must go down. Immediately,
and high above the din of battle, hoarse,
anxious voices were heard crying —
" The admiral ! the admiral ! save the
admiral! Get the admiral out of the
ship ! "
The brave men utterly forgot them
selves — thought not a moment of their
own safety, but only of their glorious old
admiral. Nothing, certainly, could bettei
illustrate the attachment and devotion ot
the whole squadron for their admiral than
this. When they themselves were in
imminent peril of death, they only cared
for him ! Finding the vessel would float,
notwithstanding the possible serious re
sults ultimately, the brave old admiral
turned to his gallant fleet-captain with the
order —

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

855

"Goon with speed ! Ram her again ! "
Onward the Hartford sped, determined
to ' do and die,' if need be ; but, just before
she reached her, the white flag of surren
der was hoisted above the discomfited
Tennessee, and soon all the victory, over
one of the bravest of foes, was with Far
ragut and his noble men.
A little incident in this contest may
also be cited here, as illustrating his high
personal qualities as a man and officer, —
exhibiting, too, as it does, one of the
secrets of his courage and self-command,
no matter what the stress or pressure of
circumstances around him :
"Admiral," said one of his officers, the
night before the battle, " won't you con
sent to give Jack a glass of grog in the
morning — not enough to make him drunk,
but just enough to make him fight cheer
fully ? "
"Well," replied the admiral, "I have
been to sea considerable, and have seen a
battle or two, but I have never found that
I wanted rum to enable me to do my
duty. I will order two cups of good coffee
to each man, at two o'clock, and at eight
o'clock I will pipe all hands to breakfast
in Mobile Bay."
The descriptions of this great naval
action usually represent Admiral Farra
gut as having tied himself among the rig
ging, or at the mast-head, of his ship, and
there observing the battle and giving his
directions. Concerning this, he was on a
¦subsequent occasion inquired of by one of
the gentle sex, as follows :
"Admiral," said the lady, " do tell me if
it was true, as they said, that you were
lashed to the mast, down at Mobile Bay ? "
"Ah ! " said the admiral, good natur-
edly, "I'll tell you all about that. You
know that in a fight the smoke of the guns
lies on the water, and, naturally, I would
want to see over it, to know what was
going on. Well, I would jump upon a
box — so high " (indicating with his
land) ; then I would get up a little
higher; and by-and-by I got up to where
they said. I suppose I was two hours get
ting as high as that. I had a little rope

that I lashed around me, just to keep from
falling, in case I should get hurt. Every
one, you know, is liable to get hurt in a
fight." Up to the time of the surrender of Fort
Morgan, the union loss in all was one ship
sunk by a torpedo, one burned through
infraction of orders, and three hundred
and thirty men killed and wounded, half
of whom were killed by drowning or the
fire of the enemy. On the other hand,
the unionists took about fifteen hundred
prisoners, captured the two best vessels of
the confederates, forced them to burn the
gun-boat Gaines, and drove the rest of
their fleet beyond. Three forts, with
one hundred guns of heavy caliber, with all
their material, were unconditionally sur
rendered to the victors. The United
States steamer Oneida suffered more than
any other vessel.
The ram Tennessee varied somewhat in
form from the grim old Merrimac, Bu
chanan's first monster. The Tennessee's
armor consisted of two and a half inch
iron, in bars eight inches wide, crossing
each other, and bolted down with one and
three-quarter inch bolts, making five inches
of solid iron. This again was backed by
two feet of solid oak throughout the entire
portion of the boat above the water-line,
and extending some feet even below that.
From her forward casemates forward, in
cluding her pilot-house, an additional inch
of iron was given her, making six inches
of plating, and an additional foot, making
three feet of wooden backing, at this part
of the boat. What may be called her gun
room occupied about two-thirds of her
length, and was constructed with a flat
top, composed of two and a half by eight-
inch iron bars, crossed and bolted together,
forming a close lattice-work above her
gunners, and affording ventilation while
in action. Her ports, two on either side,
and one fore and aft, were closed by
means of iron shutters, which revolved
upon a pivot in the center of one side,
and were worked by means of a cog-wheel
on the inside, in a very simple and expe
ditious manner. In all her qualities of

856

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

construction and equipment, the Tennessee
was one of the most formidable craft that
ever floated.
In close connection with this vast and
splendid series of achievements, and as
having a direct bearing upon the victori
ous ending of the war by the valor of tbe
navy, — in which operations the brave
Admiral Porter exhibited his distinguish
ing characteristics of unquailing courage
and consummate judgment, and whose
magnificent services would have long since
elevated him to the chief magistracy of
his country, but for the traditionally dis
proportionate influence of the army in
national politics and counsels, — the cap
ture of Fort Fisher, N. C, deserves to be
here recorded.
According to the official report, this
expedition, under the joint command of
Admiral Porter and General Terry, sailed
from Fortress Monroe on the morning of
January 6, 1865, arriving in two days
at the rendezvous off Beaufort, where,
owing to the difficulties of the weather, it
lay some ten days, when it got under way,
reaching its destination that evening.
Under cover of the fleet, the disembarka

tion of the troops was effected without
loss. An immediate reconnoissance was
pushed to within about five hundred yards
of the fort, a small advance work being
taken possession of and turned into a
defensive line, 'against any attempt that
might be made from the fort. This recon
noissance disclosed the fact that the front
of tbe work had been seriously injured by
the navy fire. Not many hours, therefore,
were allowed to elapse before the fort was
assaulted, and, after most desperate fight
ing, was captured, with its entire garrison
and armament. Thus was secured, by
the combined efforts of the navy and
army, what — in the language of General
Grant — was one of the most brilliant and
important successes of the war. The fed
eral loss was one hundred and ten killed
and five hundred and thirty-six wounded.
On the 16th and 17th, the enemy, well
knowing the nerve and prowess of Por
ter, abandoned and blew up Fort Caswell,
and their works on Smith's Island, which
were at once occupied by the federal
forces, — thus giving to the latter the
entire control of the mouth of the Cap*
Fear river.

c.
GRAND MARCH OF THE UNION ARMY, UNDER GEN.
SHERMAN, THROUGH THE SOUTH.— 1804.

Generals and Armies Baffled, and States and Cities Conquered, Without a Serious Disaster to the Vic
tors.— Display of Military Genius Unsurpassed in Any Age or Country. — The Southern Confederacy
Virtually Crushed Within the Coils of this Wide- Sweeping, Bold, and Resistless Movement. — The
Great Closing Act in the Campaign. — Sherman's Qualities as a Commander. — His Great Military Suc
cess.— His Own Story. — A Brilliant Campaign Planned. — Brave and Confident Troops. — Atlanta,
Ga., the First Great Prize. — Destroys that City : Starts for the Coast. — Kilpatrick Leads the Cav
alry. — Thomas Defends the Border States. — Successful Feints Made by Sherman. — Subsists His
Men on the Enemy's Country. — Immense Sweep of the Onward Columns. — Savannah's Doom
Sealed. — Fall of Fort McAllister. — Christmas Gift to the President. — Advance Into Soutli Carolina. —
The Stars and Stripes in Her Capital. — All Opposition Powerless. — North Carolina's Turn Next. —
Swamps, Hills, Quagmires, Storms, Floods — Battles Fought: Onward to Raleigh. — Johnston's
Whole Army Bagged. — Sherman Described Personally.

¦I beg to present you, as a Chrietmas elft. the city of Sovnnnnh. with one hundred and fifty henry gune, plenty of ammunition, and
•bout twenty-five thouiand bales of cotton.'1— Gkseu.il suehman ioPmshimiUhcolb.

ALIANT, resolute, and hopeful as a soldier, Gen-
Sherman added to these qualities the wisdom
< and genius of Washington
. himself as a commander. His
i March to the Sea has been
universally pronounced, both
i in America and Europe, one
, of the most brilliant military
¦ results — especially when con-
1 sidered in connection with the
I slight cost of life at which it
I was achieved — presented in
the long and varied history of
war. It was, in a word, one of the greatest and most important of modern campaigns,
conducted with complete success, without any considerable battle. And yet it was his
own native sagacity, more than anything else, which enabled General Sherman to
plan and execute the vast undertakings which have crowned his name with imperisha
ble honor. " I have oftentimes," said General Sherman, in an address at West Point,
"been asked by friends familiar with Xenophon, Hume, and Jomini, in which of these
books I had learned the secret of leading armies on long and difficult marches, and they
seemed surprised when I answered that I was not aware that I had been influenced by

HEAD-QUAIU'EKS, ATLANTA, OA.

858

OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

any of them. I told them what I now tell
you, in all simplicity and truth, that, when
I was a young lieutenant of artillery, I had
often hunted deer in the swamps of the
Edisto, the Cooper, and the Santee, and had
seen with my own eyes that they could be
passed with wagons ; that in the spring of
1844, I had ridden on horseback from
Marietta, Ga., to the valley of the Tennes
see, and back to Augusta, passing in my
course over the very fields of Altoona, of
Kenesaw, and Atlanta, where afterward it
fell to my share to command armies and to
utilize the knowledge thus casually gained.
Again, in 1849 and 1850, I was in Cali
fornia, and saw arrive across that wild belt
of two thousand miles of uninhabitable
country the caravans of emigrants, com
posed of men, women, and children, who
reached their destination in health and
strength ; and when we used to start on a
journey of a thousand miles, with a single
blanket as covering, and a coil of dried
meat and a sack of parched corn meal as
food ; — with this knowledge fairly acquired
in actual experience, was there any need
for me to look back to Alexander the
Great, to Marlborough, for examples ? "
But to all this kind of knowledge — useful,
doubtless, in the highest degree, General
Sherman added the possession of the most
commanding military genius.
It was early in May, 1864, that General
Sherman began the brilliant series of his
campaigns. The first objective point was
Atlanta. To reach that city, his armies
had to pass from the northern limit to the
center of the great state of Georgia, forcing
their way through mountain defiles and
across great rivers, overcoming or turning
formidably intrenched positions defended
by a strong, well-appointed veteran army,
commanded by an alert, cautious, and skill
ful general. The campaign opened on the
sixth of May, and on the second of Septem
ber the national forces entered Atlanta.
For some time previously to the opening
movement, says General Sherman's report,
the union armies were lying in garrison
seemingly quiet, from Knoxville to Hunts
ville, and the enemy lay behind his rocky-

faced barrier at Dalton, proud, defiant,
and exulting. He had had time since
Christmas to recover from his discomfiture
at Mission Ridge, with his ranks filled,
and a new commander-in-chief, and second
to none in the confederacy in reputation
for skill, sagacity, and extreme popularity.
All at once, the union armies assumed life
and action, and appeared before Dalton.
Threatening Rocky Face, they threw
themselves upon Resaca, the enemy only
escaping by the rapidity of their retreat,
aided by the numerous roads with which
they only were familiar. Again the con
federate army took post in Altoona, hut
found no rest, for, by a circuit towards
Dallas and subsequent movement to Ac-
worth, the union army gained the Al
toona Pass. Then followed the eventful
battles about Kenesaw, and the escape of
the confederates across the Chattahoochee
river. The crossing of the Chattahoochee
and breaking of the Augusta road was
handsomely executed by Sherman's army.
It was at this stage of proceedings, that the
confederate authorities became dissatisfied
with Johnston as commander, and selected
one more bold and rash, — General Hood.
New tactics were adopted by the latter.
He first boldly and rapidly, on the twen
tieth of July, fell on the union right, at
Peach Tree creek, and lost. Again, on
the 22d, be struck the extreme union left,
and was severely punished; and finally,
again on the 28th, he unsuccessfully re
peated the attempt on the union right.
Sherman slowly and gradually drew his
lines about Atlanta, feeling for the rail
road which supplied the confederate army
and made Atlanta a place of importance.
The enemy met these effdrts patiently and
skillfully, but at last Hood made the mis
take which Sherman had waited for so
long, sending his cavalry to the union
rear, far beyond the reach of recall. In
stantly Sherman's cavalry was on Hood s
only remaining road, with the principal
army following quietly, and Atlanta fell
into Sherman's possession, as the fruit of
well-concerted measures, backed by a brave
and confident army.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

859

Hood's plan was, to force General Sher
man from Georgia, by cutting off his com
munications, and invading Tennessee and
Kentucky. Pursuant to this plan, Hood,
by a rapid march, gained and broke up, at
Big Shanty, the railroad that supplied
Sherman's army, advanced to Dalton, and
thence moved toward Tennessee. Hood
was followed from Atlanta by Sherman far
enough north to cover his own purpose and
assure him against Hood's interrupting
the march to the sea-coast which he had in
contemplation. The task of encountering
Hood's formidable movements, and defend
ing the border states from invasion, was
intrusted to General Thomas, who was
ably assisted by his second in command,
General Schofield.
It appears from Major Nichols's graphic
diary of the events connected with this
great march — the narrative of his excel
lent observations as one of Sherman's staff
officers — that the general, from his camp
at Gaylesville, while awaiting the develop
ment of Hood's design, sketched out the
march to Goldsboro'. Seated in front of
his tent, towards the end of October, 18C4,
with his generals around him, and the
map of the states spread on his knees
Sherman ran his finger over the map, and
indicated his course to Savannah. Then,
after pondering on the map of South Car
olina, his finger rested on Columbia, and
looking up, he said —
"Howard, I believe we can go there,
without any serious difficulty. If we can
cross the Salkahatchie, we can capture
Columbia." After giving expression to this strik
ing strategic insight, General Sherman
passed his finger quickly over rivers,
swamps, and cities, to Goldsboro', N. C,
saying— " That point is a few days' march
through a rich country. When we reach
that important railway junction — when I
once plant this army at Goldsboro', — Lee
must leave Virginia, or he will be defeated
beyond hope of recovery. We can make
this march, for General Grant assures me
that Lee cannot get away from Richmond

without his knowledge, nor without seri
ous loss to his army."
This prediction, showing at once the
most remarkable forecast and most com
prehensive generalship, was at once put in
course of fulfillment.
Atlanta having served its purpose in
General Sherman's plans — a resting-place
on his way to Savannah, to Columbia, and
to Richmond if need be, — it was given up
to the flames, that its workshops might
never again be employed in casting shot
and shell for the confederacy. The rail
ways were torn up, the people turned
away, and torches were applied to the
stores and magazines. A space of two
hundred acres was soon on fire, and its
progress watched until the conflagration
had spread beyond the power of man to
arrest its destructive work, and thpn the

union forces marched out of the unfortu
nate city with solemn tread, their band
playing the wild anthem, " John Brown's
soul goes marching on." The army num
bered about sixty-five thousand men.
As the news of Sherman's great move
ment became known at tbe north, intense
interest was felt in the result, and it may
well be supposed that not a few were filled
with the greatest apprehensions, in view of
the dangers to be encountered. That the
president, however, did not share in any
such feeling of alarm in regard to the
issue, is shown by the following conversa-

860

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

tion on the subject, between him and a
friend. Said Mr. Lincoln's friend: "Mr. Lin
coln, as Sherman's army advances, the
rebel forces necessarily concentrate and
increase in number. Before long, Sher
man will drive the columns of Johnston,
Bragg, Hoke, and others, within a few
days' march of Lee's main army. May
not Lee suddenly march south with the
bulk of his army, form a junction <.*«.«
Johnston's troops, and before Grant can
follow any considerable distance, strike
Sherman's column with superior force,
break his lines, defeat his army, and drive
his broken fragments back to the coast,
and with his whole army give battle to
Grant, and perhaps defeat him ? "
President Lincoln instantly replied :
" And perhaps not ! Napoleon tried the
same game on the British and Prussians,
in 1815. He concentrated his forces and
fell suddenly on Blucher, and won an inde
cisive victory. He then whirled round and
attacked the British, and met his Water
loo. Bonaparte was hardly inferior to
Lee in military talents or experience.
But are you sure that Lee's forces, united
with Johnston's, could beat Sherman's
army ? Could he gain his Ligny, before
meeting with his Waterloo when he at
tacks Grant? I tell you, there is a heap
of fight in one hundred thousand western
veterans. They are a good deal like old
Zach. Taylor at Buena Vista, — they don't
know when they are whipped ! "
In turning his back upon Atlanta, Gen
eral Sherman divided his army for the
great march into two wings, General
Howard commanding the right, and Gen
eral Slocum the left ; General Kilpatrick
handled the cavalry under Sherman's
orders. The various corps composing the
wings were led, respectively, by Generals
Osterhaus, Blair, Davis, and Williams ;
and Sherman for a time accompanied one
wing and then the other.
On the 13th of November, Sherman's
communications with the north ceased.
Spreading itself out like a fan, the extreme
left wing swept down the Augusta road,

and the extreme right marched towards
Macon, the space between being covered
by two corps, one from each wing, and the
cavalry riding well on the flanks. Mil-
ledgeville, the capital of Georgia, on the
Oconee, was the first point of concentra
tion for the left wing. The right wing,
preceded and flanked by cavalry, went
down the roads towards Macon, sweeping
away the small opposing forces mustered
by Cobb and Wheeler, and advancing as
far as Griffin. The left wing went hy
Covington to Madison, and there, sending
tbe cavalry towards Augusta, turned south
ward by way of Eatonton to Milledgeville.
The right, after maneuvering in the direc
tion of Macon, crossed the Ocmulgee above
it, and, passing by Clinton, descended
upon Gordon, whence a branch line led to
Milledgeville. The movement of troops on so many
points had confounded the confederates.
The authorities of Augusta believed their
town was the object of the march ; those
of Macon were certain that it was against
them the enemy was coming. In reality,
Sherman bad turned toward Macon, and
had cut off at least the infantry force
there, and rendered it useless. They
showed fight, however, attacking a small
union force, pushed up to Griswoldville to
protect the confederates who were destroy
ing the railroad, and were punished se
verely for their courage.
In a week after quitting Atlanta, the
left wing was united at Milledgeville and
the right at Gordon, while the cavalry
were scouring the flanks. In the mean
time, General Wheeler had ridden round
the right flank, and crossing the Oconee,
had turned to defend the passage of the
swampy stream. But his resistance was
vain. Slocum moved out from Milledgeville
upon Sandersville, and Howard marched
on both sides of the Savannah railway,
thrusting Wheeler away from the bridge
over the Oconee, and crossing himself
without the loss of a man. The left wing
was now converging on Louisville, while
the right struck across the country, by
Swainsboro', upon Millen. It was now

I

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

861

862

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

plain that the confederates had no troops
strong enough to interrupt the march, as
all their efforts had failed to arrest the
forward movement of the columns.
In this way, covering a wide front, now
filing through swamps, now spreading out
on a broad front under the tufted pines,
now halting to tear up, twist, and burn
rails and sleepers, now collecting cattle and
forage, and everywhere welcomed and fol
lowed by the negroes, the army pressed
forward to its goal. The left flankers came
down through Sparta, the solid body of the
left wing marched through Davisboro', the
right moved steadily forward upon Millen,
while Kilpatrick was in the front threat
ening Waynesboro', and destroying the
bridges on the way to Augusta. At length
the whole force, save one corps, crossed
the Ogeechee and united at Millen.
Here, again, Sherman kept his oppo
nents in doubt respecting the course he
would pursue. At Millen he threatened
both Augusta and Savannah, and he made
such strong demonstrations on the Au
gusta road, that he led the confederates to
fear for Augusta, and so prevented them
from concentrating their troops at Savan
nah. Kilpatrick, supported by two infan
try brigades, very effectually disposed of
Wheeler. The army halted two days, and,
refreshed and united, began on the second
of December, its final march upon Savan
nah. The whole force, save one corps,
went steadily down the strip of land be
tween the Savannah and the Ogeechee,
while the one corps on the right bank,
marching in two columns, a day in ad
vance of the main body, effectually pre
vented the confederates from making any
stand on the main road by constantly
flanking every position, — a sound precau
tion, though not needed.
The correspondents who accompanied
this grand army on its triumphant march,
have furnished abundant narrative con
cerning that brilliant consummation of its
toils, the capture of Savannah. It was on
the evening of December 12th, says one of
these, that General Howard relieved
Hazen's second division of the fifteenth

corps, by a part of the Seventeenth, and
threw it across the Little Ogeechee,
toward the Great Ogeechee, with the
view of crossing it to Ossabaw Island,
and reducing Fort McAllister, which held
the river and the city. The confederates
had destroyed King's bridge, across the
Great Ogeechee, and this had to be re
paired ; this was done — one thousand feet
of bridging — during the night, and, on the
morning of the 13th, Hazen crossed and
moved toward the point where Fort McAl
lister obstructed the river. Kilpatrick, in
the meantime, had moved down to St.
Catherine's sound, opened communication
with the fleet, and asked permission to
storm Fort McAllister; but Sherman
thought the cavalry unequal to this feat.
Hazen made his arrangements to storm
the fort on the afternoon of the 13th, Gen
erals Sherman and Howard being at Che-
roe's rice mill, on the Ogeechee, opposite
the fort. Sherman was on the roof of the
mill, surrounded by his staff and signal
officers, Beckley and Cole, waiting to com
municate with Hazen, on the Island.
While patiently waiting for Hazen's sig
nals, Sherman's keen eye detected smoke
in the horizon, seaward. Up to this time
he had received no intelligence from the
fleet. In a moment the countenance of
the bronzed chieftain lightened up, and he
exclaimed —
" Loot ! Howard ; there is the gun
boat!" Time passed on, and the vessel now
became visible, but no signal from the
fleet or Hazen. Half an hour passed, and
the guns of the fort opened simultaneously
with puffs of smoke that rose a few hun
dred yards from the fort, showing that
Hazen's skirmishers had opened. A mo
ment after, Hazen signaled —
"I have invested the fort, and will
assault immediately."
At this moment, Beckley announced a.
signal from the gun-boat. All eyes now
turned from the fort to the gun-boat that
was coming to their assistance with news
from home. A few messages pass, which
apprise that Foster and Dahlgren are

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

863

within speaking distance. The gun-boat
now halts and asks —
" Can we run up ? Is Fort McAllister

ours

?>>

"No," is tbe reply; "Hazen is just
ready to storm it. Can you assist ? "
" Yes," is the response ; " What will
you have us do ? "
But before Sherman can reply to Dahl-
gren the thunders of the fort are heard,
and the low sound of small arms is borne
across the three miles of marsh and river.
Field glasses are opened, and, sitting flat
upon the roof, the hero of Atlanta gazes
away off to the fort. " There they go
grandly — not a waver," he remarks.
Twenty seconds pass, and again he ex
claims —
" See that flag in the advance, Howard ;
how steadily it moves ; not a man falters.
* * There they go still ; see the roll of
musketry. Grand, grand ! "
Still he strained his eyes, and a moment
after spoke without looking up —
" That flag still goes forward ; there is
no flinching there."
A pause for a minute.
"Look! "he exclaims, "it has halted.
They waver — no, it's the parapet ! There
they go again; now they scale it; some
are over. Look! There's a flag on the
works! Another; another. It's ours.
The fort's ours ! "
The glass dropped by his side ; and in
an instant the joy of the great leader at
the possession of the river and the open
ing of the road to his new base burst forth
in words —
"As the old darkey remarked, dis chile
don't sleep dis night ! " — and turning to
one of his aids, he added, " Have a boat
for me at once ; I must go there ! " —
pointing to the fort from which half a
dozen battle-flags floated grandly in the
sunset. But this dramatic scene is thus graphi
cally delineated by another correspondent,
who brings the narrative down to the cul
minating and crowning event. The United
States revenue cutter Nemaha, Lieutenant
Warner, General Foster's flag-boat, left

Hilton Head, on the morning of December
12th, to go down the coast with General
Foster and staff, to endeavor to open com
munication with General Sherman, going
through to Fort Pulaski and thence
through the marsh to Warsaw Sound,
looking toward the main canal to discover
some traces of Sherman's advance. None
were observed, so Foster proceeded outside,
and entered Ossabaw Sound, where the
gun-boat Flag, on blockading duty, was
communicated with. Lieutenant Fisher
was here left on board the Flag, to proceed
with his party up the Ogeechee, and en
deavor to signal to Sherman, if he should
approach the coast at that point.
The Nemaha returned to Warsaw, and
moved up the Wilmington river, anchor
ing just out of range of a confederate bat
tery. During the night, rockets were
thrown up by Captain Merrill, chief of the
signal corps, to announce his presence to
General Sherman's signal officers, but
elicited no response.
Lieutenant Fisher was more successful.
The Flag fired six guns in rapid succes
sion, from a heavy gun, as a signal, and
then Lieutenant Fisher threw up several
rockets and closely examined the horizon
over the mainland for the response. At
about three o'clock on the morning of the
13th, after a rocket had been discharged
from the Flag, a little stream of light was
observed to shoot up in the direction of the
Ogeechee, and quickly die away. Another
rocket was immediately sent up from the
flag-ship, and a second stream of light was
seen in the same position as the first. It
then became a question, whether or not
they were confederate signals to deceive
the1 federal officers.
At about seven o'clock, the navy tug
Dandelion, acting master Williams, took
Lieutenant Fisher and his party, and Cap
tain Williamson, of the flag-ship, and pro
ceeded up the Ogeechee, to a point within
sight of Fort McAllister and the batteries
on the Little Ogeechee. Here Lieutenant
Fisher took a small boat and proceeded up
as far as possible without drawing the
enemy's fire. A careful reconnoissance

864

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

was made of the fort and the surrounding
woods, from which came the reports of
musketry, and the attention of the garrison
seemed to be directed inland entirely. A
flag, which seemed like that of the Union,
was seen flying from a house four miles off,
and on more careful examination the stars
were plainly visible, and all doubt of the
character of the flag was at once removed.
It was the flag that had floated over Gen
eral Howard's head-quarters at Atlanta,
and now flamed out on the sea-coast,
within eight miles of the city of Savan
nah. Lieutenant Fisher at once returned
to the tug, and moved up to an opening
out of range of Fort McAllister, when,
from the top of the pilot-house of the Dan
delion, the American flag could be dis
tinctly seen. A white signal flag was at
once raised by Lieutenant Fisher, and at
once a signal flag of like nature was waved,
and communication opened. Lieutenant
Fisher signaled —
"Who are you?"
" McClintock, chief signal officer of
General Howard," was signaled back.
A message was at once sent to General
Sherman, tendering all aid from General
Foster and Admiral Dahlgren. General
Sherman then signaled that he was invest
ing Fort McAllister, and wanted to know
if the boat could help with her heavy guns.
Before any reply could be given, Sherman
had signaled to Hazen, of the fifteenth
corps, to take the fort immediately. In
five minutes the rally had been sounded
by the bugles. One volley of musketry
was heard, and the next moment the three
brigade flags of Hazen's troops were
placed, almost simultaneously, on the par
apets of Fort McAllister. The fort was
captured in twenty minutes after General
Sherman's order to take it was given.
Sherman then sent word that he would be
down that night, and to look out for his
boat. The tug immediately steamed down
to Ossabaw Sound, to find General Foster
or Admiral Dahlgren ; but they not being
there, dispatches were sent to them at
Warsaw, announcing General Sherman's
intended visit, and the tug returned to its

old position. While approaching the fort
again a small boat was seen coming down.
It was hailed with —
"What boat is that ? " and the welcome
response came back —
"Sherman."It soon came alongside, and out of the
little dug-out, paddled by two men, stepped
General Sherman and General Howard,
and stood on the deck of the Dandelion.
The great leader was received with cheer
after cheer.
The city of Savannah, strongly fortified,
and garrisoned by a large force under Gen
eral Hardee, was summoned, but surrender
was refused. Preparations for assault
were made, and, during the night of De
cember 20th, Hardee evacuated the city,
and, with a large part of his garrison,
escaped under cover of darkness. The
union army soon after entered the city,
and General Sherman thus announced
to President Lincoln this splendid tri
umph :
" / beg to present you, as a Christmas
gift, the city of Savannah, with 150 heavy
guns, and plenty of ammunition, and also
about 25,000 bales of cotton."
Waiting at Savannah only long enough
to refit and recruit, Sherman again began
a march which, for peril, labor, and results,
will compare with any ever made by an
organized army. The floods of the Savan
nah, the swamps of the Combahee and
Edisto, the high hills and rocks of the
Santee, the flat quagmires of the Pedee
and Cape Fear rivers, were all passed in
mid-winter, with its floods and rains, in
the face of an accumulating enemy.
On the morning of February 17th, Gen
eral Sherman entered Columbia, the capi
tal of South Carolina. In about a month
from this time, and after fighting battles
at Averysboro' and Bentonville, he made
a junction with General Terry's forces at
Goldsboro', N. O, and from this point
pushed onward to Raleigh, where, on the
26th of April he received the surrender of
the confederate army under Johnston, — the
only remaining formidable confederate
army in existence at that time east of the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

865

Mississippi river, — thus virtually crushing
the southern confederacy. Indeed, it was
Sherman's intention not to stop short of
Richmond, and only the great events con
summated a short time previously at that
important point, under Grant's masterly
generalship, rendered this part of the pro
gramme unnecessary.
At this time, the great warrior, as de
scribed hy his accomplished aid-de-camp,
Major Nichols, was in person nearly six
feet in height, with a wiry, muscular, and
not ungraceful frame. His age only forty-
seven years, but his face furrowed with
deep lines, indicating care and profound
thought. With surprising rapidity, how
ever, these strong lines disappeared when
he talked with women and children. His
eyes dark brown, and sharp and quick in
expression ; his forehead broad and fair,
and sloping gently at the top of the head,
the latter being covered with thick and
light brown hair, closely trimmed ; his
beard and moustache, of a sandy hue,
were also closely cut. Of an iron consti
tution, exposure to cold, rain, or burning
beat, seemed to produce no effect upon his
powers of endurance and strength. Under
the most harassing conditions, he exhibited

no signs of fatigue. When in the field he
retired early, but at midnight he might be
found pacing in front of his tent, or sitting
by the camp-fire smoking his cigar. He
would fall asleep as easily and as quickly
as a little child, — by the roadside or upon
wet ground, on the hard floor or when a
battle stirred the scene ; but the galloping
of a courier's horse down the road would
instantly awaken him, as well as a voice
or movement in his tent. As showing his
thorough military spirit, it is related of
him, that, before the fall of Atlanta, he
refused a commission of major-general in
the regular army, saying, "These positions
of so much trust and honor should be held
open until the close of the war. They
should not be hastily given. Important
campaigns are in operation. At the end,
let those who prove their capacity and
merit be the ones appointed to these high
honors." The great captain was in a
short time made lieutenant-general, and,
subsequently, on the accession of General
Grant to the presidency, he became Gen
eral of the Army, — a military rank
and title conferred only upon three per
sons, since the founding of tbe republic,
namely, Washington, Grant, Sherman.

55

CI.
FALL OF RICHMOND, VA., THE CONFEDERATE
CAPITAL.— 1865.

The Entrenched City Closely Encompassed for Months by General Grant's Brave Legions and Walls of
Steel. — Flight of Jefferson Davis, and Surrender of General Lee's Army. — Overthrow of the Four
Tears' Gigantic Rebellion. — The Mgis and Starry Ensigns of the Republic Everywhere Dominant —
Transports of Joy Fill the Land. — A Nation's Laurels Crown the Head of the Conqueror of Peace.
— Memorable Day in Human Affairs. — Momentous Issues Involved. — Heavy Cost of this Triumph.
— Without it, a Lost Republic. — Unequaled Valor Displayed. — Sherman's Grand Conceptions.—
Sheridan's Splendid Generalship. — Onward March of Events. — Strategy, Battles, Victories. — Lee's
Lines Fatally Broken. — Approach of the Final Crisis. — Richmond Evacuated by Night. — Retreat
of Lee : Vigorous Pursuit. — His Hopeless Resistance to Grant — Their Correspondence and Inter
view. — The Two Great Generals Face to Face. — What was Said and Done. — Announcing the Result.
— Parting of Lee with His Soldiers. — President Lincoln's Visit to Richmond — Raising the United
States Flag at Fort Sumter. — Davis a Prisoner in Fortress Monroe.

"Ipropoae to fight it out on this lint, if it takes all summer."— General Gbant'3 Dispatch feom the Field.

QEAKT STATING TERMS OF SURRENDER.

ERXES crossing the Hellespont with his miles of
troops and flotilla, and over which vast concourse,
he wept, it is said, as it passed in review, was not
a more memorable illustration of the pomp and
circumstance of war, than that which was exhibit
ed in 1864 and 1865 by the Union army under Gen
eral Grant, which, like a wall of steel, beleaguer
ed tbe entrenched city of Richmond — the strong
hold of his country's foes, — and brought it, in
April of the last-named year, to submission and
surrender ; and with which event, the hosts that
had been gathered by a powerful confederacy for
the overthrow of the republic, melted away in
defeat and disaster, the disunion chieftains became
fugitives, and the long strife of arms ceased
throughout the nation. This event has been justly
characterized as far more momentous than any
other that is likely to happen in our time, and
which will always make 1865 one of the great
years of history — putting it, in fact, in the same
category with the first year of the Christian era,
the year in which Rome was sacked, in which

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

867

Europe was saved from the Saracens, in
which Luther began to preach the Reform
ation, in which Parliament drew the sword
against Charles I., and in which the first
shot was fired in the American Revolu
tion; a year, in short, in which events
marked the commencement of a new and
important stage in human progress.
That the foe thus vanquished was not
an inferior one is shown by the single fact,
—if by no other — as stated by one of the
most reliable authorities in such matters,
that, in the whole history of war, no city
has been purchased by a conqueror at so
heavy a price as it cost to take Richmond.
Napoleon took Berlin, Vienna, and Mos
cow, each in a single campaign, and, when
the scale of fortune turned, the Allies
entered Paris in two successive years.
Sebastopol resisted the English and Erench
armies for thirteen or fourteen months,
and four or five battles were fought in the
hope of raising tbe siege. For nearly
four years, Richmond was the principal
object of siege and attack by the union
armies, and probably half a million of men
were at different times employed in at
tempting its conquest. After the disas
ter at Bull Run had shown the federal
government the deficiencies of its military
organization, General McClellan command
ed an army of not far from two hundred
thousand men on the Potomac, and he land
ed more than half the number in the Pe
ninsula, while his colleagues defended the
approaches of Washington. The losses of
the union army in the disastrous campaign
of the Chickahominy, and in the subsequent
defeat of General Pope, were variously
estimated from fifty thousand all the way
up to one hundred thousand men. Burn
side's loss, in his attack upon the heights
of Fredericksburg, was not far from fifteen
thousand men, and about the same result
attended the struggle between Generals
Lee and Hooker, in 1863. The magnifi
cent union victory at Gettysburg, involv
ing so great a loss of life, was included in

the

same campaign. It was not till the

early summer of 1864, that General Grant
commenced his final advance upon Rich

mond, and the battles which ensued in the
Shenandoah and in the neighborhood of
Petersburg, added largely to the record of
bloodshed. Great and most precious, how
ever, as was the cost of final victory to the
union army, its final defeat instead would
have been at the cost of the existence of
the Republic !
The splendid military conceptions of
General Sherman, and their perfect execu
tion, had much to do with hastening the
downfall of Richmond and the collapse of
the southern confederacy, nor can the brave
and effective movement of General Sheri
dan in the same relation be too highly
eulogized by his countrymen. Of the lat
ter general's services, at this most excit
ing and momentous crisis, General Grant
says : " During the 30th, (March, 1865,)
Sheridan advanced from Dinwiddie Courts
House towards Five Forks, where he found
the enemy in force. General Warren
advanced and extended his line across the
Boydton plank road to near the White
Oak road, with a view of getting across
the latter ; but finding the enemy strong
in his front, and extending beyond his left,
was directed to hold on where he was and
fortify. General Humphreys drove the
enemy from his front into his main line on
the Hatcher, near Burgess's mills. Gen
erals Ord, Wright, and Parke, made exam
inations in their fronts to determine the
feasibility of an assault on the enemy's
lines. The two latter reported favorably.
The enemy confronting us, as he did, at
every point from Richmond to our extreme
left, I conceived his lines must be weakly
held, and could be penetrated if my esti
mate of his forces was correct. I deter
mined, therefore, to extend my line no
further, but to re-enforce General Sheri
dan with a corps of infantry, and thus ena
ble him to cut loose and turn the enemy's
right flank, and with the other corps as
sault the enemy's lines."
With what soldierly gallantry Sheridan
and his colleagues fulfilled the parts as
signed them by their superior, is thus
related by the latter. " On the morning
of the 31st, General Warren reported fa-

868

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

vorably to getting possession of the White
Oak road, and was directed to do so. To
accomplish this, he moved with one divis
ion, instead of his whole corps, which was
attacked by the enemy in superior force
and driven back on the second division
before it had time to form, and it, in turn,
forced back upon the third division,
when the enemy was checked. A divis
ion of the second corps was immedi
ately sent to his support, the enemy driven
back with heavy loss, and possession of
the White Oak road gained. Sheridan
advanced, and with a portion of his cavalry
got possession of the Five Forks, but the
enemy, after the affair with the fifth corps,
re-enforced the rebel cavalry, defending
that point with infantry, and forced him
back towards Dinwiddie Court-House.
Here General Sheridan displayed great
generalship. Instead of retreating with
his whole command on the main army, to
tell the story of superior forces encount
ered, he deployed his cavalry on foot, leav
ing only mounted men enough to take
charge of the horses. This compelled the
enemy to deploy over a vast extent of
woods and broken country, and made his
progress slow. At this juncture, he dis
patched to me what had taken place, and
that he was dropping back slowly on Din
widdie Court-House." Never was the trib
ute of praise more worthily bestowed,
than this by the greatest of American
heroes upon General Sheridan.
But still more important events were
hastening. "On the morning of the 1st
of April," says General Grant, " General
Sheridan, re-enforced by General Warren,
drove the enemy back on Five Forks,
where, late in the evening, he assaulted
and carried his strongly fortified position,
capturing all his artillery, and between
five and six thousand prisoners. About
the close of this battle, Brevet Major-
General Charles Griffin relieved Major-
General Warren, in command of the fifth
corps. The report of this reached me after
nightfall. Some apprehensions filled my
mind lest the enemy might desert his lines
during the night, and by falling upon

General Sheridan before assistance could
reach him, drive him from his position
and open the way for retreat. To guard
against this, General Miles's division of
Humphrey's corps was sent to re-enforce
him, and a bombardment was commenced
and kept up until four o'clock in the morn
ing, April 2d, when an assault was ordered
on the enemy's lines. General Wright
penetrated the lines with his whole corps,
sweeping everything before him and to
the left towards Hatcher's Run, capturing
many guns and several thousand prisoners.
He was closely followed by two divisions
of General Ord's command, until he met
the other division of General Ord's that
had succeeded in forcing the enemy's lines
near Hatcher's Run. Generals Wright
and Ord immediately swung to the right,
and closed all of the enemy on that side of
them in Petersburg, while General Hum
phreys pushed forward with two divisions
and joined General Wright on the left.
General Parke succeeded in carrying the
enemy's main line, capturing guns and
prisoners, but was unable to carry his
inner line. General Sheridan being advised
of the condition of affairs, returned Gen
eral Miles to his proper command. On
reaching the enemy's lines immediately
surrounding Petersburg, a portion of Gen
eral Gibbon's corps, by a most gallant
charge, captured two strong, enclosed works
— the most salient and commanding south
of Petersburg — thus materially shortening
the line of investment necessary for tak
ing in the city. The enemy south of
Hatcher's Run retreated westward to
Sutherland's station, where they were
overtaken by Miles's division. A severe
engagement ensued and lasted until both
bis right and left flanks were threatened
by the approach of General Sheridan, who
was moving from Ford's station towards
Petersburg, and a division sent by Gen
eral Meade from the front of Petersburg,
when he broke in the utmost confusion,
leaving in our hands his guns and many
prisoners. This force retreated by the
main road along the Appomattox river.
During the night of the second, the enemy

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

869

870

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

evacuated Petersburg and Richmond, and
retreated toward Danville. On the morn
ing of the 3d, pursuit was commenced.
General Sheridan pushed for the Danville
road, keeping near the Appomattox, fol
lowed by General Meade with the second
and sixth corps, while General Ord moved
for Burkesville along the South Side road,
the ninth corps stretched along that road
behind him," — these combined movements
being made with such rapidity and effec
tiveness, that Lee's army could have no
expectation of escape founded upon any
reasonable probability.
By the night of Tuesday, April 4th,
Sheridan and the fifth corps had, by a
march of thirty-six miles, gained a position
west of Lee, near Jettersville, on the road
to Burkesville. This movement resulted
the next day in the capture of a train of
three hundred wagons, with five cannon
and a thousand prisoners. On Wednes
day, Grant, with the twenty-fourth corps,
had reached Nottoway Court-House, and
there learned by a dispatch from Sheridan
that Lee had been intercepted. On Thurs
day, Grant had brought his army up to
Sheridan's support, and with the second,
fifth, and sixth corps, lay in line of battle
at Burke's Station, facing to the north
and east, and cutting Lee off from Dan"
ville. Lee then tried to move on toward
Lynchburg, by taking a circuitous route
by way of Deatonsville, toward the Appo
mattox, which he hoped to cross, and, with
the river between him and Grant, secure
his retreat. Lee was compelled to fight
at Deatonsville, where he was defeated,
his loss amounting to thirteen thousand
prisoners, including Lieutenant-General
Ewell and Major-Generals Custis Lee,
Kershaw, Corse, DeBarry, Anderson, Hun-
ton, and Barton. Fourteen cannon were
also taken, and several hundred wagons.
On Friday, April 7th, Grant wrote briefly
to Lee, asking him to surrender "that
portion of the Confederate States army
known as the Army of Northern Virginia."
He said : " The result of last week must
convince you of the hopelessness of further
resistance on the part of the army of

Northern Virginia in this struggle." Lee
replied the same day, saying that though
he was not entirely of Grant's opin
ion as to the hopelessness of "further
resistance, he reciprocated the desire to
avoid useless effusion of blood, and asked
upon what terms Grant would accept the
surrender. On the 8th, Grant again wrote,
declaring that he should insist upon but
one condition, namely : " That the men
surrendered shall be disqualified for taking
up arms again against the government of the
United States until properly exchanged."
To this, Lee replied that he did not think
the emergency had arisen to call for the
surrender, but desired an interview at ten
o'clock the next day, on the old stage
road to Richmond, in respect to the restor
ation of peace. On the ninth, Grant
wrote that he had no authority to grant
such an interview. He said : " The
terms upon which peace can be had are
well understood. By the South laying
down their arms they will hasten that
most desirable event, save thousands of
human lives and hundreds of millions of
property not yet destroyed."
In taking the ground that he did in this
correspondence, Grant acted expressly
in accordance with the views entertained
by his superiors at Washington. It ap
pears that among the dispatches which
Grant had sent to the president, about
this time, was one in which he spoke of an
application to be made by Lee for an
interview to negotiate about peace. Mr.
Lincoln intimated pretty clearly an inten
tion to permit extremely favorable terms,
and to let his general-in-chief settle them ;
and this even to an extent that overpow
ered the reticent habits of his secretary of
war, who, after restraining himself as long
as he could, broke out sternly, saying —
" Mr. President, to-morrow is inaugura
tion day. If you are not to be the presi
dent of an obedient and united people, you
had better not be inaugurated. Your
work is already done, if any other author
ity than yours is for one moment to be
recognized, or any terms made that do not
signify that you are the supreme head of

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

871

the nation. If generals in the field are
to negotiate peace, or any other chief
magistrate is to be acknowledged on the
continent, then you are not needed, and
you had better not take the oath of office."
" Stanton," said the president — his
whole tone changing, "you are right. Let
me have a pen."
Mr. Lincoln sat down at the table and
wrote as follows :
"The President directs me to say to
you that he wishes you to have no confer
ence with General Lee, unless it be for
the capitulation of Lee's army, or on some
minor or purely military matter. He
instructs me to say that you are not to
decide, discuss, or confer on any political
question ; such questions the president
holds in his own hands, and will submit
them to no military conferences or conven
tions. In the meantime, you are to press
to the utmost your military advantages."
The president now read over what he
had written, and then said —
" Now, Stanton, date and sign this paper,
and send it to Grant. We'll see about
this peace business."
Grant's note declining any interview to
consider terms of peace was received
by Lee on the spot which he had desig
nated for the meeting. On receipt of this,
Lee at once dispatched another note,
requesting a personal interview for the
object named in Grant's previous commun
ication — the surrender of Lee's army. A
flag of truce proceeded to Appomattox
Court-House shortly after noon, and at
about two o'clock the two generals met at
the house of Mr. W. McLean. General
Lee was attended by General Marshall, his
adjutant-general ; General Grant, by Colo
nel Parker, one of his chief aids-de-camp.
General Grant arrived about fifteen min
utes later than General Lee, and entered
the parlor where the latter was awaiting
him. The two generals greeted each other
with dignified courtesy, and after a few
moments conversation, proceeded to the
business before them. Lee immediately
alluded to the conditions named by General

Grant for the surrender, characterized
them as exceedingly lenient, and said he
would gladly leave all the details to Gen
eral Grant's own discretion. Of this inter
view, General Grant himself gave the
following interesting account to some
friends, at a private dinner-party in Wash
ington :
" I felt some embarrassment in the pros
pect of meeting General Lee. I had not
seen him since he was General Scott's
chief-of-staff in Mexico ; and in addition to
the respect I entertained for him, the
duty which I had to perform was a dis
agreeable one, and I wished to get through
it as soon as possible. When I reached
Appomattox Court-House, I had ridden
that morning thirty-seven miles. I was
in my campaign clothes, covered with dust
and mud; I had no sword; I was not even
well mounted, for I rode (turning to Gen
eral Ingals, who was present,) one of
Ingals's horses. I found General Lee in a
fresh suit of confederate gray, with all the
insignia of his rank, and at his side the
splendid dress-sword which had been given
him by the state of Virginia. We shooh
hands. He was exceedingly courteous in
his address, and we seated ourselves at a
deal table in Mr. McLean's front room.
We talked of two of the conditions of sur
render, which had been left open by ou>
previous correspondence, one of which re
lated to the ceremonies which were to b»
observed on iUr; occasion ; and when I dis>
claimed any desire to have any parade,
but said I should be contented with the
delivery of arms to my officers, and with
the proper signature and authentication of
paroles, he seemed to be greatly pleased.
When I yielded the other point, that the
officers should retain their side arms and
private baggage and horses, his emotions
of satisfaction were plainly visible. We
soon reduced the terms to writing. We
parted with the same courtesies with which
we had met. It seemed to me that Gen
eral Lee evinced a feeling of satisfaction
and relief when the business was finished.
I immediately mounted Ingals's horse, re
turned to General Sheridan's bead-quarters.

872

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

and did not again present myself to the
confederate commander."
The house in which this most memora
ble interview took place was a comfortable
and well-built double brick house, with a
small green lawn in front. The occupant,
Mr. McLean, lived in 1861 at Bull Run,
and owned the farm on which the first
and famous Bull Run battle was fought.
It was in consequence of the disturbed
state of the country and the annoyances
to which he was subjected, that he aban
doned his place, and took refuge in the
distant town of Appomattox. Here he
purchased some land and settled quietly
down, as he thought, beyond the tide of
war. But fate followed him ; for, about
four years after he left the Bull Run farm,
the southern army was surrounded at
Appomattox, and the last battle as well as
the first was fought on his farm ! The
large marble-topped center table, on which
the two generals signed the minutes, was
of a somewhat antiquated style, and was
afterwards purchased by General Ord for
fifty dollars. General Custer purchased
the other table, of small size, on which the
documents were prepared, for twenty-five
dollars. After the interview, General Lee re
turned to his own camp, about half a mile
distant, where his leading officers were
assembled, awaiting his return. He an
nounced the result and the terms, where
upon they expressed grer'- satisfaction at
the liberal conditions. '-.'ley then ap
proached him in order of rank, shook
hands, and assured him of their approval
of his course, and their regret at parting.
The fact of surrender and the easy terms
were then announced to the troops, and
when General Lee appeared among them
he was loudly cheered.
Immediately after the evacuation of
Richmond, General Weitzel, with the
second brigade of the third division of the
twenty-fourth army corps, entered the city
and took possession^ hoisting the United
States flag at every prominent point, and
on the next day President Lincoln visited
tbe fallen capital. His appearance was

greeted with tumultuous cheering, though
he came with no pomp of attendance or
surroundings, and totally unheralded. He
arrived in a United States war vessel,
early in the afternoon, at the landing
called the Rocketts, about a mile below
the city, and thence, accompanied by his
young son and Admiral Porter, went to
the city in a boat. Mr. C. C. Coffin,
(" Carleton,") the accomplished corre
spondent of tbe Boston Journal, in giving
an account of this presidential visit, says
that somehow the negroes on the bank of
the river ascertained that the tall man
wearing a black hat was President Lin
coln. There was a sudden shout. An
officer who had just picked up fifty negroes
to do work on the dock, found himself
alone. They left work, and crowded
around the president. As he approached,
I said to a colored woman, —
" There is the man who made you free."
" What, massa ? "
" That is President Lincoln."
" Dat President Linkum ?"
"Yes."
She gazed at him a moment, clapped
her hands, and jumped straight up and
down, shouting " Glory, glory, glory !" till
her voice was lost in the universal
cheer. There was no carriage near, so the presi
dent, leading his son, walked three-quarters
of a mile up to General Weitzel's head
quarters — Jefferson Davis's presidential
mansion. A colored man acted as guide.
Six sailors, wearing their round blue caps
and short jackets and bagging pants, with
navy carbines, were the advance guard.
Then came the president and Admiral
Porter, flanked by the officers accompany
ing him, and the correspondent of the
Boston Journal, then six more sailors with
carbines, — amid a surging mass of men,
women, and children, black, white, and
yellow, running, shouting, and dancing,
swinging their caps, bonnets and hand
kerchiefs. The soldiers saw him and
swelled the crowd, cheering in wild enthu
siasm. All could see him, he was so tall,
so conspicuous.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

873

One colored woman, standing in a door
way, as the president passed along the
sidewalk, shouted, " Thank you, dear
Jesus, for this ! thank you, Jesus ! "
Another, standing by her side, was clap
ping her hands and shouting, " Bless de
Lord!" A colored woman snatched her
bonnet from her head, whirled it in the
air, and screamed with all her might,
u God bless you, Massa Linkum ! "
President Lincoln walked in silence,
acknowledging the salutes of officers and
soldiers, and of the citizens, black and
white. It was the man of the people
among the people. It was the great de
liverer among the delivered. General
Shepley met the president in the street,
and escorted him to General Weitzel's
quarters. Major Stevens, hearing that
the president was on his way, suddenly
summoned a detachment of Massachusetts
cavalry, and cleared the way. After a
tedious walk, the mansion of Mr. Davis
was reached. The immense crowd swept
round the corner of tbe street and packed
the space in front. General Weitzel
received the president at the door. Cheer
upon cheer went up from the excited mul
titude, two-thirds of whom were colored.
The officers who had assembled were
presented to the president in the reception
room, and then citizens innumerable paid
him their respects ; after which the presi
dent took a ride through the city, accom
panied by Admiral Porter, Generals Shep
ley and Weitzel, and others.
All this took place only a few hours
after the flight of Davis. Early in the
forenoon of that eventful Sunday, Lee tel
egraphed to his chief, that his lines had
been broken in three places and that Rich
mond must be evacuated in the evening.
This message was delivered to Davis at
eleven o'clock, while he was in church.
He immediately left, and, arranging his
affairs as well as time would permit, pro
ceeded with his cabinet to Danville. Pol
lard, the historian of the southern cause,
states that the rumor was caught up in
the streets that Richmond was to be evac
uated, and was soon carried to the ends

of the city.' Men, women, and children,
rushed from the churches, passing from
lip to lip news of the impending fall. It
was late in the afternoon when the signs
of evacuation became apparent to the in
credulous. Wagons on the streets were
being hastily loaded at the departments
with boxes, trunks, etc., and driven to the
Danville depot. Those who had deter
mined to evacuate with the fugitive govern
ment looked on with amazement; then,
convinced of the fact, rushed to follow the
government's example. Vehicles suddenly
rose to a premium value that was astound
ing. All over the city it was the same —
wagons, trunks, boxes, bundles, and their
hurrying owners, filling the streets. By
order of the military authorities, all the
spirituous liquor in the city was destroyed,
but some of it was seized and used by the
straggling soldiery, who thereupon commit
ted the grossest excesses. The great
tobacco warehouses were also, by mili
tary order, set on fire, as were also the
various bridges leading out of the city,
and the rams in James river were blown
up. The whole scene was awful in the
extreme. At Danville, Davis set up the form and
machinery of his government, issuing at
once a stirring address, in which he said :
" We have now entered upon a new phase
of the struggle. Relieved from the neces
sity of guarding particular points, our
army will be free to move from point to
point, to strike the enemy in detail far
from bis base." Waiting here, in expect
ation of Lee's arrival with his army, the
news of tbe surrender of the latter reached
him on the 10th of April. Dismayed at
the tidings, Davis hastily made his escape
to Greensboro, N. O, and afterwards, with
various haltings, to Charlotte, N. C, and
thence to Washington and Irwinsville,
Ga., where he was captured, May llth, by
the union cavalry, and carried, a prisoner,
to Fortress Monroe. This was, in form,
the close of the war. General Johnston
surrendered his army at Raleigh, N. O,
April 26th, to General Sherman. General
Howell Cobb, with his militia and five

874

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

generals, surrendered to General Wilson,
at Macon, Ga., April 20th. Gen. Dick
Taylor surrendered all the remaining con
federate forces east of the Mississippi to
General Canby, May 14th ; and, on the
26th of the same month, Gen. Kirby Smith
surrendered his entire command, west of
the Mississippi, to the same officer. On
the 14th of April, — just four years from
the memorable bombardment and evacua
tion, — the flag of the United States was
planted again upon Fort Sumter, under
the orders of the president, by the hands
of General Anderson, its commander in
April, 1861.
The close of this mighty struggle, assur
ing the world of the continued nationality
of the American Union, filled the land
with such transports and demonstrations
of joy as were never before known among
any people ; and the laurels of the nation
covered the brow of Grant, the hero of
mighty battles — the Conqueror of Peace.
By special act of congress, the full and
supreme rank of General — a title never
worn by a United States commander since
the days of the illustrious Washington, —
was revived and conferred upon Grant;
and, as the highest honor in the gift of
his countrymen, he was in 1869 transfer
red from the command of the army to the
exalted position of President of the United
States, in which station he remained eight
years. One event, in especial, among the clus
ter just named in connection with the
closing scenes of the Great Conflict, de
serves more than a passing mention here,
namely, the Re-possession of Fort Sumter,
and the restoration to its original place on
that historic spot, by General Anderson, of
the identical flag which, after an honora
ble and gallant defense, he was compelled
to lower in April, 1861.
This ceremony of re-occupation took
place, as ordered by President Lincoln, on
Friday, April 14th, 1865, in presence of
several thousands of spectators. Among
the company were Generals Gillmore, Dix,
Washburne, Doubleday, Anderson, Dela-
field, Grover, Hatch, and Saxton, Rev.

Henry Ward Beecher, William Lloyd]
Garrison, George Thompson, Assistant Sec
retary Fox, of the Navy Department,
Professor Davis, and some two hundred
officers of the navy. The spectators were
conveyed from Charleston to the fort by
steamers, and the ceremonies were usheredl
in at noon with a song and chorus entitled
' Victory at Last.'
Prayer was now offered by Rev. Mat
thias Harris, chaplain United States Army,
who made the prayer at the raising of
the flag when Major Anderson suddenly
removed his command from Fort Moultrie'
to Fort Sumter, December 27th, I860.
Rev. Dr. Storrs, of Brooklyn, then read
selections of scripture, after which, Adju
tant-General Townsend read Major Ander
son's dispatch, dated steamship Baltic, off
Sandy Hook, April 18th, 1861, announcing
the fall of Fort Sumter.
Major-General Anderson and Sergeant
Hart then stepped forward on the platform.
and unfurled the glorious old banner, amid
the deafening cheers of the assemblage.
As they raised the flag, with an evergreen
wreath attached, the occupants on the
stage all joined in taking hold of the hal
yards. The scene of rejoicing that fol
lowed, as the flag reached the top of the
staff, was indescribable. The enthusiasm
was unbounded. There was a simultane
ous rising, cheering, and waving of hats
and handkerchief s, for fully fifteen minutes.
As the starry emblem floated out grace
fully to the strong breeze, the joyful dem
onstrations were repeated, which were
responded to by music from tbe bands, a
salute of one hundred guns at Fort Sumter,
and a national salute from every fort and
battery that fired upon Sumter in April,
1861. When this was over, General Ander
son came forward and said —
" I am here, friends and fellow-citizens,
and brother soldiers, to perform an act of
duty which is dear to my heart, and which
all of you present appreciate and feel. Did
I listen to the promptings of my own
heart, I would not attempt to speak ; but
I have been desired by the secretary of
war to make a few remarks. By the con-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

875

siderate appointment of the honored secre
tary of war to fulfill the cherished wish of
my heart tlirough four long years of bloody
war — to restore to its proper place this
very flag which floated here during peace,
before the first act of this cruel rebellion
— I thank God I have lived to see this
day, to be here to perform this, perhaps
the last act of duty to my country in this
life. My heart is filled with gratitude to
Almighty God for the signal blessings he
has given us — blessings beyond number.
May all the world proclaim ' Glory to God

in the highest ; on earth, peace and good
will toward men.' "
The 'Star Spangled Banner' was then
sung by the whole audience, with great
feeling and effect ; after which, Rev.
Henry Ward Beecher delivered a com
memorative oration of great eloquence and
power. The doxology, with devotional
services, closed the public exercises of the
day ; and, with cheers for President Lin
coln, the old Flag, the Union, Generals
Grant, Sherman, and others, the vast mul
titude separated.

CII.
ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN, AT FORD'S
THEATER, WASHINGTON, BY J. WILKES
BOOTH.— 1865.

¦Conspiracy to Murder, Simultaneously, all the Chief Officers of the Government — The Most Exalted
and Beloved of Mortal Rulers Falls a, Victim — A Universal Wail of Anguish and Lamentation
Poured Forth from the National Heart. — Darkest Page in tlie History of the Country — Funeral Cor
tege Through Fifteen States. — Tragical Fate of the Conspirators. — Object of this Most Infamous of
Crimes — Singular Time of its Perpetration. — Virtual End of the Great Civil War. — Dawn of Peace:
Universal Joy. — President Lincoln's Happy Frame of Mind. — How He Passed His Last Day. — Con
versations on the Evening of April 14th. — Makes an Engagement for the Morrow — Last Time He
Signed His Name. — Reluctantly Goes to the Theater. — Arrives Late : Immense Audience — Plans and
Movements of Booth, the Assassin. — The Fatal Shot : A Tragedy of Horrors — Removal of the Presi
dent to a Private House. — Speechless and Unconscious to the End — Death-Bed Scenes and Incidents.
— The Nation Stunned at the Appalling News. — Its Reception at the South, and by General Lee.
— A Continent in Tears and Mourning. — Most
Imposing Obsequies Ever Known. — Booth's Swift
and Bloody End.— Trial of His Male and Female
ym Accomplices.

— " Mourn ye for him ? let him be regarded
Ah the most noble corse thut ever herald
Did lollow to hitt urn."

MR. LINCOLN'S EARLY HOME.

•shows so dark and terrible a page,-

EVIEWING the great procession of events
which distinguish the ninety years cov
ered by our national existence, up to the
present time, there is, confessedly, none
of the many during that period, which
-none which so paralyzed the heart of the nation, or
sent such a thrill of agony through the four continents of the globe, causing world-wide
sorrow and lamentation, — as the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, president of the
United States, by John Wilkes Booth, at Ford's Theater, in the capital of the nation,
on the night of April 14th, 1865. And this bloody deed was but one act in the diabol
ical conspiracy which contemplated the simultaneous murder of the chief officers of
state, at the federal capital, to the end that panic might there seize upon the govern
ment and nation, and treason and anarchy assert their sway over a republic in ruins.
And yet, the time chosen for this most appalling conspiracy was that which was
marked by the virtual close of the great war which for four long years had filled the
land with carnage and death ; the prowess of General Grant had shattered the plans of
the ablest military chieftains of the south ; General Sherman had consummated his
;grand march from Atlanta to Savannah, and thence through South Carolina ; all the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

877

chief cities of the south were occupied by
the union forces ; Lee had surrendered
his sword, and President Lincoln had just
visited the city of Richmond, so recently
the confederate stronghold; and Jefferson
Davis was a fugitive, who had then barely
escaped capture. The demonstrations of
joy at the now certain conclusion of hostil
ities, and the dawn of peace, were univer
sal; and by no one, in all the land, was
this joy shared so fully as by President
Lincoln. Of the president's happy frame of mind,
now that victory had everywhere crowned
the federal arms, and he was entering on

FORD'S THEATER, IN WASHINGTON.
his second presidential term under the
auspices of prospective peace, something
may be judged by the incidents repre
sented to have transpired in connection
with his private and personal intercourse,
during the last day of his life. On the
morning of that fatal day, Captain Robert
Lincoln, son of the president, and who had
just returned from the capitulation of Gen
eral Lee, breakfasted with his father, and
the president passed a happy hour listen
ing to all the details. While thus at
hreakfast, he heard that Speaker Colfax
was in the house, and sent word that he
wished to see him immediately in the

reception room. He conversed with him
nearly an hour, on his future policy as to
the south, which he was about to submit
to the cabinet. Afterwards he had an
interview with Mr. Hale, minister to Spain,
and with several senators and representa
tives. At eleven o'clock, the cabinet and
General Grant met with him, and, in one
of the most important and satisfactory
cabinet sessions held since his first inau
guration, the future policy of the adminis
tration was harmoniously and unanimously
agreed on, Secretary Stanton remarking
that he felt that the government was
stronger than at any previous period sinc&
the rebellion commenced. Turning to-
General Grant, Mr. Lincoln asked him if
he had heard from General Sherman-
General Grant replied that he had not, but
was in hourly expectation of receiving dis
patches from him announcing the sur
render of Johnston. The president re
plied :
" Well, you will hear very soon, and the
news will be important."
" Why do you think so ? " inquired
General Grant, somewhat in a curious
mood. " Because," said Mr. Lincoln, " I had a
dream, last night, and, ever since the war
began, I have invariably had the same
dream before any very important military
event has occurred." He then instanced
Bull Run, Antietam, Gettysburg, etc., and
said that before each of those events he
had had the same dream, and, turning to
Secretary Welles, continued, "It is in
your line, too, Mr. Welles. The dream is,
that I saw a ship sailing very rapidly, and
I am sure that it portends some important
national event."
In the afternoon, the president had a
long and pleasant interview with General
Oglesby, Senator Yates, and other leading
citizens of Illinois.
At about half-past seven o'clock in the
evening, Hon. George Ashmun, of Massa
chusetts, who presided over the Chicago
Convention in 1860, called at the White
House, and was ushered into the parlor,
where Mr. Colfax was seated, waiting for

878

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

an interview with the president, on busi
ness which had a bearing on his proposed
overland trip. A few moments elapsed,
when President Lincoln entered the room,
and engaged in conversation upon various
matters, appearing to be in a very happy
and jovial, frame of mind. He spoke of
his visit to Richmond, and when they
stated that there was much uneasiness at
the north while be was in that city, for
fear that he might be shot, he replied,
jocularly, that he would have been alarmed
himself if any other person had been pres
ident and gone there, but that personally
he did not feel any danger whatever.
Conversing on a matter of business with
Mr. Ashmun, he made a remark that he
saw Mr. Ashmun was surprised at, and,
though not very important, he immediately
said, with his well-known kindness of
heart, —
" You did not understand me, Ashmun.
I did not mean what you inferred, and I
take it all back and apologize for it."
Mr. Ashmun desiring to see him again,
and there being no time to attend to it
then, the president took out a card, and
placing it on his knee, wrote as follows :
" Allow Mr. Ashmun and friend to come
to me at nine A. M., to-morrow.
April 14, '65. A. Lincoln."
These were the last words that he
penned. It was the last time that he
signed his name to any order, document or
message. The last words written by him
were thus making an engagement for the
morrow — an engagement which he was not
allowed to meet. Before the hour had
arrived he was no more. After signing
the card, he said, humorously, to Mr.
Colfax, —
" Mr. Sumner has the gavel of the Con
federate Congress, which he got at Rich
mond, to hand to the secretary of war ; but
I insisted then that he must give it to you,
and you tell him for me to hand it over."
Mr. Ashmun here pleasantly alluded to
the gavel which he himself still had — the
same one he had used when presiding over
tbe Chicago Nominating Convention of
1860.

President Lincoln finally stated that ha
must go to the theater, and, saying, " You
are going with Mrs. Lincoln and me to the
theater, I hope," warmly pressed Speaker
Colfax and Mr. Ashmun to accompany
them, but they excused themselves on the
score of previous engagements. It was
now half an hour after the time when they
had intended to start, and they spoke
about waiting half an hour longer, — the
president going with reluctance, as Gen
eral Grant had that evening gone north,
and Mr. Lincoln did not wish the people
to be disappointed, it having been an
nounced in the afternoon papers that the
president, Mrs. Lincoln, and General
Grant, would attend the theater that even
ing, to witness the representation of the
"American Cousin." At the door, Mr.
Lincoln stopped and said, —
" Colfax, do not forget to tell the people
in the mining regions, as you pass through
them, what I told you this morning about
the development when peace comes, and I
will telegraph you at San Francisca"
Starting for the carriage, Mrs. Lincoln
took the arm of Mr. Ashmun, and , the
president and Mr. Colfax walked together.
As soon as the president and Mrs. Lincoln
were seated in the carriage, Mrs. Lincoln
gave orders to the coachman to drive
around to Senator Harris's residence, for
Miss Harris. As the carriage rolled
away, they both said " Good-by, — Good-
by," to Messrs. Ashmun and Colfax. A
few moments later, and the presidential
party of four persons, namely, the presi
dent and Mrs. Lincoln, Miss Harris, and
Major Rathbone, arrived at the theater
and entered tbe front and left-hand upper
private box.
The deeply-laid plan of Booth to murder
the president was soon to culminate in
horrid and fatal execution. According to
the very reliable account given by the
Hon. H. J. Raymond, in his biography of
the martyred president, and in which
account there is exhibited the most pains
taking synopsis of the accumulated evi
dence concerning Booth's movements, the
murderer made his appearance at fifteen

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

879

THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN.
minutes after ten, passed along the pas
sage behind the spectators in the dress-
circle, showed a card to the president's
messenger, and stood for two or three min
utes looking down upon the stage and the
orchestra below. He then entered the
vestibule of the president's box, closed the
door behind him, and fastened it by brac
ing a short plank against it from the wall,
so that it could not be opened from the
outside. He then drew a small silver-
mounted Derringer pistol, which he car
ried in his right hand, holding a long
double-edged dagger in his left. All in
the box were intent on the proceedings
upon the stage; but President Lincoln
was leaning forward, holding aside tbe
curtain of .the box with his left hand, and
looking, with his head slightly turned,
towards the audience. Booth stepped
within the inner door into the box, directly
Behind the president, and, holding the

1 pistol just over the back of the
chair in which he sat, shot him
through tbe back of the head.
Mr. Lincoln's head fell slightly forward,
and his eyes closed, but in every other
respect his attitude remained unchanged.
The report of the pistol startled those
in the box, and Major Rathbone, turn
ing his eyes from the stage, saw, through
the smoke that filled the box, a man
standing between him and the president.
He instantly sprang towards him and
seized him ; but Booth wrested himself
from his grasp, and, dropping the pis
tol, struck at him with the dagger, in
flicting a severe wound upon his left
arm, near the shoulder. Booth then
rushed to the front of the box, shouted
" Sic semper tyrannis ! " — put his hand
upon the railing in front of the box, and
leaped over it upon the stage below. As
he went over, his spur caught in the flag
which draped the front, and he fell; but
recovering himself immediately, he rose,
brandished the dagger, and facing the
audience, shouted, " The South is
avenged!" He then rushed across the
stage towards the passage which led to the

880

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

stage door in the rear of the theater. An
actor named Hawke was the only person
on the stage when Booth leaped upon it,
and seeing Booth coming towards him
with the dagger in his hand, he ran off the
stage and up a flight of stairs. Booth ran
through the passage-way beside the scenes,
meeting one or two persons only, whom he
struck from his path, went out at the door
which stood open, and which he closed
behind him, and mounting a horse which
he had brought there, and which a lad was
holding for him, he rode over the Anacosta
bridge, across the east branch of the Poto
mac, safely escaping to Lower Maryland.
It is impossible to describe the scene
which transpired in that box and in that
vast audience, on the discovery that the
president was shot. Suffice it to say, that
the surgeon-general and other physicians
were immediately summoned, and their
skill exhausted in efforts to restore him to
consciousness. An examination of his
wounds, however, showed that no hopes
could be given that his life would be
spared. Preparations were at once made to re
move him, and he was conveyed to a house
immediately opposite, and there placed
upon a bed, tbe only evidence of life being

HOUSE WHERE LINCOLN PIED.
an occasional nervous twitching of the
hand and heavy breathing. At about half-
past eleven, the motion of the muscles of
his face indicated as if he were trying to
speak, but doubtless it was merely muscu
lar. His eyes protruded from their sock
ets and were suffused with blood.

At his bedside were the secretaries of
war, the navy and the interior ; the post
master-general and attorney-general ; Sen
ator Sumner; General Todd, cousin to
Mrs. Lincoln ; Major Hay, Mr. M. B.
Field, General Halleck, General Meigs,
Rev. Doctor Gurley, the physicians, and a
few other persons. All were bathed in
tears ; and Secretary Stanton, when in
formed by Surgeon-General Barnes, that
tho president could not live until morning,
exclaimed, "Oh, no, General; no — no;"
and with an impulse, natural as it was
unaffected, immediately sat down and
wept like a child. Senator Sumner was
seated at the right of the president, near
the head, holding the right hand of the
president in bis own ; he was sobbing like
a woman, with his head bowed down
almost upon tbe pillow of the bed. In an
adjoining room were Mrs. Lincoln, and
several others.
Mrs. Lincoln was in a state of great
excitement and agony, wringing her hands
and exclaiming, " Why did he not shoot
me, instead of my husband ! I have tried
to be so careful of him, fearing something
would happen, and his life seemed to be
more precious now than ever. I must go
with him ! " — and other expressions of like
character. She was constantly going to
and from the bedside of the president, say
ing in utter grief, "How can it be so!"
The scene was heart-rending. Captain
Robert Lincoln bore himself with great
firmness, and constantly endeavored to
assuage the grief of his mother by telling
ber to put her trust in God and all would
be well. Occasionally, however, being
entirely overcome, he would retire by him
self and give vent to most piteous lamen
tations. At four o'clock, the symptoms of restless
ness returned, and at six the premonitions
of dissolution set in. His face, which had
been quite pale, began to assume a waxen
transparency, the jaw slowly fell, and the
teeth became exposed. About a quarter
of an hour before the president died, his
breathing became very difficult, and in
many instances seemed to have entirely

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

881

ceased. He would again rally and breathe
with so great difficulty as to be heard in
almost every part of the house. Mrs.
Lincoln took her last leave of him about
twenty minutes before he expired, and was
sitting in the adjoining room when it was
announced to her that he was dead.
When this announcement was made, she
exclaimed, " Oh ! why did you not tell me
that he was dying ! "
The surgeons and the members of the
cabinet, Senator Sumner, Captain Robert
Lincoln, General Todd, Mr. Field, and
one or two more, were standing at his
bed-side when he breathed his last. Rob-

M^^Jj/Ug

ert Lincoln was resting himself tenderly
upon the arm of Senator Sumner, the
mutual embrace of the two having all the
affectionateness of father and son. The
surgeons were sitting upon the side and
foot of the bed, holding the president's
hands, and with their watches observing
the slow declension of the pulse, and
watching the ebbing out of the vital spirit.
He lingered longer than was expected ;
until, at twenty-two minutes past seven
o'clock, in the morning, April fifteenth,
the physician said, with solemn accent and
overpowering emotion, —
" He is gone ; he is dead."
Such was the deep stillness, in that
awful presence, at the fatal announcement,
56

that for the space of five minutes the tick
ing of the watches could be distinctly
heard. All stood transfixed in their posi
tions, speechless, breathless, around the
dead body of that great and good man.
At length the secretary of war broke the
silence and said to Rev. Doctor Gurley,
"Doctor, will you say anything?" He
replied, " I will speak to God." " Do it
just now," responded the secretary. And
there, by the side of the fallen chief, a fer
vent prayer was offered up, at the close of
which there arose from the lips of the
entire company a fervid and spontaneous
"Amen." No adequate portrayal can be
given of the effect upon the
public mind, of the murder of
the president, as the news was
borne along the telegraphic
wires, from one end of the land
to the other. Stunned, bewil
dered, incredulous, at first, the
tears and wailing of a whole
nation were soon manifest —
deep answering unto deep — to
an extent and degree never be
fore witnessed since the death
of Washington. A pang of hor-
* ror seized every heart, in this
darkest hour of the country's
history, the emblems of mourn
ing shrouded the land in very
darkness — its streets, its habita
tions, its churches, its halls of justice, its
capitols, — funeral pageants everywhere
hushed the noise of business, — and the
solemn voice of eulogy and lamentation,
and the sound of dirge and requiem, filled
the air, from the mountains of the north
to tbe prairies and valleys of the west and
the golden slopes of the far-off Pacific.
If in the blind and fatal mistake of
sectional antagonism or partisan bitterness,
this most infamous of human crimes found
apologists, there were, at least, some nota
ble exceptions to this feeling. Thus,
when the tidings reached Richmond, Gen
eral Lee at first refused to hear the details
of the horrid deed, from the two gentlemen
who waited upon him on Sunday night

882

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

with the particulars. He said, that when
he dispossessed himself of the command of
the confederate forces, he kept in view Pres
ident Lincoln's benignity, and surrendered
as much to the latter's goodness as to
Grant's artillery. The general said that
he regretted Mr. Lincoln's death as much
as any man in the north, and believed him
to be the epitome of magnanimity and good
faith. On the nineteenth of April, the New
World witnessed the most imposing fu
neral ceremonies that ever took place this
side of the Atlantic, or perhaps in the
whole world. The body, which had been
embalmed, lay in state in the Green Room
of the White House, the coffin resting
upon a magnificent catafalque, and the

The description given by Holland, of
the procession in the federal metropolis,
will apply, in its main features, to all the
corteges in the various cities through
which the honored remains passed. "Ev
ery piazza, window, verandah and house
top, was filled with eager but mournful
faces. Funereal music filled the sweet
spring air ; and this was the only sound,
except the measured tread of feet, and the
slow roll of wheels upon the pavement.
As the hearse, drawn by six gray horses,
reached the capitol grounds, the bands
burst forth in a requiem, and were an
swered by minute-guns from the fortifica
tions. The body of the president was
borne into the rotunda, where Doctor Gur
ley completed the religious exercises of the

LINCOLN'S RESIDENCE AT SPKINGEIELD, ILL,

grand room overflowing with flowers which
had poured in from innumerable sources.
The public exercises took place in the East
Room, being conducted by Rev. Drs. Hall,
Gurley, and Gray, and Bishop Simpson.
The throng of dignitaries, embracing rep
resentatives of the army and navy, sena
tors and members of congress, judges, for
eign ambassadors, governors of the states,
and other high officials, was such as had
never before been gathered together in the
executive mansion. From the latter place,
the body of the illustrious deceased was
conveyed, along Pennsylvania Avenue, to
the great rotunda of the nation's capitol,
thence to be carried to their last resting-
place in Oak Ridge cemetery, Springfield,
111.

occasion. Here the remains rested, ex
posed to public view, but guarded by sol
diery, until the next day. Thousands
who had no other opportunity to take their
farewell of the beloved dust thronged the
capitol all night. The procession which
moved from the White House, April 19th,
was but tbe beginning of a pageant that
displayed its marvelous numbers and its
ever-varying forms, through country, and
village, and city, winding across the terri
tories of vast states, along a track of more
than fifteen hundred miles." During this
period, millions gazed upon the loved
features of the departed president.
It was on the twenty-first of April, that
the remains were started upon their mourn
ful journey to Springfield, 111. They were

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

883

taken to that city by the route he pursued
while on his way from his western home to
be inaugurated in Washington. Balti
more, Harrisburg, Philadelphia, New York,
Albany, Buffalo, Cleveland, Columbus, In
dianapolis, and Chicago, were visited in
the order named, and at each place, as
well as all along the route, there were
most extraordinary demonstrations of re
spect and sorrow. Millions of people
manifested, by every possible means and
token, their deep sense of the public loss,
and their appreciation of the exalted vir
tues which adorned the life of Abraham
Lincoln. All classes, without distinction
of politics or creeds, spontaneously united
in the posthumous honors.
The funeral at Springfield was on a
beautiful May day. At noon, the remains
were brought from the state house, in the
same hearse which had borne the bodies

SERGEANT BOSTON CORBETT.
of General Lyon and Thomas H. Benton.
The hearse was surmounted by a crown of
flowers. From the portico, as the proces
sion advanced, a vast chorus of voices filled
the air with the strains of " Children of
the Heavenly King." The ceremonies
were under the immediate direction of
General Hooker. A dirge was sung ; and
after the reading of scripture, a prayer,
and a hymn, the president's second inau
gural address was read. A dirge suc
ceeded, after which Bishop Simpson de
livered the funeral oration before the great
audience there assembled, and from the
midst of which went forth many an ejacu
lation of uncontrollable sorrow.

And the illustrious and beloved
president, so recently the most ex
ALTED OF MORTAL RULERS, WAS BURIED
IN HIS OWN TOMB.
But before the noble departed had been
consigned, amidst the tears and lamenta
tions of a whole continent, to the earth's
bosom, John Wilkes Booth, the perpetra
tor of the greatest of modern crimes, had
met his doom, and most of his co-conspira
tors— Atzcrodt, Doctor Mudd, Payne, Har
old, Mrs. Surratt, O'Laughlin, Arnold, and
Spangler — were in the clutches of the law.
It was Payne, who, at the same time that
Booth's bullet sped its fatal course, en
acted his part of the conspiracy in which
Booth was chief, by entering the sick
chamber of Secretary Seward, stabbing
him in the throat, and then escaping. It
was at Mrs. Surratt's house that the con
spirators had met and laid their plans.
As alleged, Atzerodt was to have taken the
life of Vice-President Johnson. O'Laugh
lin was assigned to murder General Grant
or Secretary Stanton. Harold was the
body companion of Booth. Spangler as
sisted in Booth's escape from the theater.
Mudd had held interviews with Booth and
John H. Surratt, son of Mrs. Surratt
named above, and had also attended to
Booth's leg, crippled by his getting entan
gled with the flag that decorated the presi
dent's box. Arnold was originally in the
plot, but quarreled, and left it. Booth was
but twenty-seven years old at the time of
his crime, by profession an actor, long
known for his dissipated habits, and for his
ardent devotion to the southern cause.
He was born in Harford county, Md., his
father being the once celebrated actor,
Junius Brutus Booth, and his brother
being Edwin Booth, also famous on the
stage. Immediately after the murder, Colonel
Baker, of the detective service, set out to
find Booth's hiding-place. He soon suc
ceeded in capturing Atzerodt and Mudd.
A negro was then arrested, who said he
had seen Booth and another man cross the
Potomac in a fishing boat. Colonel Baker
sent to General Hancock for twenty-five

884

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

mounted men to aid him in the pursuit.
These were sent under Lieutenant Dough
erty, and Baker placed them under the
control of Lieutenant-Colonel Conger, and
of his cousin, Lieutenant L. B. Baker, and
dispatched them to Belle Plain, with
orders to scour the country about Port
Royal. At Port Royal they found one Rollins,
a fisherman, who referred them to a negro
named Lucas as having driven two men a
short distance toward Bowling Green, in a
wagon. These men perfectly answered
the description of Booth and Harold.
Some disbanded men, it was learned, be
longing to Mosby's command, took Booth
under their protection on the way to
Bowling Green, a small court-house town
in Caroline county. To that place, Baker
and his party immediately proceeded, and
there found the captain of the confederate
cavalry, from whom they extorted a state
ment of Booth's whereabouts ; this was at
the house of a Mr. Garrett, which they had
already passed.
Returning with the captain for a guide,
the worn-out command halted at Garrett's
gate, at two o'clock on the morning of
April 26th. Without noise, the house
was surrounded, and Baker went up to
the kitchen door at the side, and rapped.
An old man in half undress undrew the
bolts, and had scarcely opened the door
before Baker had him by the throat with
a pistol at his ear, and asked, " Where are
the men who stay with you?" Under
the menace of instant death, the old man
seemed paralyzed, but at Baker's order lit
a candle. The question was then repeated.
"They are gone," replied the old man.
Soon a young boy appeared, and told
Baker the men he sought were in the
barn. The barn was then surrounded.
Baker and Conger went to the door. The
former called out, signifying his intention
to have a surrender on the part of tbe men
inside, or else to fire the barn, and shoot
them on the spot. The young boy was
sent in to receive their arms. To the
boy's message Booth answered with a
curse, accusing the boy of having betrayed

him. The boy then came out, and Baker
repeated his demand, giving Booth five
minutes to make up his mind. Booth
replied —
" Who are you, and what do you want
with us ? "
" We want you to deliver up your arms
and become our prisoners," said Baker.
" But who are you ? "
" That makes no difference. We know
who you are, and we want you. We have
here fifty men with carbines and pistols.
You cannot escape."
" Captain," said Booth, after a pause,
" this is a hard case, I swear. Perhaps I
am being taken by my own friends.''
He then asked time to consider, which
was granted. After a little interval,
Baker threatened to fire the barn, if they
did not come out. Booth replied that he
was a cripple, and begged a chance for his
life, declaring that he would fight them
all at so many yards apace, and that he
would never be taken alive. Baker an
swered that he did not come there to fight
but to capture him, and again threatened
to fire the barn.
"Well, then, my brave boys," said
Booth, " prepare a stretcher for me."
Harold now wanted to surrender, and,
in the midst of a shower of imprecations
from Booth, did so. Conger then set fire
to the barn.
The blaze lit up the black recesses of
the great barn till every wasp's nest and
every cobweb in the roof was visible, fling
ing streaks of red and violet across the
tumbled farm-gear in the corner, and bath
ing the murderer's retreat in a vivid illu
mination, — and, while in bold outline his
figure stood revealed, they rose like an
impenetrable wall to guard from sight the
dreadful enemy who lit them. Behind the
blaze, with his eye to a crack, Conger saw
Wilkes Booth standing upright upon a
crutch. At the gleam of fire, Booth
dropped his crutch and carbine, and on
both hands crept up to the spot to espy
the incendiary and shoot him dead. His
eyes were" lustrous as with fever, and
swelled and rolled in terrible anxiety,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

885

while his teeth were fixed, and he wore
the expression of one in the calmness pre
ceding frenzy. In vain he peered, with
vengeance in his look; the blaze that
made him visible concealed his pursuers.
A second he turned glaring at tbe fire, as
if to leap upon and extinguish it, but tbe
flames had made such headway that this
was a futile impulse, and he dismissed it.
As calmly as upon the battle-field a vet-

bett fired through a crevice and shot Booth
in the neck.
They then took up the wounded man
and carried him out on the grass, a little
way from the door, beneath a locust tree.
Conger went back to the barn, to see if
the fire could be put out, but found it
could not, and returned to where Booth
was lying. Before this (says Lieutenant
Conger, in his official account), I supposed

BURIAL PLACE OF LINCOLN.

eran stands amidst the hail of ball and
shell and plunging iron, Booth turned at
a man's stride and pushed for the door,
weapon in poise, and the last resolve of
death — despair — set on his high, bloodless
forehead. At this instant, Sergeant Boston Cor-

him to be dead ; he had all the appearance
of a dead man ; but when I came back, his
eyes and mouth were moving. I called
immediately for water, and put some on
his face. He seemed to revive, and at
tempted to speak. I put my ear down to
his mouth, and heard him say, "Tell my

886

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

mother I died for my country." I re
peated the words to him, and said, "Is
that what you would say?" He said
" Yes." They carried him to the porch of
Garrett's house, and laid him on a straw
bed or tick. At that time he revived con
siderably, and could talk in a whisper, so
as to be intelligibly understood. He could
not speak above a whisper. He wanted
water ; I gave it to him. He wanted to
turn on his face ; I said he couldn't lie in
that position. He wanted to be turned on
his side ; we turned him on his side three
times, but he could not lie with any com
fort, and asked immediately to be turned
back. He asked me to put my hand on
his throat, and press down, which I did.
He said " Harder ; " I pressed as hard as
I thought necessary. He made a very
strong exertion to cough, but was unable
to do so. I suppose he thought there was
blood in his throat. I asked him to put
out his tongue, which he did. I said,
"There-is no blood in your throat." He
repeated several times, "Kill me! kill
me ! " I replied, " I do not want to kill
you. I want you to get well."
When the dootor arrived, whom Conger
had sent for, Booth asked to have his
hands raised and shown him. When this
was done, he muttered " Useless, useless ! "
These were his last words. He died about
four hours after being shot.
The solemn trial of the other accom
plices in this great crime of conspiracy
and murder, soon took place in the city of
Washington, before a military commission
consisting of Generals Hunter, Howe,
Harris, Wallace, Kautz, Foster, Ekin ;
Colonels Clendenin, Tompkins, and Bur
nett; Judges Bingham and Holt. The
last named held the position of Judge-
Advocate-General of tbe court, and Major-
General Hunter officiated as president.
The charges upon which Payne was
arrested and tried were, that he was a
confederate of Booth in the general con
spiracy to kill the president, vice-president,
General Grant, and Secretary Seward, so
as thus to deprive the army and navy of a
constitutional commander-in-chief, and to

prevent a lawful election of president and
vice-president by the vacancy thus made
in the office of secretary of state, — the duty
of the latter officer being, in case of the
death of the president and vice-president,
to cause an election to be held for presi
dential electors. The arraignment of all
the parties was upon this general charge,
with specifications in each case.
Against Payne, the specification was
that of attempting to kill Secretary Sew
ard. Presenting himself at the door of
Mr. Seward's residence, he gained admis
sion by representing that he had a pre
scription from Mr. Seward's physician,
which he was directed to see administered,
and hurried up to the third-story chamber,
where Mr. Seward was lying sick. He
here discovered Mr. Frederick Seward,
struck him over the head, inflicting severe
wounds, and then rushed into the room
where Mr. Seward was in bed, attended by
a young daughter and a male nurse. The
assassin stabbed the latter in the lungs,
and then struck Secretary Seward with a
dagger twice in the face and twice in the
throat, inflicting terrible wounds. By this
time Major Seward, eldest son of the sec
retary, and another attendant, reached the
room, and rushed to the rescue of the sec
retary ; they were also wounded in the
conflict, and the assassin escaped.
Spangler, who was employed at the the
ater, was tried for aiding and assisting
Booth to obtain an entrance to the box in
which President Lincoln sat in the thea
ter, and for barring or obstructing the
door of the passage-way, so as to hinder
pursuit. Atzerodt was charged with lying in wait
to murder Vice-President Johnson, at the
Kirkwood House, where the latter was
stopping. He took a room at that house,
on the morning of April 14th, and was
there at different times during the day and
evening, under suspicious circumstances.
Though in active co-operation with Booth
and his accomplices, he failed in executing
the part particularly delegated to him.
In the further programme of the great
conspiracy, O'Laughlin was to take the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

887

life of General Grant, and on this charge
and specification he was indicted and tried,
though he failed, like Atzerodt, to accom
plish the bloody deed.
Mrs. Surratt was charged with having
"on or before the sixth day of March,
1865, and on divers other days and times
between that day and the twentieth of-
April, 1865, received, entertained, har
bored and concealed, aided and assisted "
the conspirators in the execution of their
plans. She was charged with being cog
nizant of the intended crime almost from
its inception, becoming an active partici
pant and general manager. With Doctor
Mudd, it was charged, she planned the
means and assistance for the escape of the
assassins, and visited Mudd at five o'clock
on the day of the assassination, to see that
certain weapons were in readiness. Booth
had frequent interviews at her house,
and was with her on the afternoon -of the
fourteenth. The part taken by Doctor Mudd, in the
tragedy, was described in the indictment
as that of an accomplice. He was, it ap
peared, in the confidence of Booth several
months prior to the assassination. In
January, he had an interview with John
H. Surratt and Booth, at the National
Hotel. He introduced Booth to Surratt,
and was visited by Booth at the Pennsyl
vania House. When the assassins fled to
his house, he dressed Booth's wound and
assisted in the escape of both Booth and
Harold. When the officers called at his

house, soon after the assassination, he
denied that he knew either of the crimin
als, but subsequently, after his arrest, he
admitted the fact of his acquaintance with
Booth; both of the fugitives were well
cared for by him at his house.
Arnold was tried for being one of the
original conspirators, but it was not
charged that he maintained any active
relation to the plot at the time appointed
for its execution. His guilt consisted in
being an accomplice before the act.
Harold's complicity admitted, of course,
of no doubt. On the night of the assas
sination be was seen at the livery stable
with Booth, and on various occasions he
was known to have held secret meetings
with Booth, Atzerodt, and others of the
conspiracy, at Mrs. Surratt's and else
where. During his flight with Booth, he
acknowledged to confederate soldiers that
he and Booth had made way with the
president. Atzerodt, Harold, Payne, and Mrs. Sur
ratt, were found guilty of crimes deserving
death, and were hanged therefor on the
seventh of July, 1865. Arnold, O'Laugh
lin, and Mudd, were sent to the Dry Tor-
tugas for hard labor during life ; and
Spangler for six years of hard labor, at the
same place. John H. Surratt, son of Mrs.
Surratt above named, and who was also
indicted, fled to Europe ; being discovered,
he was arrested and sent to Washington,
but, after a protracted trial by jury, es
caped conviction.

cm.
SUCCESSFUL LAYING OF THE TELEGRAPH CABLE
ACROSS THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.— 1866.

The Old World and the New United by Instantaneous Communication. — Pronounced the Grandest of
Human Enterprises — Ten Years of Difficulty and Failure in the Mighty Task — The Name of Its
Indomitable Projector Crowned with Immortal Honor — Illustrations of the Power and Wonders of
this New-Born Agent of Civilization. — Ocean Telegraphs Early Predicted — First Attempt in 1857. —
Breaking of the Wire — Fresh but Abortive Trials in '58 and '65. — Great Preparations for 1866. —
Exquisite Construction ofthe Cable — A Wealthy and Powerful Company. — Cyrus W. Field, Its Mas
ter Spirit. — Employ ment of the Great Eastern. — Laying the Shore End at Valentia. — Rejoicing of the
Inhabitants — Voyage of the Fleet to America. — Incidents and Accidents. — Intense Solicitude, Day
and Night. — A Joyous Morning! July 27th. — Perfect Success from End te End. — First News Dispatch,
Peace in Europe. — Messages Between the President and Queen. — Compliments to Mr. Field. — Hi*
Interview with Lord Clarendon — John Bright's Sparkling Tribute. — Moral Uses ofthe Cable.

"Heart's Content, July 27th. We arrived here at nine o'clock, this morning. All well. Thank God, the cable is laid, and ia In perfttt
working order.— Cyrus V\. Field."

SECTION OF THE ATLANTIC CABLE.

NNECESSARY would be the task of detailing, in thie
place, — additional to those pages already devoted to Pro
fessor Morse's grand discovery, and its practical appli
cation the world wide, — the technical principles and
operations involved in the science of telegraphic com
munication. It was early declared by Professor Morse, and by other
distinguished investigators of the nature and powers of
the electric current, that neither the ocean itself, nor the distance to be traversed, pre
sented any insuperable obstacle to the laying of submerged oceanic lines from conti
nent to continent, and the confident prophecy that such lines would eventually be
undertaken was freely uttered and discussed in learned circles.
It was not, however, until the year 1857, that an attempt was made to stretch a tele
graphic wire across the bed of the Atlantic. The cable was coiled half on board the
United States steamship Niagara, and half on the British steamer Agamemnon. They
began to lay it in mid-ocean on the 26th of June, the Niagara proceeding toward the
American coast, the Agamemnon toward Ireland. After the wire had three times
broken, the attempt was given up. The following August it was renewed on a different
plan. The shore-end was made fast at Valentia Bay, and the Niagara began paying
out on the seventh, the arrangement being that tbe Agamemnon should begin opera
tions when the Niagara had exhausted her half of the' cable. On the eleventh, after
three hundred and thirty-five miles had been laid, the wire broke again. The third
attempt was made with the same vessels in 1858. The ends of the cable were joined

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

889

in mid-ocean, July 29th, and, August 6th,
the two vessels arrived simultaneously at
their respective destinations. This cable
worked for a time, but the electric current
grew weak and finally failed altogether.
But these repeated failures, though a
severe disappointment to those engaged in
the great and costly enterprise, did not
destroy their faith in its feasibility, and
the mighty task was begun anew, advan
tage heing taken of whatever instruction
past experience could furnish or suggest.
Especial care had, it is true, been exer
cised in the previous undertaking, to have
the construction of the cable itself as per
fect as possible. It was the result of
many months' thought, experiment, and
trial. Hundreds of specimens were made,
comprising every variety of form, size, and
structure, and most severely tested as to
their powers and capabilities ; and the
result was the adoption of one which, it
was believed, possessed all the properties
required, in a far higher degree than any
cable that had yet been laid. Its flexibil
ity was such as to make it as manageable
as a small line, and its strength such that
it would bear, in water, over six miles of
its own weight suspended vertically. The
conducting medium consisted not of one
single straight copper wire, but of seven
wires of copper of the best quality, twisted
round each other spirally, and capable of
undergoing great tension without injury.
This conductor was then enveloped in
three separate coverings of gutta percha,
of the best quality, forming the core of
the cable, round which tarred hemp was
wrapped, and over this, the outside cover
ing, consisting of eighteen strands of the
best quality of iron wire, — each strand
composed of seven distinct wires, twisted
spirally, in the most approved manner, by
machinery specially adapted to the pur
pose. Such was the exquisitely constructed
cable used on this occasion.
Great attention was also paid to the
arrangement of the apparatus for paying
°ut- The machine for this purpose was
Placed on deck in the after-part of the
vessel, and somewhat on the starboard side,

to be clear of the mast, etc. The cable, as
it came up from its enormous coils in the
hold, passed first tlirough a guiding groove
and over a deeply grooved wheel, on to the
drums, each of the latter being furnished
with four deep grooves, each groove being
cut one-eighth of an inch deeper than the
former to allow for slack. The cable, after
winding round these drums, passed on
from the last groove over another guiding
wheel, to a distinct piece of machinery,
also standing on the deck, and half-way
between the brakes and the ship's stern.
Here a grooved wheel worked on a sliding
frame, furnished with weights fixed on a
rod, which ended in a piston, inside of a
cylinder, full of water. This piston, being
made not quite large enough to fit the
cylinder, the water had room to play about
it, but with difficulty — so that, yielding
freely to every alteration of pressure, it
could do so to none with a jerk, as the
piston required some little time to dislodge
the water from one side of it to the other, it
acting, in short, as a water cushion. Prom
this last piece of machinery the cable
passed over a wheel or sheave projecting
well over the stern of the ship, and so
down into the ocean depths.
So intelligent and powerful an associa
tion as that which had this great enter
prise in charge — an association composed
of some of the leading merchants and cap
italists of England and America, guided
by the wonderful genius of Mr. Cyrus W.
Field, — might well be supposed incapable
of yielding to defeat, and thus it was that,
until success finally and beyond all perad-
venture crowned their efforts, they con
tinued their tests and trials of improved
machinery and cables, availing themselves
of every resource of science, and even
bringing into requisition, at last, the mag
nificent conveniences of conveyance af
forded by that " leviathan of the deep," the
steamer Great Eastern.
In this way, certain facts and principles
were arrived at, and demonstrated by trials
and expeditions conducted in accordance
therewith, which showed plainly what had
been the errors of the past, and what

890

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

should be the governing rules of future
operations. Among these facts and princi
ples were the following :
It was proved by the expedition of 1858,
that a submarine telegraph cable could be
laid between Ireland and Newfoundland,
and messages transmitted.
By the expedition of 1865 — when the
cable was lost — it was demonstrated that
the insulation of a cable improves very
much after its submersion in the cold
deep water of the Atlantic, and that its
conducting power is considerably increased
thereby ; that the steamship Great East
ern, from her size and constant steadiness,
and from the control over her afforded by
tbe joint use of paddles and screw, ren
dered it safe to lay an Atlantic cable in
any weather ; that in a depth of over two
miles, four attempts were made to grapple
the lost cable, in three of which the cable
was caught by the grapnel, and in the
other the grapnel was fouled by the
chain attached to it ; that the paying-
out machinery used on board the Great
Eastern worked perfectly, and could be
confidently relied on for laying cables
across the Atlantic ; that with the im
proved telegraphic instruments for long
submarine lines, a speed of more than
eight words per minute could be obtained
through such a cable as that sunk between
Ireland and Newfoundland, as the amount
of slack actually paid out did not exceed
fourteen per cent., which would have made
the total cable laid between Valentia and
Heart's Content nineteen hundred miles ;
that the lost Atlantic cable, though capa
ble of bearing a strain of seven tons, did
not experience more than fourteen hun
dred-weight in being paid out into the
deepest water of the Atlantic between
Ireland and Newfoundland ; that there was
no difficulty in mooring buoys in the deep
waters of the Atlantic between Ireland
and Newfoundland, and that two buoys
even, when moored by a piece of the
Atlantic cable itself, which had been pre
viously lifted from the bottom, had ridden
out a gale; that more than four nautical
miles of the Atlantic cable had been

recovered from a, depth of over two miles,
and that the insulation of the gutta
percha covered wire was in no way what
ever impaired by the depth of water
or the strains to which it had been sub
jected by lifting and passing through
the hauling-in apparatus ; that the cable
of 1865, owing to the improvements in
troduced into the manufacture of the
gutta percha core, was more than one
hundred times better insulated than cables
made in 1858, then considered perfect;
that the electrical testing could be con
ducted with such unerring certainty as to
enable the electricians to discover the

4iT^uc&b

existence of a fault immediately after its
production or development, and very
quickly to ascertain its position in the
cable; and, finally, that with a steam-
engine attached to the paying-out ma
chinery, should a fault be discovered on
board whilst laying the cable, it was
possible to recover it before it had reached
the bottom of the ocean, and have it
repaired at once.
Still led on by that master-spirit of the
enterprise, Mr. Eield, its friends formed
themselves into a new company, with a
large amount of capital, and the summer of
1866 was fixed upon for another effort, the
Great Eastern to be employed for the pur-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

891

pose. By the time (says Dr. H. M. Field,
the admirable historian of the enterprise,)
the big ship had her cargo and stores on
board, she was well laden. Of the cable
alone there were two thousand four hun
dred miles, coiled in three immense tanks,
as the year before. Of this, seven hun
dred and forty-eight miles were a part of
the cable of the last expedition. The
tanks alone, with the water in them,
weighed over a thousand tons ; and the
cable which they held, four thousand tons
more ; besides which she had to carry
eight thousand five hundred tons of coal
and five hundred tons of telegraph stores
— in all some fourteen thousand tons,
besides engines, rigging, etc., which made
nearly as much more. So enormous was
this burden, that it was thought prudent
not to take on board all her coal before
she left the Med way, especially as the
channel was winding and shallow. It
was therefore arranged that about a third
of her coal should be taken in at Bere
haven, a port on the south-west coast of
Ireland. The time for her departure, was
the last day of June ; and in four or five
days she had passed down the Irish coast,
and was quietly anchored in the harbor at
Berehaven, where she was soon joined by
the other vessels of the squadron. The
Terrible, which had accompanied the Great
Eastern on the former expedition, was still
there to represent the majesty of England.
The William Corry, a vessel of two thou
sand tons, bore the ponderous shore end,
which was to be laid out thirty miles from
the Irish coast, while the Albany and the
Med way were ships chartered by tbe com
pany. While the Great Eastern remained
at Berehaven, to take in her final stores of
coal, the William Corry proceeded around
the coast to Valentia, to lay tbe shore
end. She arrived off the harbor, July
7th, and immediately prepared for her
heavy task. This shore end was of tre
mendous size, weighing over eight tons to
the mile. The cable was to be brought
off on a bridge of boats, reaching from the
ship to the foot of the cliff. All the fish
ermen's boats were gathered from along

the shore, while the British war-ship
Racoon, which was guarding that part of
the coast, sent up her boats to help, so
that, as they all mustered in line, there
were forty of them, making a long pon
toon-bridge ; and Irish boatmen with eager
looks and strong hands were standing
along the line to grasp the massive chain.
All went well, and by one o'clock the cable
was landed, and its end brought up the
cliff to the station. The signals were
found to be perfect, and the William Corry
then slowly drew off to sea, unlimbering
her stiff shore end, till she had cast over
tbe whole thirty miles. At three o'clock,
the next morning, she telegraphed through
the cable that her work was done, and she
had buoyed the end in water a hundred
fathoms deep.
The joy of the inhabitants on witness
ing this scene was earnest and deep-seated,
rather than demonstrative, after the les
son taught by last year's experience. The
excitement was below, instead of above
the surface. Nothing could prevent the
scene being intensely dramatic, but the
prevailing tone of the drama was serious,
instead of boisterous and triumphant.
Speech-making, hurrahing, public congrat
ulations, and vaunts of confidence, were,
as it seemed, avoided as if on purpose.
The old crones (says an English paper) in
tattered garments who cowered together,
dudheen in mouth, their gaudy colored
shawls tightly drawn over head and under
the chin — the barefooted boys and girls,
who by long practice walked over sharp
and jagged rocks, which cut up boots and
shoes, with perfect impunity — the men at
work uncovering the trench, and winding
in single file up and down the hazardous
path cut by the cablemen in the otherwise
inaccessible rock — the patches of bright
color furnished by the red petticoats and
cloaks — the ragged garments, only kept
from falling to pieces by bits of string and
tape — the good old parish priest, who exer
cises mild and gentle spiritual sway over
the loving subjects of whom the ever-pop
ular Knight of Kerry is the temporal
head, looking on benignly from his car —

892

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the bright eyes, supple figures, and inno
cent faces of the peasant lasses, and the
earnestly hopeful expression of all — made
up a picture not easily described.
Ou the thirteenth of July, the fleet was
ready to sail on its great errand, and lay
the cable in the heart of the wide and
deep ocean. Previously to the departure,
however, a devotional meeting was held,
participated in by the company, the offi
cers and hands, at which the enterprise
was solemnly commended to the favor of
God. In a short time after leaving the
shores of Ireland, the Medway reached the
buoy to which the shore-end was attached,
and immediately the operation of splicing
that end with the main coil on board the
Great Eastern was performed.
At about three o'clock, p. m., the tele
graph fleet was on its way to Newfound
land, in the following order : The Terri
ble ahead of the Great Eastern on the
starboard bow, the Medway on the port,
and the Albany on the starboard quarter.
The weather was thick and foggy, with
heavy rains. Signals were sent through
the cable on board of the Great Eastern
and to the telegraph house at Valentia,
and the two thousand four hundred and
forty nautical miles were found perfect in
condition, and only waiting their final
destination in the vast womb of the ocean.
All went well until noon of July 18th,
when the first real shock was given to the
success that had hitherto attended them,
and caused considerable alarm. A foul
flake took place in the after-tank. The
engine was immediately turned astern,
and the paying of the cable stopped. All
hands were soon on the decks, and there
learned, to their dismay, that the running
and paying out of the coil had caught
three turns of the flake immediately under
it, carried them into the eye of the coil,
fouling the toy-out and hauling up one-
half turns from the outside, and five turns
of the eye of the under flakes. This was
stopped, fortunately, before entering the
paying-out machines ; stoppers of hemp
with chains were also put on near the
wheel astern, and orders were given by

Mr. Canning, to stand by to let go the
buoy. This was not very cheering to
hear ; but, though the calm and collected
man inspired those around him with con
fidence that his skill and experience would
extricate the cable from the danger in
which it was placed, no fishing line was
ever entangled more than the rope when
thrust up in apparently hopeless danger
from the eye of the cable to the deck.
There were at least five thousand feet
of rope lying in this state, and in the
midst of thick rain and increasing wind,
the cable crew set to work to disentangle
it. The Dolphin was there, too, patiently
following the lights as they showed them
selves, the crew now passing them forward
and now aft, until at last the character of
the tangle was seen, and soon it became
apparent that ere long the cable would be
saved and uninjured down to the tank.
Captain Anderson was at the taffrail, anx
iously watching the strain on the rope
(they could scarcely make it out, the night
was so dark), endeavoring to keep it up
and down, going on raising with paddle
and screw. In view of the rise of the
great ship, and the enormous mass she
presented to the wind, the difficulty of
keeping her stern, under the circum
stances, over the cable, can be appreci
ated. The port paddle-wheel was discon
nected, but afterward there was a shift
of wind, and the vessel came-to the wrong
way. Welcome voices were now heard passing
the word aft from the tank, that the
bights were cleared, and to pay out. Then
the huge stoppers were quietly opened,
and at 2 : 05 a. m., to the joy of all, the
cable was once more being discharged.
They veered it away in the tank to clear
the screw, and the paddle-engines were
slowed so as to reduce the speed of the
ship to four and a half knots. During all
this critical time, there was entire absence
of noise and confusion. Everything was
silently done, and the cable men and crew
worked with hearty good will.
On tbe morning of Friday, at eight
o'clock, July 27th, the ship arrived at

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

893

Heart's Content, the American terminus,
the distance run being one thousand six
hundred and sixty-nine miles, and the
length of cable paid out, one thousand
eight hundred and four miles. The aver
age speed of the ship from the time the
splice was made until they came in sight
of land was a little less than five nautical
miles per hour, and the cable was paid out
at an average of five and one-half miles
per hour. The total slack was less than
twelve per cent. The fleet was in con
stant communication with Valentia since
the splice was made, July 13th, and
news was daily received from Europe,
which was posted up outside of the tele
graph office, for the information of all on
board of the Great Eastern, and was sig
naled to the other ships. It would be
difficult to describe the feelings with which
Mr. Field, who, with his associates on
board, had watched the progress of the
undertaking with intense solicitude, day
and night, — penned the following an
nouncement to his friends in New York,
and which was received throughout the
whole land with unbounded delight : —
"Heart's Content, July 27. We
arrived here at nine o'clock, this morning.
All well. Thank God, the cable is laid,
and is in perfect working order.
Ctkus W. Field."
Strangely and happily enough, too, the
first European tidings flashed across the
cable to the western hemisphere, was, that
a treaty of peace had just been signed
between Austria and Prussia, and that
the black war cloud which had gathered
over all Europe was fast fleeing away ; — a
fit celebration of the grandest of human
enterprises, the successful establishment of
telegraphic communication between the
Old world and the New.
Congratulatory dispatches were immedi
ately forwarded, by Mr. Field, to the pres
ident of the United States, the secretary
of state, and to the honorary directors of
the Atlantic Telegraph Company. The
feen of England sent her salutations to
the president, as follows : " The Queen

congratulates the President on the suc
cessful completion of an undertaking which
she hopes may serve as an additional bond
of union between the United States and
England." To this, the president re
sponded by saying: "The President of
the United States acknowledges with pro
found gratification the receipt of Her
Majesty's dispatch, and cordially recipro
cates the hope that the cable which now
unites the eastern and western hemi
spheres may serve to strengthen and to
perpetuate peace and amity between the
Government of England and the Republic
of the United States."
Heart's Content, the American terminus
of the cable, is a little fishing hamlet,
hitherto unknown, but destined to an en
during reputation hereafter, as one of the
most interesting geographical points in
the history of the age. The bay on which
it is situated is a very safe and capacious
one, and on this account was selected.
Among the complimentary messages
sent to Mr. Field, on the consummation of
his great and magnificent scheme, was one
which came to hand on Monday, July
30th, from M. de Lesseps, the renowned
projector of the Suez Canal. It was
dated in Alexandria, Egypt, the same day,
at half-past one o'clock, p. m., and reached
Newfoundland at half-past ten, A. M. By
looking at the globe, one can see over
what a space that message flew. Remark
ing upon the wonderful fact, a New York
paper graphically said that it came from the
farthest East, from the land of the Pha
raohs and Ptolemies ; it passed along the
shores of Africa, and under the Mediter
ranean, more than a thousand miles, to
Malta ; thence it leaped to the continent,
and shot across Italy, and over the Alps,
and then through France, under the Chan
nel, to London ; then across England and
Ireland, till from the cliffs of Valentia it
struck straight into the Atlantic, darting
down the submarine mountain which lies
off the coast, and over all the hills and
valleys of the watery plain, resting not
till it touched the shore of the New World.
Thus, in its morning's flight, it had passed

894

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

AERIVAL OF THE GREAT EASTERN AT HEART'S CONTENT, WITH THE ATLANTIC CABLE.

over one-fourth of the earth's surface,
and so far outstripped the sun in his
course, that, by the dial, it reached its
destination three hours before it was sent !
Curiously enough, too, in this latter con
nection, it was found, when considering
the propriety of not sending messages on
Sunday, that, supposing no delay in trans
mission, Sunday in the United States is
Saturday in Calcutta, and thus the adop
tion of such a rule would be — working east
ward and westward — to exclude Saturday,
Sunday, and Monday, from telegraph
operations. As illustrating the moral uses, too, sub
served by land and ocean telegraph lines
connecting different countries and conti
nents, the following case, given in a New
York journal — by no means an extreme
case in this present day of increased tele
graphic facilities — will be found in point :
A knavish Chinaman in California having
contracted the barbarian vice of swindling,
bas been cheating sundry merchants in
San Francisco out of eighteen thousand
dollars, and, getting on board the Pacific
Mail steamship, fled to the Central Flowery
Kingdom. In this way he hoped to put
between himself and those whom he had
robbed, first, some ten thousand miles of
ocean. But, a telegram from San Fran
cisco bears the tidings of his crime to New
York. New York sends it by cable across
the Atlantic to London, London through

France and under the Mediterranean to
Alexandria, Alexandria by the Red Sea
and Persian Gulf to Bombay, Bombay to
Ceylon, and Ceylon by the Peninsula and
Oriental steamers to China. So that,
when Hong-Kee trips lightly down the
ship's gangway at Hong Kong or Shang
hai, dreaming of much opium and many
almond-eyed daughters of the Sun in the
Land of Flowers, his placid soul will he
disconcerted by the tap of a bamboo on
his shoulder, and a voice of doom will
murmur an ungentle summons in his ear.
Poor Hong-Kee ! The bad morals of the
Christians have corrupted him, and in the
steam-engine of the Christians has he put
his trust. But the literal 'chain-light
ning' of those same Christians is after
him, to outstrip their steam-engine, and to
teach him in sorrow and in shame how
much better he might have done.
Not less curious, in a scientific point of
view, is the following incident, as related
by Mr. Field, at tbe magnificent banquet
given in his honor, in New York, on the
triumphant completion of what has justly
been pronounced the grandest of human
enterprises. " The other day," said Mr.
Field, in his speech on this occasion, " Mr.
Lattimer Clark telegraphed from Ireland,
across the ocean and back again, with a
battery formed in a lady's thimble ! And
now Mr. Collett writes me from Heart's
Content : " I have just sent my compli-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

895

ments to Doctor Gould, of Cambridge,
who is at Valentia, with a battery com
posed of a gun cap, with a strip of zinc,
excited by a drop of water, the simple bulk
of a tear!'"
Too great credit can never be awarded
to Mr. Field, for his persevering devotion
to this enterprise, through ten years of
disheartening failure. In the early stages
of the enterprise, few encouraged him in
his expectations, though all personally
wished him well. On preparing, there
fore, for one of his trips across the Atlan
tic, in connection with the business, one
of his friends said to him, " When shall
we see you again ? " " Not until I have
laid the cable ! " was Mr. Field's reply.
So, too, on presenting the subject to
Lord Clarendon. The latter showed
great interest and made many inquiries,
but was rather startled at the mag
nitude of the proposed scheme, as well

as at the confident tone of the projec
tors, and pleasantly asked the lion-hearted
man —
" But, suppose you don't succeed ? Sup
pose you make the attempt and fail — your
cable is lost in the sea — then what will
you do ? "
" Charge it to profit and loss, and go to
work to lay another," was Mr. Field's quick
and characteristic response to his noble
friend. On another occasion, when dining at
the residence of Mr. Adams, the Ameri
can ambassador, in London, he was seen
for an instant to nod his head. John
Bright, who sat next to him, turned to
him with a smile, and said, " I am glad to
see you sleep ; I didn't know that you ever
slept ! " — a most pertinent and deserved
tribute to the man whose indomitable faith
and energy was finally crowned with im
mortal success.

CIV.
COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD.— 1869.

Spikes ofthe Richest Gold and a Hammer of Pure Silver Used in Laying the Last Rail. — The Blows
ofthe Sledge Telegraphed to All the Great Cities. — The Wide Continent Spanned with Iron from the
Farthest East to the Golden Gate. — Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. — Seven Days trom
New York to San Francisco. — Greatest Railroad Route on the Face of the Earth. — "Manifest Des
tiny" of the United States. — A Pacific Highway Agitated for Years. — Its National Importance and
Necessity. — Charters and Government Aid at Last. — The " Union " and "Central" Companies. —
Natural Difficulties to be Overcome. — Feats of Engineering Involved. — Triumphs of Science in this
Respect. — Mountains Tunneled, Rivers Bridged. — Gulfs Spanned, Depths Fathomed. — Vastness and
Progress of the Work. — A Force of Twenty-five Thousand Men and Six Thousand Teams — First
Train at the Top of the Sierras. — Pushing the Line to Completion. — Approach of the Two Grand
Divisions. — Union at Promontory Point, Utah. — Exultation Over the Victory. — Historic Scene in the
Heart of America. — Offerings of Gold, Silver, Iron, and Laurel. — Telegram to President Grant. — Cel
ebration in the Principal Cities. — Easy Journey Around the World.

"The lost rail is laid— the last spike driven— the Pacific Railroad is completed! "—Official Telegram from Pkomontokt Poikt,
October 10th, 1869

MOUNTAIN SCENE ON THE PACIFIC RAILROAD.

ELIEVEES in the "manifest destiny"
of the universa] Yankee nation were fa
vored with one of the most conclusive and
gratifying confirmations of their cherished
theory, when that most stupendous work
ever undertaken by man, the Construction
of the Pacific Railway, was finally consum
mated by the laying of the last rail and the
memorable ceremony performed by officials
of clasping together the iron girdle about
the loins of the nation ; — in the winding of
which mighty coil across the continent,
mountains were tunneled which made
one's head giddy to gaze upon ; rivers were
bridged which, since the primeval days of
creation, had rolled in majestic solitude;
gulfs, frightful and tumultuous, were
spanned ; frowning heights were climbed
and leveled ; and abyssmal depths were
fathomed. And all this was accomplished
in a period of time, and on a scale of mag
nitude, the recital of which is fairly calcu
lated to stagger credulity.
Notwithstanding the necessity of such a
line of communication had for years been

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

897

repeatedly urged, it was not until 1859
that a bill was carried through congress,
authorizing the grand scheme. This bill,
 according to the Chicago Times' exhaust
ive account of the history of the enter
prise, which is here abridged, — comprised
no less than three great lines, namely, the
northern, the southern, and the central.
But the breaking out of the civil war
checked the enterprise. The astonishing
development, however, of the precious
metals in Nevada and the travel and traf
fic that inevitably followed, embodied for
the mines of Californians that imperious
need of a cheaper and easier conveyance,
into a plan of a continental railway, which
had always been popular there.
The assumed impracticability of cross
ing the Sierras did not discourage a few
daring, far-sighted engineers, prominent
among whom was Mr. T. P. Benjamin,
the character of whose surveys decided
the state legislature to charter the Cen
tral Pacific railroad company, in 1862.
In a short time, success crowned the ef
forts of the friends of the enterprise in
congress; and so, in July, 1862, the great
continental railway from the Missouri to
the Pacific was an assured undertaking.
In 1865, forty miles were built ; in 1866,
two hundred and sixty-five miles ; in
1867, two hundred and forty-five miles ;
in 1868, four hundred and twenty-five
miles; in 1869, one hundred and five
miles. East of Salt Lake City, the eleva
tion of the road averages about seven thou
sand feet above the sea. Most of the coun
try is very rough, destitute of wood and
water, and a large portion of the way is
through an alkali desert. Tremendous
snow-storms in the mountains presented
another great difficulty.
The spirit of rivalry did its share in
stimulating the activity of the Union
Pacific company. The efforts of this com
pany had so far languished during the ear
lier history of their corporation, that little
was done till after the close of the war.
Ihe Central Pacific, however, immediately
commenced work, so that, in January,
">63, the first grading was done, — the
57

occasion being signalized with great re
joicing as a general holiday, — and, even so
early as June, 1864, thirty-one miles of
track had been laid to New Castle, nearly
one thousand feet above the sea at the
foot of the Sierras. But, owing to finan
cial difficulties, it was not until September,
1866, that progress was made to Alta, sev
enty miles east of Sacramento, and nearly
six thousand feet above the sea. In No
vember following, the track reached Cisco
some six thousand feet above the sea, an
average elevation of about one hundred
feet per mile being overcome in twenty-
three miles.
Work on the Union Pacific did not
commence till eighteen months after the
Central had inaugurated their section of
the enterprise. In the spring of 1867,
when the snows had melted, the work was
resumed by both companies, with great
vigor, the race being kept up with an
ardor that constantly gathered head. The
Union was far ahead in respect to dis
tance, but they had to fight against con
tinually increasing difficulties, while the
Central had already overcome the great
ones of their undertaking in crossing the
Sierras, and could look forward to an open
and easy route. The first passenger train
reached the top of the Sierras, November
30, 1867. By tbe time the western end
of the route had reached the lower
Truckee, one hundred and forty miles
east of Sacramento, the Union had reached
a point in the Black Hills, five hundred
miles west of Omaha.
At the opening of the summer of 1868,
the two companies were nearly equally
distant from Monument Point, at the
head of Salt Lake, and the emulation be
tween the two gave rise to prodigious ef
forts. About twenty-five thousand men
and six thousand teams were engaged
along the route between the foot of the
Sierras and Evans's pass. The competi
tion increased as they neared each other,
and at last the struggle arose as to the
point of junction. The Central company
wished Ogden fixed as the point of junc
tion, and the Union urged Monument

898

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Point ; the matter was at last settled by a
decision in favor of the former. The dan
gers to which the laborers were subjected,
and the imperious necessity of vigilant
protection of the track and material of the
road, were great and unceasing, owing to
the inveterate hostility of the Indians.
From Fort Kearney west, up the Platte
river, to the foot of the Black Hills, the
road was subject to a continual succession
of fierce attacks. Several battalions of
United States troops were scattered along
the line, and found full employment in
adequately guarding the object of their
vigilance. That the completion of such a vast en
terprise, unparalleled in magnitude and
grandeur, should be hailed as one of the
most memorable achievements in the ma
terial progress of the country, was cer
tainly to be expected. Nor is it to be
wondered at that the original pick and
shovel employed in commencing such a
work, should still be looked upon, by every
patriot, with historic interest. They are
carefully preserved, and bear the following
inscriptions :
" Pick that struck the first blow on the
Union Pacific railroo.d, Omaha, Decem
ber 2, 1863. Pickers : Thomas Acheson,
Wilson F. Williams, George Francis Train,
Peter A. Day."
" Shovel used by George Saunders, to
move the first earth in the Union Pacific
railroad, Omaha, Neb., December 3, 1863.
Shovelers : Alvin Saunders, governor of
Nebraska; B. E. B. Kennedy, mayor of
Omaha; I. M. Palmer, mayor of Council
Bluffs ; Augustus Kountze, director of
U. P. R. R."
The following table of distances on the
two lines will show the magnitude of this
great channel of continental communica
tion : From New York to Chicago, 911
miles; from Chicago to Omaha, Neb.,
491 miles. From Omaha, by the Union
Pacific line, to Ogden, 1,030, and a branch
of forty miles to Salt Lake City: From
Ogden, by the Central Pacific line, 748
miles. From Sacramento to San Fran
cisco, 120 miles. Thus, the grand dis

tance, by the iron track, from Omaha to
San Francisco, is 1,898 miles ; from Chi
cago to San Francisco, 2,389; from Newg
York to San Francisco, 3,377 miles. ''
In less than one-half or one-third of the
time predicted at the outset of the enter
prise, the road was completed, — a great
feat, indeed, when it is considered that
the workmen operated at such a distance
from their base of supplies, and that the
materials for construction and subsistence
had to be transported nnder such a vari
ety of difficulties. Thus, the transporta
tion of one hundred and ten thousand tons
of iron rails, one million fish-plates, two
million bolts, fifteen million spikes, three
and a half million cross-ties, and millions
of feet of timber not estimated, for the
construction of roads, culverts and bridges,
made one of the minor items of the ac
count. The moving of engines and ma
chinery for stocking manufactories, of
materials for foundries and buildings of
every kind, not to speak of the food for an
army of thousands of workmen, all of
which belong to tbe single account of
transportation, may also give an impres
sion of the activity and expense required
in bringing such a road to completion in
so short a time.
Of course the irregularities of surface
characterizing a distance so immense, and
particularly that portion of the line run
ning among the Sierra Nevada mountains,
necessitated tunneling, cutting, and tres
tle-bridging, on a large scale. The well-
known Bloomer Cut, sixty-three feet deep
and eight hundred feet long, is through
cemented gravel and sand, of the consist
ency of solid rock, and only to be moved
by blasting. The trestle-bridging con
stituted one of the most important features
in the construction of the road, and the
work, on completion, was pronounced of
the most durable description. Among the
most famous of these structures may be
mentioned the trestle and truss bridge,
Clipper ravine, one hundred feet high;
the Long ravine, Howe truss bridge and
trestle, one hundred and fifteen feet high ;
and the trestle at Secrettown, one thou-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

899

feet long, and fifty to ninety feet
high. The highest engineering skill was
demanded, from first to last, and the tri
umphs of science, in this respect, were
complete. The total mileage of the roads built un
der the direct authority and by the aid of
the national government, was two thou
sand four hundred miles. The govern
ment subsidy in aid of these works,
amounted to about $64,000,000, of six per
cent, currency bonds, the companies being
also authorized to issue an equal amount
of bonds. Both companies' had also a land
grant from congress, in alternate sections,
equal to twelve thousand eight hundred
acres per mile.
Ninety million dollars was the cost of
the Union Pacific railroad, up to 1869 ;
that of the Central Pacific, seventy-five
million. This enormous sum, especially
in its relation to the government indebt
edness, alarmed some timid economists.
But a sufficient answer to their arguments
was, that millions upon millions of acres
of government lands, hitherto lying idle,
would come into the market, and very
speedily appear as productive farms tilled
hy the hand of industry ; that towns, vil
lages, cities, manufacturing, mix. ig, and
all the appliances and evidences of mate
rial progress, would at once take a start,
the wealth of the East be poured into the
West, and emigration westward populate
territories and turn them into states as if
by magic. By means of this new and
wonderful highway, the distance from
New York to San Francisco would be
traversed by passengers in six or seven
days, instead of three weeks or more via
Panama. From San Francisco to Japan
is nineteen days, or twenty-five from New
York, and some thirty-six from London, a
speed exceeding that of the British mails
to Yokohama, via Suez, by upwards of
twenty days. And thus, San Francisco,
on the Pacific, the travel and commerce of
the nations of Western Europe with the
hundreds of millions of people of Eastern
Asia, and the great island of Australia,
would pass over the railway, — the land

that built it thereby reaping the benefit of
being the world's highway.
On the tenth of May, 1869, the grand his
toric event took place at Promontory Point,
Utah, of uniting the two great divisions of
the trans-continental railway. Early in
the morning, says the Chicago Tribune,
Governor Stanford and party from the Pa
cific coast were on the ground ; and at half-
past eight, an engine with a palace and two
passenger cars arrived from the east bring
ing Vice-President Durant and directors
Duff and Dillon, of the Union Pacific rail
road, with other distinguished visitors,
including several Mormon apostles. Both
parties being in readiness, the ties were
thrown down on the open space of about
one hundred feet, and the employes of
the two companies approached with the
rails to fill the gap. Mr. Stenbridge, sub
contractor, who had been in charge of tbe
building of the Central Pacific from the
laying of the first rail on the bank of the
Sacramento, commanding a party of Chi
nese track-layers, advanced from the west
with assistant - general superintendent
Corning. The Chinamen, conscious that the
strangers from the far east were watch
ing their movements with curious eyes,
wielded the pick, shovel aud sledge, with
consummate dexterity ; but their faces wore
an appearance of unconcern and indiffer
ence wonderful if real, and not the less so
if affected. White laborers from the east
did their best work, but with more indica
tion of a desire to produce an effect, and
at eleven o'clock the European and Asiatic
private soldiers of civilization stood face
to face in the heart of America, each
proudly conscious that the work was well
done, and each exultant over so noble a
victory. Engine No. 119 from the Atlan
tic, and Jupiter, No. 60, from the Pacific,
each decorated with flags and evergreens
for the occasion, then approached within a
hundred feet from opposite directions, and
saluted with exultant screams. Superin
tendent Vandenburgh now attached the
telegraph wires to the last rail, so that
each blow of the sledge should be recorded

900

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

on every connecting telegraph instrument
between San Francisco and Portland, Me.
It was also arranged so that corresponding
blows should be struck on the bell in tbe
city ball at San Francisco, and tbe last
one fire a cannon in the batteries at Fort
Point. General Safford, in behalf of the
territory of Arizona, presented a spike
composed of iron, gold and silver, as an
offering by Arizona, saying :

be struck. Every head was uncovered in
reverential silence, while Rev. Dr. Todd,
of Pittsfield, Mass., offered up a brief and
deeply impressive invocation.
The magnificent tie of laurel, on which
was a commemorative plate of silver, was
brought forward, put in place, and Doctor
Harkness, in behalf of the state of Califor
nia, presented Governor Stanford the gold
spike. President Stanford, of the Central
Pacific railroad, responded, accepting the
golden and silver tokens, predicting the
day as not far distant when three tracks

COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD.
"Ribbed with iron, clad in silver, and
crowned with gold, Arizona presents her
offering to the enterprise that has banded
every continent and dictated a new path
way to commerce."
The crowd fell back at the request of
General Casement, and the artist for the
Union Pacific railroad photographed the
scene, with the locomotives confronting
each other, and Chinese and Caucasian
laborers confronting the work.' It was
now announced that the last blow was to

¦±

would be found necessary to accommodate
the traffic which would seek transit across
the continent, and closing with the happy
summons — " Now, gentlemen, with your
assistance, we will proceed to lay the last
rail, the last tie, and drive the last spike.'
General Dodge, in behalf of the Union
Pacific railroad, responded as follows:
" Gentlemen, — The great Benton prophe-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

901

sied that some day a granite statue of Co
lumbus would be erected on the highest
peak of the Rocky mountains pointing
westward, denoting this as the great route
across the continent. You have made
that prophecy this day. Accept this as
the way to India." Mr. Tuttle, from
Nevada, presented a silver spike on behalf
of the citizens of that state, with the fol
lowing remarks : "To the iron of the East
and the gold of the West, Nevada adds
her link of silver, to span the continent
and wed the oceans." Thereupon, Super
intendent Coe, in behalf of the Pacific
Union express, presented the silver ham
mer, or sledge, with which to drive the
last spike.
Governor Stanford and Vice-President
Durant advanced, took in hand tbe sledge,
and drove the spike, while the multitude
stood silent. Mr. Miles, of Sacramento,
who was chairman of the meeting, an
nounced the great work done ! The si
lence of the multitude was now broken,
and a prolonged shout went forth, which,
while it yet quivered on the gladdened air,
was caught up by the willing lightning,
and borne to the uttermost parts of the
earth. Cheer followed cheer for the union
of the Atlantic and Pacific, the two Pacific
railroad companies and their officers, the
president of the United States, the Star
Spangled Banner, the laborers, etc. A
telegram announcing the grand consumma
tion was sent at once to President Grant,
and one to the associated newspaper press
immediately followed, worded thus :
" The last rail is laid ! The last spike
driven! The Pacific Railroad is com
pleted! The point of junction is 1,086
miles west of the Missouri river, and 690
miles east of Sacramento City."
There was a great deal of interest and
excitement in Washington, and a large
crowd assembled at the telegraph office,
as soon as it was known that the driving
of the last spike would be announced by
the wires. Mr. Tinker, the manager, fixed
a magnetic ball in a conspicuous place,
where all present could witness the per
formance, and connected the same with

the main lines, notifying tbe various
offices throughout the country, that he
was ready. New Orleans, New York and
Boston, instantly answered that they were
ready. Soon afterward, many of the offi
ces in different parts of the country be
gan to make all sorts of inquiries of the
office at Omaha, from which point the cir
cuit was to be started. That office replied :
" To everybody : Keep quiet. When
the last spike is driven at Promontory
Point, we will say "Done." Don't break
the circuit, but watch for the signals of
the blows of the hammer."
After some little delay, the instruments
were all adjusted, and 2.27, in the after
noon, Promontory Point said to the peo
ple congregated in the various telegraph
offices — "Almost ready. Hats off; prayer
is being offered." A silence for the prayer
ensued. At 2.40 the bell tapped again,
and the office at the Point said — " We
have got done praying. The spike is
about to be presented." Chicago replied
— "We understand. All are ready in the
East." Promontory Point — "All ready
now. The spike will soon be driven. The
signal will be three dots for the com
mencement of the blows.''
For a moment the instrument was
silent, and then the hammer of the mag
net tapped the bell, one, two, three — the
signal. Another pause of a few seconds,
and the lightning came flashing eastward,
vibrating two thousand four hundred miles,
between the junction of the two roads and
Washington, and the blows of the ham
mer upon the spike were delivered in
stantly, in telegraphic accents, on the bell
in Washington. At 2.47, in the after
noon, Promontory Point gave the signal,
"Done!" — the announcement that the
continent was spanned with iron. The
time of the event in San Francisco was
11.45, in the forenoon. A telegraph wire
had been attached to a fifteen-inch gun,
and as the first stroke on the last spike
was telegraphed from Promontory Point,
tbe gun was fired by electricity, and by
the same agent all the fire-bells in the city
were rung.

902

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

The news of the completion of the road
created, of course, great enthusiasm in all
the cities of California. In San Francisco,
the event was celebrated in a manner long
to be remembered. The day was ushered
in by a salute of one hundred guns, and
congratulatory messages were transmitted
to the directors of the Central and Union
roads by the "California Pioneers." All
the Federal forts in the harbor fired sa
lutes, the bells being rung and the steam
whistles blown at the same time. Busi
ness was suspended, nearly every citizen
exhibiting a hearty interest in the demon
strations. The procession was the largest
and most imposing ever witnessed in San
Francisco. In addition to the state mili
tia, all the available United States troops
participated in tbe pageant, while the
civic societies turned out with full ranks.
The shipping was dressed in fine style —
both the city and harbor, indeed, present
ing a magnificent sight. During the day,
the principal buildings were festooned
with the banners of every nation, and the
streets were thronged with an excited and
joyous people. At night, the whole city
was brilliantly illuminated.
At Sacramento, the event was observed
with marked demonstrations. The city
was crowded with a multitude of people
from all parts of the state and Nevada, to
participate in or witness the festivities,
particularly the grand odd-fellows' proces
sion. The lines of travel to and from Sac
ramento were thrown open to the public
free, and an immense number of people
took advantage of this arrangement and
flocked thither. The Central Pacific com
pany had thirty locomotives gaily decked,
and as the signal gun was fired announc
ing the driving of the last spike of the
road, the locomotives opened an overpow
ering chorus of whistles, all the bells and
steam whistles of the city immediately
joining in the deafening exhibition.
In Chicago, the celebration was the
most successful affair of the kind that
ever took place in that city, and, probably,
in the West, although it was almost en
tirely impromptu. The procession was

¦unique in appearance and immense in
length, being, at the lowest estimate, four
miles, and representing all classes, associ
ations and trades. During the moving of
the procession, Vice-President Colfax, who
was visiting the city, received the follow
ing dispatch, dated at Promontory Point:
"The rails were connected to-day. The
prophecy of Benton is a fact. This is the
way to India." A very interesting feat
ure in the procession was an array of mail-
wagons with post-office employes, and sev
eral tons of mail matter in bags, labeled
and marked as if bound for some of the
large cities both on this side and beyond
the Pacific ocean. Some of these were
marked as follows : ' Victoria, Australia ; '
'Washington, Oregon (G. D. P.-O.) ; '
'Yeddo, Japan;' 'Pekin, China (G. D.
P.-O.);' 'Golden City, Colorado;' 'Den
ver, Colorado;' 'Santa Fe, New Mexico;'
' Hong Kong, China, via Chicago ; ' ' Yo
kohama, Japan.' In the evening, Vice-
President Colfax, Lieut. Gov. Bross, and
others, addressed a vast assembly, speak
ing eloquently of the great era in Ameri
can history ushered in by the event of the
day. The marine display was also very
fine. On the announcement of the completion
of the road in New York, the mayor or
dered a salute of one hundred guns, and
himself saluted the mayor of San Fran
cisco with a dispatch conceived in the
most jubilant spirit, — informing him that
" our flags are now flying, our cannon are
now booming, and in old Trinity a Te
Deum imparts thankful harmonies to the
busy hum about her church walls." The
Chambers of Commerce of the two cities
also exchanged congratulations, the New
York chamber recognizing in the new
highway an agent that would not only
"develop the resources, extend the com
merce, increase the power, exalt the dig
nity and perpetuate the unity of our re
public, but in its broader relations, as the
segment of a world-embracing circle, di
rectly connecting the nations of Europe
with those of Asia, would materially facili
tate the enlightened and advancing civil-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

903

ization of our age." The services in Trin
ity were conducted with great solemnity,
in the presence of a crowded congregation.
After prayer, and the reading of a portion
of the Episcopal service, the organ pealed
forth in its grandest fullness and majesty,
and, as the assembly dispersed, the church
chimes added to the joyousness of the oc
casion by ringing out " Old Hundred," the
"Ascension Carol," and the national airs.
In Philadelphia, the authorities im
provised a celebration so suddenly, that
the ringing of the bells on Independence
Hall, and at the various fire stations, was
mistaken for a general alarm of fire, till
the news was announced. The sudden
flocking of the people to the state-house
resembled that which followed tbe recep
tion of the news of Lee's surrender to
Grant. In many other towns and cities
throughout the union, the event was cele
brated with great spirit. Even as far east
as Springfield, Mass., the jubilee spirit
was carried out. The entire force of work-
t , men of Wason's car manufactory in that
city formed a procession, headed by a band
and accompanied by a battery, and marched
from the shops of the company through
the principal streets, each man bearing
some tool or implement of his trade.
Banners bearing ' Our cars unite the Atlan
tic and Pacific,' 'Four hundred car builders
celebrate the opening of the Pacific Rail
road,' ' For San Francisco, connecting with
ferry to China,' etc., were conspicuous.
Returning to the scenes at Omaha, that
interesting and important point on this
trans-continental highway, the day was
there observed by such an outpouring of
the people as had never before been
equaled. The morning trains from the
west brought the fire companies and the
masonic fraternity from Fremont, and
large delegations from towns and settle
ments as far west as North Platte. Be
fore noon, the streets were filled with a
multitude anxiously awaiting the signal
from Capitol hill, where a park of artillery
was stationed in the neighborhood of the
observatory, to enable it to fire a salute
the moment the telegraphic signals an

nounced that the last spike had been
driven. A grand procession was one of
the marked features of the day; and, at
about half-past one, the booming of one
hundred guns, the ringing of bells, and
the shrieking of the whistles of steamers
and locomotives, proclaimed that Omaha
and Sacramento were forever united by
iron bands, and that now had been opened
a highway from the gates of the east to
the realms of sunset itself.
Thus, in the consummation of this
mightiest work of utility ever undertaken
by man, a journey around the world be
came a tour both easy and brief. The city
of San Francisco could be reached from
New York, in less than seven days, run
ning time. Arrived there, the finest
ocean steamers in the world, each one of
some four or five thousand tons, awaited
the traveler, to take him, in twenty-one
days, or less, to Yokohama, and thence, in
six days more, to any part of China.
From Hong Kong to Calcutta required
some fourteen days by several lines of
steamers touching at Singapore, Ceylon,
Madras, or ports on the coast of Burmah.
From Calcutta, a railroad runs far up into
the north of India, on the borders of
Cashmere and Affghanistan, and running
through northern India, Benares, Alla
habad, etc. Another road intersects at
Allahabad, more than six hundred miles
above Calcutta, running some six hundred
miles to Bombay, where it connects with
the overland route to and from Egypt, in
twelve or thirteen days by steamer and
rail from Bombay to Cairo. From Cairo,
almost any port in Europe on the Medi
terranean could be reached in from three to
five days, and home again in twelve days
more, making the actual traveling time
around the world only seventy-eight days.
More wonderful still, a trans-continental
train, which left New York early on tbe
morning of June 1st, 1876, reached San
Francisco at twenty-five minutes past nine,
June 4th, in the morning; thus accom
plishing the journey in eighty-three hours
and twenty minutes, without stoppages
and without accident.

CT.
NATIONAL PEACE JUBILEE AND MUSICAL FESTIVAL,
IN BOSTON, IN HONOR OF THE RESTORATION
OF THE UNION OF THE STATES.— 1869.

Ten Thousand Singers, an Orchestra of One Thousand Instruments, and Tens of Thousands of Spec
tators, in the Coliseum, an Immense Building Erected for tlie Occasion. — Attendance of President
Grant. — Sublime and Inspiring Harmonies. — Most Majestic Musical Demonstration of Modern Times.
— Origin ofthe Jubilee. — P. S. Gilmore: His Zeal and Enthusiasm — All Discouragements Overcome.
— Magnificent Programme — Splendor ofthe Coliseum — It Covers Nearly Four Acres. — Inauguration
Ceremonies. — View of the Audience — Scene of Surpassing Enchantment — Beauty ofthe Decora
tions. — Overtures, Choruses, Anthems, Ete — Parepa Rosa, Phillipps, Ole Bull — Their Professional
Triumphs. — Zerrahn, Tourjee, Eichberg. — The Famous "Anvil" Chorus. — Chiming the City Bells.
— Novel Commingling of Artillery with Music — Tremendous Ovation to Grant. — Half a Million
People in the City — Testimonial to Mr. Gilmore — Last Day : Concert by Ten Thousand Children.
— Triumphant Success of the Jubilee.

"Let UBhave peacel "— Geneeal Gkant, in nis Letter accepting the PEESlDEirriAL Nominatton.

OUR long and welcome years of peace had been enjoyed by tbe American people,
since the greatest of civil wars ever waged suddenly ceased its
wasting horrors, by the surrender of the army of Lee to General
Grant, and that of Johnston to General Sherman. But, as yet, no
special commemorative celebration of the momentous event had
taken place in any part of the land — except that outburst of joy
, and satisfaction in all parts, with which the final grounding of
arms was greeted. A happy local conception for supplying this
omission, to some extent, was that of the well-known organizer of
musical bands and leader of instrumental concerts, Mr. P. S. Gil
more, of Boston. His plan, or programme, was that of a Grand
National Peace Jubilee in that city, on the 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th,
and 19th of June, 1869,— the grandest outpouring of sublime and patriotic music, ever
heard upon the American continent. It was to be a demonstration which, in magnitude
and splendor, would represent the greatest cause for national rejoicing which the Amer
ican people were ever called upon to celebrate, and in which the glad voices of a
reunited nation should mingle in one common song of thanksgiving to the Almighty,
for the return of those blessings which years of terrible strife had withheld; — an occa
sion which should bring together, in fraternal greeting, the leading men of the republic,
throughout all its borders, and, aside from its imposing significance as the first national
re-union since the close of the war, should also be the greatest feast of inspiring har
mony — majestic choruses, anthems of adoration, military and patriotic compositions,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

905

oratorio and symphony, and the divinest
airs from Mozart and Meyerbeer — ever
heard in any part of the world.
The choruses, it was further proposed,
should be performed by ten to fifteen
thousand voices, comprising the very best
singers obtainable ; the orchestra to con
sist of one thousand players, including
the leading bands and most skillful musi
cians in the United States ; also, a vast
and powerful organ, together with the
accompanying effects of artillery, chiming
of bells, and other accessories. The whole
to be held in an immense coliseum, capa
ble of accommodating fifty thousand per
sons, and to be magnificently decorated
with historical emblems of state and na
tional progress since the formation of the
Union. So vast and novel an undertaking was
naturally looked upon somewhat distrust
fully, at first, by those to whom it was
unfolded. One of the warmest of Mr.
Gilmore's friends, on listening to an ex
position of the plan, remarked, " Why,
Gilmore, that is an idea fit for an emperor,
and it will take an emperor to carry it
out." " Then," laughingly responded Mr.
Gilmore, " I must become an emperor."
Discouraged and ridiculed by others, he
never flagged for a moment in energetic
ally urging the co-operation of influential
men in behalf of his plan, and gave wide
publicity to it, from one end of the land
to the other. At length, opposition began
to die away ; men of patriotism and
wealth pledged themselves to the enter
prise ; letters strongly endorsing it were
received from eminent officials ; and prom
ises of participation freely flowed in from
musicians and musical societies. An as
sociation was now formed of prominent
gentlemen, conspicuous in political, pro
fessional, and business circles, for thorough
and effective work, in forwarding the proj
ect to a speedy and complete consumma
tion. On the 29th of March, work on the great
building was commenced, and it soon grew
UP to its full proportions, majestic in size
and strength, — the largest edifice that had

ever been erected on this continent. The
size of the building was three hundred
feet by five hundred; the height of its
roof, one hundred feet, and of its side
walls thirty-six ; and the promenade was
more than a fourth of a mile in length.
The interior was gorgeously decorated ;
folds of blue, brown and gold, depending
from the galleries, and rich frescoings and
many-tinted banners everywhere meeting
the eye. On the side arches, colossal
angels bore up the inscription " Peace,"
and over the central arch was the Song of
the Annunciation, " Glory to God in tbe
Highest, Peace on Earth, Good Will
toward Men." In the rear of these arches,
on each flank of the organ, appeared me
dallions, one representing St. Cecilia, at
tended by heavenly beings, who are listen
ing to her playing, and the other repre
senting David and his harp. The great
roof was supported by four ranges of
pillars, eighteen in each range. Those
which ran along the front of the galleries
bore each the coat-of-arms of a State of
the Union, with flags rayed from it, and
an eagle above ; while on the two central
ranges of pillars the banners bore the
colors of foreign nations, the portraits of
great composers, and other emblems. The
main ceiling was hung with tri-colored
streamers, and the faces of the galleries
were elegantly frescoed. The end of the
wall behind the spectators was also superb
in its adornments, including a mighty
Angel of Peace, with her right hand
raised, and holding forward the symbols
of harmony and peace, while with her
left hand she waved behind her the
sanguinary implements of war. The coat-
of-arms of Massachusetts and the city seal
of Boston appeared on either flank. The
building covered some three or four acres.
As the day appointed for the opening
services approached, the interest in the
event became intense in every part of the
country, and Boston was crowded as it
never bad been before by hosts of strangers.
Everybody and everything wore a holiday
appearance. Citizens from every State in
the Union were there.

906

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

At about three o'clock in the afternoon,
the opening exercises of the celebration
commenced as follows : Prayer, by Rev.
E. E. Hale ; address of welcome, by Mayor
Shurtleff ; oration, by Hon. A. H. Rice.
But it was the musical feature of the
occasion for which the tens of thousands
gathered together in that vast and mag
nificent scene were anxiously waiting.
The immense amphitheater, two hundred
feet in depth from the front of the orches
tra by three hundred feet in width, was
filled to its utmost capacity with the ten
thousand ladies and gentlemen who formed
the grand chorus, and its base or front
center was occupied by the orchestra of
one thousand instruments. Be
hind the orchestra was the big
drum, eight feet in diameter and
eight feet high, and, further
back, beyond the central seats
of the choir, rose the organ,
thirty feet in height. A look
at the orchestra from the ex
treme north end of the building
presented a sight witnessed only
once in a life-time.
The greatest celebrity noticed
as yet among the musicians was
Carl Rosa, who was seated
among the violins, and beside
whom there was a vacant chair.
Presently there was burst of v_-/ /
cheers, as the tall, graceful, and
dignified form of Ole Bull was
seen wending his way down from the back
to take his seat as the leader of the violin
ists. And now there was a perfect torrent
of applause, as Mr. Gilmore advanced to
open the programme. It was a proud
moment for him, as he stood there, to
reflect that this, the greatest of musical
festivals, sprang up under his magic wand.
Another warm welcome was in store for
Mr. Eichberg, Mr. Zerrahn, Mr. Tourjee,
Madame Parepa-Rosa, Miss Phillipps, and
other leaders, as they made their appear
ance. Luther's great choral, " God is a castle
and defense," began the grand perform
ances, and as, in magnificent strength

and beauty, the vast volume of pure sound
arose from ten thousand voices and a
thousand instruments, the grandeur of the
effect was indescribable. To this suc
ceeded the Tannhauser overture, exciting
and entrancing the senses and filling the
soul with weird and peculiar pleasure ; and
then came the " Gloria," from Mozart's
Twelfth Mass. In Gounod's "Ave Maria,"
Madame Parepa-Rosa made her appear
ance as the first soloist of the jubilee.
She was clad in faultless white, and re
ceived a tremendous ovation. The accom
paniment of two hundred chosen violins,
led by Bull, Carl Rosa, Schultze, Suck,
Meisel, Eichberg, and others, began sweet

ly, thrillingly, and tenderly, adding to the
anxiety of the audience. Suddenly a note,
clear, sublime, and heard above all else and
to the farthest corner of the hall, began the
"Ave Maria," which the prima donna sang
with matchless skill. In this, as also in
the beautiful " Inflammatus," she was en
cored with a fervor such as no woman ever
saw manifested by an audience before.
The scene was enchanting.
At the conclusion of the first part of
the concert, the "Star Spangled Banner"
was given with grand and overpowering
effect, producing the wildest excitement
in the audience. The choral combinations
of the parts used in the piece were very

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

907

ingenious, and, in addition to these, the
aid of a great military band, of an immense
drum corps, and of artillery, was given to
the chorus, orchestra and organ. The
artillery firing, by means of electricity,
was a novel and most striking feature in
this piece, as was also the ringing of the
bells of the city in unison, from the tele
graph stand.
In the second part, the "Hymn of
Praise," "composed for the occasion by Dr.
0. W. Holmes, and set to the music of
Keller's American Hymn, was the first
piece, and was beautifully and nobly exe
cuted. After this came Rossini's overture
to William Tell, the performance of which
was pronounced to be the sublimest orches
tral rendering ever given in America —
true, wonderful, and lovely, revealing in
most remarkable beauty, the noble melo
dies and harmonies of the composition.
After the " Coronation March," from Mey
erbeer, came the " Anvil Chorus " from
" II Trovatore," producing a tremendous
sensation among the audience and receiv
ing an uproarious encore. The pictur
esque hundred firemen, in black pants, red
shirts, and white caps, did their duty
admirably, beating their anvils with fine
effect, and with such precision as not to
miss a note amid the rapid cadences which
the orchestra gave with such force. " My
Country, 'tis of Thee," with the same
novel accessories as the " Star Spangled
Banner," concluded the first day's concert
most appropriately, the audience joining
in the last stanza with magnificent effect.
The hundred anvils were ranged in four
rows, extending from near the front of the
platform to the back of the orchestra stage.
No words can adequately describe the
transporting effect of this first day's per
formance upon the thousands assembled
under that vast roof. A distinguished
gentleman sent the following telegram to
his wife, at the close of the concert:
"Nothing like it in a life-time. Will
make any sacrifice to have you here Thurs
day. Come by express train."
The second day of the jubilee was ren
dered still more exciting and memorable

by the presence of the chief magistrate of
the nation, General Grant. The popular
success of the great national festival prov
ed, under these circumstances, absolutely
enormous. The Common was covered with
people, and the streets were so crowded
that motion was almost impossible. The
military marched with much difficulty
along a portion of the route, and around
the coliseum the mass of people became so
dense all day, that it was difficult to ap
proach the doors. Many of the hotels and
restaurants were even forced to lock their
doors, to keep out the hungry multitude
whom they could not supply.
A constant ovation attended the presi
dent's reception until he reached the
coliseum, and there he found acres of
humanity waiting his entrance. The par
lor to which the illustrious guest was con
ducted exhibited most elegant taste, in
keeping with all the appointments of the
magnificent edifice throughout. The walls
were tinted and paneled in fresco ; dra
pery, and lace curtains, and cornices en
riched the windows ; beautiful carpeting
covered the floor ; splendid sets of black
walnut furniture were provided ; and then
there were rustic baskets filled with the
choicest cut flowers suspended from nu
merous points, elegant and spacious mir
rors and choice paintings hung upon the
walls, and superb works of art contributed
to the admirable tout ensemble of the
apartment. Here the distinguished guest
received the courtesies of the originator of
the jubilee and his colleague, after which
he proceeded to the audience hall.
As the president passed down the cen
ter aisle of the building to his seat, arm
in arm with Governor Claflin, followed by
Admirals Farragut and Hudson, Commo
dore Winslow, Secretary Boutwell, Mayor
Shurtleff, and others, the vast assembly
started to their feet as if by one common
impulse, and while the hero stood, hat in
hand, bowing to the mighty throng, a
cheer went up from sixty thousand voices,
and filled the far-extended structure, like
the mighty roar of the ocean. For full
five minutes were these cheers continued

908

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

from audience and chorus and orchestra,
accompanied by the waving of thousands
of handkerchiefs in the hands of fair
women. In the midst of this scene of
unparalleled enthusiasm, the powerful or
gan thundered forth 'the strains of "See
the Conquering Hero Comes," and then,
as the music progressed, at a signal from
Mr. Gilmore's baton, ten thousand souls,
in colossal chorus, gave voice to the words
of that welcoming anthem. The climax
of the Week of Festival was now fairly
reached. In compliment to the president, the
"Star Spangled Banner" was introduced
between the two parts of the programme ;
and to this was added the "Anvil Chorus,"
with the original one hundred anvils and
the one hundred red-shirted firemen to
beat them — and this, with the adjuncts of
cannon and bells, threw the audience into
a frenzy of rapturous delight. There was
more classical music on this occasion than
on the day previous, but the president
appeared to prefer the more popular patri
otic airs, and the firing of guns by elec
tricity appeared to interest him much.
This battery of Parrott guns, placed im
mediately within the coliseum, were ma
nipulated in front of the conductor's stand,
the process being that of touching, at the
proper moment, the keys of an electrical
instrument, to which the guns were con
nected by wires, precisely as the keys of
an organ or piano are struck, when har
mony in the measurement of time is de
manded. With evident satisfaction, the president
listened to Parepa-Rosa, as she sang
Handel's " Let the Bright Seraphim."
Without the faintest appearance of effort,
she sang as clearly and brilliantly as if in
a concert room of ordinary dimensions, the
clear sounds of her imperial voice sweep
ing throughout the galleries and corri
dors in trumpet-like tones. The audience
was electrified. Not only spectators, but
the twelve thousand choristers and one
thousand performers, rose and vehemently
cheered or waved their handkerchiefs.
Another splendid vocal triumph was that

achieved by Miss Adelaide Phillipps, in
the singing of Mozart's aria from the
Clemenza di Tito. The chorus, "Glory to
God in the highest, peace on earth, good
will to men," was another of the perform
ances. Hardly was it finished, when
another — " And the glory of the Lord
shall be revealed " — was taken up by the
thousand altos, and echoed by the basses
and sopranos until the hall rung. Noth
ing in the whole range of music could be
more thunderous and intense than the
concluding strains of this chorus. The
chorus from Mendelssohn, " He watching
over Israel, slumbers not nor sleeps," had
an almost divine pathos and melody. The
great swaying grandeur of "America "
impressed the chief magistrate deeply. As
he left the building, salvos of artillery
broke upon the air, fired in unison with
the last chords of the strains of music and
the rounds of cheers.
Mr. Gilmore's programme for the third
day consisted of popular and patriotic
music, such as kept the vast crowd in a
continual furore of pleasurable excite
ment. The first piece, the overture to
Auber's " Fra Diavolo," was splendidly
played by the full orchestra of upward of
one thousand, and a novel and very pleas
ing effect was produced by placing fifty
trumpets, or cornets, on the solo trumpet
part, the matchless Arbuckle being at the
head of the list. Luther's grand old
choral, "The Judgment Hymn," was
given by the full chorus, with full orches
tral and organ accompaniment. The next
performance was the " Peace Festival
March," composed for the occasion by
Signor Janotta. It was performed by the
grand orchestra and military band com
bined, and was a magnificent success.
Madame Parepa-Rosa next rendered an
aria from " Robert le Diable ; " and the
Anvil Chorus, and " Overture Triomphale"
on the American national air " Hail Co
lumbia," composed for the festival by C.
C. Converse, closed the first part of the
programme. The second part included
the "Prince Frederick" march, the "Star
Spangled Banner," a cornet solo by Ar-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

909

buckle, "The Harp that once through
Tara's Halls," the overture to Flotow's
"Stradella," and the "One Hundredth
Psalm." The whole audience joined in
the last verse of the psalm, and the accom
paniment comprised the organ, orchestra,
and cannon.
In the evening, a Jubilee Ball was
given in the coliseum, which was an
immense success. A dancing hall of colos
sal proportions was provided, and the
coliseum presented a more magnificent
appearance under the effect of fifty thou-

superb, — the largest ball, indeed, ever
known in this country.
A purely classical programme was ar
ranged for the fourth day, and the highest
expectations of success were fully realized.
Complete in its artistic results, no heartier
enthusiasm was displayed at any time dur
ing the festival than that which followed
the various choral and orchestral selections
of this day. Among the performances
were the "Gloria" from the Twelfth Mass,
the "Hallelujah Chorus," "Achieved is
the Glorious Work," the " Prayer " from

NATIONAL PEACE JOBILEE AND MUSICAL FESTIVAL, AT BOSTON.

sand gas-lights, than in the day time. The
decorations were thrown out boldly, while
the rich toilets of the ladies heightened
the general enchantment of the scene.
The order of dances was twenty-two in
number, and the ball opened promptly at
half-past nine, Mr. Gilmore waving the
baton. The orchestra was made up of a
dance and promenade band, the former
under the direction of Mr. Gilmore, and
the latter under Mr. Harvey B. Dodworth,
of New York. Ten thousand persons were
present, and the affair was in all respects

Moses in Egypt, etc. The choral, "To
God on High," and " Sleepers wake, a
voice is calling," were both sung almost
perfectly, showing, magnificently, their
solid grandeur and beauty. The purely
instrumental performances, Weber's " Ju
bilee " overture, and the Fifth Symphony
of Beethoven, were rendered in the most
majestic style. Miss Phillipps gave Han
del's beautiful "Lascia chio pianga" in
the most finished and graceful manner, so
that the audience were excited to the very
highest pitch of enthusiasm, and an encore

910

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

was rapturously demanded. Mr. George
Peabody was introduced to the audience,
during the intermisson, and was loudly
cheered. There were also on the plat
form, with him, Governors Claflin and
Jewell, Senators Sumner and Wilson,
Generals Banks and Hawley, Bishop Simp
son, Dr. Lowell Mason, and other distin
guished guests.
Saturday was the fifth and last day of
this grandest musical festival of modern
times. Ten thousand school children,
their innocent voices pouring forth a flood
of sweet and simple song, constituted the
great attraction of the day. Clad in white
dresses, with red and blue ribbons, the
appearance of the girls was charming in
the extreme. It was the largest chorus
of children ever brought together in the
world, and the concourse of spectators was
vast. Chorals, three-part songs, national
airs, etc., were performed with great skill
and power by the juvenile songsters, elicit
ing unbounded applause. " Hail Colum
bia," and "Now the twilight softly steal
ing," were exquisitely rendered. Brinley
Richards's song, " So merrily over the
ocean spray," was one of the most telling
features of the day ; the solo was sustained
by five hundred pupils of the girls' high
and normal school, and the chorus by all
the children. " God is a Castle and
Defense " was given with fine effect ; and
Ole Bull's marvelous skill as a violinist
was displayed in the solo, " A Mother's
Prayer." The orchestra played the over
ture to " William Tell," and the corona
tion march from " The Prophet." Madame
Rosa repeated " Let the Bright Sera
phim," with Mr. Arbuckle's accompani
ment. A duet, " Quis est homo," sung
by Madame Rosa and Miss Phillipps, was
a performance long to be remembered.
During the intermission, Mr. Gilmore was
called from the orchestra to the editors'
room, where Mr. Carl Gartner, of Phila
delphia, presented to him a massive gold
watch, of great elegance and cost, and a
heavy gold chain, as a testimonial of re
spect and regard from the members of the
orchestra. The gift was entirely unex

pected to Mr. Gilmore, who made a fitting
response. The " Russian National Hymn,"
with words of welcome to President Grant,
was executed in a manner that showed the
excellent vocal culture of the children ;
and the concert was brought to a close by
singing, in grand chorus, the One Hun-
dreth Psalm.
To say that the efforts and anticipations
of those who originated the National Peace
Jubilee and Musical Festival were crown
ed with triumphant success, from first to
last, is but uttering the simple truth. It
was a mighty conception, and the result
was the greatest musical event in the his
tory of modern times. The very first
day's performances were so satisfying and
so enthusiastically received, as to render
the succeeding efforts comparatively easy
and sure. From the opening to the clos
ing performance, the rapturous excitement
and delight continued without abatement.
At times it rose to almost wild delirium.
The audience and the performers seemed
to be actuated by one impulse of magnetic
fervor. Unquestionably, the great musical
artiste was Madame Parepa-Rosa, who
gained new triumphs every day. Even
the musicians, when she came to the last
notes of tbe "Star Spangled Banner,"
where in capacity of voice she almost
rivaled Jenny Lind, laid down their in
struments, and gazed in wonder. Her
pure, full, and resonant notes seemed to
triumph over walls and roof, and to fill all
space with tangible and enchanting mel
ody. General Grant's presence gave magnif
icent eclat to the occasion. Fully half a
million people were in the city on that
day, and the rush to the coliseum was ter
rific, there being fifty thousand persons
outside of the building, unable to obtain
admission. Hours before the time of the
concert, orders had to be issued prohibit
ing the further sale of tickets ; and, almost
as soon as the performances commenced,
every door was closed, secured by iron
clamps, and guarded by the police. Those
who arrived late, holders of season tickets,
purchasers of single day tickets bought ot

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

911

the speculators at a great price, members
of parties whose friends were already
inside, even journalists with their tickets
and badges, were firmly refused admission.
General Grant surveyed the vast and brill
iant mass of humanity with evidently
greater interest than that with which he
listened to the music. Indeed, it was
well known that, among his many fine
qualities, a taste for this divine art was
not included. When, therefore, General
Underwood called upon General Sherman,
on the morning before the president's
departure for Boston, General Sherman
said, "Taking Grant off to that drum
match, are you, Underwood ? " " Yes,
general, and I am very sorry you cannot
join us." " Well," responded Sherman,
"it is a kind of disappointment, you know,
because 1 can appreciate those things ;
but the President ! bless your soul, he'll
be bored to death ! And, worse than all
that, he has no ear for music. Why, do
you know that Grant actually couldn't tell
the difference between Yankee Doodle and
Zip Coon ? " On his way from Boston,
the evening after his attendance at the
coliseum, President Grant was asked how
he liked the discharge of artillery during
the performances that afternoon. He re
plied that, in his opinion, '¦ the firing was
the best part of the music ! "
Much of the sustaining character of the
choruses was due to the admirable adapt-
edness of the organ to the occasion. Its
tones were heard and felt clear over and
through the host of voices and instru
ments ; at times it seemed to overshadow
all, and its thunder tones shook the whole
vast building. It had but a single man
ual, besides the pedals and sub-bass, but
was capable of all desirable combinations,
and was an organ complete of itself. Re
peated experiments were necessary to get
pipes of sufficient compass as well as ex
cellence, and the result was the production
of an instrument which, for volume of
sound, could not be surpassed by a union
of the four largest organs in Boston. This
power was due not only to the capabilities
of the tubes, but to the immense pressure

of air brought to bear on them — four thou
sand pounds. The chief element of
strength was the tuba mirabilis stop —
found in but two other organs in the
whole country. There were twelve com
plete sounding stops, with one hundred
and sixty pipes connected. The instru
ment was twenty-two feet broad and thirty
feet high.
Another of the wonders of this wonder
ful week was the monster bass drum — the
heads measuring nearly eight feet each in
diameter, made from the hides of two
mammoth oxen, which had been exhibited
through the country during several years
past. On each head was the motto, " Let
us have Peace." The drum was about
three feet through from head to head,
and the rim was painted red, white
and blue. It was thoroughly perfect in
all its parts, and, being the largest drum
in the world — for no larger one could
be made, without using the hides of
elephants for the heads — created a de
cided sensation.
Whatever deficiencies or shortcomings
a critical eye may have detected in any of
the various features characterizing so stu
pendous an undertaking, it was almost
universally pronounced a great success,
realizing, in the highest degree, the patri
otic wish of the projector and his associ
ates, that the restoration of Peace through
out the land should be celebrated by one
of the most imposing national gatherings
ever assembled in any land ; and that the
return of kindly feeling and the prepetua-
tion of National Unity, should be sealed
by the grandest outburst of sublime and
inspiring harmony that had ever fallen
upon human ears. The management of
the whole affair was such as to command
the highest praise.
The monster entertainment known as
" The World's Peace Jubilee and Inter
national Musical Festival," was opened in
Boston, June 17, 1872, and continued,
with varying performances, which were
attended by multitudes of people, from all
parts of the country, until July 4th. The
chorus numbered twenty thousand voices,

912

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

embracing one hundred and sixty-five
musical societies from the different states,
but principally from New England. The
orchestra parts numbered about two thou
sand, including twenty-seven brass bands,
beside the foreign military bands, the

United States marine band, the Em
peror William's cornet quartet, British
Grenadier band, Strauss's orchestra, and
such renowned virtuosos as Madame Ara
bella Goddard, Peschka-Leutner, Ruders-
dorff, etc.

OVI.
BURNING OF THE CITY OF CHICAGO, ILL., THE COM
MERCIAL METROPOLIS OF THE NORTH
WEST.— 1871.

Most Destructive Conflagration in the History of Civilized Nations. — A Thirty Hours' Tornado of Tire
in all Directions. — Vast Billows of Inextinguishable Flame. — Upwards ot Two Thousand Acres, or
Seventy-three Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed : Loss, $200,000,000.— Ignoble Ori
gin of the Fire.— Fatal Mistake of a Policeman. — Combustibles all Around. — A Strong Gale Prevail
ing. — Frightful Rapidity of the Flames. — Destruction of the Water- Works — Stores and Warehouses
Swept Away. — Palaces and Hovels a Common Prey. — Engines Sent from Seven States. — The Mid
night Scene. — Terror Indescribable. — Flight for Life. — Burning of the Bridges. — Helplessness, Des
peration, Death. — Churches, Hotels, Theaters, in Ashes — Fate of the Newspapers, Banks, etc. —
Explosion of the Gas- Works. — Tombs and Graves Consumed. — Most Ghastly Spectacle. — Nearly
100,000 Persons Homeless.— The Wail for Help.— A World's Sympathies Poured Forth.

" Blackened and bleeding, panting, prone
On the charred fragments of her shattered throne,
Lies she who stood, but yesterday, alone."— Beet Haute.

covered at
Tery small,

MB. OGDEN'S HOUSE UNTOUCHED IN THE MIDST OF THE GREAT FIKE.
^N Sunday and Monday, October eighth and ninth, 1871, there
occurred ih Chicago, the great commercial metropolis of the
north-west, a fire unparalleled in the history of the world.
The fire originated in a small frame structure in the rear of
No. 137 DeKoven street, used as a cow-stable. It was dis-
about half-past nine o'clock in the evening, by a policeman, when it was
and who, hoping to extinguish it without sounding an alarm, set himself to

914

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

work to do so, — a fatal miscalculation, as
the result soon proved. A strong south
westerly wind was blowing at the time ;
no rain had fallen for several weeks previ
ous ; and consequently all combustible
matter was prepared for ready ignition.
It was also a portion of the city occupied
by the poorer classes, principally Bohe
mian emigrant families, and being in the
vicinity of several planing mills, shingle
mills, and factories, had collected a large
quantity of shavings from these places,
and stored them in tbe basements and
yards of their premises for winter use.
All the fire apparatus of the city was
brought into requisition, and, considering
the difficulties to be encountered, the cour
age and energy of the firemen could not
be surpassed. They had just passed
through a severe fire twenty-four hours
previous, and part of the companies had
left the scene of the Saturday night fire
but a few hours, when they were again
called, exhausted with hard labor, to this
fearful scene.
The flames shot with frightful rapidity
from house to house and from board-yard
to board-yard, all human means appearing
utterly powerless to stay their progress.
On they went, in a northerly direction,
covering a space of two or three blocks in
width, until the burnt district of the pre
vious night's fire was reached, and this
served the purpose of preventing their
farther spread on the west side of the
river. Sweeping every thing in their
course, up to the locality named, the
flames leaped across the river, and vio
lently communicated with the buildings
there. Quickly they traveled north, de
vouring everything as they went, until
that section of the south division which
embraced nearly all the grandest struct
ures and thoroughfares was reached, and
there seemed to be no encouragement to
farther efforts to save the city from its
fiery doom. Unfortunately, one of the
first public buildings reached by the fire
was the water-works; this cut off the
water supply, rendering the fire depart
ment useless.

The awful gale which prevailed filled
the air with live coals, and hurled to an
immense distance, in every direction, blaz
ing brands and boards, — a widespread
besom of furious destruction. All of the
leading banks of the city, several of the
stone church edifices, costly and elegant
in the extreme; the beautiful railroad
depot of the Michigan Southern and the
Rock Island railway companies, also that
of the Illinois Central and the Michigan
Central railroads ; the court-house and the
chamber of commerce ; the Sherman, Tre-
mont, Briggs, Palmer, Bigelow, Metropol
itan, and several other hotels, as well as
the gigantic Pacific, which was in process
of construction ; all the great newspaper
establishments; the Crosby opera-house,
McVicker's theater, and every other prom
inent place of amusement ; the post-office,
telegraph offices, Earwell hall, the mag
nificent Drake-Earwell block, the stately
dry goods palaces of J. V. Farwell & Co.,
Field, Leiter & Co., scores of elegant resi
dences in Wabash and Michigan avenues,
numbers of elevators in which were stored
millions of bushels of grain; in fact, all
that the hand of man had fashioned or
reared was completely swept away, as the
fire madly rushed to the north.
With tremendous force, the mighty and
uncontrollable element, rushing to the
main channel of the river, near its en
trance into Lake Michigan, consumed the
bridges, and attacked the north division
with relentless fury. All day, on Mon
day, and through the succeeding night, it
waged its work of devastation, advancing,
with wonderful speed, from block to block,
and from street to street, over a vast sur
face, sparing scarcely anything. The
destruction of palatial residences and mag
nificent churches continued, while stores
and dwellings by the hundreds, together
with the costly water-works, the north side
gas-works, Rush medical college, the Chi
cago and North-western railway depot, sev
eral immense breweries, coal yards, lum
ber yards, and manufacturing establish
ments of various kinds, and in great
numbers, yielded to the resistless enemy.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

916

By midnight, nearly the entire popula
tion of the city had been aroused, and the
streets, for an immense distance surround
ing the scene of the disaster, were thronged
with excited, swaying humanity, and with
all descriptions of vehicles, pressed into
service for the hasty removal of household
goods and personal effects ; loading and
unloading, here, and there, and every
where, was going on in promiscuous con
fusion. Invalids and cripples were car
ried away on improvised ambulances;
aged women and helpless infants were
hastily borne to places of supposed safety ;
people who were utterly overcome with
excitement and fatigue were seen sleeping
on lounges, trunks and tables, in the
street; and empty houses were forcibly
broken open and taken possession of by
homeless wanderers, made desperate by the
awful surroundings.
One of the most fearfully thrilling
scenes of the great conflagration, as nar
rated, occurred in the eastern section of
the north division. When it became ap
parent that all hope of saving the city was
lost, after the flames had pushed down to
the main branch of the river, the citizens
of the north side, who were over to see the
main theater of the fire, thought it time
to go oyer to their own division, and save
what they could. Accordingly, they beat
a rapid retreat toward the tunnel and
bridges. The former of these thorough
fares was impassable at three o'clock.
Clark street had not been opened for some
time, and State street was in a blaze from
one end to the other. Rush street bridge
proved to be the only means of getting
away from the south side, and over that
bridge the affrighted fugitives poured in
thousands. Their flight was not quicker
than was the advance of the flames. The
latter jumped the river with miraculous
swiftness, and ran along the northern sec
tion like lightning. So rapid was the
march of the fiery element, driven by the
heavy gale, that the people were glad
enough to escape unscathed. Everything
was abandoned. Horses and wagons were
used merely as a means of flight. Few

persons in the direct course of the firs
thought about saving anything but then
lives and those of their families, such were
the speed, and power, and omnipresence ol
tbe destroyer. Having reached Chicago
avenue, the conflagration took an eastward
turn, and cut off fiom flight northward all
who remained in the unburned section ly
ing between Dearborn street and the lake.
The inhabitants of that district flattered
themselves that their homes might escape
the general destruction. But the gale
changed its course in a few minutes more
toward the east, and the entire quarter of
the city specified became a frightful pen,
having a wall of fire on three sides and the
fierce rolling lake on the other.
And now a scene transpired, which, aa
described, was scarcely ever equaled.
The houses were abandoned in all haste.
Into wagons were thrown furniture, cloth
ing, and bedding. Mothers caught up
their infants in their arms. Men dragged
along the aged and helpless, and the en
tire horror-stricken multitude beat their
course to the sands. It was a hegira
never to be forgotten.
Even the homes of the dead were sought
for as food by the all-devouring element ;
for, after ravaging to the limits of the
city, and with the wind dead against it,
the fire caught the dried grasses, ran along
the fences, and in a moment covered in a
burning glory the Catholic cemetery and
the grassy stretches of Lincoln park.
The marbles over the graves cracked and
baked, and fell in glowing embers on the
hot turf. Flames shot up from the rest
ing places of the dead, and the living fugi
tives, screaming with terror, made, for a
moment, one of the ghastliest spectacles
ever beheld. The receiving-vault, solidly
built, and shrouded by foliage, fell under
the terrific flame, and the corpses dropped
or burst from the coffins, as the fire tore
through the walls of the frightful charnel-
h ouse. On the fire obtaining strong and over
powering headway, the flames seemed to
go in all directions ; in some places, like
huge waves, dashing to and fro, leaping

916

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

up and down, turning and twisting, and
pouring, now and then, a vast column of
smoke and blaze hundreds of feet into the
air, like a solid, perpendicular shaft of
molten metal. In other places, it would
dart out long streaks or serpentine shapes,
which swooped down over the blazing path
into some of the yet unburnt buildings,
which seemed pierced, and kindled instan
taneously. There were also billows of
flame, that rolled along like water, utterly
submerging everything in their course.
Here and there, when some lofty building
became sheeted in flame, the walls would
weaken and waver like india-rubber ; they
sometimes swayed almost across the street,
and immediately fell with a direful crash ;
a momentary darkness followed, and then
fresh glares of light from a newly kindled
fire. The kerosene-oil stores made an
awful but sublime display, as the tower
ing flames rolled aloft, seeming to pene
trate the very heavens.
The huge iron reservoir of tbe gas-works
exploded with tremendous force and sound,
demolishing the adjacent buildings, and
the very earth seemed actually belching
out fire. The walls of white marble, the
buff limestone of Illinois, the red and olive
sandstones of Ohio and Marquette, the
speckled granite of Minnesota, and the blue
Lockport limestone of New York, all ap
peared to suffer about alike in the ravag
ing element. Everything the power of
wind and flame could level met that doom ;
everything it could lift was swept away.
The furious fire consumed its own smoke,
leaving but few traces of stain upon the
bare standing walls.
In a comparatively short space of time,
nearly all the public buildings were either
consumed or in flames, — hotels, theaters,
churches, court-house, railway depots,
banks, water-works, gas-works, and thou
sands of dwellings, stores, warehouses, and
manufactories, with all their vast and val
uable contents, were whelmed in one com
mon vortex of ruin. The fire engines
were powerless. The streams of water
appeared to dry up the moment they
touched the flames. An attempt was

made to blow up the buildings , but this
availed little, the high wind carrying the
flaming brands far across the space thus
cleared away. To add to the horrors of
the scene, the wooden pavements in some
places took fire, driving the firemen from
stations where their precious efforts might
possibly have been available. But noth
ing could long resist the terrible heat of
the flames, which seemed to strike right
through the most solid walls. Buildings
supposed to be absolutely fire-proof burned
like tinder, and crumbled to pieces like
charred paper. Engines and fire-appa
ratus had arrived from seven different
States, and the working force was prodig
ious, but all this was of no avail.
According to tbe most reliable estimate,
the number of acres burned over in the
West Division of the city, where the fire
originated, was nearly two hundred, in
cluding sixteen acres which were laid bare
by the fire of the previous evening. This
district contained about five hundred build
ings, averaging four or five occupants each.
These buildings were generally of the
poorer class, and comprised a great many
boarding-houses, saloons, and minor hotels,
with a few factories, also several lumber
and coal yards and planing mills, a grain
elevator, and a depot.
In the South Division, the burned area
comprised some four hundred and sixty
acres. With the exception of the Lind
block, on the river bank, between Ran
dolph and Lake streets, it included all
north of an irregular line running diago
nally from the intersection of Polk street
with the river, to the corner of Congress
street and Michigan avenue. This dis
trict, though comparatively small in ex
tent, was by far the most valuable in the
city, — the very heart and head of Chicago
as a commercial center. It contained the
great majority of all those structures
which were at once costly in themselves,
and filled with the wealth of merchandise
that made the city the great emporium of
the North-west. All the wholesale stores
of any considerable magnitude, all the
daily and weekly newspaper offices, all the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

917

Hill

&18

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

principal banks, the leading hotels, many
extensive factories, all the offices of insur
ance men, lawyers, produce brokers, etc.,
the custom-house, court-house, chamber of
commerce, all the prominent public halls
and places of amusement, many coal yards,
the monster Central railroad depot, with
its various buildings for the transaction of
business of the Illinois Central, Michigan
Central, and Chicago, Burlington and
Quincy railroads, &c, &c. There were
nearly thirty-seven hundred buildings de
stroyed in this division, including sixteen
hundred stores, twenty-eight hotels, sixty
manufacturing establishments, and the
homes of about twenty-two thousand
people. Iu the North Division, tbe flames swept
nearly fifteen hundred acres, destroying
thirteen thousand three hundred buildings,
tbe homes of nearly seventy-five thousand
people. These structures included more
than six hundred stores and one hundred
manufacturing establishments, including
McCormick's reaper factory, a sugar refin
ery, box mills, etc. The lake shore, from
Chicago avenue north, was lined with
breweries. The river banks were piled
high with lumber and coal, three grain
elevators stood near the fork of the river,
and near them tbe Galena depot. Many
hotels, and private storehouses for produce
and other property, also existed in this
neighborhood, and the wholesale meat
markets on Kinzie street were a busy cen
ter of trade. North Clark, Wells, and
North and Chicago avenues, were princi
pally occupied by retail stores.
The total area burned over was two
thousand one hundred and twenty-four
acres, or almost three and one-third square
miles. This area contained about seventy-
three miles of streets, and seventeen thou
sand four hundred and fifty buildings, the
homes of nearly one hundred thousand
people. All this transpired in the brief
space of thirty hours, and the aggregate
loss was not far from $200,000,000. But
saddest of all was the great loss of life, the
precise extent of which will probably
never be known.

For a city thus suadenly and tragically
overwhelmed in ruin, the sympathies of the
whole civilized world were spontaneously
poured forth, and, in response to the cry for
help that went up from her borders, instant
and abundant relief was sent from every
part of the Union. The national govern
ment, at the instance of Lieut. Gen. Sher
idan, — whose activity in endeavoring to
stay the progress of the conflagration, and,
subsequently, in preserving order, was so
conspicuous, — sent thousands of tents and
army rations ; societies and private citi
zens sent money, clothing, and provis
ions ; railroad companies dispatched spe
cial trains laden with these gifts ; and in
every city and town, public meetings were
held, and money raised to aid the homeless
and suffering. From Canada and Europe,
too, came assurances of sympathy and
proffers of assistance. The total value of
the charities thus bestowed, in provisions,
clothing, and money, amounted to millions
of dollars, all of which was distributed
with such promptness and wisdom that
despair was forestalled, epidemic disease
prevented, and hope kindled in the hearts
of all.
To narrate more than a few of the many
instances of heroism, affection, tragedy
and crime, incident to a disaster so wide
spread and awful, would be simply impossi
ble. Gangs of armed ruffians were every
where patrollin g about, huntin g for plunder,
and breaking into safes with impunity, —
remonstrance was met with a deadly blow,
and few had the temerity to interfere.
Heated with whiskey and excitement, they
caused a complete reign of terror, and,
though the mayor had issued a proclama
tion directing the closing of the saloons,
no attention was paid to it, and the disor
derly element had its own sway.
In Wabash and Michigan avenues, and,
indeed, in all the places where the richer
classes lived, the scenes enacted were un
paralleled. Women who had never known
what a care was, and consequently were,
as would be supposed, utterly incapable of
bearing with courage such a calamity as
the destruction of their homes, displayed

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

919

instances of heroism and love worthy to
be written of in story and song. Thus, a
prominent lady of Wabash avenue had
been deserted by her servants as soon as
ifc hecame certain that the house was
doomed ; they went off, taking with them
whatever they could lay their hands on.
She, her daughter, and her invalid bus-
band, were alone in the house, and tlie
flames were rapidly approaching. There
was not a moment to spare, and the two
women carried away in their arms the
sick man, and brought him in safety be
yond the reach of the fire.
The most pitiable sights were the sick
children, half dead, lying crouched on the
sidewalks, in many cases with barely any
covering on them. A pathetic scene
was noticed on the corner of La Salle
and Randolph streets, where two little
girls were lying, terror-stricken, by the
side of their dead sister, whose re
mains presented a harrowing spectacle.
She had been too late to escape from
under a falling building on Clark street,
and had then been extricated and borne
away to the corner by her almost perish
ing sisters.
The preservation of Mr. Ogden's resi
dence, solitary and alone, in the very heart
of the fire, was one of the most memorable
incidents in the history of this great dis
aster. The happy result in this case was
accounted for by the fact that the house,
a large and comfortable frame structure,
was in the middle of a block, all the other
lots of which formed its elegant garden.
On the streets upon its four sides were not
many large buildings; while just as the
fire approached it from the south-west
there was a slight lull in the fury of the

wind. This allowed the flames to shoot
straighter into the air, and, before the
fiery tempest had again bent them forward
in search of further fuel, the structures
upon which they were immediately feed
ing had been reduced to ashes, and a break
made in the terrible wall of fire. The
exertions of Mr. Ogden and his family, in
covering the roof and walls of the house
with carpets, quilts, and blankets, which
were kept constantly wet with water from
a cistern which happened to be in his place,
also aided materially in the saving of their
home, which was the only unharmed build
ing for miles !
One of the most notable events was the
fate of the Tribune building, erected at
great cost, and, as it was supposed, with
undoubted fire-proof qualities. A wide
space had been burned around it, and its
safety was thought to be assured. A pa
trol of men swept off live coals and put
out fires in the side walls, and another
patrol watched the roofs. Up to four
o'clock in the morning, the reporters had
sent in detailed accounts of the fire. At
five o'clock the forms were sent down.
In ten minutes the two eight-cylinders in
the press-room would have been throwing
off the morning paper. Then the front
basement was discovered to be on fire.
The plug on the corner was tapped, but
there was no water. The pressmen were
driven from their presses. The attaches
of the establishment said good-bye to the
finest newspaper office in the western
country, and withdrew to a place of
safety. In a very short time the building
was enveloped in fire, and by ten o'clock
the whole magnificent structure was a mass
of blackened ruins.

CVII.
TERRIBLE FIRE IN THE BUSINESS HEART OF
BOSTON— 1872.

It Eages Fiercely, Night and Day, and Consumes the Widest and Most Magnificent Area of Solid
Granite Warehouses on the Continent. — Some Sixty-five Acres of these Massive and Apparently
Indestructible Commercial Palaces Crumble Like Chalk in the Intense Heat. — The Great Financial
and Commercial Center of New England Destroyed. — Surprising Character of this Fire. — Compari
son with that of Chicago. — No Gale : Moderate Weather. — Strange Rapidity of the Flames. — They
Spread in all Directions. — Triumphant Sweep from Block to Block. — Thoroughness of the Destruc
tion. — Iron and Stone No Barriers. — Difficulties of the Situation. — Great Height of the Stores. —
Narrowness of the Streets. — Trinity Church in Ruins. — Blowing up with Gunpowder. — Grand and
Terrible Scenes. — Narrow Escape of the " Old South." — State Street and Its Treasures Reached. —
Victory at Last by the Firemen. — Peril, Bravery, Death. — A Whole City in Darkness. — Some Eight
Hundred Buildings Burned.— Trades that Specially Suffered.— Loss About $85,000,000.

"In red and wreathing columns flashed
The flame, as loud the ruin crashed.
And here and there the crackling dome
Was fired before the exploding bomb."

T about seven o'clock, Saturday evening, November
ninth, 1872, a fire commenced in Boston, Mass.,
which proved to be, next to that of Chicago, the
most extensive and disastrous in American history.
Indeed, it was even more surprising in its character
than the Chicago conflagration — in the fact that,
with no gale prevailing at the time, and in moderate
weather, there could be such rapid, complete, and
almost uncontrollable destruction of the most solid
and, apparently, most fire-proof buildings, streets
and sections, to be found in any part of the world.
That rich and magnificent portion of the city
bounded by Washington, Summer, Bedford, Water
and Oliver streets, and the water of the harbor, was
nearly swept over by the devouring element, and, in
a brief space of time, the solid granite blocks of
Summer, Franklin, Milk, Congress, Federal and
Devonshire streets, were but a mass of ruins.
Washington street was burned on one side from
Summer to Water street ; the fire crept nearly up to
tkisity church, boston, Destroyed. State street, destroying in part the post-office and
Merchants' Exchange building, as it had previously damaged, to some extent, the walls

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

921

of the new post-office structure ; and it
took in, in its wide and destructive course,
most especially the streets and blocks
occupied by the wholesale general dry
goods trade, the shoe and leather trade,
and the wool business of the city.
The fire broke out in a large four-story
granite store on the corner of Summer and
Kingston streets, the building being sur
mounted with a high Mansard roof, over
topping everything else in that immediate
vicinity. . Directly as the flames began to
spread through the story beneath this
roof, and before engines or hose-carriages
were on the ground, great volumes sud
denly burst forth from the rear of the
other stories of the building, and, in
less than twenty minutes, the whole broad
facade extending along Kingston street
was one sheet of flames, as was also at the
same time the Summer street front, the
heat being so intense as to force the fire
men away.
By this time a strong breeze had come
up, — or rather, the vast and powerful
flames made their own current of air and
followed that, now to one side, now to the
other, following no particular path, and
spreading with unaccountable rapidity,
communicating in a short time to the
buildings on the opposite corner of Kings
ton and Summer streets, as well as the
block on Summer and Otis streets. In
less than half an hour thereafter, the
flames were bursting out of all the adjoin
ing roofs, and all up and down the broad
sides of these immense structures, — sweep
ing triumphantly from story to story, from
roof to roof, from block to block, from
corner to corner, of street after street.
Whatever the flames reached they rapidly
consumed, melting granite walls, and
crisping and crackling iron doors and
shutters as though they were but lead.
The great height of these warehouses and
the narrowness of the streets proved seri
ous difficulties. In hardly any case could
a stream of water be thrown upon the
back part of the roofs, and it was on the
roofs that, after the first outbreak, the fire
almost invariably caught ; nor was it pos

sible to approach in those streets — or
lanes — very near the buildings. The fire
men struggled heroically, but in vain;
they put up barricades for their protection,
but the barricades were soon consumed;
they carried hose up to the very roofs, but
the height was so great that very little
water could be forced through them. So
terribly intense, too, was the heat, after a
while, that it passed through the brick
walls of adjoining buildings and the fronts
of warehouses on the opposite sides of the
streets, igniting and consuming the latter
without any direct contact with flame.
This phenomenon of terrible heat was a
repetition of the experience of Chicago, as
was also the fate of those buildings which
were considered, in a peculiar sense, fire
proof. Iron and stone alike yielded like
pine to the destroyer. Walls which might
almost have defied heavy artillery were
quickly penetrated by the fierce element,
and, in a wonderful manner, crumbled like
chalk, the whole mass falling in small
pieces, — the solid window-caps, stately
crowning stones, and broad and massive
sections, indiscriminately ; and it was
noticeable that, in nearly every instance,
the walls left standing were of brick.
Another peculiar feature was the almost
total consumption of the contents of the
buildings, there being comparatively few
charred timbers piled among the ruins of
stone and masonry, and but few merely
damaged or half-burned goods. Every
thing that was combustible was consumed,
so overmastering was the intensity and
force of the heat, — a fact which none
knew better than the brave-hearted fire
men, who pertinaciously battled the fiery
fiend all through the night of Saturday,
and until long after Sunday's sun had
passed his meridian. Many faced the
heat until their exposed flesh was sadly
blistered. i
At about three o'clock in the morning,
the rapid reports of gunpowder explosions
indicated that buildings were being sub
jected to the fuse, as a last effort to save
the city from the flames. One of these
attempts was made with a massive block

922

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

on Devonshire street. The buildings were
thrown partially down, but not sufficiently
so to bar or break the onward march of
the sheet of blaze, which at once, like a
demon, leaped over the gap and seized
upon the adjoining stores. Buildings at
some distance from the flames were then
selected for gunpowder operations, it being
¦evident that it was useless to blow up any
situated in the immediate vicinity of the
fire. The explosions, following each other
rapidly, shook the city to its foundations,
and, being added to the hoarse roar of the
flames, the crackling sound of bursting
granite, and the air filled as far as the eye
could reach with fiery sparks, produced a
scene at once grand and terrible.
Thus, unchecked, the conflagration from
its first start swept with unconquerable
sway. From the fatal corner where it
commenced, it traveled simultaneously in
all directions. Southward it burned about
half a block. Eastward it took both sides
of Summer street, passed Arch, Chauncey,
and Hawley, and thence ran diagonally to
to the north-east corner of Summer and
Washington streets, sparing one solitary
building there, but taking everything at
the rear and side of it. Thence it ran
along the east side of Washington street,
as far north as Milk, and within a very
short distance of School street and the
City Hall. From Kingston street, east
and west, the fire took both sides of Sum
mer and Bedford streets, and never stop
ped until it reached the water, destroying
the wharves and depot of the Hartford
and Erie railroad. Meanwhile it had
careered northward, along Devonshire, Fed
eral, and Congress streets, toward the
water ; and here were some tenement
houses, liquor shops, and other buildings
of the poorer class, and before midnight
the wretched occupants were turned into
the street. Tbe general path of the flames
.at this time was north-west, and from about
Congress street to Washington, it formed
an impassable barrier, moving up closer
and closer toward State street, the great
financial center of New England. Milk
.and Pearl streets fell a rich prey to the

destroyer, and toward morning the rear of
the post-office was reached. The mails
were removed to the Custom House, and
thence to Faneuil Hall, where the regular
mail arrangements were duly established,
nothing having been lost. The progress
of the flames was stayed at the rear of the
Merchants' Exchange, thus saving the vast
treasures of State street.
Two currents of flame, one sweeping
northward from Franklin street, the other
westward along Milk street, encountered
one of the most renowned historical build
ings in Boston, the Old South Church. For
a long time it was feared that this vener
ated landmark was doomed to destruction,
and this apprehension was by no means les
sened when the flames were seen dancing
upon the tall roof of the Daily Transcript
building, only the width of a narrow street
and lot to the west. Its tall white steeple,
surmounted by a shining vane and globe,
stood transfigured in the glowing light of
the conflagration from early evening until
the next morning, and as hour after hour
was solemnly tolled from its belfry, many
persons indulged in such remarks as,
" That is the last time the Old South will
tell the hour of day," or, "I can say I
heard the Old South strike for the last
time," etc. But, though Trinity church,
on Summer street, with its massive walls
of unhewn granite, was laid in ruins, the
Old South, a brick building with consider
able wood in combination, was spared.
Save a few broken windows and a little
blistered paint, the grand old edifice was
unharmed. The beautiful Transcript build
ing, although it finally succumbed, stood
out long enough to give the firemen the
reins of the unruly element in that direc
tion. The scenes which accompanied this sud
den, furious, and wide-spread disaster, can
only be faintly depicted. Men with
ledgers and account books of every descrip
tion, and which contained the records of
immense business transactions, were hur
rying with them through the streets, anx
ious to convey them to some place as far
out of the reach of the fire as possible j

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

923

TERRIBLE FIRE IN THE BUSINESS HEART OF BOSTON,
NOVEMBER 9 AND 10, 1872.
job teams and every other kind of vehicle,
loaded down with valuables, crowded the
thoroughfares ; the Common was used as a
repository by those who could find no
covered shelter for their effects, and all
along the Tremont-street mall, from Park
to Boylston street, goods in bales and
boxes, packages, large and small, dry
goods, leather goods, bed-ticks, and house
hold furniture, were heaped in large
stacks, and determined men with sticks or
clubs guarded them from the incursions
of numberless thieves, who, like birds of
prey, hovered about at every turn. With
all the precaution exercised throughout
the city, with reference to this danger, ar
rests by the police became so numerous,
that it was found impossible to accommo

date all the prisoners, and con
sequently many of them had to
be discharged from custody.
That some lives were lost, during so
nany hours of devastation, ruin, and ter
ror, is not surprising, and it even appears
remarkable that the number should fall
something short of a score. Among these
were instances peculiarly harrowing and
tragical. While the fire was raging in
the drug store of Weeks & Potter, Sun
day morning, two men were struck down
while endeavoring to save stock, by the fall
ing of a portion of the wall. One of them
was totally buried, but the other was caught
by the legs,— and, shouting for succor,
said that if his legs were extricated he
could get out easily. Several brave fire
men responded by dashing intrepidly into
the doomed building, the front wall of
which was even then tottering, and mak
ing frantic efforts to release tbe poor suf
ferer. Suddenly they were startled by
the cry that the massive front wall was
going over. There was a desperate rush
for life, and a silent horror seized the
spectators as tbe wall fell with a thunder
ing crash and it seemed that two of the
brave firemen bad shared the fate of those
whom they had so nobly tried to save.

924

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

Nor was this an exceptional example,
merely, of the courageous conduct of Bos
ton firemen during those days of terror.
One of the most thrilling incidents oc
curred on Saturday night, in one of the
extensive dry goods warehouses on Win
throp Square. The store had been closed,
and six young men, whose duty it was to
clear up the basement and shut off the gas,
were thus employed, when, unknown to
them, some one left the store and locked
the door. As the fire made headway, and
burst into the upper stories of the block,
the young men made a rush for the door,
which, to their surprise and terror they
found secured. They shouted for help,
but none came ; they pounded the door •
and struggled to break it down, but in
vain ; the fire had enveloped the several
stories, and the clerks were in despair,
when, fortunately, the door was burst
open by the firemen, and the clerks es
caped a horrible death.
The light of tbe great conflagratidn was
visible scores of miles distant. Cinders,
pieces of newspapers, bills, dry goods, etc.,
were found in Hingham and adjoining
towns, and even as far as West Scituate
— twenty miles from Boston, — pieces of
charred goods, silks and woolens, paper,
freight bills, etc., were found in the roads
and fields ; and at one time, on Saturday
night, looking from South Hingham to
ward Boston, the air seemed filled with
fiery cinders. At West Scituate a govern
ment bond was found, the edges of which
had been burned, and in the adjoining
town of Hingham a fragment of a ten
dollar bill was picked up, also leaves of
hymn books, bibles, etc.
The scene on Tuesday, after the fire,
was such as had never before been wit
nessed in Boston. Many of the streets
were so completely filled with rubbish of
the fallen walls as actually to be quite
undistinguishable ; and, in all of them, it
was necessary for tbe explorer to pick his
way over smoking heaps of debris that lay
piled across, many feet deep. The effect
of the heat on the facades of the granite
structures was peculiar. In almost every

case, thin, platter-like disks had flaked off
from the blocks, leaving the latter shape
less and useless, yet nearly always ap
proaching a boulder-like form. On Pearl
street, the pavement was covered, about a
couple of inches deep, with powdered
granite, which resembled coarse granite,
few of the pieces being larger than a bean ;
and the passer who stepped off the bould
ers, on which he picked his way, into this
pulverized mass, felt it slide and roll
under his feet, in the same manner as
gravel. On this same street, also, on
which not a single building was spared, a
curious appearance was presented by the
remains of the front walls. Many of them
had fallen down to about tbe middle of
the lower story, just leaving enough of the
pillars beside the doors to fully display
the signs, showing the names and busi
ness of the recent occupants. In some
instances the lower story of the front
appeared as if completely untouched,
though behind there was only a smoulder
ing pile of brick. On the docks, thou
sands of tons of coal were burning, and
half-a-dozen steamers were busy, day and
night, playing on them, but with slow
effect. Owing to the exhaustion of the gas
supply, caused by copious leaks in numer
ous sections of the city, — the fire having
prevented access to the various stop-cocks
designed to shut off the supply from the
several districts in just such an emergency
as this, — darkness for one night, at least,
was relieved only by such means as could
hastily be improvised. Not a few house
keepers found it difficult to procure light
at all, as the stock of candles in nearly all
the retail groceries about town was early
taken up. The dealers in kerosene oil
and lamps also did a large business.
Without gas, the streets presented a for
lorn and desolate appearance indeed, and
the few persons abroad moved with cau
tious steps. Stores generally brilliant
with light in the evening were dark; and
the hotels, usually bright and inviting,
were, almost literally, enveloped in gloom.
A novel spectacle, truly, was that pre-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

925

sented by the boarders, as they gathered to
read the evening papers ; each individual
possessed himself of a wax, or sperm, or tal
low dip, and with the printed sheet in one
hand, and the flickering light in the other,
divided his attention between the two.
So great was the excitement produced
throughout all New England, as well as in
other parts of the country, by this tragical
and overwhelming calamity, that immense
crowds of visitors soon crowded the city,
causing in various ways extreme incon
venience. At no time during either of
the " Peace Jubilees " of 1869 and 1872,
was the rolling stock of the different rail
ways so heavily taxed. Trains of unex
ampled length, jammed with men, women,
and children, came in from every section
at early day, and went out as thronged at
dusk and in the evening. One train of
thirty cars on the Boston and Albany rail
road reached the city at noon from way
stations beyond Worcester, completely
filled, notwithstanding that specials and
regulars from a portion of the same section
had previously been run ; and, on the
other lines, the passenger freights were
nearly or quite as heavy. By some means,
not a few of these visitors got within the
well guarded fire limits and among the
ruins, and there, with small scrip, pur
chased of prowling urchins who had
stormed the lines, various " relics " of the
fire, — bits of crockery, pieces of fantastic
ally twisted iron, etc.
Curious but characteristic was the fact
that, even in the midst of the ruins, life
and energy appeared, with scarcely a day's
intervention, for, though Boston enter
prise had received the heaviest of shocks,
it had not become paralyzed. Before the
huge heaps of bricks had cooled, and
while many fires were smouldering and
crackling, and the smoke was yet thick
and stifling, men had begun the work of
clearing away the debris, preparatory to
the work of rebuilding. So complete,
however, had been the work of destruc
tion, and so utterly obliterated were the
lines of old familiar thoroughfares.) that
the masters and workmen alike were fre

quently bewildered, and citizens clamber
ing over the piles of bricks and granite
blocks were completely lost in places where,
before the fire, they were most at home.
One man was seen wandering around
what was once the lower part of Water
street, with a sign announcing the changed
location of the Shawmut Bank, busily
searching for the site of its building, which
in fact was not far from the corner of
Congress, and a prominent shoe dealer
was beard arguing that Purchase street,
where he was standing, was the upper
portion of Pearl.
As affecting the business community,
this fire was one of the most disastrous
ever known, and, in this country, second
only to that of Chicago — the greatest on
record. While but few dwellings were
burned and but a comparatively small
number of families made houseless, the
finest warehouses and stores in the city,
and indeed in the whole country, — the
entire space occupied by the wholesale dry
goods dealers, wool merchants, boot and
shoe and hide and leather dealers, and
clothing houses, — met total destruction.
Not a wool house was left standing. The
whole of Pearl and High streets, which
were devoted exclusively to the boot, shoe,
and leather trade, showed simply a heap
of ruins. Every wholesale clothing house,
with a single exception, was burned, and
but three or four dry goods commission
houses were left standing, — so complete,
indeed, was the destruction of the latter
class, that the agent of the largest mill in
the country stated that but one out of all
his 'customers in the city had a place left
for his business. The fire thus burned
over the widest area of massive and appar
ently indestructible commercial palaces in
America. The estimated total loss was
about eight-five million dollars. Consid
ering the small extent of territory covered
— some sixty-five acres, — and the length
of time the fire burned, the amount of
property destroyed was unparalleled. The
number of buildings consumed, not in
cluding those slightly damaged, was seven
hundred and seventy-six, of which only

926

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

sixty-seven were of wood. Though, most
fortunately, the number of deaths was
much less than might have been expected,
thousands of working girls and men were
thrown out of employment.
, The expressions of sympathy for the
devastated city, with generous proffers of
aid, came from all quarters. Even while

the flames were still spreading, measures
of relief were instituted to aid the necessi
tous; and, upon the petition of the city
council, the governor of the commonwealth
called a special session of the legislature to
enact measures for the benefit of sufferers
by the calamity, and to prevent the recur
rence of a similar disaster.

CVIII.
THE NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT.— 1872.

Popular Organizations in the Interests of Labor. — Changes Sought in the Relations between Producer!
and Consumers. — General Declaration of Principles and Aims. — A System of Universal Co-operation
Proposed. — Results to be Realized by such Combinations. — Patrons of Husbandry and Sovereigns of
Industry. — Initiative Proceedings in 1867. — First Grange Founded in Washington, D. C. — Agricul
ture the Grand Basis. — Mutual Protection and Advancement. — Small Encouragement at the Begin
ning. — Immense Growth in Five Years. — Activity in the West and South. — Social and Moral Aspects.
— Plan of Business Action. — Partisan Prejudices Disavowed. — No Political Tests Involved. — Opin
ions of Eminent Leaders Cited. — Views of Foreign Publicists. — Vital Point in the New System. —
Commercial and Financial Theories. — Grain and Cotton Products. — Alleged Errors in Trade Cus
toms. — Individual vs. Associated Efforts. — ' Middlemen ' a Disadvantage. — Substitute for Their Inter
vention — The Case Illustrated. — Difficulties and Remedies.

" The ultimate object of this organ ization is for mutual instruction and protection, to lighten labor by diffusing a knowledge of its aims
and purposes, expand the mind by tracing the beautiful laws the gre it Creator has established in the universe, and to enlarge our views of
Creative wisdom and power."— Constitution or thk National Graitub.

,<

kNE of the most active and vigorous co-operative bodies which have
| been organized, on a popular basis, within 'the last few years of the
national century, and which now has its associate
representation in almost all parts of the countr}',
is what is known as the National Grangers — and,
similarly, Patrons of Husbandry, and Sovereigns
of Industry, — devoted, as these names imply, to
the interests of agricultural labor, and kindred in
dustries. Their greatest strength is found in the
western portion of the republic, though by
no means confined to that section, affiliated
branches of the order being found, in a more
or less flourishing condition, in the southern,
eastern, and Pacific regions, as well.
Though dating the initiative of its existence
no earlier than 1867, it was not, in fact, until
1872, that the order became sufficiently for
midable in numbers and influence to attract
wide-spread attention. As illustrating, how
ever, the rapid growth which, in time, charac
terized this movement, it is stated that, in August, 1867, Messrs. 0. H. Kelley and
William Saunders, at that time connected with the government departments in Wash
ington, D. C, and known as intelligent and far-seeing observers of public affairs in

928

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

their relations to business and labor, — both
gentlemen having been farmers, and long
identified with that class, — conceived the
idea of forming a society, having for its
object their mutual instruction and pro
tection. In this view, they were joined, on con
sultation, by others, and a circular was
drawn up, embracing the various points it
was deemed desirable to embody, in pre
senting the plan of the Grange to the
country. On the 4th of December, 1867,
in Washington, D. O, the first Grange
was organized, being officered as follows :
William Saunders, master ; J. R. Thomp
son, lecturer ; Rev. A. B. Grosh, chaplain ;
0. H. Kelley, secretary. This became the
National Grange. Soon after, a subordi
nate grange was established in that city,
as a school of instruction, and to test the
efficiency of the ritual. This grange num
bered about sixty members. In April,
1868, Mr. Kelley was appointed to the
position of traveling agent. The first dis
pensation was issued for a grange at Har
risburg, Pa. ; the second at Fredonia, N.
Y. ; the third at Columbus, 0. ; the next
at Chicago, 111. In Minnesota, six granges
were organized. Thus, the whole number
during the first year was but ten : in 1869,
thirty-nine dispensations were granted ; in
1870, thirty-eight ; in 1871, one hundred
and twenty-five ; and during the next year,
more than eight hundred dispensations for
subordinate granges were issued from the
headquarters at Washington, and the total
increase during 1872 was rising eleven
hundred. The declaration of principles put forth,
authoritatively, by the national grange,
leaves no room for doubt as to the charac
ter and purposes avowed by this now pow
erful order. Starting with the proclama
tion of union by the strong and faithful
tie of Agriculture, with a mutual resolve
to labor for the good of the order, the
country, and mankind, and indorsing the
motto, 'In essentials, unity, in non-essen
tials liberty, in all things charity,' the
following specific objects are set forth
as those characterizing the order and

by which the cause is to be advanced,
namely :
To develop a better and higher man
hood and womanhood among those consti
tuting the order ; to enhance the comforts
and attractions of home, and strengthen
the attachment to their pursuits ; to foster
mutual understanding and co-operation;
to maintain inviolate the laws, and emu
late each other in hastening the good time
coming ; to reduce expenses, both individ
ual and co-operate ; to buy less and pro
duce more, in order to make their farms
self-sustaining; to diversify crops, and
crop no more than can be cultivated; to
condense the weight of exports, selling less
in the bushel and more on hoof and in
fleece ; to systematize work, and calculate
intelligently on probabilities ; to discon
tinue the credit system, the mortgage sys
tem, the fashion system, and every other
system tending to prodigality and bank
ruptcy; to meet together, talk together,
work together, buy and sell together, and
in general act together for mutual protec
tion and advancement, as association may
require; to avoid litigation as much as
possible, by arbitration in the grange ; to
constantly strive to secure entire harmony,
good will, and vital brotherhood, and to
make the Order perpetual ; to endeavor to
suppress personal, local, sectional and na
tional prejudices, all unhealthy rivalry, and
all selfish ambition,
In regard to the principles and aims of
this organization in respect to business, —
concerning which much public discussion
has taken place, — the statement is made
by the order, authoritatively and explic
itly, that it aims to bring producers and
consumers, farmers and manufacturers,
into the most direct and friendly relation
possible, and, in order to fulfill this, it is
necessary that a surplus of middlemen be
dispensed with, — not in any spirit of un
friendliness to them, but because such a
class is not needed, their surplus and ex
actions diminishing the raiser's profits.
Emphatically disavowing any intention
to wage aggressive warfare against other
interests, the grangers assert that all their

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

929

acts and efforts, so far as business is con
cerned, are not only for the benefit of the
producer and consumer, but also for all
other interests that tend to bring these
two parties into speedy and economical
contact ; hence, they hold that transporta
tion companies of every kind are necessary,
that the interests of such companies are
intimately connected with the welfare of
the grange, harmonious action being mu
tually advantageous, — keeping in view one

While declaring themselves as not the ene
mies of railroads, navigable and irrigating
canals, nor of any corporations that will
advance industrial welfare, nor yet of any
laboring classes, the grangers are opposed
to such spirit and management of any cor
poration, or enterprise, as tend to oppress
the people and rob them of their just
profit; and, while not enemies to capital,
they oppose the tyranny of monopolies, and
urge that the antagonism between capital

SYMBOLS OF THE OO-OPEBATIVE LABOB OBQANIZATIONS.

of the primary bases of action upon which
the order rests, namely, that individual
happiness depends upon general prosperity.
To this end, the order advocates for
every state the increase, in every practica
ble way, of all facilities for transporting
cheaply to the seaboard, or between home
producers and consumers, all the produc
tions of the country, the fixed purpose of
action being, in this respect, to open out
the channels in nature's great arteries, that
the life-blood of commerce may flow freely.
59

and labor be removed by common consent,
and by enlightened statesmanship worthy
of the nineteenth century. Opposition is de
clared, also, to excessive salaries, high rates
of interest, and exorbitant per cent, profits
in trade, as greatly increasing the burdens
of the people, and bearing no proper pro
portion to the profits of producers.
The relations of the grange movement
to political parties and questions have
formed, almost from the first, the subject
of universal criticism. It is emphatically

930

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

declared, however, as the oft-repeated truth
taught in the organic law of the order, that
the grange, national, state, or subordinate,
is not a political or party organization ;
and yet, while no grange, if true to its obli
gations, can discuss political or religious
questions, nor call political conventions or
nominate candidates, nor ever discuss their
merits in its meetings, the principles enun
ciated by the order are, it is claimed, such
as underlie all true politics and all true
statesmanship, and, if properly carried out,
tending to purify the whole political atmos
phere of the country ; that, though Seek
ing the greatest good to the greatest num
ber, no one by becoming a grange member
gives up that inalienable right and duty
which belong to every American citizen,
to take a proper interest in the politics of
his country. On the contrary, the grange
pronounces it to be the right and duty of
every member to do all in his power legiti
mately to influence, for good, the action of
any political party to which he belongs ;
that it is his duty to do all he can, in his
own party, to put down bribery, corrup
tion, and trickery, — to see that none but
competent, faithful, and honest men, who
will unflinchingly stand by the interests of
the order are nominated for all positions of
trust, — the governing principle in this re
spect to be, that tbe office should seek the
man and not the man the office. The
broad principle is acknowledged, that dif
ference of opinion is no crime, and that
progress towards truth is made by differ
ences of opinion, while the fault lies in bit
terness of controversy. A proper equality,
equity and fairness, protection for the
weak, restraint upon the strong, — in short,
justly distributed burdens, and justly dis
tributed power, — the grange holds to be
American ideas, the very essence of Amer
ican independence, to advocate the con
trary being unworthy the sons and daugh
ters of an American republic. Cherishing
the belief, too, that sectionalism is and of
right should be dead and buried with the
past, the order declares its work to be for
the present and future, and consequently
recognizes in its agricultural brotherhood,

and its associational purposes, no north,
no south, no east, no west, and to every
member is reserved the freeman's right to
affiliate with any party that will best carry
out his principles.
The wonderful growth of the grange
movement, especially throughout the west,
is asserted by Mr. J. K. Hudson, an in
telligent and reliable authority, to have
been without a parallel in the history of
associational movements in this country;
and this fact he attributes to the condition
of the public mind which existed at the
time of the founding of the movement, —
the prevailing feeling of distrust towards
the organized interests of every kind then
existing, the common indignation against
the injustice of the unfair distribution of
profits, the prevailing discrimination
against agricultural labor which was, year
after year, constantly kept alive in the
minds of the farmers of the west by the
fast decreasing profits, buying goods sold
at heavy profits, paying burdensome taxes
brought upon them by unscrupulous rings
which had squandered and stolen the pub
lic funds, while the result of the year's
product and sale showed a loss to honest
labor. Such a remarkable feature in American
life as the rise and progress of this move
ment has not failed to attract attention in
foreign lands, and particularly in England.
Thus, at the Social Science Congress of
Great Britain, assembled in 1875, the Earl
of Roseberry, president of the association,
after speaking of the various ' Unions ' to
be found in the United States, such as the
Sons of Toil, the Brethren of Labor, etc.,
characterized as incomparably above these,
"the gigantic association of Patrons of
Husbandry, commonly called the Grange,
a great agricultural, co-operative, inde
pendent union. Its progress has been
amazing. Its first grange, or lodge, was
formed in tbe last month of 1867 ; there
are at this moment 20,500, with 1,311,226
members, and at the end of the year it is
certain that they will have thirty thousand,
with two million members. The order is
practically identified with the agricultural

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

931

932

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

population of twenty-six states, and with
two-thirds of the farmers in ten others.
In Missouri alone there are said to be
2,150 granges; they are making their
way in Canada. Pennsylvania began the
year with six lodges, and at this moment
she has eight hundred." In regard to the
cause of this prodigious increase, the earl
thinks it easily accounted for, in view of
the fact that, as alleged, the membership
adds not less than fifty per cent, to the
income of the order; and their enterprise
and importance are further made manifest
by the fact, as stated, that the California
grangers have their own fleet, and ship
their corn direct to Liverpool, by which
they saved two million dollars, in freights,
in a single year, — their vessels bringing,
as return cargoes, tea, sugar, coffee, silk,
and other commodities, which are retailed
to members at cost price, and a system is
being organized by which their ships re
turn with loads of every foreign article
which the members may need, thus mak
ing them an independent mercantile na
tion. In a similar strain, it is remarked
by Mr. Leavitt, an ardent advocate of the
order, that, although the fact be a disa
greeable one to some classes of non-pro
ducers, it is none the less undeniable that
the rugged health of the movement arises
from its direct bearing upon the pockets
of its members, — the chief advantage be
ing the wholesale buying and selling
which is done through the machinery of
the order, differing, of course, in different
states ; thus, in the west, a large part of
the gain is from the wholesale disposal of
grain, and its handling through grange
elevators, while, in the south, planters
have saved large sums by using the grange
agents in disposing of their cotton.
This last named consideration appears
to be a vital point in the principles and
aims of the grangers, and is urged very
strongly in the writings of those who are
the acknowledged spokesmen of the order.
According to the argument of Mr. Aiken,
a leading member at the south, the philos
ophy of the order is based upon the idea
of affording mutual benefit to the producer

and consumer by bringing them together.
This position he enforces by stating the
disadvantage the farmer labors under, by
the system of trade at present carried on.
To dispose of his crop as he pleases, says
Mr. Aiken, is an enjoyable privilege, and,
when he exchanges his products for the
cash in hand he experiences a satisfaction
not suggested by the receipt of bills of sale
made at a distance ; those who buy from
the farmer in a home market, however,
are most generally speculators, or ' middle
men' of the genuine stamp; they buy
simply to sell at a profit, and if they, by
their better judgment and astuteness, can
realize a handsome profit upon their in
vestment, they should not be condemned
as tradesmen. If A buys B's crop, and
nets fifty per cent, upon the purchase, he
was no more to blame than B was for sell
ing to him ; both transactions were legiti
mate, but the result would show there was
something erroneous in this method of
dealing — the error was that farmer B did
not properly comprehend the ' tricks of
trade,' he had not studied the difference
between wholesale and retail, between lo
cal and through freights, between individ
ual and combined efforts, between isola
tion and co-operation. The purchase of a
single article, the shipment of a single
crop, the efforts of a single individual, are
all alike in their results, and of minor
importance to tradesmen ; but where the
purchases are made by wholesale, crops
are grouped together for shipment, and the
entire transaction submitted to a single
disbursing agent, the commission on sales
is diminished, the cost of transportation
is reduced, and the aggregated profits be
come a handsome amount. Just so the
' middleman ' acts ; he buys individually,
but groups his purchases and ships col
lectively, — is his own disbursing agent,
and pockets the results of his profitable
labors. It is exactly in this capacity that
the grange proposes to act for the farmer.
Similar in its spirit and principles of
fraternity and co-operation is the organiza
tion, so increasingly prosperous, known as
the Sovereigns of Industry. As defined

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

933

by Mr. Alger, a prominent exponent of
the society's aims, its members maintain
that the true desideratum is to raise the
quality and quantity of every sort of use
ful production to the maximum, and to
reduce the cost both of creation and distri
bution to the minimum ; and, with this
end in view, holding that men should be
producers of good in some form, and that
their sum of goods will be perfected by
equitable exchanges, they have already
begun the systematic organization of a
method of bringing all kinds of producers
and consumers into direct contact, for
their common gain and to the universal
advantage, — the system being intended to
prevent the waste of labor, and to put an
end to the exaction of profit without any
correspondent creation of value or use, and
to swallow up the bitter rivalries and ani
mosities of labor and capital and trade in
an inclusive harmonizing of them all. In
the further declaration of the purposes of

the order, upon which its action as above
indicated is based, it is urged that the
master principle of a true civilization must
be the direct application of labor to tbe
production of the goods of life. In utter
opposition, however, to this, is the applica
tion of artifice to obtain money from those
who possess it, in order that the obtainer
may command the goods of life without
producing them. The only real remedy,
— says the declaration of this order, — is
the overthrow of the existing monopoly
and gambling concentrated in the present
system of money, and the assignment of
its just prerogatives to productive labor ;
an end must be put to all those forms of
speculation which simply transfer money
from hand to hand without any use or
equivalent, and an end must be put also to
the enormous profits exacted by the dis
tributors of goods who create no value but
get rich out of the earnings of productive
labor.

OIX.
CONSECRATION OF THE FIRST CARDINAL IN THE
UNITED STATES.— 1875.

The Venerable Archbishop McClosky, of New York, Selected by the Roman Pontiff, for this Great
Office. — He becomes a Prince in the Church. — The Highest Ecclesiastical Appointment in the Catholic
Hierarchy. — Reasons given for this Step. — Solemn Investiture, in the Cathedral, by Clerical Dignitaries
from All Parts of the Country. — An Unparalleled Scene. — Illustrious Nature of this Office. — Special
Envoy sent from Rome. — Announcing the Event to the Archbishop. — Time of Public Recognition
Assigned. — A Mighty Stream of Humanity. — Decorations of the Church. — Procession of Priests —
Incensing the Altars. — Sacred Vessels and Vestments. — Insignia Peculiar to this Rank. — The Scarlet
Cap. — Profoundly Impressive Service. — Unprecedented on this Continent. — Imposing the Berretta. —
Intoning and Chanting. — Official Letter from the Pope. — Use of the Latin Language. — Inspiring Strains
of Music. — Incidents Attending the Ceremonial. — Pontifical Benediction by the Cardinal. — Retirement
of the Celebrants. — Dispersion of the Vast Throng.

11 It was the intent and purpose of the holy father to g've honor to our whole country; to give honor and show his deep respect and esteem
for our pi eat and elurious republic, of which the Catholic populatiou form so essential a part, and who are so loyally devoted to her institu
tions."— Cardinal HcCluskky's Audukss.

THE GREAT CATHEDRAL, K.

T may not be inappropriate, perhaps, to state, first, that a
cardinal is an ecclesiastical prince in the Roman Catholic
church, — an official of the most illustrious characer, there
fore, in that hierarchy, — second, in fact, only to the pope
himself, in point of rank, — and, among his very highest pre
rogatives, is that of having a voice and vote in the conclave
of cardinals at the election of a pope, who is taken from
tlieir number. The limit is seventy, and these also consti
tute the sacred college, and compose the pope's
^-% S=r=fte,"~ council. The distinguishing dress of a cardi
nal is a red sontaine or cassock, a rochet, a
short purple mantle, and a red hat.
As usual, in such a case, a special envoy was
sent from Rome, to bear to tbe eminent ap
pointee tbe papal briefs. Count Marefoschi,
of the pope's household, was deputed for this
purpose, and by him the official announcement
was duly made to the venerable prelate, and
vnrious insignia of bis new rank presented to
him. One special article of dress, however,
pertaining to the cardinalate, — namely, the
cappello— has to be received directly from the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

935

hands of the pope himself ; the article thus
named is the flat-topped,wide-brimmed hat,
from which depend two large tassels, and
which is worn on the most exalted occa
sions. In handing to the cardinal the papal
letter and the special insignia — a scarlet
skull cap, — the envoy stated that the ob
jects had in view by the holy father in this
step, ^vq, first, to recognize and reward

in from all quarters to witness the solemn
and impressive pageant — the first of its
kind since tho settlement of our country.
At the gate of entrance, the scene was
one long to be remembered by the vast
multitude — old men and women, young
men and maidens — who there sought, wi;h
almost mortal struggle, admission to the
portals of the sacred edifice.
In the decorations of the cathedral, the

ARCHBISHOP MCCLOSKEY, THE FIRST AMERICAN CARDINAL.

the personal merits and distinguished ser
vices to the Church of the archbishop
himself; second, to testify his regard for
and pay a just tribute to the piety and
zeal of the Catholics of America ; and
third, to acknowledge, in an especial man
ner, his appreciation of all that the Cath
olics of the diocese of New York had
accomplished for religion.
The 27th of April was the time assigned
for the public ceremonial of consecration,
and a mighty stream of humanity poured

choicest taste was exercised. The sanctu
ary was festooned with scarlet cloth orna
mented with gold lace and fringe, while
over the cross, at the top of the altar, was
arranged, in -gas jets, 'Te Deum Lauda-
mus,' and the floral decorations on tin-
altar itself were profuse and elegant in
the extreme. On either side of the tab
ernacle were floral columns of choice ex
otics, fully three feet in length and a foot
in diameter, composed of roses, camellias
and calla lilies, surmounted by a red cross

936

OUR EIRST CENTURY —1776-1876.

of carnation pinks, while other floral de
signs of every description were strewn
about in graceful profusion. The gallery,
which had been set apart for the sole use
of the choir, was hung with crimson cloth
fringed with gilt, and caught up with
heavy gold tassels ; in the centre was
looped the papal banner, wliile on either
side hung the stars and stripes.
At the appointed hour, tbe pope's legate,
supported by his secretary and the master
of ceremonies, came from the sacristy,
bearing the berretta and the papal briefs,
and deposited the treasures at the left of
the cardinal's throne, the berretta, in this
case, being of the color peculiar to the
cardinalship. In a few moments came the
procession of priests, in their priestly cas
socks and short surplices, and, shortly
after, the dignitaries came forth from the
same sacristy door ; first came a company
of acolytes ; then the archbishops and
bishops, mitred and arrayed in all the
insignia of their order; then tbe pope's
legate ; and next His Eminence the car
dinal, his train borne by two boys. Be
hind the cardinal came Count Marefoschi,
in the uniform of the papal guard ; then
another procession of priests, closed by
tbe Dominican monks in white, and the
Franciscans in brown robes. The bodies
composing the procession being duly ar
ranged, the church was now filled with
joyous music from the choir.
Cardinal McCloskey was, of course, the
noteworthy figure in this dazzling assem
bly. He wore a light purple or mauve cas
sock, a white surplice, and a velvet manta-
letta of deep purple; about his neck was a
gold chain, from which was suspended a
ponderous cross, blazing with magnificent
gems ; on his head was a black berretta —
a small cap with three crests which run
from the central point on top to the other
edge, — which, upon removal, showed be
neath it the small scarlet skull cap, the
well known sacerdotal insignia. His tall
spare person, towering over the larger
number near him, and his finely intellect
ual and energetic face, gave decided char
acter to the scene. All the bishops, with

tlieir gorgeous mitres and copes of gold
and silver and sheeny satin, embroidered
in various colors ; the cardinal tranquilly
seated on his throne ; the gigantic guard,
in the person of Count Marefoschi, mag
nificently attired, at his left ; Archbishop
Bayley, on the throne beyond the blazing
altar, whose wealth of flowers and their
tender hues became well nigh lost in the
dazzle and blaze of the firmament of can
dles ; the sober yet superb decorations of
the whole altar and sanctuary, and the
storm of music that swept over all ; — it
was a spectacle never to be forgotten.
Cardinal McCloskey, wearing his rochet,
purple cassock, etc., knelt at the epistle
altar; the archbishop of Baltimore sat on
the same side ; the officiating prelate and
clergymen stood at the altar steps ; and
mass was commenced. At the confiteor,
the cardinal stood up. and proceeded to
his throne at the gospel side, he alone of
all the prelates present having a pastoral
staff, which was carried by an officiating
bishop. After incensing the altar three
times, he sat down with the deacon and sub-
deacon. Bishop Loughlin read 'Introit,'
recited 'Kyrie,' and intoned 'Gloria in
Excelsis,' which was afterwards sung by the
choir. Collects were read by the celebrant,
the ' Epistle ' by the sub-deacon, and, while
Bishop Loughlin read the 'Gospel,' the
congregation rose to their feet ; he then
chanted ' Credo in Unum Deum,' and in a
low voice recited the remainder of the
Nicene Creed.
At this point, after the choir had fin
ished, Bishop Loughlin repaired to the
altar, where, after the customary 'Domi
nus vobiscum ' and ' Oremus,' he proceeded
to read prayers at the offertory. The dea
con and sub-deacon then prepared sacred
vessel;) and bread and wine. Mercan-
dante's 'Quam dilecta' was sung during
this period. Acolytes then advanced wiih
censers and the altar was incensed by the
celebrant, the archbishop and bishop ris
ing and removing their mitres, the priests
and entire congregation also rising. At
this time, the church was a level sea of
heads, and, when the bells tinkled to an-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

937

nounce the opening of canon or solemn
part of the ceremony, the people were un
able to kneel, so tightly were they packed
together. Toward the end of the mass,
was observed the interesting ceremony of
giving the 'pax,' or kiss of peace, — not

left band side of the altar, and tho arch
bishop of Baltimore stepped down from
his throne and knelt at the epistle side.
Ablegate Roncetti stood beside Archbishop
Bayley, and in a loud clear voice read the
message, in Latin, from the Pope to his

CONSECRATION OF THE FIRST AMERICAN CARDINAL.

exactly a kiss, but an inclination of heads
together, while the hands rest on others'
arms. 'Pax' was given from one to the
other until it, passed along to right and
left, all through the crowded sanctuary.
When mass was finished, the most nota
ble scene of the great occasion commenced.
Cardinal McCloskey rose and knelt at the

venerabilis frater, giving the reasons which
induced him to confer the cardinalate upon
Archbishop McCloskey, and at its close
handed him the parchment 'brief,' author
izing him to confer the berretta, in the
name of His Holiness, on this newly ap
pointed prince of the Church. The arch
bishop having replied, in the Latin Ian-

938

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-187G.

guage, delivertd the brief to a deacon of
the mass, and, after reading it, Count
Marefoschi surrendered the berretta to
Mgr. Roncetti, who, handing it to Arch
bishop Bayley, the latter walked over to
Cardinal McCloskey and placed the cap
on his bead, at the same time addressing
him as 'Eminentia tua ' Cardinal Mc
Closkey made a suitable reply, in the
Latin vernacular, and, after intoning 'Te
Deum,' retired to the vestry, where he put
on the crimson robes of his office, and re
turned to the altur, while the choir sang
' Te Deum.'
The interest, both ecclesiastical and
historical, pertaining to the papal docu
ments referred to, entitle them to an in
sertion in this place. The first of these,
couched in the usual phraseology of com
munications of such grave importance, is
addressed —
' To our Arenerable Brother, James Roose
velt Bayley, Archbishop of Baltimore.
Pms IX., Pope. Venerable Brother,
Health and Apostolic Benediction :
After the example of the Roman Pontiffs,
our predecessors, it has ever been our care to
fill the College of Cardinals, which is the Sen
ate of the Church, with men whose piety,
virtue, and merits, should correspond to the
splendor of so great a dignity. It is this that
has moved us to proclaim Cardinal of the
Holy Roman Church, our Venerable Brother,
John McCloskey, Archbishop of New York ;
whose piety, learning, devotion to His Holy
Apostolic See, and whose indefatigable zeal
in the cultivation of the Lord's Vineyard,
have been so conspicuously evident to Us that
we have thought him worthy of this great
honor. And now that we would choose a per
sonage for the office of conferring upon him
the berretta, one of the insignia of his new
dignity, we have thought well to select for the
office you, venerable brother, who presides over
so illustrious a church, and one that has the
right of precedence over all the churches of
the United States of America. We know that
such is your devotion toward us and toward
this chair of the blessed Peter, that we are
confident you will, in the discharge of this
office, fulfill all our expectations. We, there
fore, by these presents, charge you, venerable
brother, that, strictly observing whatever is
prescribed by tho sacred rites of the Roman '

Church, you confer, in our name and in his
own Cathedral church, upon our beloved son,
John McCloskey, proclaimed by us a Cardi
nal of the Holy Roman Church, the scarlet
berretta, which we have sent to him by the
hand of our beloved son, C^sar Roncetti,
one of our private chamberlains ; and we,
therefore, through these presents, by the same
apostolic authority, grant you all the powers
necessary and proper for the purpose. And it
is our wish that nothing contained in any
other ordinance shall be construed thwarting
our purpose, even though such thing might
seem to require special and individual men
tion. Given in Rome, at St. Peter's, under the
seal of the Fisherman's Ring, on the 16th day
of March, anno Domini 1875, and of our Pon
tificate the twenty-ninth.
[l. s.] F. Cardinal Asqutni.'
The above letter was followed by one
which announced to the distinguished pre
late, personally, that His Holiness had been
pleased to make him one of the princes
of the Church, and was addressed —
' To our Beloved Son, John McCloskey — by
the Appointment and Favor of the Apos
tolic of our Archbishop of New York, anti
now proclaimed a Cardinal of the Holy
Roman Church. Pius IX., Pope. Beloved
Son, Health and Apostolic Benediction:
Having been placed, through the Divine
will, without any merit of ours, in the supreme
dignity of this Apostolic See, with that solici
tude which should be characteristic of our
pastoral office, while laboring for the welfare
of the Catholic Church, we have ever sought
to enroll among the number of our venerable
brethren the Cardinals of the Holy Roman
Church, men of such conspicuous merit as the
dignity of their illustrious order demands.
For this reason it is that we have chosen you,
our well-beloved son, who?e eminent piety,
virtue and learning, and zeal for the propaga
tion of the Catholic faith, have convinced us
that your ministry would be of great utility
and honor to the Church of God. Having,
therefore, created you a Cardinal of the Holy
Roman Church, we send to you, by our be
loved son, Cesar Roncetti, one of our secret
chamberlains, the scarlet berretta, which is
one of the insignia of that sublime dignity.
When, with the proper forms, it shall have
been conferred upon you, know that its shin
ing crimson should ever remind him who is

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

939

elevated to the Cardinalitial dignity, that,
fearless and unconquered, he must ever up
hold the rights of the Church of (iod through
every danger, even to that shedding of his
blood which is pronounced precious in the
sight of the Lord. We also greatly desire that
you would receive, with all manner of kind
ness, him who we have sent to you, both for
the sake of the mission upon which he is sent
and for our sake. It is also our wish, that,
before you receive the berretta, you should
take and subscribe with yourownhand, the oatli
which will be presented to you by the afore
mentioned, our beloved son, Cesar. Roncetti,
and send it to us, either by his hand, or any
other. And it is our wish that no persons,
constitutions or ordinances, of this Apostolic
See, or anything else whatsoever, shall be con
strued as invalidating this our present act.
Given in Rome, at St. Peter's, under the
seal of the Fisherman's Ring, on the 26th day
of March, anno Domini 1875, and of our Pon
tificate the twenty-ninth.
[l. s.] F. Cardinal Asquini.
The closing act in this solemn pageant,
after the inspiring strains of music had
ceased to fill the air, was the pontifical bene
diction by tlie Cardinal, and, after the re
tirement of the celebrants in processional
order, the vast throng of spectators dis
persed. The new Cardinal entered upon his
great office with the reputation, accorded to
him alike by Protestants and Catholics, of
a name without a stain, and a career honor
able and dignified, through a long life.
It is certainly not saying too much, that,
in tlie annals of American Catholicism, so
memorable a ceremonial as that now des
cribed must render historical, in the high
est degree, the sacred edifice in which it
occurred. But only a few years elapsed,
after this unprecedented occasion, when the
venerable Cardinal had the satisfaction of
officiating at the dedication of the new and
magnificent St. Patrick's Cathedral just
completed on Fifth Avenue, — the most
superb ecclesiastical structure not only in
New York city, but on the American conti
nent. The dedication took place May 25,
1879, or nearly twenty-one years after the
laying of the corner-stone. The founda
tions rest on a bed of solid rock, in which
excavations therefor had to be made, and

at the normal level of the surrounding
ground rests a chisel-dressed base course of
granite. From this springs a pure Gothic
marble superstructure, similar in archi
tecture to the style obtaining in Europe
during the thirteenth and fourteenth cen
turies, and, like tho cathedrals of Amiens,
Rheims, and Cologne, this is free from
heaviness and over-ornamentation. Most
of the windows on the lower tier were do
nations from various churches, and some
are of American make ; those of the nave
were ordered by Cardinal McCloskey, when
visiting Rome. These windows are de
clared by good judges to be masterpieces
of art. The interior of the edifice is di
vided into three parts — transept, nave, and
choir, — of dimensions as follows: Length
of transept, 140 feet ; height of nave, 108
feet ; internal length of the building 306
feet, and breadth 96 feet. A series of
chapels, each twelve feet deep, occupy
either side of the edifice ; the nave is di
vided from the aisles by two rows of clus
tered columns, sixteen columns in a row ;
the choir has five bays, and arranged with
double aisles on either side of the central
aisle. The area of the interior of the ca
thedral is 38,500 square feet ; there is
standing room for 19,000 people, and
14,000 can be accommodated with seats.
The cost of the cathedral, when completed,
will approximate $5,000,000. The first
event in connection with the dedication of
the edifice was the solemn consecration,
two days previously, of the High Altar,
the chief consecrator being the Right Rev.
Bishop Conroy, of Albany, N. Y. This
grand altar, exquisite in material, design,
and artistic beauty, stands forty-eight feet
in height to the apex of the cross sur
mounting the tabernacle. The number of
eminent prelates present was quite large,
comprising not less than six archbishops,
in cope and mitre, followed by the bishops,
similarly attired, and making in all a gath
ering of forty-three members of the Epis
copacy. The scene of the dedication, un
der the lead, primarily, of the eminent and
venerablo Cardinal, was impressive to a
degree rarely witnessed on American soil.

ex.
•' MIRACLES OF SCIENCE," OR FOUR NEW WONDERS OF
THE WORLD.-1876.

rhe Electric Light, or Brilliant and Abundant Illumination by Means of Electricity. — The Telephone,
or Instantaneous Articulate Communication between Distant Points. — The Phonograph, or talking Ma
chine, Reproducing and Preserving Human Utterances, whether of Speech or Song, in all their charac
teristics. — The Microphone, or Prodigious Magnifier of Sound, however Slight or Remote. — Splendor
of the Electric Rays. — Former Inventions in this Line. — Prof. Farmer's Early Success. — Edison's Im
proved Device. — Its Special Characteristics. — Sanguine Expectations Entertained. — Interest Excited by
the Telephone. — Enconiums from English Sources. — Principles of Construction and Use. — Simplicity
and Serviceableness. — Tens of Thousands in Operation. — How the Phonograph was Developed. — Other
Inventions Fairly Eclipsed. — Its Appearance, Form, Outcome. — Words and Tones Recorded. — Aston
ishment and Delight. Its Five Chief Features. — Marvels of the Microphone. — A Touch or Tick Audible
for Miles. — Arrangement of the Apparatus. — Curious Feats Accomplished. — Explanation of this
property.

"The realm of scientific Investigation is actively occupied at present by onr American coueine. and with result* simply untoundmir."
— London 'Iiues.

"G

HE "miracles of science," or the "four new wonders of the world," is the
familiar phraseology with which those remarkable achievements in the world
of discovery and invention — the Electric Light, the Telephone,
the Phonograph, and the Microphone, — are referred to, and the
American citizen may well speak with pride of those accomplish
ments, from the fact that they are, either exclusively or in the
most promising sense, the offspring of his own native land. The
first of these, the electric light, which has recently attracted such
attention as never before was bestowed upon it, has been aptly
pronounced the brightest meteor that has flashed across the hori
zon of promise during the present centur}', — and, indeed, the
splendor of the rays emitted, and the representations of the small
cost required to produce such an intense illumination, have led
many to believe that gas-lighting was drawing to a close, and
that night would be turned into da)' by this wonderful agent.
The evident priority of American genius in this line, it is safe
to assert ; though not alone in this country, but in Europe as
well, electricity has been successfully employed in lighting assem
bly halls, factories, depots, streets, parks, lighthouses, etc., — and
its adaptation for marine purposes, as exhibited in the accompany
ing illustration, is looked upon as likely to mitigate the perils of
night and of fogs, and increase the facilities of ocean enterprise.

ELECTRIC LAMT

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

941

The inventions claiming to realize the
best results in this direction are very
numerous, and constantly accumulating.
Acknowledging, as do all men of science,
the practicability of the thing when ap
plied on a large scale, and especially out
of doors, the desideratum of chief impor
tance has seemed to be its application to
in-door service. That this was accom
plished by Prof. Farmer, at his home in
Salem, Mass., in 1859, is abundantly dem
onstrated. To realize this object conven
iently, agreeably, abundantly and inex
pensively, many contrivances have been
brought forward, foremost among which
may be said to be those due to the won
der-working brain of Mr. Edison.
This invention, as summarily described
by Mr Edison himself, consists, first, in
the combination with an electric light of
a thermal circuit regulator to lessen the
electric action in the light when the max
imum intensity has been attained ; the
combination with the electric light of a
circuit closing lever, operated by heat
from the electric current or from the
light, and a shunt or short circuit to di
vert the current or a portion thereof from
the light ; the combination with the elec
tric light and a resistance of a circuit
closer operated by heat, and serving to
place more or less resistance in the circuit
of the light; the combination with an
electric light of a diaphragm operated by
the expansion of a gas or fluid in propor
tion to the temperature of the light, to
regulate the electric current; the combi
nation with a vibrating body, similar to a
tuning fork, of mechanism for maintain
ing the vibration and magnets, cores, and
helices, by means of which a secondary
current is set up, so as to convert me
chanical motion into electric force, or the
reverse ; and, finally, the combination
with the electric lights of means for regu
lating the electric current to the same, in
proportion to the heat evolved in the light,
so as to prevent injury to the apparatus.
His improved alloy of the refractory met
als, and the thermo-static regulator, are
the means, in this case, of securing a light

which is alleged to be the most steady,
clear, inexpensive, and reliable, of any
electric light yet proposed. In other
words, the plan consists in placing an
electric light in branch circuits passing
across from the positive to the negative
conductor, and the lights are controlled
by switches which connect the branches
with or disconnect them from the main
conductors. The lamp consists of a suita
ble standard, surmounting which is a trans
parent glass case, resembling an ordinary
lamp chimney, except that it is closed at
the top ; within this is suspended a spiral
of metal wire, hardly larger than a knit
ting needle in diameter, and about three-
quarters of an inch in length. "When the
electricity is turned on, this spiral glows
with a white light, of great brilliancy and
steadiness. Should the sanguine expec
tations of the inventor of this device be
realized, a revolution in artificial illumi
nation, especially in-doors, will indeed
take place, involving, practicaUy, the dis
use of every other method and material.
Already, in this country and in Europe,
the various arrangements for electric illu
mination which have seemed the most prac
ticable have been put into operation, with
various degrees of success, and, in the case
of large inclosures or areas, there appears
to be no doubt as to its superiority. For
light-houses, it has some valuable points
of adaptation, and for various purposes at
sea its employment must be found ex
tremely serviceable. The results of its
introduction in the light-house at South
Foreland prove its usefulness in this rela
tion. The electric current for this light
is generated by means of large magneto-
electric machines, which are driven by
belting connected with a steam-engine,
each machine being composed of ninety-
six helices, mounted upon six gun-metal
wheels, each carrying sixteen helices; be^
tween these wheels are placed the mag
nets, eight in each division, forty of which
are composed of six layers or leaves riv
eted together, while the sixteen end ones
have but three leaves each. The magnets,
which are mounted in frames, are station-

942

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

ary, while the helices revolve at the rate
of four hundred revolutions per minute.
The power absorbed by the electric ma
chine alone, including friction, is four
indicated horse-power. The power of a
magneto-electric machine is according to
the gross attractive power of its magnets,
each magnet having a certain lifting or
attractive power expressed in pounds. In
the machines at South Foreland, each of
the six-plate magnets lift one hundred
and eight pounds, and each of the three-
plate magnets fifty-four pounds, making
the attractive power of the magnets, in
one machine, 5,184 pounds. Each of the
six-plate magnets weighs forty-three and

by this apparatus, taken with a dynamo
meter, shows 13 ^"n horse-power, the num
ber of lights being sixteen to seventeen
to a machine, each light being of two
thousand candle power.
The details of the scientific principles
and of the mechanical intricacies involved
in these various remarkable inventions
would cover many pages. It may be stated,
therefore, generally, that the carbon points

;t

one-half pounds. The machines art
connected by underground cables witl
the electric lamps placed in the lenses
of the tower.
The success which has attended the
use of such machines or devices as the
Lontin, Gramme-Jabloehkoff, Rapieff,
Werdermann, DeMeritens, Siemens.
Wallace Farmer, Sawyer-Mann, Brush,
Fuller, and some others, shows that,
whatever may come of the efforts to
secure the convenient and economical
use of electric illumination in dwellings,
there can scarcely be a doubt, as has al
ready been remarked, of the substitution
of this system for all others, at no distant
day, outdoors and in halls and other pub
lic buildings of considerable size. Quite
a large number of one of the devices just
mentioned have for some time past been
in operation in some of the largest busi
ness and industrial establishments in the
United States ; the tests of power absorbed

ELECTKIC LIGHT AT SEA.
of a powerful machine for electric illumi
nation are equal to the sun in lustre — it is
thought possible, indeed, that even this
limit may be overpassed, as the sun does
not occupy the first position in the uni
verse. In quantity and quality, too, tbe
electric light greatly exceeds all flames ;
it is, in fact, precisely this immense pro
fusion of illuminating power that has
proved objectionable. Nothing is easier,
however, than to reduce the lustre of the

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

943

light to any degree that may be desired —
that is, by covering the arc with a large
opalescent globe, which, wliile hiding the
light, receives all the rays, and disperses
them in the same way as if the globe itself
were luminous. To be suitable for pur
poses of illumination, a light should con
tain, according to chemical authority, the
seven primitive colors of the spectrum in
certain proportions ; the flames of oil and
gas do not contain the true proportions of
these, which is the cause of their inferi
ority. The electric light is white — abso
lutely the same as that of the sun — and
contains all the simple rays in the same
proportions. The subdivision of the light,

3w &* fi&to'w
as ii; is termed, to accomplish which in
ventors have put forth the most ingenious
endeavors, is one of the claimed peculiar
ities of Edison's device, a single machine
being thus utilized for the production of
several smaller illuminators, instead of for
one large volume of light.
We come now to the Telephone, the
patent for which wonderful device was
taken out at Washington, in March, 1876,
by Prof. A. G. Bell, affording fresh evi
dence of the versatility of American in
ventive genius. Though habitually sensi
tive to the honor and claims, in this direc
tion, of its own countrymen, the London
Westminster Review frankly admits that,
of all modern inventions connected with
the transmission of telegraphic signals,
the telephone has deservedly excited the
most widespread interest and astonish

ment, — an instrument which undertakes
not only to convey intelligible signals to
great distances without the use of a bat
tery, but to transmit in fac-simile the
tones of the human voice, so that the lat
ter shall as certainly be recognized when
heard over a distance of hundreds of
miles, as if the owner were speaking to a
friend at his side in the same room. Tbe
telephone — as the tens of thousands now
in use show — does all this.
This marvelous little apparatus pro
duces, as already remarked, cheap and in
stantaneous articulate communication, that
is, by direct sound, — neither battery, nor
moving machinery, nor skill being re
quired, but merely the voice of ordinary
conversation, and attentive listening. It
conveys the quality of the voice, so that
the tone of the person speaking can be
recognized at the other end of the line ;
it enables the manufacturer to talk with
his factory superintendent, and the physi
cian with his patients ; establishes instan
taneous intercourse between the main and
the branch office, the home and the store,
the country residence and the stable or any
part of the grounds, the mouth of the mine
and its remotest workings, — in fact, be
tween any two points miles apart.
In its mechanism, the telephone consists
of a steel cylindrical magnet, about five
inches long and three eighths of an inch in
diameter, encircled at one extremity by a
short bobbin of wood or ebonite, on which
is wound a quantity of very fine insulated
copper wire. The magnet and coil are
contained in a wooden cylindrical case.
The two ends of the coil are soldered to
thicker pieces of copper wire, which trav
erse the wooden envelope from one end to
the other, and terminate in the binding
screws at its extremity. Immediately in
front of the magnet is a thin circular iron
plate ; which is kept in its place by being
jammed between the main portion of the
wooden case, and a wooden cap carrying
the mouth or ear trumpet. These two
parts are screwed together. The latter is
cut away at the centre so as to expose a
portion of the iron plate, about half an

944

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

inch in diameter. In the experiments
made to determine the influence of the
various parts of tbe telephone on the re
sults produced, and their relations to each
other in ohaining the best effects, iron
plates were employed of various areas and
thicknesses, from boiler plate of three-
eighths' inch to the thinnest plate procur
able. Wonderful to relate, it appeared
that scarcely any plate was too thin or too
thick for the purpose, though that of the
ferrotype plate used by photographers
seemed preferable, thin tin plate also an
swering very well. To accomplish the
purpose sought, the iron plate was cut
into the form of a disk, about two inches
in diameter, and placed as near as possible
to the extremity of the steel magnet with
out actually touching it, — the effect of
this position being that, while tbe induced
magnetism of the plate amounted to con
siderable, it was susceptible to very rapid
changes owing to the freedom with which
the plate could vibrate. Good results are
obtainable by means of a magnet only an
inch and a half long, and a working instru
ment need not be too large for the waist
coat pocket. There is no difference be
tween the transmitting and the receiving
telephone, each instrument serving both
purposes. As already remarked, no skill
or training is required for the effective
use of the instrument, — the operator has
merely to press the apparatus to his ear to
hear distinctly every sound transmitted
from the distant end. For this, it is true,
an effort of attention is required, and some
persons use the instrument at the first
trial with more success than others. In
dividuals differ in the facility with which
they are able to concentrate their attention
on one ear, so as to be practically insensible
to what goes on around them; but this
habit of attention is readily acquired, and,
when once acquired, the telephone may be
used by any one who has ears to hear and
a tongue to speak. In sending a message,
the instrument is held about an inch in
front of the mouth, and the sender merely
talks into the mouthpiece in his ordinary
natural manner. The words are repeated

by the instrument at the other end of the
circuit with the same pitch, the same
cadences, and the same relative loudness;
one voice is readily distinguished from
another, the character of the speaker's
voice being faithfully preserved and repro
duced. Other instruments of this nature,
or improvements upon it, brought forward
by Gray, Dolbear, Edison, Phelps, and
others, cover substantially the same gen
eral principles of construction and method.
Following closety in point of time, and,
if possible, really eclipsing in wonderful-
ness the invention just named, is Edison's
Phonograph, discovered purely by acci-

l'HOXOGRAPH.

dent, — a simple apparatus, consisting, in
its original mechanism, of a simple cylin
der of hollow brass mounted upon a shaft,
at one end of which is a crank for turning
it, and at the other a balance-wheel, the
whole being supported by two iron up
rights. In front of the cylinder is a movable bar
or arm, which supports a mouthpiece of
gutta-percha, on the side of which is a
disk of thin metal, such as is used for tak
ing 'tin-type' pictures. Against the cen
tre of the lower side of this disk, a fine
steel point is held by a spring attached to
the rim of the mouthpiece ; an india-rubber
cushion between the point and the disk
controls the vibration of the spring. The
cylinder is covered with a fine spiral groove
running continuously from end to end.
In using the Phonograph, the first opera
tion is to wrap a sheet of tin-foil close
around the cylinder; the mouthpiece is
then adjusted against the left-hand end of
the cylinder so closely that the vibration
of the voice on the disk will cause the
point to press the tin-foil into the groove,
making minute indentations resembling,
on a very small scale, the characters of
the Morse telegraph. The cylinder is
moved from right to left by the screw

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

945

crank, so nicely adjusted that the steel
point is always against the centre of the
spiral groove. While turning the crank,
the operator talks into the mouthpiece in
a voice slightly elevated above the ordi
nary tone of conversation. Every vibra
tion of his voice is faithfully recorded on
the tin-foil by the steel point, the cylinder
making about one revolution to a word.
In order to reproduce the words — that is,
to make the machine talk, — the cylinder
is turned back, so that the steel point may
.go over the indentations made by speak
ing into the mouthpiece. A funnel, like a
speaking trumpet, is attached to the mouth
piece, to keep the sounds from scatter
ing. Now, turning the crank again, every
word spoken into the mouthpiece is ex
actly reproduced, with the utmost distinct
ness, to the astonishment and delight of the
hearer. Thus the disk is either a tympa
num or a diaphragm, as the case may be,
the first when it listens, the second when
it talks. Of course, the original device
would, true to the characteristic of Ameri
can inventive genius, be carried forward
from step to step, in its mechanism and
capabilities. It soon became a beautiful
construction, nothing being lost sight of
in the way of devices for quick adjustment
and in respect to other details. Among
the improvements which soon followed was
that of a mica diaphragm in place of the
original disk of metal, this having been
found to obviate the objectionable metallic
tone of the sound noticeable in the original
machine. Among the facts or results which the
inventor claims to be realized by this won
derful apparatus, are — the captivity of all
manner of sound-waves heretofore designa
ted as ' fugitive,' and their permanent re
tention ; their reproduction with all their
original characteristics at will, without the
presence or consent of the original source,
and after the lapse of any period of time ;
the transmission of such captive sounds
through the ordinary channels of commer
cial intercourse and trade in material form,
for purposes of communication or as mer
chantable goods ; the indefinite multiplica

tion and preservation of such sounds, with
out reganl to the existence or non-existence
of the original source; the captivation of
sounds, with or without the knowledge
or consent of the source of their origin.
These five features may well be said to
constitute a mechanical marvel hitherto
undreamed of. Indeed, the instrument
was in no sense the child of design or
even forethought. In experimenting with
the telephone, Edison happened to notice
the manner in which the disks of that con
trivance vibrated in accordance with the
breath used in speaking. Believing these
vibrations could be recorded so as to be
reproduced, he set to work to manufacture
a machine for the purpose, the result being
the phonograph, — an apparatus that will
faithfully record and repeat every syllable
uttered, with all the peculiarities of vocal
ization or articulation, that will sing,
whistle, sneeze, cough, sigh, echo, &c, &c.
With the improvements upon the Phono
graph already in progress, — among which
is that of impelling the apparatus by clock
work or machinery suited to the special
purpose to which it is to be put, — some of
the expected applications, as enumerated
by the inventor, are those of letter-writing
and other forms of dictation, books, educa
tion, public or private readings, music,
family record, also such electrotype ap
plications as books, musical boxes, toys,
clocks, advertising and signaling appara
tus, speeches, etc. Of the first of these
uses, (and which may be said to illustrate
representatively the ingenuity involved in
the adaptation of the contrivance to other
specialties), the general principles of con
struction adopted by Mr. Edison consist in
having a flat plate or disk, with spiral
groove on the face, operated by clock-work
underneath the plate, the grooves being
cut very closely together so as to give a
great total length to each surface — close
calculation showing the capacity of each
sheet of foil upon which the record is had
to be in the neighborhood of forty thou
sand words. Allowing the sheets to be
ten inches square, tbe cost would be so
trifling that but one hundred words might

946

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

be put upon a single sheet economically,
the chief point to be effectuated by experi
ment in this case, being, of course, that
each sheet have as great capacity as possi
ble. This form of Phonograph for com
munications Mr. Edison characterizes as
very simple in practice. Thus, a sheet of
tin-foil is placed in the phonograph, the
clock-work set in motion, and the matter
dictated into the mouthpiece, without other
effort than when dictating to a stenog
rapher. It is then removed, placed in a
suitable form of envelope, and sent though
the ordinary channels to tbe correspondent
for whom designed, — he, placing it upon
his phonograph, starts his clock-work and
listens to what his correspondent has to
say ; inasmuch, then, as it gives the tone
of voice of his correspondent, it is identi
fied, and, as it may be filed away as other
letters, and at any subsequent time re
produced, it is a perfect record.
A kindred instrument, in some respects,
with the preceding, — and like that a gen
uine marvel, — is the Microphone, or
transmitter of sound, by the use of which,
a mere touch, or so small a sound as the
tick of a watch, for instance, may be heard
at the distance of miles, and the walking
of a fly resembles the tramp of an elephant
or the tread of a horse on a rough road.
The telephone brings the sound from a
distance, and the microphone magnifies
the sound when it is thus brought near, —
thus rendering the latter just as appli
cable to the sounds transmitted from Lon
don or Dublin to New York, if transmis
sible so far, as to the sounds in a vibrating
plate which is within a few inches of the
listener's ear. The invention depends on
so breaking, by the interposition of char
coal permeated by fine atoms of mercury,
the currents transmitted by the telephonic
wire, that the sound is vastly increased by
the interruption — just as heat is known to
be vastly increased by a similar interrup
tion of a current, even to the turning of
metallic wire to a red or white heat. Thus
the microphone will make a minute sound
audible, whether it be close or far off.
In Edison's pile instrument, a piece of

cork is fastened to the diaphragm, and
presses upon a strip of platinum which is
attached to a plate of copper; the latter
is one of the terminals of an ordinary
galvanic pile. The other terminal plate
presses against the metallic frame of the
instrument. When the pile is included in
a closed telephone circuit, it furnishes a
continuous current, the strength of this
current depending upon the internal re
sistance of the pile and its polarization,
and these are varied by vibrating the
diaphragm ; the pile is composed of alter
nate plates of zinc and copper, and a bibu
lous medium between the pairs of plates.
A simple form of microphone, also, is
constructed with a wooden diaphragm one-
eighth of an inch thick and four inches
square, this being glued to a narrow frame
supported by suitable legs. Two pieces
of batterj' carbon are secured by means of
sealing wax to the diaphragm, about an
inch apart, and at equal distances from the
centre. They are both inclined downward
at an angle of about thirty degrees. One
of the pieces of carbon is longer than the
other, and has in its under surface three
conical holes, made with a penknife point,
which are large enough to receive the
upper ends of the graphite pencils, the
lower ends of the pencils resting in slight
cavities in the lower carbon ; these pencils
are simply pencil leads sharpened at both
ends and placed loosely between the car
bons, — they are also inclined at different
angles, so that the motion of the diaphragm
which would jar one of them would simply
move the others so as to transmit the sound
properly. The development or conception of the
microphone is stated to have been as for
tuitous as the discovery of the phonograph.
Thus, in the Hughes device, the Professor
was led by his experiments to place a small
electric battery in circuit with the tele
phone. He was surprised to find, on add
ing weights to a fine wire through which
the current was flowing, that, just before
the breaking strain was reached — just
when the fibres of the metal were torn
asunder — a peculiar rushing sound was

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

947

'observable in the telephone. He then
tried whether he could reproduce this
noise by loosely binding the wires again
together, and he found that by this means
he had hit upon a wonderfully sensitive
detector of sounds, — any noise near the
wires being immediately taken up by the
telephone with startling distinctness. The
slightest attachment of the wires procured
the same results, and then the joined wires
were modified into an apparatus which
merely consisted of three nails, two being
parallel and connected with the battery
wires, and the third resting upon them.
Although this ridiculously simple arrange
ment was capable of transmitting all kinds
of noises to a distant place, the sounds
were confused. This led to experiments
with different conducting substances, the
most reliable results, however, being ob
tained from the various forms of carbon.
An arrangement was then devised which
not only proved successful, but so sensi
tive, in fact, as to be almost beyond con
trol, namely, a tiny pencil of fine gas coke
dropped into indentations in two blocks
of the same material This compact little
instrument, fastened to a cigar box, it was
found would transmit to a long distance

the ticking of a watch placed near it, —
the gentle touch of a feather, or a camel's
hair pencil, reached the ear as the rasping
of a file, while the scratch of a quill pen
in the act of writing was augmented to a
loud noise. But better than this form, of
course, is that of a base board about three
inches long, having screwed upon it two
little angle pieces of brass plate, and a
metallic bar, pivoted on to these brass
supports, with a piece of carbon at its
end ; this carbon block rests upon two
similar pieces kept together by a cloth
liinge placed at the side, and the lower
block, to which one of the battery wires is
attached, is fastened to the board ; the
pressure upon these carbon surfaces is
controlled by a delicate spring of brass
wire, which is attached to a screw with a
milled head. By turning this screw, the
pressure is nicely adjusted, from the very
light contact required for delicate sounds
to the comparatively heavy pressure wanted
when the sounds are more intense. But,
to describe this marvelous instrument in
the various forms of construction already
given to it by inventors at home and
abroad, notwithstanding its recent intro
duction, would require scores of pages.

CXI.
CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION OF THE BIRTH OF THE
REPUBLIC— 1876.

Year of Jubilee, Festival, and Pageant, throughout the Land. — Prosperity, Power, and Renown of the
Nation. — A Union of Nearly Forty Great Commonwealths and Forty Million People. — Anticipations
of the Coming Anniversary. — Legislation by Congress for its Patriotic Observance — A Grand Exposi
tion of the Century's Growth and Progress, the Principal Feature Decided Upon. — Vast Work of
Preparation. — The Whole World at Peace, and All Countries and Climes in Sympathy with the
Eepublic and its Auspicious Era. — Ushering in the Year's Ceremonials. — Every City, Town, and
Village, Covered with Gay Streamers and Waving Flags. — Pomp, Parade, and Universal Fraterniza
tion. — Wondrous Microcosm of Civilization Concentrated at Philadelphia. — The Culminating Art
and Skill of Sixty Centuries of Human Advancement, and the Products of Every Quarter of the
Globe, Displayed in their Richest Illustrations. — An Unprecedented Scene : President and Emperor
Receiving the Salutations of the American People. — Oratory, Music, Poetry, Bells, Illuminations,
Cannon, Regattas, Banners, Hallelujahs and Huzzas. — The Beauty, Utility, and Magnificence ofthe
Orient and Occident, in Boundless Combinations. — The " Glorious Fourth," AU Over the Land.
— Congratulatory Letter from the Emperor of Germany.

" The completion of the first century of our national existence should li*. -ommemoratcd by an Exhibition of the natural resources ofthe
country and their development, and ofits progress in those arts which benefit mankind." — Pbesidest Grant's Message to Congress.

NE hundred years after the Dec
laration of Independence at Phil
adelphia, which great event gave
birth and national sovereignty to
a new Republic, the centennial
commemoration of that august act
filled the land with such festival
and pageant of joy, as only a free
people — prosperous, powerful, and
renowned, — could be expected to
exhibit. Prom a feeble beginning,
of thirteen weakly colonies, with
a scattered population of three
million people, struggling with
war and debt, they had now at
tained to the colossal growth of
nearly forty great commonwealths and forty million inhabitants, and, in respect to
whatever relates to man's material and moral advancement, found themselves unexcelled
by any empire or kingdom on the face of the wide earth.

HOUSE 12T WHICH THOMAS JEFFERSON WROTE THE DECLARATION
OF INDEPENDENCE.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

949

Anticipations of the coming anniversary
had long been prominent in the minds of
the people, and, in view of the peculiarly
national character of the event, it was at
an early stage of the discussion brought
before the assembled wisdom of the repub
lic, iu the halls of congress, the result of
which was the adoption of the idea that
had for some time become widely popular,
namely, that an exhibition of American
and foreign arts, products, and manufac
tures be held, under the auspices of the
government of the United States, in the
city of Philadelphia, in the year 1876.
To this end, the centennial commission
was appointed — two commissioners from
each state and territory, nominated by
their respective governors, and approved
hy the president. Under this organiza
tion, the vast work of preparation com
menced, and, on the fourth of July, 1873,
the ground set apart for the purpose was
dedicated with appropriate ceremonies.
The result of the succeeding three years
of labor on the part of the commission,
showed that not only from every section of
our own land did the choicest contributions
accumulate in every department of art,
science, and mechanism, but that all for
eign countries also, — in response to the
invitation extended to them by the Amer
ican government, — were in sympathy with
the Republic and its auspicious era; so
that, at the time designated for the grand
ushering in of the year's ceremonials, there
was presented the most wondrous micro
cosm of civilization ever concentrated in
one locality. There was, in fact, the cul
minating art and skill of sixty centuries
of human advancement, and tbe products
of every quarter of the globe, displayed in
their richest illustrations, — the beauty,
utility, and magnificence, of the Orient
and Occident, in boundless combinations.
On the day of the formal inauguration
of the exposition, and at which were pres
ent hundreds of thousands of joyous spec
tators, with dignitaries from both hemi
spheres, the occasion was appropriately
introduced by the vast orchestra perform
ing the national airs of all nations, as fol

lows: The "Washington March; Argen
tine Republic, Marche de la Republica;
Austria, Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser;
Belgium, La Brabansonne ; Brazil, Hymno
Brasileira Nacional; Denmark, Volkslied
— den tappre Landsoldat; France, La
Marseillaise; Germany, Was ist des
Deutschen Vaterland ; Great Britain, God
Save the Queen; Italy, Marcia del Re;
Netherlands, Wie neerlandsch bloed ; Nor
way, National Hymn; Russia, National
Hymn ; Spain, Riego's Spanish National
Hymn ; Sweden, Volksongen — Bevare Gud
var Kung; Switzerland, Heil dir Helve
tia ; Turkey, March ; Hail Columbia.
Following this musical prelude, the bold
chords of Wagner's centennial inauguration
march filled the air with floods of richest
harmony ; solemn prayer was offered by
Bishop Simpson ; and then a superb chorus
of nearly a thousand voices, accompanied
by orchestra and organ, sang Whittier's
centennial hymn, set to music by John K.
Payne. Formal presentation being now
made of the building to the United States
Centennial Commission by the president
of the board of finance to General Hawley,
president of the centennial commission, a
cantata was sung with fine effect, the
words by Lanier, of Georgia, and the
music by Buck, after which the ceremo
nial presentation of the Exhibition to the
President of the United States was made
by General Hawley, in an eloquent address,
to which General Grant responded in a
eulogistic speech of acceptance, reviewing
the progress of the century, bidding the
whole world welcome, and declaring the
exhibition open. On this announcement,
the orchestra, chorus and great organ burst
forth into triumphal strains of the ' Halle
lujah,' from the "Messiah," acclamations
and huzzas rent the air ; and the unprec
edented spectacle was witnessed, of an
American President and a crowned Empe
ror — the emperor of Brazil being present,
and at President Grant's side, — receiving
the enthusiastic salutations of the Ameri
can people.
The case of Dom Pedro, it may be here
remarked, furnishes the only instance in

950

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

951

the history of our century, of a reigning
crowned head visiting the United States,
with the exception of Kalakaua, king of
the Sandwich Islands, whose tour occur
red in 1874-5.
And here may be cited one of the most
notable scenes which transpired on this
wonderful occasion, namely, the starting
of the stupendous engine constructed by
Mr. Corliss, which was to move the four
teen acres of machinery, comprising some
eight thousand different machines, in the
building devoted to that specialty. This
starting operation was performed jointly
by President Grant and Emperor Dom
Pedro IL, under the direction of Mr. Cor
liss. These two great personages took the

THE CORLISS ENGINE.

positions assigned them by Mr. Corliss,
who explained by a motion of the hands
and a word or two, as to how the engines
were to be started by the single turning
of a slender steel arm, like the brake of a
street railway car, — this action opening
the throttle valve, and then the vast but
quiet building would be instantly alive
with all the functions of every kind of a
factory in full practice. The time had
arrived for the movement, and a most
imposing array of eminent officials sur
rounded the president and emperor.
"Now, Mr. President," said Mr. Corliss.
"Well," said the president, quietly, "how

shall I do it ? " The answer was, " Turn
that little crank around six times." Pres
ident Grant made a motion with his fin
gers, inquiringly, "This way?" "Yes."
In another half minute, the screw was
turned by the president, the colossal ma
chine above him began to move, the miles
of shafting along the building began to
revolve, innumerable steel and iron organ
isms were set going, and a visitor who
retraced his steps could examine the proc
esses of half the important manufactures on
the globe. At the wave of Mr. Corliss's
hand, the emperor gave a sharp turn of
his wrist and started his engine a moment
in advance of the president; but the re
sponse of the machinery at the single
touch of these two men — countless wheels
turning, bands beginning their rounds,
cogs fitting into their places, pistons driv
ing backward and forward and up and
down, performing their infinitely varied
functions — was so almost simultaneous,
that few suspected that the Brazilian
monarch had outstripped his host. This
engine weighs eight hundred tons; will
drive eight miles of shafting; has a fly
wheel thirty feet in diameter and weigh
ing seventy tons ; is of fourteen hundred
horse-power, with a capacity of being
forced to twenty-five hundred; has two
walking-beams, weighing twenty-two tons
each ; two forty-inch cylinders, a ten-feet
stroke, a crank-shaft nineteen inches in
diameter and twelve feet in length ; con
necting rods twenty-four feet in length,
and piston rods six and one-fourth inches
in diameter ; height from the floor to the
top of the walking-beams, thirty-nine feet.
It was in vastness, power, and ingenuity,
the mechanical marvel of the exhibition.
The plan of construction for the accom
modation of the several grand features of
the exposition, comprised five main build
ings conveniently located at different
points on the five hundred acres devoted
to centennial purposes, being about one-
sixth of the area of Fairmount Park, on
the Schuylkill river, than which no mora
delightful locality could have been selected.
These structures consisted, respectively, of

952

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

the main building, having an area of about
twenty-one and a-half acres ; that for ma
chinery, fourteen acres ; for agriculture, ten
acres ; for horticulture, one and a-half ;
for art, one and a-half. In addition to
these, the number of special structures,
including the memorial hall, and those
erected by the United States government,
by foreign nations, by the different States,
by the women, etc., etc., was among the
hundreds. Many of these were of great
cost and striking architectural beauty,
and, with statues, fountains, flower plots,
and other decorative objects innumerable,
produced a scene of surpassing attraction.
The variety of special celebrative events,
in combination with the wondrous display
of every marvel and masterpiece gathered
from art and nature in the four continents,
attending this centennial commemoration,
may be judged of by the following pro
gramme: Harvesting display; trials of
steam plows and tillage implements; ex
hibition of horses and mules, — of horned
cattle, — of sheep, swine, goats, and dogs,
— of poultry; national gathering of the
Order of Good Templars ; international
regatta; yacht regatta; gathering of the
Sons of Temperance ; the Grand Army of
the Republic ; Knights Templars ; wo
men's temperance union ; Am. musical as
sociation ; international series of cricket
matches ; congress of authors in Inde
pendence Hall ; parade of Roman Catholic
societies and dedication of their magnifi
cent fountain; parade of military organ
izations ; parade of the Knights of Pyth
ias; international rowing regatta; inter
national rifle matches ; international med
ical congress ; parade of the Odd Fellows ;
reunions of the army of the Potomac,
Cumberland, and James ; etc., etc.
Memorial Hall, or the art gallery, a
most beautiful structure, was erected at
the expense of the state of Pennsylvania
and the city of Philadelphia, as a perma
nent commemoration of the centennial.
In its construction, nothing but granite,
brick, glass and iron, were used. Its su
perb hall, pavilions, galleries and arcades,
are surmounted with a dome of crystal

and iron, terminating in a colossal bell,
and, at the apex, Columbia rises, with
protecting hands. Within these walls,
the treasures of painting and sculpture
displayed were almost beyond enumera
tion — certainly beyond description.
The colossal proportions of the main
building struck every visitor's wondering
attention, — relieved, however, by its ex
quisitely artistic form and endless expanse
of complementary colors, — and, within, a
universe of the wonderful and beautiful,
such as the eye of man never before be
held nor his hand created. The position
of the nations in this vast structure was
an interesting matter to determine, being
finally decided as follows : Within the
line of railing extending across the en
trance, to the north of the nave, the pavil
ions of Italy ; passing east, the arrange
ment comprised Norway, then Sweden,
with the English colonies as a neighbor ;
Canada adjoined, and then the mother
country, Great Britain, occupying a large
space down to the transept ; beyond En
gland was France, and the next in line,
still on the north of the nave, Switzerland;
near the eastern end, and covering as much
room as France, Switzerland, Belgium,
Brazil, the Netherlands, and Mexico com
bined, the United States exhibited her
wonderful progress, in innumerable illus
trations ; opposite to Great Britain, ap
peared the German Empire, alongside
Austria, and Hungary in the rear; ap
proaching still towards the west, but on
the south side of the nave, came Russia
and Spain, and, along the nave, followed
Egypt, Turkey, Denmark, and Sweden,
while in the rear of these were Tunis,
Portugal, and the Sandwich Islands; in
the front rank was Japan, facing Norway
and Sweden, and next to the latter, and
back of her, was China ; Chili had a place
near the entrance from the west, and, near
by, was the Argentine Republic. These
were the locations of the principal nation
alities. Handsome, and grand in its amplitude,
and tasty in its harmonies of form and
color, the machinery building fairly be-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

953

954

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

wildered both the eye and mind of the
observer, by its ever-varying contents,
while the prevalent somberness of its acres
of iron and steel construction was pleas
antly relieved by the cheerful coloring.
Horticultural hall seemed like some fairy
palace, with its light and airy design, and
delicate ornamentation, the grand conserv
atory alone constituting a world of beauty

tures; was built almost entirely of wood
and glass, and the color a delicate whitish
tint throughout, — no effort, however, be
ing made in the way of ornamentation,
but simply to have a structure suitable for
the purpose and in keeping with the char
acter of the exhibits. The woman's build
ing, or pavilion, devoted entirely to the
results of woman's skill, was an attractive

INDEPENDENCE HALL, JULY 4, 1876.

to all lovers of nature ; in the flower beds
surrounding this structure, more than
thirty thousand hyacinth and tulip bulbs
were planted, to display, with thousands
of other beautiful plants, their full bloom
on the opening or inauguration day. Ag
ricultural hall was entirely different in
appearance from any of the other struc-

structure, covering some thirty thousand
square feet, and filled with the dulce et
utile from all lands. The government
building, of substantial and elegant de
sign, contained a revelation of wonders
connected with the army and navy, the
department of agriculture, the post>office,
patent office, signal service, ordnance bu-

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

955

reau, light-house board, and all the subor
dinate departments and bureaus in any
way connected with the government.
In making reference to special objects
of interest, brief mention is due in the
case of a magnificent piece of silver bul
lion, in one mass, valued at a prodigious
sum, and showing, in a conspicuous man
ner, the metallic riches yet to be unearthed
in the remote West.
The Smithsonian Institution showed
every kind of American bird in an im
mense group by itself, also every kind of
fish, mollusk, reptile and quadruped.
Queen Victoria's personal contributions
comprised a number of etchings by her
own hand, also table napkins spun by her
self, and drawings and embroideries from
her princess daughters.
The Pennsylvania Bible Society circu
lated the scriptures in the language of
every nationality represented on the
grounds, a pure white flag floating from
the top of its pavilion, bearing the words
of Jer. xxii, 29 : "0 Earth, Earth, Earth,
hear the word of the Lord ! "
Among the evidences of Connecticut's
skill was the huge centennial time-piece,
— a clock weighing six tons and having
eleven hundred pieces, with wheels four
feet in diameter.
A collection of models, sent by Massa
chusetts, of the various marine craft which
have been employed in her waters, since
the first settlement of Plymouth colony
— some fifty or sixty, most elaborately
executed, and all perfect in type — from
the Indian birch canoes and first fishing
boats used on the coast, up to the most
improved modern iron-clad, attracted much
notice. From the Pennsylvania coal mines
came two blocks of coal, weighing, respec
tively, about two and one-fourth and five
tons ; and, from her steel works, a solid
ingot of steel weighing 25,000 pounds, also
a perfect steel rail, rolled, 120 feet long,
and weighing 62 pounds per yard.
In the navy department, the govern
ment exhibited curious specimens of shot
and shells, small arms of all kinds, ships'
guns and howitzers, Gatling guns, and

other terrible instruments of warfare;
marine engines and boilers, showing the
improvement made in marine engineering;
immense cables, with mammoth iron links;
likewise, beautifully finished models of
every class of ship on the naval list, in
cluding lines of the famous craft on which
Lawrence, Decatur, and McDonough
fought and conquered, and the original
appearance of " Old Ironsides " was finely
reproduced. The patent office poured
forth its treasures and curiosities — de
vices that have revolutionized labor the
world over. More than one case was filled
with relics of the great Washington — the
clothes worn by him on memorable occa
sions, his swords, camp furniture, tents,
etc. A complete set of maps showed the
different areas of the United States where
farm improvements have been made, where
woods are most abundant, — every tree,
shrub, flower, root, cereal and fiber, in
their respective sections, — the fungi that
destroy tbe different plants, — and so on.
Louisiana's products included a tree
loaded with the somber, hanging moss,
that renders some of her landscapes so
gloomy, but which is now being used as a
substitute for hair in mattresses and up
holstery. California sent gold quartz of
surpassing richness, and wonderful grain
and cacti as well. Of the Indian races,
the leading features were aptly epitom
ized, and their habitations, manners, and
customs, represented by delegations from
different tribes. Of universal interest, of
course, was the original draft of the Dec
laration of Independence — to be looked at,
not touched. Whitefield's portable pulpit,
which be usually took with him, and from
which, he once said, the gospel had been
preached to more than ten millions of peo
ple, was another interesting relic; also,
General Stark's spurs, John Alden's desk,
Governor Endicott's folding-chair, the sil
ver pitcher used by Lafayette in Boston,
etc. The inventions and handiwork of boys
included, among other things, a heavy ten-
wheel draft locomotive, cylinder eighteen
by twenty-two inches, and all of consum-

956

OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876.

mate finish. The kindergarten plan of
teaching was most fully illustrated in all
its appliances and methods.
Massachusetts sent, among its rich and
varied contributions, an organ of gigantic
proportions, having fifty-nine stops and
four banks of keys, its longest pipe being
thirty-two feet and the shortest less than
one inch; also, industrial designs, of strik
ing character, from the Massachusetts in
stitute of technology. Noticeable as a
most sumptuous article of taste, was a
hundred thousand dollar necklace from

pie on the globe, — with her thousands of
specimens of corn, cotton, sugar, her woods,
fruits, honey, perfumery, scimetars ; Aus
tralia, her mineral and agricultural prod
ucts, tin, iron, wool, wood; Canada, her
row-boats, furs, iron-work; Scotland, her
cut stones and precious gems, in every
form of exquisite jewelry ; Switzerland,
her watches of world-famed beauty ; Nor
way, and Sweden, their glass-work, wood
carvings, porcelains, irons and steels ; Hol
land, her magnificent models of sea-coast
works, bridges, dams, aqueducts; Belgium,

UNION SQUARE, NEW YOKE, JULY I, 18T6.

New York city, also the Bryant vase ;
and, from Providence, the ' century vase,'
of solid silver, being five feet four inches
in length and four feet two inches high,
and weighing two thousand ounces. Each
State and section, in a word, presented its
special exhibits, in superbest examples and
endless profusion, tiring the eye and baf
fling description.
Glancing a moment at the countless
riches in every department of nature, art,
and mechanism, which flowed from foreign
nations of every zone, mention may first
be made of Egypt — the most ancient peo-

her curiously carved balustrades, cornice
ornaments, statues ; China, her jars, vases,
and other specimens of ceramic art; Japan,
her multitudinous porcelains and bronzes ;
Cuba, her palms, agaves, cact, and other
tropical plants; Italy, her fine art contri
butions, including rare and priceless gems
from the Vatican, sent by Pius IX. ;
France, with its selectest elaborations in
almost every department of knowledge
and handicraft, not least among which
being its Gobelin tapestries and Sevres
fabrics ; , Great Britain, her infinitude of
woolen, cotton and silk goods, carpetings,

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

957

hardware, and paintings from illustrious
artists ; — and so followed on, in magnifi
cent array, Austria, Germany, Russia,
Spain, Portugal, Denmark, Turkey, Brazil,
and others of the great family of nations,
with the choicest products of their mines
and looms, foundries and workshops, lapi
daries and ateliers.
But why commence, even, the impossi
ble task of describing fifty teeming acres
of templed wonders from every clime —
the marvels and masterpieces of nature,
science, and art, in bewildering variety
and richness. No traversing, in fact, at
all equal to the occasion, can here be es
sayed. It will require, indeed, all the
copious volumes intended to be issued
under official auspices, adequately to elab
orate and portray the genius and results
presented in a display so unexampled in
the history of man.
Nor would it be scarcely less impos
sible, in the scope of a single chapter, to
sufficiently characterize the enthusiasm,
wide-spread as the continent, which usher
ed in and prolonged the observance of the
Anniversary Day in especial, — July
Fourth, — which numbered the first hun
dred years of the greatest republic upon
which the sun ever shone. To say that
the festal ingenuity of nearly forty great
States and forty millions of people, with
their tens of thousands of cities, towns,
and villages, fairly spent itself, in efforts
to suitably commemorate the Wonderful
Anniversary, is only faintl y expressing the
fact. It was a festival of oratory, music,
poetry, parade, bells, illuminations, regat
tas, cannon, banners, hallelujahs and huz
zas. At Philadelphia, the central point of
historic interest and centennial ovation,
the resources of a whole nation's pomp
and glory seemed drawn upon, on a scale
eclipsing, in extent and variety, any cele-
brative occasion in the annals of the re
public. Congress, sitting in its halls in
the capitol at Washington, had a few days
previously passed a resolution of adjourn
ment to meet, on this wonderful day, in
Independence Hall, where, one hundred

years before, occurred the birth of the
nation, and where, subsequently, was
framed that immortal instrument which
gave to the republic a constitutional gov
ernment, the wisest and most admirable
ever conceived by uninspired men.
That the celebration in this city was,
in every respect worthy of an occasion so
august and of a spot so historically sacred
and national, was universally admitted.
A parade of troops, societies and officials
took place in the morning, ending at In
dependence Hall. The Centennial legion
of troops from North and South was
commanded by General Heath, formerly
of the confederate army, and the proces
sion in various other ways reflected the
strength of the renewed feeling of national
unity and fraternity. In Independence
Square, the vice-president of the United
States, Hon. Thomas W. Ferry, presided ;
prayer was offered by Bishop Stevens;
Dr. 0. W. Holmes's 'Welcome to the
Nations' was sung; Bayard Taylor read
his national ode; Hon. William M. Ev
arts pronounced the oration ; the Declara
tion of Independence was read by Richard
Henry Lee of Virginia, from the original
document, which President Grant had in
trusted for the purpose to the mayor of
Philadelphia. The faded and crumbled
manuscript, held together by a simple
frame, was then shown to the assembled
multitude facing the platform, cheer fol
lowing cheer, at this rare spectacle.
There was also sung the " Greeting from
Brazil," a hymn composed for the occasion
by A. Carlos Gomez, of Brazil, by the
request of the Emperor, Dom Pedro.
After the ode, the orchestra performed a
grand triumphal march, with chorus, " Our
National Banner," the words being by
Dexter Smith, of Massachusetts, and the
music by Sir Julius Benedict, of England.
On the orator retiring from the speaker's
stand, the Hallelujah chorus from the
" Messiah " was sung, and then the whole
ofthe vast throng united in singing the
Old Hundredth Psalm. The magnificent
spectacle presented by the procession was,
however, the scene witnessed and enjoyed

958

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

959

with most general interest and admiration.
It was miles in length, and in its ranks
every one of the thirteen original States
had a picked corps, and it was very evi
dent, from the hearty manner in which
General Heath, — in the absence of Gen
eral Burnside, — formerly commanders, re
spectively, on the field of battle, of ' the
boys in blue ' and ' the boys in gray,' but
now knowing but one color and one flag —
was received, that the fraternization of
the North and the South was genuine and
complete, on this great natal anniversary.
The procession was under the lead of
General and Governor Hartranft, and the
splendid pageant was reviewed by General
Sherman, Lieutenant-General Sheridan,
and General Hooker, in whose company,
on the guests' platform, were to be seen
hundreds of official dignitaries, of civil and
military fame.
In Boston, as the representative metrop
olis of New England, and as the spot
where, almost above all others, our nation's
liberties had their origin and chief support,
the preparations for the anniversary had
been made on a splendid scale, and these
were carried out with perfect success to
the end, witnessed and enjoyed by the
patriotic multitudes who thronged the
beautifully decorated city from the earli
est hour. There were parades, concerts,
regattas, balloon ascensions, fire-works,
and commemorative services at the great
Music Hall, under the auspices of the
municipal government, the orator being
the Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, a direct
descendant of Governor Winthrop, of co
lonial times, and the Declaration of Inde
pendence being read by Mr. Brooks Ad
ams, a great-grandson of John Adams, the
revolutionary patriot and leader. On the
orator's platform was an article of extraor
dinary interest to the thousands of eyes
that were intently concentrated upon it,
when, as Mr. Winthrop, in the early part
of his oration, said : " And here, by the
favor of a highly valued friend and fellow-
citizen, to whom it was given by Jefferson
himself a few months only before his death,
I am privileged to hold in my hands, and

to lift up to the eager gaze of you all, a
most compact and convenient little ma
hogany case, which bears this autograph
inscription on its face, dated Monticello,
November 18, 1825 —
' Thomas Jefferson gives this writing
desk to Joseph Coolidge, Jr., as a memo
rial of his affection. It was made from a
drawing of his own, by Ben Randall, cab
inet-maker of Philadelphia, with whom he
first lodged on his arrival in that city in
May, 1776, and is the identical one on
which be wrote the Declaration of Inde
pendence. Politics, as well as Religion,
has its superstitions. These, gaining
strength with time, may, one day, give
imaginary value to this relic, for its asso
ciation with the birth of the Great Charter
of our Independence.'
Superstitions ! Imaginary value ! Not
for an instant (continued Mr. Winthrop,)
can we admit such ideas. The modesty of
the writer has betrayed even the masterly
pen. There is no imaginary value to this
relic, and no superstition is required to
render it as precious and priceless a piece
of wood as the secular cabinets of the
world have ever possessed, or ever claimed
to possess. No cabinet-maker on earth
will have a more enduring name than this
inscription has secured to ' Ben Randall of
Philadelphia.' No pen will have a wider
or more lasting fame than his who wrote
the inscription." The applause elicited
by these remarks showed that the hearts
of the great audience were still filled with
the spirit of the fathers and founders of
the republic, and that patriotic reverence
for their names and deeds had suffered no
decay. Conspicuously attractive, during the
whole day, to the enthusiastic throngs,
were the venerable buildings, still remain
ing, so memorably associated with the part
taken by Boston during the revolutionary
struggle. In the center of the portico at
the east end of the Old State House,
appeared prominently a fine copy of Paul
Revere's painting of the King-Street Mas
sacre, eighteen by ten feet, showing on
one side the British soldiers firing upon

960

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

the population, several of whom lie cm the
ground, weltering in their blood. Over
the picture was a banner inscribed with
the words, "Massacre of the People by
the British Troops," and, on a wreath
above, the date — 1776. On each side of
the painting stood figures of the Goddess
of Liberty holding the American flag in

ENTRANCE OF THE NEW YORK SEVENTH REGIMENT.
one hand and an olive branch in the other.
On each end of the portico were placed
faces and flags of different nations, while
above all, on the coping of a window, was
perched an eagle, holding in its beak fes
toons of the red, white and blue. Faneuil
Hall, the Old Cradle of Liberty, was
another of these patriotic shrines. On its
western end was placed a medallion, ten
feet in diameter, in the center of which

was a portrait of Lafayette, surrounded by
the following sentiment, which was offered
by the illustrious Frenchman at a banquet
given to him by the authorities, in Au
gust, 1824, viz. : ' The city of Boston —
the Cradle of Liberty ; may Faneuil Hall
ever stand a monument to teach the
world that resistance to oppression is a
duty, and will, under true republican
institutions, become a blessing.' The
medallion was encompassed by a glory
of French and American flags, and above
stood the Goddess of Liberty holding fes
toons of bunting. Christ Church, King's
Chapel, and especially the Old South
Church — within the walls of which last
named building, Warren, and Adams, and
Otis, and the sons of liberty, gathered
and spoke — were likewise places of most
attractive interest. Local celebrations
were held, also, in the various capitals of
the States, as well as in hundreds and
thousands of other cities, towns and vill
ages, calling forth every manner and mode
of joyous festivity, on the part of old and
young ; and statesmen, judges, generals,
the " honorable of the land," furnished
abundant oratory, and a vast amount of
local history of permanent value. The
honor of firing the first centennial salute
in the United States — that at the first
instant of day-break — is claimed, in point
of locality and time, for Eastport, Me.
In New York, as in Philadelphia, the
jubilistic demonstrations commenced on a
truly metropolitan scale, on the evening
of the third. Indeed, the most vivid de
scription would convey only a faint idea of
the picturesque and imposing appearance
presented in the principal squares and
avenues, from nine o'clock until far into
the night. In Union Square, the whole
scene was one of unparalleled beauty and
grandeur, and nothing could be more
impressive than when the advanced guard
of the monster procession marched into
the square by way of the plaza. It was
almost an hour after the start of the pro
cession before the head entered the grounds
and took position. The members of the
Sangerfer Bund were in full force of about

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

961

one thousand, on the platform, while the
many bands that took part in the pro
cession assembled between the grand stand
and the singers' stand. As soon as the
immense concourse of people became set
tled, the singing societies performed, with
grand effect, various ma'rtial and patriotic
airs. Here, as in other parts of the city,
the display of fire-works was magnificent ;
in fact, the lower portion of the city was,
in this respect, a scene of bewildering
splendor, Broadway being, as it were, a
sea of fire from Dey street to Union square
plaza. An electric apparatus at one of the
lofty telegraph buildings poured a flood of
light over the great thoroughfare ; among
the buildings particularly brilliant with
illuminations were the city hall, of im
mense and multitudinous windows, the
bank, insurance, and newspaper buildings,
the hotels, places of business, and a count
less number of private residences, and never
before in the history of the city was there
such universal and gorgeous decoration.
Castle William fired a salute of one hun
dred guns from its prodigious fifteen-inch
cannon, the church bells chimed and rang,
the locomotive and steam-boat whistles
screamed ; while all over the city, as well
as Brooklyn, Jersey City, and neighbor
ing localities, could be seen thousands of
rockets, blue lights, bombs, and other
pyrotechnics. Rev. Dr. Storrs was the
orator of the day.
Great parades, illuminations, and decor

ations, were the chief features in all the
large western cities of the republic. The
St. Louis Germans exhibited, in common
with tlieir intelligent and thrifty country
men throughout all the Union, tho utmost
patriotic enthusiasm, tho special demon
stration consisting of a vast torch-light
procession, and an address by the Hon.
Carl Schurz. San Francisco began Mon
day and ran through Wednesday with its
varied and magnificent festivities, which
included a military review, a sham battle,
with mock bombardment from the forts
and ships in the harbor and bay, torch
light display, orations, music, etc. In
Washington, on account of tbe official par
ticipation in the exercises at Philadelphia,
the celebration was mainly under the
auspices of the Oldest Inhabitants' Asso
ciation, at the opera-house, where the
Declaration of Independence — adopted
when what is now the federal capital wap
a wilderness — was read, and an oration
pronounced by Hon. L. A. Gobright ; and
everywhere the national ensigns, floating
from staff and tower, told of the wondrous
anniversary. In the southern cities, Richmond led off
at midnight preceding, by the firing of
guns at five different points in and about
the city, the festivities continuing far into
the night succeeding ; and, in Norfolk and
Portsmouth, no Fourth of July had, for
many years, been so generally observed.
Fire-crackers and cannon were brought

STATU AVENUE.

61

962

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876.

into requisition, various societies paraded
the streets, and many houses were finely
decorated with flags ; salutes were fired at
sunrise, noon, and sunset, by the naval
receiving ship and the monitors, all the
government and commercial vessels were
decked with bunting, and thousands of
people went down to Fortress Monroe to
witness the fire-works there displayed.
Montgomery, Ala., bid farewell to the Old
and saluted the New century of indepen
dence, in handsome style, all business
being suspended, the streets and houses
streaming with the red, white, and blue ;
a salute of thirteen guns was fired at break
of day, and of thirty-seven at noon ; a pro
cession of military and fire companies and
citizens marched through the streets, and

commemorated by a grand banquet at the
Westminster Palace Hotel, under the
auspices of the American legation, a large
and distinguished company of citizens of
the United States and their English
friends being present. It was a magnifi
cent occasion, worthy of the centennial of
the greatest Republic in the world. Toasts
to the health of President Grant and
Queen Victoria were received with ap
plause and music. The sentiment, ' The
Day we Celebrate,' was responded to by
Rev. Dr. Thompson ; ' The Mother Coun
try,' by Mr. Henry Richard, M. P. ; ' The
City of London,' by the Lord Mayor ;
' The Army and Navy,' by Major-General
Crawford ; and ' The newly-appointed Min
ister of the United States,' by Hon Ed-

WOMAN'S PAVILION.

Ex-Governor Watts delivered an eloquent
oration, the reading of the Declaration of
Independence being by Neil Blue, the
oldest citizen of the place, and the only
survivor of those who voted for delegates
to the territorial convention that adopted
the constitution under which Alabama was
admitted as one of the Federal Union.
Most significant, it may be remarked,
was the respect paid to the occasion in
foreign countries ; not only the Americans,
in all the European cities, joined in cele
brations, some of them outwardly public
and participated in by foreigners, but the
daily press everywhere discussed the day
and its historical lessons. In Dublin there
was a popular gathering, numbering thou
sands, and spirited political addresses. In
the city of London, the anniversary was

wards Pierrepont. Extracts from Bayard
Taylor's national ode, delivered by him
the same day in Philadelphia, were read ;
and letters in response to invitations were
also read from Mr. Disraeli, Mr. Gladstone,
the Duke of Argyle, Earl Granville, Lord
Houghton, the Earl of Roseberry, the
Earl of Derby, Dean Stanley, John
Bright, etc.
In Paris, the American legation was
superbly decorated with flags and insignia,
and the American colors were profusely
displayed in the principal streets.
In Lisbon, the American ambassador
held a public reception, and gave a ban
quet in the evening ; several of the city
journals also noticed the day, in leading
articles complimentary to the American
people.

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENT,?.

963

THTE TUNISIAN TF.NT.

The Americans residing in Frankfort,
Heidelberg, Offenbach, Wiesbaden, and
other towns in the vicinity, met in the
Frankfort Palm Garden, and there joy
ously celebrated the day with .speeches,
the reading of the immortal Declaration, a
superb banquet, and closing with a concert
and magnificent fire-works. In Berlin,
the day was magnificently celebrated,
Minister Davis presiding, and proposing
' The health of President Grant,' Mr. Fay
following with a toast to ' The Emperor
of Germany,' and, among others, ' Ameri
can Citizenship,' 'Americans in Europe,'
and ' The Day we Celebrate,' — the latter
being in verse. In the evening there was
a splendid soiree at the American ambas
sador's, followed by tableaux vivants rep
resenting revolutionary scenes, such as
Washington at Valley Forge, Antoinette
receiving Lafayette, etc. At Stuttgart,
there were salutes, speeches, reading of
the Declaration, patriotic hymns and songs,
and other festivities.
Among the incidental matters, of endur
ing interest, pertaining to the day and
event, and which are here deserving of rec
ord, may be mentioned the proclamation
by the chief magistrate of our nation, in
which, with becoming deference to and as
reflecting the religious sense of the people,
he said : " The centennial anniversary of
the day on which the people of the United
States declared their right to a separate
and equal station among the powers of the
*arth seems to demand an exceptional
observance. The founders of the govern

ment, at its birth, and in its feebleness,
invoked the blessings and the protection
of a divine Providence, and the thirteen
colonies and three millions of people have
expanded into a nation of strength and
numbers commanding the position that
was then asserted, and for which fervent
prayers were then offered. It seems fit
ting that, on the occurrence of the one
hundredth anniversary of our existence as
a nation, a grateful acknowledgment be
made to Almighty God for the protection
and the bounties which he has vouchsafed
to our beloved country. I therefore invite
the good people of the United States, on
the approaching Fourth day of July, in ad
dition to the usual observances with which
they are accustomed to greet the return
of the day, further, in such manner, and
at such time as in their respective locali
ties and religious associations may be
most convenient, to mark its recurrence
by some public religious and devout
thanksgiving to Almighty God, for the
blessings which have been bestowed upon
us as a nation, during the centenary of
our existence, and humbly to invoke a
continuance of His favor and of His pro
tection." In response to this, many
places of public worship were opened for
morning religious devotion.
Another most notable incident was an
autograph letter from the Emperor Wil
liam, of Germany, to the President, con
veying his imperial congratulations to the
latter and to the American people. This
remarkable letter was officially presented

964

OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876.

to President Grant, on the morning of
July 4th, by the German ambassador in
person, and was as follows : —
William, by the grace of God, Emperor
of Germany, King of Prussia, etc.
To the President of the United
States : — Great and Good Friend, — It
has been vouchsafed to you to celebrate
the Centennial festival of the day upon
which the great republic over which j'ou
preside entered the rank of independent
nations. The purposes of its founders
have, by a wise application of the teach
ings of the history of the foundation of na
tions, and with insight into the distant fu
ture, been realized by a development with
out a parallel. To congratulate you and
the American people upon the occasion
affords me so much the greater pleasure,
because, since the treaty of friendship
which my ancestor of glorious memory,
King Frederick II. , who now rests with
God, concluded with the United States, un
disturbed friendship has continually exist
ed between Germany and America, and has
been developed and strengthened by the
ever-increasing importance of their mutual
relations, and by an intercourse, becoming
more and more fruitful, in every domain
of commerce and science. That the wel
fare of the United States, and the friend
ship of the two countries, may continue to
increase, is my sincere desire and confi
dent hope.
Accept the renewed assurance of my
unqualified esteem. William.
Countersigned, Von Bismarck.
Berlin, June 9, 1876.
On account of the great interest in this
friendly document from "Fatherland,"
which was naturally excited among the
German population of our country, (now
numbering some millions of our most pat
riotic people,) we likewise reproduce the
letter in its native language, together with
an authorized fac-simile of the Emperor's
autograph, also a fine portrait of the vener
able monarch, and an engraving of the
new natiDnal flag, — none of which features

are to be found in any other volume pub
lished in the United States.
A letter of similar purport, though not
received in season to be delivered to the
president on the Fourth, was also sent hy
the Czar of Russia, also by King Victor
Emanuel, of Italy, and from other na
tions. Noteworthy, perhaps, above all the other
inspiring incidents of the day, and which
wrought up the people's patriotic sensibil
ities to the most fervid pitch, was the
scene already briefly alluded to on a pre
ceding page, when Mayor Stokley pre
sented to Richard Henry Lee, of Virginia,
the original Declaration of Independence,
—Mr. Lee's grandfather having, one hun
dred years ago, offered the resolution to
the Continental Congress, " that these
United Colonies are, and of right ought to
be, free and independent States." On the
age-dimmed but immortal parchment being
exhibited, in its massive frame, to the
sight of the people, men swung their hats,
and cheered with almost frantic enthus
iasm ; women waved their handkerchiefs,
and in some instances gave audible utter
ances to their transport of delight; chil
dren innumerable were held up in the
struggling mass of humanity to view the
venerated national relic ; and, amidst the
wildest expressions of joy on every side,
that ascended to and seemed to rend the
very heavens, the sacred document was
read. The chord of unity and sympathy,
full, free, and entire, ran through the vast
assemblage, as though no territorial sec
tionalism had ever marred the nation's
harmony — or, if it had, that all by-gones
were now happily buried and obliviated.
And, as between North and South, noth
ing could have given more gracious assur
ance of present good will and future
promise of amity and accordant purpose,
than the message dispatched by the mayor
of the former capital of the Southern Con
federacy, as follows : " The people of
Montgomery, Alabama, the birthplace of
the Confederate government, through its
City Council, extend a cordial and fraternal
greeting to all the people of the United

GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS.

965

States, with an earnest prayer for the per
petuation of concord and brotherly feelings
throughout the land." And in this spirit
the representatives of all sections met
together in the city where the Republic
had its birth, and in this spirit, too, the
memorable day was ushered in and cel

ebrated wherever floated the ensigns
of American nationality ; fraternization,
North, South, East, and West, was uni
versal ; all hearts united in the ascription
of " Glory to God in the highest," for the
Past ; and deep answered unto deep, in the
gladsome acclaim of

;~Vthe her

--'¦'¦¦Si ^^^^^^ Ttaifcre des Deutschen Kacserrecehs.

Jger-J&z. JZe*a&. f$7ig

IN DEX.

'A house divided against itself ' — Mr. Lincoln's expres
sion, 674.
A prince in the Church, Cardinal McCloskey, 934.
A toast preceding a tragedy, 442.
Abortive attempts made by Walker to conquer Nica
ragua, 740.
Abortive attempts to lay the ocean cable, 889.
Absence of any gale during the awful fire in Boston, 920.
Access to Secretary Seward's sick chamber gained by
the assassin Payne, 886.
Acceptance by Lafayette of President Monroe's invita
tion, 275.
— ofthe invitation to America by Kossuth, 586.
Accidental discovery of the phonograph, 944.
Acclamations,, tempests of, on Jenny Lind's appearance
before an audience, 546.
Accomplices of Booth in his crime of assassination, 886
Accosting Mr. Summer, previous to the assault, 617.
Accounting for the wantof liquid in one of the petro
leum oil wells, 693.
"Achilles of Chess," Paul Morphy pronounced to be
the, 660.
Acknowledgment of his biblical errors by Rev. Wm.
Miller, 437.
 the independence of the United States by foreign
nations, 71.
Acquirements in profanity, Japanese, 727.
Acquittal of Aaron Burr, on technical grounds, 210.
Acres of art and mechanism from every land, 607.
Across the Atlantic for the first time by steam, 731.
Action between the frigates Constitution and Guerriere,
225.
— taken by congress in the Sumner-Brooks case, 623.
Active interference by America for Hungary solicited
by Kossuth, 590.
Adams, John, a sketch of his career, 293.
 advocates Washington as commander-in-chief,
112.
 appointment of as first minister plenipotentiary
to England, 119; and interview with King George,
122.
 his eloquent advocacy of American independ
ence, 65.
 lamented death on the 50th anniversary of
American independence, 291.
— John Quincy, his struggle for the right of petition,
362.
— Samuel, murder of, in New York, by John C. Colt,
531.
Adapted to destroy, fight or run, the Alabama, 841.
Adherents of Gen. Walker in the South and California,
740.
Adieu to the Army by General Washington, 1783,
112-118.

(For topical and analytical details, kee first page, of this
Event.)
Adjournment of congress to meet in Philadelphia, 957.
Adjusting the great Stockton gun for action, 446.
Admiral Cockburn commands the British naval arma
ment at Washington City, 242.
— Farragut's Achievements at New Orleaxs in
1862. and in Mobile Bay in 1864, and Admiral
Porter's Crowning Victory in 1865 at Port
Fisher, 848—856.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
"— for admiral, flagship for flagship— I'll fight him! "
852.
Admiration, by Emperor Dom Pedro, of the Moody and
Sankey meetings, 656.
Adoption of the Federal Constitution by the different
States, 138.
Advance of Meade's army to meet Lee's hosts, 816.
Advantages of railways, 679.
Adventurers warned by the Arab traditions, 498.
Advice to his officers by Perry, 236.
Advocating the Union cause in England, Mr. Beecher,
828.
iEgis of the republic again everywhere dominant, 874.
Affluence of the United States in art, science and litera
ture, 9.
Affecting appeal of Lady Franklin, 533.
After-scenes of horror at Antietam, 792.
Again under the United States flag, New Orleans, 851.
Agitation of the British ministers on the surrender of
Cornwallis, 108.
 magnetic needle produced by the comet, 426.
Agony and death to multitudes in a moment of time,
713.
Agricultural hall at the centennial, 954.
— prosperity the basis of the grange system, 928.
Alabama and Kearsarge, battle between the, 840.
Alarm produced by the total solar eclipse, 203.
 wonderful dark day, 89.
Alaska, scientific expedition sent to, 202.
Albany, N. Y., immense conflagration at 353.
Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, arrival of, in America,
744.
Alexander, czar of Eussia, his centennial salutations,
967.
Algerine corsairs driven from the ocean, 188.
All countries in sympathy with the nation's centennial,
952.
— hands mustered on the quarter-deck of the Somers,
419.
"All Hail to the Hereafter ! " 965.
"All ready! " response from Perry's men on the eve of
battle, 236.
Alleged final scene between Parkman and Webster, by
the latter, 529.

970

INDEX.

Alliance between America and France, 80.
Allowing lierself to be distanced at flrst in tlie prize
race, 5C1.
Alone at bis desk when attacked, Senator Sumner, 620.
 post of duty firing tbe signal gun, 611.
Along tbe Jordan— wild and impressive scenery, 496.
Alternatives presented to Mr. Calboun, 328.
" Am ready at any time," — Jobn Brown's words on tbe
scaffold, 711.
Amazing fortitude of Jobn Brown, 711 ; — admiration of
bim by bis foes, 709.
Amendments to tbe Constitution probibiting slavery in
tbe republic, 804.
" Aniens " in tbe theater pit, 649
America and England Matched against Each
Other in Squadron Combat, 23J-241.
(For tropical and analytical details , see first page of this
Event.
American and Frencb forces unite at Yorktown, 106.
" -Cousin," play of, at President Lincoln's assassina
tion, 878.
— ingenuity, first great triumph of, 153.
— versus the British flag, 251.
Among the corpses of the little ones, 572.
 savages, explorers' experience, 387.
Amount of gold taken in ten years from the California
mines, 507.
"An Arctic Boat Journey," Dr. Hayes's wonderful vol
ume, 539.
Anatomical science identifying Parkman's scattered re
mains, 527.
Anchoring of the American expedition under Mount
Carmel, 495.
Ancient and modern wonders compared, 730.
— knowledge of American rock oil, GS8.
Ancient enactment establishing free schools, 449.
Anderson, Gen. Robert, again raises the old flag of Sum
ter, 874.
— Maj. Robert, his defense of Fort Sumter, 755.
" — John," Major Andre's assumed name, 98.
Anderson's opinion of Morphy's chess playing power,
658.
Andre, Major, capture as a spy and execution of, 98,
103.
 his intrigue with Benedict Arnold, 98.
Anecdotes relating to locating the national capital, 1G9.
Annapolis, Washington resigns bis commission to the
congress at, 117.
Annihilation of the Yankee fleet intended, 251.
Anniversary, fiftieth, of American Independence, 291.
— of the Birth of the Republic, celebrated in 1X76, 948.
Announcement of Macready's appearance on the N. Y.
stage, 511.
Announcing tbe news of Comwallis's surrender, 110.
— to Gen. Walker bis doom, 744.
Anomalies, atmospheric, attending the great meteoric
display, 332.
Answer to a request on the battle-field, General Mc
Clellan's, 792.
Answering a question with a broadside, 86.
Antarctic continent discovered by Wilkes, 389.
Anthems of thanksgiving to God for the return of peace,
996.
Anti-Macready mob at the opera-house, N. Y., 510.
— Rent Insurrection in New York, 411.
Anticipations of the great centennial anniversary, 949.
Antietam Md., battle of, 787.
" Anvil " chorus at the Boston peace jubilee, 908.
"Apostle of Temperance," the, 398.
Apostles, Mormon, sent forth to all nations, 312.
Apostrophe to tbe Union, Webster's, 303.
Appearance and sentence of P. S. Brooks in court, 623.
— of General Leo on meeting General Grant, 871.

Appearance of Gen. U. S. Grant, 871.
 the Makine Monster known as the Sea-
Serpent, along the Atlantic Coast, 575-583.
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of thi»
Event.)
Appearance of the original steam car, 682.
" Apples of Sodom, description of the, by explorers, 498.
Application by Lafayette to enter the American army,
274.
Appointment of John Adams as First Minister Plenipo1-
teutiary from the New Republic to England, 119-124.
 Lafayette as major-general in his 20th year, 274,
Appomattox, memorable operations at, 868,
Appreciative opinion of the Japanese by Pres. Bu-
channan, 726.
Approach of the " Dark Day," May 19, 1780, 90.
April fourteenth, 1865, tragical bereavement of the na
tion, 876.
Aptness for chess displayed by Morphy when a boy, 657,
Arabian legends of sudden wealth realized in the oil
regions, 687.
Arbuckle's performance at the national peace jubilee,
910.
Arch of honor erected in gratitude to Lafayette, 278.
Archbishop McCloskey appointed first cardinal in Amer
ica, 935.
Architectural perfection of the Great Eastern, 735.
— pride of the nation, 360.
Architectural splendor of American schoolhouses, 452.
Archives of the nation removed to Washington, the
federal capital, 171.
Arctic seas, expeditions to the, 533.
Ardent spirits, discussion of the effects of, 393.
Arguments against Second Adventism by Mr. Miller's
opponents, 435.
Armed resistance to the Rhode Island state charter,
410.
Arming of negroes prohibited by Pres. Lincoln, 797.
Armory at Harper's Ferry, John Brown and his follow
ers at the, 705.
Arnold, Benedict, bravery of in battle, 75.
 his escape, 101.
 personal characteristics, 97.
Around the bedside of the dying president, 881.
Arraignment of Burr for high treason, 216.
Arranging the duel between Clay and Randolph, 283.
Arrival and Exhibition, in Netv York, of the
Iron Steamship Great Eastern, 729-736.
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
— of Jefferson Davis at Bull Run, 776.
 the Jamestown at Cork, 484.
 Washington in Cambridge, as commander-in-
chief, 114.
Arson, murder, and robbery, rampart in California's
earlier history, 550.
Art of eloquence, ancient, exceeded by Mr.Webster, 300.
 music, triumph of in the great Boston organ, 833.
Artificial light, wonderful revolution in, 687.
Artillery at Gettysburg, terrific, fl6.
Ashmun, Hon. Geo., his interview with Pres. Lincoln,
878.
Asia and America united by the Pacific railroad, 903.
Asiatic cholera in the U. S., eras of, 51C.
Asking for re-enforcements, Gen. Burnside, 792.
Aspect of King George in parliament, when American
independence was acknowledged, 120.
 Senator Broderick on the dueling ground, 697.
and of his antagonist, Judge Terry, 697.
Assassination of President Lincoln, at Ford's
Theater, Washington, by J. W. Booth, 876-887.
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of thit
Event.)

INDEX.

971

Assassination of President Jackson attemptod, 337.
Assault on the Hon. Charles Sumner, by Hon.
Preston S. Brooks, 616-625
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Assay of the earliest found California gold, 501.
Assuming command at Vicksburg, Gen. Grant, 807,
Assumption bill, passage of the, 169.
Astonishing Feats of House-Taming Performed
hy John S. Rarey, 761-708.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Astonishment in Europe at the capture of the Guerriere,
233.
— produced at the South hy Whitney's cotton-gin in
vention, 156.
Astor Place Opera-House Riots, New York, 508-
614.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
At the extreme solitary north, 636.
Atlanta, Ga., Shormnn at, 8138.
Atlantic ocean telegraph cable, laying of the, 8(12.
Atmospheric currents during the " Bark Day," 92.
Attachment of the confederate army to Gen. Lcc, 872.
Attacking the enemy in position, Gen. McClellan's
army, 7sx.
Attempted Assassination of President Jackson,
at the U. S. Capitol, 337-344.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Attempts, early, to cleanse green entton-seed, 154
Attempts to build a railroad, unsuccessful, 0*2.
Attendance of Pres. Grant at the Boston peace jubilee,
908.
 Moody and Sankey meetings, 655.
Atzerodt, trial and execution of, for conspiracy, 887.
Audience of seven thousand people in Manchester, Eng.,
Mr. Beecher's, 820.
Audiences of tens of thousands at the Boston musical
festival, 010.
Aurora borealis, magnificent, encompassing the whole
firmament, 376.
Austria, burning of the steamship, 664.
Authority for freeing the slaves, John Brown's, 705.
Autographic letter from the German emperor to Pres.
Grant, 967.
Avenues and streets of the national capitol, planned by
Gon. Washington, 171.
Avon-dale Colliery Disaster, 710.
Awful Explosion of Commodore Stockton's
Great Gun, on Board the U. S. Steamship
Princeton, 439-446.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Emit.)
— sublimity of the great meteoric 6hower, 329.
— Visitation of the "Angel of Death," 515-522.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)

B.
Backing his huge ram for action, Com. Buchanan, 785.
Backsliders, temperance, 304.
Baffling generals and armies, Sherman's success in, 860.
— of Burr's plans at New Orleans, 208.
Bagging Johnson's whole army, 864.
Bailey, Commodore, his naval achievements, 849.
Bainbridge, Commodore, his stern dealings with the
Moors, 185.
Baldwin, the historian, graphic delineation by, 286.
Ball-room scenes during the Prince of Wales' tour, 761.
"Banner of the Cross " raised on shipboard, 423.

Banner town, the, for furnishing men in the revolution
ary war, 276.
Barbarous drama enacted by tho British army In Wash
ington, 24H.
— encounter botweon Senator Brodorlck and Judge
Torry, 007.
Barbary States, Punishment aud Degradation of, 1H2.
Barclay, Commodore, the veteran commander on Lako
Erie, 230.
Barn-burning excitement In New York, 414.
Barnum, P. T., his engagement of Jenny Lind to come
to America, 541.
"Baron Hcnfrow," title assumed hy tho Prince of
Wales, on his American tour, 746.
Barricading the streets to prevent the epidemic spread
ing, D1C.
Bass drum used at the BoBton peaco jubilee, 011.
Bathing in the river Jordan, 407.
Battle of Antietam, Maryland, 787-705.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
 Bennington, 72.
— — Bull Run. Va., between the Federal Army
under Gen. McDowell and that of the South
ern Confederacy under Beauregard, Johns
ton, and Davis, 769-777.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page, of this
Event.)
"  the giants," 297.
Battle-cries in the political field, 077.
Bay-charger owned by Prince Albert tamed by Mr.
Rarey, 706.
Beak or snout of steel in tlie Merrimac's prow, 780.
Beauregard, Gen., his demand of the surrender of Fort
Sumter, 754.
Beautiful outdoor musical incident in Jenny Lind's
career, 547.
Beauty and wondrousness of the total solar eclipse, 202.
— , loveliness— agony, frenzy, death, 444.
— of nature after the Dark Day, 06.
 the site of the national capitol, 171.
Before the duel, scene at Clay's house, 283.
Beginning of the wonderful aurora borealis, 384.
Behavior of Burr, on the dueling-ground, 192.
Belching forth of flames from the Pemberton MiUk-
ruins, 713.
Bell, Commodore, his naval achievements, 840.
Bell, Prof. A. G., 943.
Beneath the oak tree, Gens., Grant and Pemberton Bit
ting B10.
Benediction, pontifical, by the new Cardinal, 939.
Benignity of Pres. Lincoln, Gen Lee's tribute to, 882.
Bennington, battle of, 72.
Benton's account of the nullifiers' dirner, 321.
— famous " expunging resolution," 373.
Berlin, celebration of the American centennial at, 966.
" Best part of the music," at the national peace jubilee,
011.
" Beware of a Guineaman! " 422.
tt  surprise!" Washington's warning to St. Clair,
149.
Bible presented to the Prince of Wales by Trinity
Church, N. Y., 740.
- used at Washington's inauguration, present owners
of, 145.
Biblical plates, tho mormon, history of, 307.
Biddle, Commodore, his mission to the Japanese govern
ment, 593.
Biddle's capture of the British man-of-war, Frolic, 231.
_, Nicholas, his administration of the U. S. Bank, 374.
Blll-of lading unprecedented, 481.
Billows of inextinguishable flame covering the City or
Chicago, 917.

972

INDEX.

Birds, distraction of, during the total solar eclipse, 202.
— of prey during the terrible Boston fire, 923.
Birth of The new Republic, 65-71
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
 , Centennial Celebration of the, 948.
Birthday of Jefferson, anniversary celebration of the,
321.
Bitter insult from Randolph to Clay, 283.
"Black Hawk," war with the Indian chief, 147.
— lines drawn around the resolution censuring Pres.
Jackson, 378.
Blackburn's Ford, Tyler's engagement at, 771.
Bladensburg dueling-ground, 285.
Blandishment of the Japanese visitors in ladies' society,
726.
Blank cartridges not used at the next fire, 614.
Blaze of excitement throughout the country caused by
John Brown's raid, 711.
Blending of musical and architectural beauty in the
great Boston organ, 837.
Blenker's reply to the order to retreat at Bull Run, 774.
Blennerhassett, Burr's companion and accomplice, 205;
his sad fate, 210.
Blinded by his antagonist's blow, Broderick, 700.
Blindfold games and tri umphs in chess by Paul Morphy,
660.
Bliss during the amputation of limbs, 459.
Block after block of immense business places destroyed
by the Boston fire, 921.
Blood spilled on the floor of the U. S. senate, 619.
Blood-stains, pirates wiping out, 315.
Bloodiest day that America ever saw, 792.
Bloodless campaign of conquest by Gen. Sherman, 857.
Bloodthirstiness of the dueling code, 702.
Bloomer Cut on the Union Pacific railroad, 898.
Blowing up Boston houses with gunpowder to arrest the
fire, 921.
 Fort Hill at Vicksburg, 809.
Blows of the sledge telegraphed to all the great cities,
on laying the last rail of the Pacific road, 901.
Blue cockades and palmetto buttons, 323.
Bluff reply of Farragut when asked to join the South,
849.
Blunt demand for the surrender of New Orleans, Far
ragut's, 851.
Boggs, Captain, his naval achievements, 849.
Bombardment and reduction of Fort Sumter,
753-760.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
— of Tripoli, 187.
Bombshell in the camp of the conspirators, 321.
Bon Homme Richard, description of the ship, 83.
Bonaparte, Napoleon, his tribute to Washington's great
ness, 174.
Bones of California emigrants whitening the soil, 506.
Boon conferred by etherization upon the human race
457.
Booth, J. Wilkes, his assassination of Pres. Lincoln
his flight, swift and bloody end, 876-880-866.
" Booty and beauty," British watchword at New Orleans,
263.
Border States, consternation in the, produced hy Lee's
military plans, 815.
Boring Petroleum wells, 688.
Borne through the London crowd on his friends'
shoulders, 829.
Borrowing a shilling for his dinner, Elias Howe 1r
466.
Boston, terrible fire in the business heart of, 920.
Bottle of wine, Fulton too poor to celebrate his inven
tion with a, 216.

Bought a coffin for his wife but was buried in it himself,
520.
Boundless treasures of beauty and utility at the centen
nial exposition 957.
Bowels of the earth yielding illuminating oil, 687.
Boyhood fondness for horses, Rarey's, 762.
— heroism in a scene of awful calamity, 571.
Bradford, David, leader of the Whiskey Insurrection,
162.
Brandishing his dagger at the audience, Booth, 880.
Brandywine, battle of, 72.
Brassy hue of the clouds, May 19, 1780, 94.
Brazil, emperor of, his attendance at the centennial,
949.
Breaking and taming horses, Rarey's wonderful success
in, 764.
— of a stair-railing in a school-house, awful effects of
the, 569.
"Breaking of the ground" for a railway, 682.
— Out of the Temperance Reformation, 393.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of ihis
Event.)
Breaking-up of Burr's expedition, 207.
Bribes offered by Andre for his release, 99.
Bridal chamber, cholera in the, 520.
Brief message of Pres. Jackson to the South Carolina
nullifiers, 328.
Bright, John, his tribute to Cyrus W. Field's enterprise,
895.
Brilliant Musical Tour of Jenny Lind, the
"Swedish Nightingale," 541-549.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
" Bring out your dead I ' 521.
Bringing Ex-President Adams to the bar of congress, 366.
— the new oil, petroleum, into use, 692.
British admiration of American nautical strategy,
227.
— officers listening to the reading of the Declaration
of Independence, 68.
— rule broken in America, Oct. 19, 1781, 107.
Broad blue pennants in English waters, 731.
Broadway, N. Y., scene in, during the grand Kossuth
procession, 587.
Broderick, Senator, fatally shot in a duel with Judge
Terry, 699.
Broken limbs failing to dampen Rarey's enthusiam,
763.
Brooks's attack on Senator Sumner, 616.
Brown John, his attack on Harper's Ferry, 705.
Brown University, Providence, R. I., 454.
Brute creation, effect of the solar eclipse on the, 198.
Bryant vase at the centennial, 956.
Buchanan, Com., plans the monster Merrimac, 779.
Buena Vista, Taylor's victory at, 488.
Buildings and their contents at the centennial exposi
tion, 955.
Bull Run, battle of, 769.
Bunker-Hill, Lafayette's visit to, 278.
Bureau of education at Washington, 453.
Burgoyne's grand preparations to subdue America, 73.
Burgoyne's Surrender of His Aiuit to Gen.
Gates, 73-80.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Burial among the mountains at North Elba, John
Brown's, 711.
— of George Washington, 178.
 the innocents, 574.
Burial-grounds engulfed by the western earthquake,
221.
Burke, Fox, and Pitt, eloquence of, on American affairs,
109.

INDEX.

«J

i o

Burning of one of the great oil wells, 691.
 the City of Chicago, 111., the Commeri iai.
Metropolis of the North-west. 913-919.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
 Steamship Austria, on her way from
Hamburg to New York, 664-671.
For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
 Washington hy the British, 242.
Burr, Aaron, conspiracy and trial of, 204.
 his fatal duel with Hamilton, 1S9.
 melancholy end of, 210.
Burritt, Elihu, his apostrophe to Labor, 607.
Bursting of the great "land bubble," 637.
 Stockton gun, 441.
Burton's theatre. New York, use of. for prayer-meet-
ings, 617.
Business abandoned and cities deserted during the yel
low fever contagion, 521.
 during the total eclipse, 197.
— action proposed by ihe grangers, 028.
— and financial crisis, 635.
— portion of Boston totally destroyed by a terrible fire,
925.
Bustling day at the bank counter, 640.
Butchering his victims, Gibbs, the pirate. 317.
Butler, Senator, his speech on Kansas affairs, 617.
Buying and leasing petroleum lands, 691.
By rail from New York to San Francisco in 83 hours,
903.

Cabinet consultation over tho emincipation document,
697.
— discussion in England of Comwallis's defeat, 109.
Calhoun's famous toast. 321.
California, earthquakes in, 224.
— gold discoveries at Sutter's Mill, 500.
— , pioneer expeditions to, 405.
— vigilance committee, reign of the, 550.
Call for one hundred thousand more men, Pres. Lin
coln's, sl5.
 water, panic in a school -house caused by a, 568.
Calling the battle-roll of the Republic, 760.
Calm in the midst of threats and tumults, 363.
Camp-ground of the Second Adventists, Mr. Whittier's
visit to the. 438.
Campaign against Vicksburg, the Gibraltar of
the Mississippi, by- the Union Forces under
General Grant, 806-81J.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Canby, Gem, surrender of the confederate army to, 874.
Candles in use during the celebrated " Dark Day," 90.
Cannonading of Vicksburg. 807.
Canopy of gorgeous crimson flames encircling the earth,
381.
Canvass of our national life unrolled, 10.
Cape Aun, young ofthe sea-serpent found at, 577.
— Antonio, rendezvous of Gibb's piratical craft, 316.
— Hatteras. frequented by the sea-serpent, 578.
Capital, national, magnificence of, 172.
Capitol, national, superb characier of. 172.
 Washington lays the corner stone of the, 170.
Capitulation of Gen. Bourgoyne's Army to Gen.
Gates, 72-so.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page cf this
Event.)
Captain Herndon sinking with his ship, 628.
— Luce in the hour of woe, 610.

Captain Wilkesatthe 158thdegreeof east longitude, 386.
Captivity of American citizens in Algiers, 1&3.
Capture of Aaron Burr, 208.
 Harper's Ferry by John Brown, 705.
 the assassin Booth and his accomplice, 884.
 British Frigate Guerriere, by the U.
S. Frigate Constitution, 225-233.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Card signed by Pres. Lincoln a few hours before his
assassination, sTs.
Cardinal McCloskey, of New York, consecration of, 934.
Cards and dice consigned to the flames. 050.
— of invitation for the Princeton excursion, 439.
Career, Capture, and Execution of Gibbs, the
Most Noted Pirate of the Century, 314-310.
(Fnr topical and analytical dttnils, see first page of this
Event.)
Career of Aaron Burr, 190.
 Rev. William Miller, the Advent preacher, 432.
Carnage at the battle of Antietam, 702.
Carnival of lawlessness and crime, 358.
Carpenter, F. B., his graphic account of the emancipa
tion document, 798 ; his magnificent historical paint
ing, 790.
Carpenter's or Independence Hall, Philadelphia, 71.
Carries his London audience by storm, Beecher, 833.
Carrying all hearts. -Mr. Sankey's singing, 655.
— the stars and stripes to the furthermost North, 639.
Cartwright, Peter, the revival preacher, 648.
Casting their children into the sea to escape the flames,
657.
"Casta Diva," as sung by Jenny Lind, 516.
Casual conception of the microphone, 947.
Casual origin of the telegraph invention, 346.
— revelations of spiritual phenomena, 473.
Cathedral in New Y'ork, 934.
Cattle, effect upon, by the total solar eclipse, 202.
Cause of the comet's intense brilliancy, 420.
 great fire in New York, 361.
Causeless raid on marine property in time of war, 840.
Cavalry generalship of Kilpatrick. 862.
Celebrities present at the inauguration of the industrial
exhibition, 605.
Celestial phenomena, most grand and brilliant ever be
held, 329.
Cemetery Hill, Gettysburg, scene at, during the battle,
817.
Centennial Commemoration of the Birth of
the Republic, 948-90*.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Central America, foundering of the steamer, 626.
Centuries of fruitless search in surgery, 457 ; found at
last, 458.
Century of the republic, glory of the, 8.
Ceremonial at Annapolis, Md., on the resignation of
Washington as commander-in-chief, 117.
— of consecrating a Cardinal, 935.
 on the presentation of John Adams, as minister to
England, to the King, 121.
Ceremony at the opening of the N. Y. World's Fair, 605
Cessation pf labor during the " Dark Day." 92.
Cession of immensely valuable territories by Mexico to
the U. S., 493.
Chain of circumstances leading to Dr. Parkman's mur
derer, 525.
Chairs flying upon the stage— sudden fall of the curtain,
511.
Challenge sent by Clay to Randolph, 2S3.
 to Hamilton by Burr, 192.
"Chamber of Judgment." the vigilance committee's, 5St
" Champion of the right of petition," the, 372.

974

IXDEX.

Championship of America's cause in England by Eev.
H.W. Beecher, fc25.
Change of temperature during the total solar eclipse,
201.
 the barometer during the "Dark Day," 91.
— sought by the grange movement, 928.
Changing his plan of operations at Vicksburg, Gen.
Grant, 807.
Channels of trade changed by railways, 680.
Chanting witches' choruses for Mr. Macready, 510.
Chapultepec stormed by Gen. Scott, 493.
Characteristic exclamation by John Quincy Adams, 372.
Charleston, S. C, batteries erected at, 754.
 fearful conflagration in, 353.
 hoisting the stars and stripes again in, 874.
Charmed observers, millions of, of the great auroral
spectacle, 3*2.
Charnel-house horrors during the Chicago fire, 915.
Charter of the U. S. Bank, opposition to the, 374.
" Charter " vs. " Constitution," 408.
Chase of the Constitution by four British ships, 226.
Cheering each other amid the roar of the waves, 629.
Chemical and other characteristics of the Dead Sea, 498.
Chepachet, gathering of armed forces at, 412.
Cherbourg, combat between the Kearsarge and Alabama
at, tactics of the two vessels, 841-844.
Cherokee Indians, war with the, 147.
Chess performances by Paul Morphy, 657.
Chicago, 111., burning of, in 1871, 913.
¦  the Prince of "Wales' visit to, 746.
Chickahominy, campaign of the, 867.
Childhood's words in scenes of mortal anguish, 569.
" Child's play," term used by Clay at the dueling-
% ground, 287.
Chimerical railroad schemes, 636.
Chiming the city bells at the Boston peace jubilee, 907.
Choice of George Washington as Commander-in-Chief,
113.
Choral combinations at the national musicalfestival, 906.
"Christian dogs," in Algiers, American liberation of,
187.
Christmas gift to President Lincoln, Gen. Sherman's,
861.
Cilley, Hon. Jona., fatally shot in a duel with Graves,
702.
Cincinnati and Chicago, during the great awakening, 645.
— ovation to the Prince of Wales at, 747.
Circuit of the comet round the sun, 427.
 travel accomplished by Fremont, 405.
Circumnavigation and survey of the Dead Sea, 496.
Circumstances under which the electric telegraph was
discovered, 346.
Circumstantial description of the sea-serpent by a
clergyman, 576.
Citizenship conferred upon the freed slaves, 804.
— restored to Thos. W. Dorr, in Rhode Island, 413.
Ciudad de los Angelos taken possession of, 407.
Civil war inaugurated in the United States, 753.
Clarke, Billy, originator of the first temperance society,
393.
Clasping each other and jumping into the ocean to
gether, 667.
Clay, Henry, his duel with John Randolph, 282.
Clear sky during the great September gale, 265.
Clerical callers on John Brown in jail, 710.
Clermont, the name of Fulton's first steam-boat, 216.
Climax of enthusiasm at the peace jubilee, 907.
 the total solar eclipse, 201.
Clinton's, Gen., unsuccessful effort to relieve Burgoyne,
77.
 wanton destruction of property, 77.
Clothing and ornaments worn by the Japanese ambassa
dors, 721.

Cobb's, Judge, reply to a Massachusetts mob, 125.
Cockburn, Admiral, his beastly degradation at Wash
ington, 249.
Coffee instead of rum for Farragut's men, h 55.
Coffin, C. C, his account of Lincoln's reception in Rich
mond, ?: 72.
Cold-water armies and processions, 398.
Coliseum at Boston for the peace jubilee, appearance
of the, 9U5.
Collection an- use of rock oil by the Indians in olden
times, 68a.
College name. ^ honor of Lafayette, 281.
Collegiate and university institutions, 453.
Colliery disaster at Avondale, Penn., 719.
Collissiou of the steamers Arctic and Vesta, 608.
Color of objects during the "Dark Day," 91.
 the sea-serpent, 678.
Colors by the score taken at Antietam. 793.
Colt, John C, murder of Samuel Adams by, 531.
Columbia College, New York, 454.
Column or area of destruction during the great gale,
268.
c03ibat between the alabama, captain semmes,
and the keaksarge, captain winslow, off
Cherbourg, 840-847.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Combinations in the interests of labor, 927.
Combustibles all around on the breaking out of the
Chicago fire, 914.
Combustion caused by hot tar on board the ill-fated
Austria, 665.
Comet of 1843, sudden appearance of the, 425.
Coining alongside her antagonist, the Constitution, 228.
Commemoration of the nation's centennial, 948.
Commencement of the difficulties between Forrest and
Macready, 509.
 national executive government, under Washing
ton, 143.
Commencing its wonderful career, the locomotive, 681.
Commerce of all nations, the, devastated by the pirate
Gibbs, 317.
 the North ravaged by the Alabama, 843.
Commercial palaces in Boston destroyed by fire, sixty-
five acres of, 925.
Commingling of horrible sights and sounds in the Pem
berton Mills ruins, 713.
Commission obtained by Gen. Walker as Kicaraguan
commander-in-chief, 739.
Commissioners to France in behalf of the American
Cause, 70.
Committee appointed at Phila., to draft the Declaration
of Independence, 66.
— appointed to investigate the spirit rappings, 474,
Common school educational system, 448.
Communications between the old world and the new by
telegraphy, 893.
Company formed for consummating the ocean telegraph
enterprise, 890.
— of monarchs and princes at Rarey's horse-taming
exhibition, 764.
Comparison between old and new locomotion, 679.
Comparison of the Chicago and Boston fires, 925.
Competitors all distanced by the yacht America, 565.
Completion of the Pacific Railroad, 896-903.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Complications between England and America caused by
the Alabama, 840.
Complimentary tribute from Cornwallis to Gen. Wash
ington, 111.
Complimenting his guest's temparance principle, Wash
ington, 401.

INDEX.

975

Compliments to Mr. Field, the projector of the ocean
telegraph, 893.
Composure of Prof. "Webster during his trial for murder,
528.
Compromise bill originated by Mr. Clay, 325.
Computations of the comet's orbit, 425.
Concentration of the contending armies at Gettysburg,
Pa., 816
Conceptions in military strategy, Sherman's unequaled,
867.
Concert by Jenny Lind at Castle Garden, her first in
America, 516,
 ten thousand children during the Boston peace
jubilee, 910.
Concurrence of testimony relating to the sea serpent,
'577.
Condemnatory resolution, passage of, against Prss.
Jackson, 375.
Conduct of Washington on being named as commander-
in-chief, 113.
Conference between Commodore Perry and the Japan
ese officials, 596.
— in Canada, John Brown's, 704.
Conferring the berretta on Cardinal McCloskey, 938.
Confession of his crime by Spencer, 420.
 , Gibb's, 315; his execution, 319.
Confidence fortunately misplaced, 416.
" Confidence," in hard times, a Frenchman's idea of, 636.
Confident of victory, Capt. Semmes, 844.
Configuration of the Dead Sea determined by Ameri
can surveys, 497.
Conflagration and suicide instead of an execution, in
Colt's case, 531.
— in business heart of Boston, 920.
— of 1835, as viewed from Coenties Slip, 357.
Congratulatory reply to Washington, in congress, on
his resigning his commission, 117.
Congress driven from its halls in 1783, 167.
— , fate of the frigate, 780,
— , first session of, at Washington, 171.
Congressional temperance society, 394.
Connecticut laws establishing common schools, 450.
Connecticut legislature, session of, during the " Dark
Day," 90.
Conquest and Burning of Washington by the
British, 242-249.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Consecration of the First Cardinal in the
United States, 931-939.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Consents to examine some documents in tho cabin, 738,
Conservatory, beauty of the centennial, 951.
Conspiracy and trial of Aaron Burr, 204-211.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
— to murder all the chief officers of the government,
876.
Consternation in England, on Comwallis's surrender,
108.
Constituting the first Mormon church, 309.
Constitution, capture of the Guerriere by the frigate,
225.
Constitution, Federal Formation and Adoption
of the, 132.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Construction of a steam-boat by Fulton, 214.
 the N. Y. Crystal Palace, 602.
Constructive works, vast, in railways, 680.
Consummate generalship displayed by Jackson at New
Orleans, 257.

Consummation of all temporal things'predlcted, 432.
Contemplated arrest of Calhoun by Pres. Jackson, 324.
Contempt of Americans for Japanese etiquette, 504.
Contents of tho tea-chest, vault, and furnace, in Prof.
Webster's apartments, 525.
Contest between Lincoln and Douglas on the rostrum,
07-1.
Continent, the Antartic, seen hy the U. S. exploring ex
pedition, 390.
— s connected by a vast and lofty ice-wall, 536.
Contrast between Clay and Handolph, 2H1.
Control of the key to the public funds, 375.
Convention at Philadelphia for framing the Constitu
tion, 133.
Conversation between John Brown and his jailor, 710.
 King George and John Adams, 123.
 Midshipman Spencer and his coinmmander, 417.
 the assassin Bootli and his captors, ski.
— with I res. Lincoln on tlie evening of the tragedy,
878.
 Senator Broderick in his dying hour, 700.
Conversions of infidels and pugilists during the revival,
G50.
Convulsions of nature during the western earthquakes,
220.
Conway, Gen., his intrigues against Gen. Washington, 79.
Cool delay of Hull in commencing his action with the
Guerriere, 232.
Coolness of Gen. Walker on marching to the place of
execution, 744,
Cooper, J. Fenimore, his opinion of John Paul Jones's
naval victory, 81.
Co-operation of eminent men in the temperance move
ment, 394.
Co-operative system proposed by the grangers, 028.
Coral characteristics of the petroleum regions, C94.
Corbett, Boston, the slayer of J. Wilkes Booth, 885.
Corliss engine, Pres. Grant and Emperor Dom Pedro
starting the, 951.
Corner-stone of the U. S. capitol, laying of the, 170.
Cornet quartet band of the Emperor William, 912.
Cornwallis surrenders his Splendid Army to
Gen. Washington, 104-111.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Coronation of labor, the, 607.
Corpse, Washington's re-interment and appearance of,
in 1837, 178.
Correcting bank mistakes, 289.
Correspondence, final, between Grant and Lee, 871.
Corruscations in the atmosphere, during the " Dark
Day," 92.
Corsairs of Barbary, piratical, driven from the ocean,
182.
Cortege of Pres. Lincoln's remains through the North
and West, 883.
Cost of traveling reduced by railways, 680.
Costly schoolhouses in our great cities, 452.
Cotton-gin, invention of the, 153.
Countenances of the two duelists on the fatal field, 608.
Counterfeit petitions sent to congress, 367.
Courage at the battle of New Orleans, 262.
Course of the total solar eclipse, 109.
Court, Whitney's cotton-gin in, 158.
Court-scene during Burr's trail, 210.
Courtesies between Jenny Lind and Daniel Webster,
548.
— in old age "between Adams and Jefferson, 295.
— of the British general to Mrs. Madison, 248.
Courting the embrace of death, 615.
Courts of justice threatened by Massachusetts rebels.
128.
"Cradle of Liberty," or Faneuil Hall, in Boston, 960-

976

INDEX.

Craft and cunning of Santa Anna in warfare, 488.
Crash, sudden aud universal, in the commercial world,
641.
Crawford's grand charge at Gettysburg, 820.
Creek war of 1814, 147.
Crest of South Mountain, the troops at the, 788.
Crew of the Constitution, tribute to the, 229.
 steamer Arctic deserting the ship, 615.
Crimson robes, Cardinal McCloskey attired in his, 938.
Crippled at last, the monster ram, 853.
Crisis in the business and financial world, 635.
 life of Mr. Mr. Calhoun, 327.
— of public affairs after the revolutionary war, 132.
Critical point in the battle on Lake Cbamplain, 255.
Crops, singular effect of the Sept. gale, 1815, on the,
269.
Crowned heads admiring American mechanical genius,
731.
Crowning glory of Gen. Jackson's civil life, 378.
Crude beginnings in railway enterprise, 681.
Cruise, memorable, of the frigate Constitution, 226.
"Cruiser," Rarey's management of the furious horse
known as, 763.
Crushed within the coils of Sherman's resistless col
umns, 862.
Crystal bridge connecting America and Greenland, 536,
— Palace, New York, exhibition in the, 600.
Culmination of the Forrest and Macready dispute,
508.
—  sectional antagonism produced by slavery,
753.
Cumberland, army of the, reunion of at Philadelphia,
952.
-^ piercing and sinking of the frigate, 781.
" Cup of All Nations," the, won by the Americans,
565.
Curiosities of telegraphic science in connection with
the cable, 893.
Curtain of rich and gorgeous colors covering the earth,
383.
Cushman, Charlotte, recites the ode at the inauguration
of Boston organ, 838.
Custis's account of Washington's last hours, 175.
Customs and theories in business, changes sought by
the grangers in, 929.
— initiated at the first presidential inauguration, 144.
Cut-tbroats banded together against society in Cali
fornia, 550.
Cutting off Lee's hope of retreat, Gen. Grant, 870.

D.

Dacres, Captain, his insolent challenge to the American
navy, 228.
Dancing with the Prince of Wales, 752.
Daniel and John, the basis of Miller's second advent
conclusions, 434.
Danville, Jeff. Davis setting up his government at,
873.
Dark Day in all New England, May 19, 1780, 89.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Darkest page in the history of the country, 876.
Darkness during the total solar eclipse, 197.
Data exhibiting our prodigious national growth, 8.
"Daughter of the Regiment," Jenny Lind aa the, 543.
Davis, Jefferson, at the battle of Bull Run, 776.
 , his flight from Richmond, 873; his capture, 873.
— a prisoner at Fortress Monroe, 873.
Dawn of peace and universal joy, 876.
Day-break scene at Harper's Ferry, Oct. 17, 1859, 705.

Dazzling ice-wall of boundless dimensions, 536.
— magnificence of the gifts to Paul Morphy, 660.
— representations of his schemes, Burr's, 205.
Dead and living floating together, 629.
— Sea and River Jordan, expedition to, 494.
Deadly encounter between Hon. Messrs. Cilley and
Graves, 712.
Deafening acclamations at the result of the Lake Cham
plain battle, 256.
Dealing with the savages, Wilkes's exploring party,
392.
Death of Alexander Hamilton, 195.
Death of George Washington, 174-181.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Death-bed scenes and incidents, Pres. Lincoln's, 880.
Death-knell of Indian power in America, 152.
Debate between Webster and Hayne, 297.
— s in the convention for forming the Federal Constitu
tion, 136.
Decanters relieved of their contents, 394.
Decatur, Commodore, his new style of " tribute," 182.
December 16, 1835, night of, memorable inN. Y., 353.
Deciding the fate of the metropolis, 245.
Decisions of the Supreme Court, 675.
Declaration of Independence and National
Sovereignty, 65-71.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Declining to drink wine at Washington's table, 401.
Decomposition of marine plants causing petroleum,
694.
Decoy-letter sent by Washington, 107.
Dedicating ceremonies at the Bull Run memorial monu
ment, 777.
Dedication of " Our First Century," 7.
Deep-laid plot to convert the U. S. Brig Somers into a
pirate, 415.
— red appearance of the snow, in Nov., 1837, 380.
Defeat of the British on their favorite element, 256.
Defending his country's cause in England, Rev. H. W.
Beecher, 825.
— the right of petition in congress, 368.
Defiance of the British Empire by her Youngest Colo
nies, 65.
Degradation of the Barbary States by the Young Repub
lic, 182.
DeHaven, Lieut. E. J., his command of the Advance
and Rescue, 534.
Deistic views of William Miller, in his early life, 432.
DeKalb's grave, visit of Washington and Lafayette to,
278.
Delaware, passage of the, by Washington, 114.
Delegates to the convention for framing the Federal
. Constitution, 134.
Delightful responsive warbling between Jenny Lind and
an out-door bird, 547.
Deliverer among the delivered, 873.
Demonstrations along the route of Fulton's first steam
boat, 214.
Demoralization of the Union troops at Bull Bun, 775.
Demosthenes and Webster compared, 297.
Denmark acknowledges the independence of the U. S.
71.
Denunciation of the U. S. whiskey tax, 160.
Denunciatory debate in congress against John Quincy
Adams, 365.
Departure of Lafayette from America, 281.
 the Great Eastern for the western world, 733.
Depositions of numerous eye-witnesses of the sea-ser
pent, 577.
Depth and density of darkness, May 19, 1780, 94.
Deputations from all parts of the land to Kossuth, 688.

INDEX.

977

De Rochambeau, Count, extolled by the American peo
ple, 110.
Descent into an extinct volcano, 389.
Description of locomotives, old and new, 681.
Description of Senator Douglas in debate, 674.
Description of the magnificent centennial exposition,
952.
 scene in parliament when American Independ
ence was acknowledged, 120.
Desolation of all New England by the great September
gale, 270.
Desperate midnight movement by Cornwallis, 106.
Desperation and death during the fire in Chicago, 915.
Despotic power of Bradford, the Penn. insurrectionist,
over his followers, 165.
Destinies of the Republic changed, 616.
Destructive effect of the Merrimac's movements in
Hampton Roads, 781.
Details of the great organ erected in Boston, 835.
Detection of Andre's character as a spy, 99.
Detective skill, Col. Baker's, in capturing Booth, 883.
Determination not to harm Burr, Hamilton's, 194.
— of the Young Republic to punish the piratical pow
ers, 183.
Development among all nations of " spiritual " phenom
ena, 472.
Device for electric illumination, Edison's, 941.
Devotion of Theodosia, Burr's daughter, to her father,
210.
Diabolical conspiracy of Booth and his accomplices, 876.
Diameter of the Comet's bright nucleus, 429.
Diary, last entrance in Washington's, 175.
Difference between the microphone and telephone. 946.
Different electric illuminating devices, 942.
Different tastes and preferences consulted in this vol
ume, 11.
Dignity of the members comprising the convention for
forming the Federal Constitution, 133.
Dimensions of the most superb organ in America, 834.
 sea-serpent, 580.
Dinner-party account of Lee's surrender, Gen. Grant's,
871.
Diplomatic conferences with the Japanese, 597.
Dipping her colors to the Queen, 566.
Dire apprehension of impending calamity, 322.
Direction of the terrible Sept. gale, 270.
Dirge and requiem fill the land, at Pres. Lincoln's death,
881.
Disabling of the monster craft Merrimac by the Moni
tor, 784.
Disappointed expectations at Lake Champlain, 252.
Disappointment of Miller, the Second Advent preacher,
437.
Disastrous defeat of the Union army at Bull Run, 775.
Disavowal of partisan aims by the grangers, 929.
Disc of the sun seen during the " Dark Day," 93.
Discharging his pistol into the air, Randolph, in the
duel, 288.
Discountenancing the practice of dueling, Henry Clay,
696.
Discouragement of the cotton-gin invention by British
manufacturers, 156.
Discouraging Lafayette's American scheme, 273.
Discovery of Gold at Sutter's Mill, C alifornia,
500-507.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
 prodigious quantities of illuminating oil in the
depths of the earth, 686.
Discovery of the Inhalation of Ether as a Pre
ventive of Pain, 456-463.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
62

Discretion the better part of valor, 252.
Discussions in a shop on a proposed invention, 465.
Disguise of Burr on his flight, 209.
Dismay in the Mexican capital at Scott's approach, 491.
— of the brute creation during the " Dark Day," 89.
Dismemberment of the British realm by the separation
of the colonies, 120.
 Union inauguration of war for the, 753.
Dispatch from Commodore Perry, 234.
•  Gen. Washington announcing Comwallis's sur
render, 104.
Dispersion of Gov. Dorr's forces at Chepachet, 413.
Display by the U. S. Government at the centennial,
954.
Disruption of the polar ice-fields on the advent of the
sun, 335.
Dissolution of the Union, the petition for, 367.
Dissuading Pres. Jackson from extreme anti-nullifica
tion measures, 324.
Distillers, Penn. whiskey, defiance of the U. S. tax col
lectors by, 162.
Distinct and leisurely view of the sea-serpent, 578.
Distributing the Jamestown's cargo, 485.
District of Columbia, corner stone of, 170.
Disunion banners raised all over the South, 753.
— sternly rebuked by Pres. Jackson, 321.
Dom Pedro, emperor of Brazil, at the centennial, 949
Dome of the crystal palace, its unrivaled beauty, 603.
 N. Y. Merchants' Exchange, its fall in the
Great fire, 355.
Doniphan's march of five thousand miles, 488.
" Don't give up the ship," Perry's motto-on Lake Erie,
234.
" Don't know when they are whipped! " 860.
"Don't tread on me! " — motto on first American naval
flag, 82.
Dorr, Thomas W., leader of the rebellion in Rhode
Island, 408
Double execution of criminals in San Francisco, 554.
— ironing the mutineers, 417.
— sweep of the comet's tail, 425.
Doubleday, Gen., in the battle of Antietam, 788.
Douglas and Lincoln Debates, 672.
Downfall of our nation predicted by foreign states
men, 8.
Downie, Captain, his command of the British Navy on
Lake Champlain, 251.
Doxology at Fort Sumter, singing the, 875.
Drafting the Declaration of Independence, 295.
 emancipation proclamation, Pres. Lincoln, 798.
Dramatic interview between Marshall, the gold-finder,
and Sutter, his employer, 504.
Dramatis personam presented in this volume, variety
of, 13.
Drawing his lines about the enemy, Sherman, 858.
Dream of Pres. Lincoln preceding battles, 877.
Dress of Daniel Webster on state occasions, 302.
 worn by. Washington at his inauguration, 144.
Drink of grog, a, stipulated for in Washington's hand
writing, 397.
Drinking each other's health, Webster and Hayne, 305.
Driving the enemy en masse, 788.
.  last spike on the Pacific railroad, 900.
Dropping of a bomb in money circles, 636.
Drowning preferred to death by burning, 666.
Dublin, celebration of the American centennial at, 965.
Duel between Henry Clay Secretary of State,
and John Randolph, U. S. Senator from Vir
ginia, 282-290.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Duel between Cilley and Graves, 701,
 Senator Broderick and Jndge Terry, 696.

978

INDEX.

Duel between Col. Burr and Gen. Hamilton, 180.
Dupes, Mormon, from all parts of the world, 312.
Duration of the total solar eclipse, 198.
Dutch method of dealing with Japan, 592.
Dwight, President Timothy, his prediction concerning
Calhoun, 324.
Dying in his country's capitol, John Quincy Adams, 372.
— message of the assassin Booth to his mother, 885.
— within hearing, but hopeless of succor, 713.
— words of John Adams, 295.
E.
Eager for the march to the North, Lee's army, 815.
Earle A. B., the revival preacher, 648.
Early attention given to popular education, 448.
Early days of telegraphing, 352.
Early laws favoring popular education, 449.
— predictions concerning ocean telegraphy, 888.
Earthquake phenomena at sea, 220.
— s in the United States, 218.
Easton, Pa., college at, named in honor of Lafayette,
281.
Easy basis of the first temperance society, 393.
Ebb of his vital spirit, Pres. Lincoln's, 882.
Ecclesiastical ceremony, unparalled, 936,
Ecclesiastical government of the Mormon sect, 309.
Eclat gained by America in the great international
regatta, 558.
— of the great World's Fair, 600.
 national peace jubilee, 910.
Eclipse of the sun, total, at mid-day, 196.
Edison, Thomas A., 941.
Educational system of the United States, 448.
Edmonds and Dexter, their investigations of " spirit "
phenomena, 477.
Edwards, Pres. Jonathan, grandfather of Aaron Burr,
190.
Efficiency of Jackson's defensive preparations at New
Orleans, 258.
Efforts by fireman to save the N. Y. Merchants' Ex
change, 355,
— to change the Japanese restrictive policy, 597.
 save Andre's life, 102.
Egypt's contribution to the centennial, 952.
Eight hundred buildings burned in the great fire, 925.
— thousand horse-power of the Great Eastern, 735.
 machines moved by one engine, 951.
Eighteen million dollars, loss of, in the N. Y. fire, 356.
— thousand buildings destroyed by the fire in Chicago,
918.
— yachts at the international regatta, 561.
— - pounder, an, crosses Burgoyne's table, while he is in
council, 78.
Eighth of January, the, at New Orleans, 269.
Eighty-five million dollars' value lost in the Boston fire,
925.
 one out of eighty-four games won by Morphy at the
Chess Congress, 658.
Elbowing her way to the bank counter, 640.
Eldest son of Queen Victoria visiting the U S., 746
Election and Inauguration, First, of a Presi
dent of the United States, 139-145.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Electric experiments, Franklin's, 346.
Electric Illumination, 940.
— telegraph, invention of the, 345.
Electricity aiding musical performances, 907.
Elegant appearance of Washington at his inauguration,
144.
Eleven days' contest, single-handed, in congress, J. Q.
Adams's, 370.

Emanation of the remarkable meteoric shower from
one point, 331.
Emancipation of the slaves proclaimed by Pres. Lin
coln, 796.
Embassy in 1860 from the Empire of Japan, 721.
Embalming Pres. Lincoln's body, 882.
Embarkation of the polar expedition, 387.
Embellishment of this volume, profuse and costly, 14.
Emblematic decorations at the Boston peace jubilee,
beauty of, 905.
Embodiment of various perfections in the great Boston
organ, 836.
Emigrants pouring into the oil regions, 692.
Emperor and president side by side at the centennial,
949.
Empire at the south-west, contemplated by Burr, 204.
— s of the past, greatness of our republic compared with
the, 8.
Employment of the Great Eastern for conveying the
ocean telegraph cable, 890.
Emulation in international exhibitions, 600.
Enchanting record of adventure in the far north-west,
404.
Enchantment of Jenny Lind's voice, 548.
Encomium upon Massachusetts by Mr. Webster, 301.
Encompassed for month's by Grant's army, the confed
erate capital, 866.
Encores and showers of bouquets at Jenny Lind's con
certs, 546.
End of Tecumseh, the famous Indian chief, 241.
 the world looked for, May 19, 1780. 89.
Energetic course of Washington in suppressing Shay's
rebellion, 127.
Enfranchisement added to freedom, 805.
Engagements with the whiskey insurgents in Penn.,
163.
Engine-house at Harper's Ferry, occupation of the, by
John Brown 706 ; stormed by the U. S. troops, 707.
Engineering feats involved in the Pacific railway con
struction, 897.
Engines sent from seven States during the Chicago fire,
916.
England refuses to harbor Aaron Burr, 210.
English opinion of the capture of the Guerriere, 225.
— soldiers eating dinner at the White House, 248.
English tribute to American inventions, 943.
Engulfing of hundreds of souls in a sudden and watery
grave, 609.
Enshrinement of the great Boston organ in a case, 836.
Entering the city of Vicksburg, Union troops, 812.
Entertaining the Japanese officials, 598.
Entire impartiality, religious and political, of this vol
ume, 13.
Entrance of the American army into the Mexican capi
tal, 493.
 British army into Washington, 246.
Epidemics, eras of, in America, 516.
Equal to the destinies of the moment, 300.
Equality of blacks and whites as explained by Mr. Lin
coln, 675.
Erection and Inauguration of the Great Or
gan in the Boston Music Hall, 833-839.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Ericsson's construction of the world-renowned Moni
tor, 782.
Escaping from chamber-windows during the gale and
flood, 266.
Espy, the "storm king," 348.
Espying the gun-boat's signal, Sherman's joy on, 863.
Esquimaux, Dr. Hayes dealing with the, 540.
Establishment of the Republic on a permanent founda
tion, 137.

INDEX.

979

Eternal snows of the Sierra Nevada, 405.
European admiration of General Washington, 179.
— war veterans selected for operations iu America, 263.
Evarts, W. M., orator at the Philadelphia celebration,
957.
Events in our first century, great and memorable, 10.
Everett, Edward, his opinion of Webster's speech, 302.
Every adversary vanquished by Morphy, 658.
— British vessel captured on Lake Erie. 239.
— eye on " the Yankee," 560.
" Every man for himself," 615.
— officer true to his colors, 418.
Evidences of awful convulsions in the Rocky Mount
ains. 404.
" Exactly the correct thing to do," Japanese idea of,
727.
Examination of the Fejee group by scientific voyagers,
391.
 Whitney's cotton-gin invention by southern plant
ers, 156.
Example of Gen. Taylor in favor of temperance, 401.
Exasperation ofthe Canadians by Benedict Arnold, 97.
— produced by the Mormons at the West, 311.
Exceptional distinction conferred on Lafayette and
Kossuth, 589.
Exchange of compliments between the Queen of Eng
land aud John Adams, 124.
Exclamations of gratitude, Washington's, on receiving
news of Burgoyne's capture, 79.
 Pres. Jackson on being fired at, 338.
 the Indians on viewing the comet, 425.
Exclusion of all dry topics from this volume, 11.
Excursion of discovery to the Cordilleras, 389.
Execution of one of Burgoyne's spies, 78.
Executive mansion at Washington, first occupied by
Pres. Adams, 170.
Exemption of Mr. Ogden's house in the midst of the
Chicago fire, 919.
Exeter Hall, London, Beecher's defense of his country
in, 828.
Exhaustless yield of petroleum, 692.
Exhibiting the original Declaration of Independence,
July 4, 1876, 967.
Exhibition of the industry of All Nations, in
New York, 600-607.
(Fw topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Exhibition of auroral wonders, unparalleled, 181.
Exhilarating contents of this volume, 12.
Exigency that caused the proclamation of emancipa
tion, 796.
Exordium on Webster's speech, 300.
Expected Destruction of the World, 431-438.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Expectations of short life, Washington's, 175.
Expedition to the Arctic Seas, 533-540.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Expedition to the River Jordan and Dead Sea,
494-409.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Expedition to the South Pole, 386-392.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Experience vs. examples, Gen. Sherman's opinion of,
858.
Experiences crowded into one awful hour, 613.
Experiments by Com. Stockton with his great gun. 446,
— during the "Dark Day," 94.
Explanation demanded by Clay from Randolph, 283.
— of the " spiritual " manifestations, 475.

Exploring Expedition to the South Pole, un
der Commander Wilkes, U. S. N., 3M3-;w2.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Explosive sounds accompanying the meteoric shower
332.
Exportation of petroleum In immense quantities, 692,
Expulsion of John Quincy Adams from congress, the
threatened, 365.
Expunging resolution, the, passage of, in the U. S. sen
ate, 378.
Exquisite mechanism of the Atlantic telegraph cable,
893.
Exquisitely constructed telescopes for the total solar
eclipse, 201.
Extending a welcome to Kossuth on the floor of Con
gress, 589.
Extension of popular suffrage sought for in Rhode
Island, 408.
Extensive and Calamitous Earthquake at the
West, 21S-224.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Extraordinary Combat between the Iron-Clads
Merrimac and Monitor, in Hampton Roads,
778-786.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Extreme anxiety of Washington at Yorktown, 107.
Extricating the buried from the Pemberton Mills ruins,
713.
Exultation at the news of the Declaration of Independ
ence,, 67.
— over the completion of the Pacific railroad, 902.
Eyes of the whole nation riveted on Fort Sumter, 754.
P.
Fabulous prices in the early history of California, 507.
Facades of granite in Boston, curious effect of the fire
on, 924.
Face to face at Gettysburg, the two contending armies,
815.
•  scene between Generals Grant and Lee, 871.
Facing the audience at the tragical moment, Booth,
879.
Fact in history cited by Kossuth, 589.
Failure of Cornwallis to reach Gen. Clinton, 106.
 Lawrence's pistol-shot to kill Pres. Jackson, 338.
 the oldest and wealthiest houses in the great
panic, 641.
— .  potato crop in Ireland.
Fair Columbia's bounties to the sufferers in Ireland,
428.
— play and a fair beat, 559.
Fall of Richmond, Va., the Confederate Capi
tal, 866-875.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this
Event.)
Fall of the Great Pemberton Mills in Law
rence, Mass., 712-720.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Fall of Hamilton, in his duel with Burr, 190.
Falls of Delaware, proposed establishment of the na
tional capital at, 168.
 Niagara, scene at during the meteoric shower,
330.
Fame and fortune to an inventor, 351.
Familiarity with chess-moves in his tenth year, Mor
phy's, 657.
Families innumerable desolated by the Central Amerioa
disaster, 627.

980

INDEX.

Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania,
160-166.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Fantastic mountain scenery, as viewed by Wilkes's
party, 388.
Farewell between Benedict Arnold and his wife, 101.
— to their leader, Lee's officers tendering their, 872.
Farnsworth Gen., at Bull Run, 777.
Farragut, Admiral, his achievements at New Orleans
and Mobile, 849.
Fascinating personal and professional history of Jenny
Lind, 541.
Fastening ships Serapis and Bon Homme Richard to
gether in combat, 86.
Fasting and prayer, day appointed for by the president,
on account of the pestilence, 516.
Fatal break in Lee's lines at Richmond, 873.
Fatal Duel between Col. Burr and Gen. Alex
ander Hamilton, 189-195.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Fatal Duel between Hon. D. C. Broderick and
Hon. D. S. Terry, 696-703.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Events.)
Fatal misapprehension of one word, 568.
— mistake of a Chicago policeman, 914.
Fate of the republic hanging on the hour, 790.
Father Mathew's visit to America, 398.
" Father of his country," getting sight of the, 143.
— of the republic, tribute to the, 296.
Fault in the law of nations, 840.
Favorable personal impression made by Cornwallis,
110.
Favorite ship of the nation, the Constitution, 225.
Fearful momentum of the comet's approach to the earth,
429.
Feast of inspiring harmonies at the Boston Peace Jubi
lee, 908.
Feat of Burnside's corps at Antietam, 791
Federal Constitution, Formation and Adoption
of, 132-138.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Federalists, Hamilton the champion of the, 191.
Feejee reception of explorers, 391,
Feelings experienced while drowning, 611.
Feints successfully made by Sherman on his march to
the sea, 860.
Female educational institutions, 453.
Female heroism at the Pemberton Mills tragedy, 716.
Ferry to China by way of the Pacific railroad, 903.
Festival of music in Boston in honor of the return of
peace, 904.
Field, Cyrus W., his indomitable labors in ocean teleg
raphy, 895.
— of battle at Yorktown, revisited by Lafayette, 277.
"— of honor " at Bladensburg, 288.
Fields of rainbow hues during the night of Nov. 14 1837
383.
Fiery commotion of the whole firmament for hours,
329.
Fifteen generals and 37,000 prisoners taken at Vicks
burg, 812.
Fiftieth Anniversary and Celebration of the
Independence of the Republic, 291-296.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
FiUibustering expeditions by General Walker, 737.
Filling the gap on the Pacific railroad divisions, 899.
Fillmore, President, his oration on the capitol exten
sion, 173.

Final amendments to the Federal Constitution, in the
convention at Phila., 137.
— day supposed arrival of the, 330.
Financial crisis throughout the country, 635.
— embarrassment of the country after the revolution
ary war, 133.
— panic aggravated by the Central America disaster,
627.
Finney, Charles G., the revival preacher, 648.
Fire and ruin in Chicago, thirty hours of wide-spread,
918.
— in New York City, terrible, 353.
 proof buildings in Chicago instantly swept away by
the fire, 916.
Firemen called out during the brilliant aurora borealis,
380.
— 's victory at last over the great fire, 922.
Fire- works, resemblance of the great meteoric shower
to, 330.
Firmament, the whole, in fiery commotion for hours,
329.
First American Naval Victory, 81-87.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
First attempt to bore for oil, 688.
— crossing the Atlantic by steam, 730.
— dispatch over the telegraph wires, 350.
— entrance of the Prince of Wales in American
waters, 746.
— foreign scientific enterprise undertaken by the U.
S. government, 386.
— important engagement in the great civil war, 770.
— military act in the long and bloody civil war, 753.
First Organized Rebellion in the United
States, (1786), 125-131.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
First railroad in the United States, 681.
— royal army ever surrendered to Americans, 72.
— steamboat voyage on American waters, 214.
Fitzpatrick's account of the siege of Vicksburg, 808.
Five features of the phonograph, 945.
Five great speeches in Europe for his country's cause,
Rev. H. W. Beecher's, 825.
— thousand persons present at Jenny Lind's first con
cert, 546.
Flag of a British squadron struck for the flrst time to
Americans, 234.
Flag-ship Hartford fighting the monster ram Tennessee,
852.
— reception, the Japanese at a, 598.
Flame-like protuberances of the sun during the eclipse,
280.
Flames of Are leaping up the Austria's shrouds, 667.
Flat-boats, building of, for Burr's expedition, 205.
Fleet built by Com. Perry, to meet the British, 235.
— of naval vessels sent to the Barbary States, 182.
Flight of Aaron Burr, 209.
 Gov. Dorr to Connecticut, 413.
 Jeff Davis from Richmond, 873.
Flinging away their arms and stores at Bull Run, 774.
Flirtation with commissioner Mason in London, British,
831.
Floating in solitude on the bosom of the ocean, 629.
Flood-gates of bankruptcy opened upon the land,
637.
Florida, Georgia and Sumter, the confederate cruisers,
840.
— Indians, war with, 147.
Fluent and melodious elocution of Senator Hayne,
299.
Fondling horses by Mr. Rarey that no one else could
approach, 763.

INDEX.

981

Food for the land of want and woe, 481.
Foot, Senator, his celebrated resolution in congress,
298.
Foote, Admiral A. H., his naval operations, 850.
Forbes's mission of humanity to Ireland, 483.
Force of Shay's rebellion in Massachusetts, 128.
Forcing Hamilton into a duel, 191.
Ford's theater, Washington, assassination of Pres. Lin
coln in, 876.
Forensic power displayed by Daniel Webster, 299.
— triumph of Mr. Beecher in Liverpool, 826.
Forest of oil-well derricks, 689.
— s crushed by the western earthquake, 221.
— s out clean down by the awful Sept. gale, 270.
Formal opening of the centennial exposition, 957.
— recognition of the national capital, 171.
Formation and Adoption of the Federal Con
stitution, 132-138.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Former friendship between Forrest and Macready,
609.
Forrest, Edwin, the American tragedian, his difficulties
with Macready, 509.
Forsaken by her crew, the ill-fated steamer Arctic,
615.
Fort Fisher, Admiral Porter's crowning victory at,
856.
— McAllister, fall of, 864.
— Moultrie in the operations at Charleston, 755.
— Sumter besieged and captured, 768.
— s Montgomery and Clinton captured by the British,
77.
Fortifications at Vicksburg, 806.
Fortitude and serenity of Washington in his last hours,
177.
Fortuitous incident, leading to a great discovery,
465.
Fortunes suddenly acquired in the oil regions, 693.
— swept away in a day, 636.
Forty confederate colors taken at Antietam, 793.
— millions of people in 1876, 948.
— thousand persons assembled in Wall street, 639.
 one confederate standards taken at Gettysburg,
823.
Foundering of the Steamer Central America,
in A Gale off Cape Hatteras, 626-634.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
' Event.)
Founding and Establishment of the National
Capital, 167-173.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Founding of colleges, early, 454.
Fountains of the higher life opened up in the revival
movement, 652.
Four acres of people listening to Parepa-Kosa, 908.
— anxious days, 627.
— hours' fight between the monster Merrimac and the
little Monitor, 784.
— miles and fourteen hours of battle and slaughter,
790.
Four new wonders of the world, 940.
— persons present at Mr. Moody's first meeting, 654.
Fourteen acres of machinery at the centennial, 951.
— square feet of children's bodies writhing in horror,
568.
Fox, the Misses, the original disclosers of " Spiritual
ism," 473.
Frame of the Boston organ, unrivaled beauty of the,
837.
Franklin, Gen., at the battle of Bnll Run, 772.
 , his movements on the field of Battle, 790.

Franklin'B impressive appeal for pacification, 137.
Frantic conduct of the A ustria's passengers, 665.
Fraser, Gen., his fatal fidelity to duty, 76.
Fraternization of all sections, July 4, 1876, 968.
Frederick the Great King of Prussia, gift from to Gen
eral Washington, 179.
Free soil and free labor, plea for, 017.
Freedmen's joy at the proclamation of emancipation,
803.
Fremont's Heroic Expedition to the North
west, 402-407.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
French passenger on board the Guerriere, 231.
— physicians' opinions of Senator Sumner's case, 624.
— tribute to the character of the Declaration of Inde
pendence, 70.
Friendliness of the French and British for the Alabama,
845.
Friendly letter from Pres. Fillmore to the Emperor of
Japan, 5E5.
 s between Pres. Buchanan and Queen Victoria,
745.
— toasts given by Gen. Washington and Cornwallis at
the dinner table, 110.
Frigate Philadelphia, her capture by the pirates, 186;
burned by Com. Decatur, 186.
Frightful Catastrophe in a New york Five-
Story Public School-Hoose Containing 1,800
Pupils, 567-574.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
From poverty to his millions, 466.
— State to State in unbroken triumph, Sherman's
march, 864.
— the gutter to the rostrum, 397.
 height of national prosperity to universal bank
ruptcy, 641.
Frowning masses of soldiers before Antietam, 788.
" Frozen music," the wondrous architecture of the Bos
ton organ defined as, 837.
Fruits of Perry's victory on Lake Erie, 239.
Frustrating of Burr's conspiracy, 206.
Fugitive slave law, Lincoln's opinion of the, 677.
Full-orbed completeness of our century, 15.
Fulton-street prayer-meeting, New York, 646.
Fulton's Triumphant Application of Steam to
Navigation, 212-217.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Funds for public education contributed by Geo. Tea-
body, 450.
Funeral cortege through fifteen States, Pres. Lincoln's,
882.
— pile, the immense Pemberton Mills', 715.
Furious horses made tractable by Mr. Rarey, 762.
— pursuit by Pres. Jackson of his assassin, 338.
— rush of 1,800 little ones, 568.
Fury of the tempest in which the Central America was
lost, 627.
— wide-spread and unprecedented, of the Sept. gale,
270.

G.
" Gag Rule," so-called, the, in congress, 363.
Gala-day on the Princeton changed to one of wailing
and death, 439.
Gale, the ever-memorable September in New England,
264; after the gale, 271.
Gallows erected at midnight by the vigilance committee,
551.

982

INDEX.

Gallows, Gibb's address from the, 319.
Games of Chess, against fifty players, won by Mr. Mor
phy, 659.
Garcia's discouraging opinion of Jenny Lind's voice, 512.
Gardner, the prize-fighter, in the revival, 631.
Garrett's barn, Booth discovered in, 884.
Garrison, W. L., at Fort Sumter, 874.
Gas and oil fires in the petroleum regions, 691.
 works in Chicago, explosion of during the fire, 916.
Gates, Gen., Capture of Burgoyne's Splendid
Army, 72-80.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Gathering of whiskey insurrectionists at Pittsburg,
Penn., 164.
Gavel of the confederate congress, 878.
Gay streamers and waving flags all over the land, 967.
" General Arnold has gone to the enemy," — Washing
ton's announcement of the crime, 102. '
General Jackson's Terrible Rout and Slaugh
ter of the British Army, at New Orleans, 257-
263.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
— Pakenham leading his men after he was shot, 261.
~- Ross commands the British army against Washing
ton City, 242.
General Scott in the Halls of the Montezumas,
as the Conqueror of Mexico, 487-493.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event,)
General Walker's Fillibustering Expeditions
to Sonora, Nicaragua, and Honduras, 737-744.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Generalship of Sheridan unsurpassed, 867.
Genial anecdote and pleasing memorabilia in this vol
ume, 11.
Genii of applause and enthusiasm, the, aroused by John
Quincy Adams, 371.
Genius as a commander exhibited by Gen. Sherman,
857.
— , poor reward of, in Eli Whitney's case, 159.
Genuflexions practiced by the Japanese officials on ap
proaching the president, 724.
Geographical and nautical results of the South Pole
expedition, 386.
— magnitude of our republic, 8.
Geological characteristics of the petroleum regions, 694.
Germantown, battle of, 72.
Germany's congratulations to the republic on its cen
tennial anniversary, 966.
Getting the hotrwater pipes ready, 731.
Gettysburg, Three Days' Battle at, 815-824.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Ghastly horror of the Somers mutiny, 415.
Gibbons's, Mr., explanation of the great panic, 642.
Gibbs, the pirate, his career, capture and execution, 314.
Gift presented by congress to Layette, 277,
Gigantic material enterprise of the United States, 9.
— preparations for war by the North and South, 760.
Gilmore, P. S., his vast musical enterprise, 904.
" Gimblet religion " of the savages, account of the, 389.
Girdle of iron around the loins of the continent, 896.
" Give it to 'em! "—Commodore Hull's final order to his
crew, 233.
Giving the last kisses on board the fated Austria, 666.
 word in the duel, 699,
— up the race in despair, 664.
Glacier of Humboldt visited by Dr. Kane, 536.
Glasgow and Edinburg, Union speeches by Mr. Beecher
»t. 231.

Glittering corona around the moon during the solar
eclipse, 197.
Gloom of the loyal states ofter the Bull Run defeat, 777.
Gloomy auspices of the revolutionary campaign in 1777,
72.
Glory of the American Century, 7.
Gloucester Bay, sea-serpent seen at, 577.
Glowing beauty of the great meteoric shower, 329.
— Magnificence of the firmament, Nov. 13, 1837, 382.
" God Save the Queen," played at the Prince of Wales's
visit, 750.
Goddard, Arabella, her marvelous musical powers, 912,
Going down with her flag still flying, the Cumberland,
780.
— up the harbor of Cork, tT. S. Ship Jamestown, 483.
Gold, first discovery of, in California, 500.
— medal presented by congress to Gen. Gates, 80.
Golden age of American oratory, 297.
— Commonwealth of the American Union, 607.
— results of Whitney's cotton-gin invention, 158.
Goldsborough, Commodore, his opinion of Farragut's
feat, 851.
Good Templars, gathering of at the centennial, 952.
— work done by Washington at Yorktown, 107.
Gory deck of Gibbs's piratical craft, 317.
Gory front of secession, 678.
Gough, John B., his oratory in behalf of temperance,398,
Gradual advancement in methods of transit, 681.
Grain and cotton products, grangers' system of manag
ing, 932.
Grand Army of the Republic, meeting of, at the centen
nial, 962.
— dinner given by Washington to Cornwallis, 110.
Grand Embassy from the Empire of Japan, with
a Treaty of Peace and Commerce, 721-728.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Grand March of the Union Army, under Gen.
Sherman, through the South, 867-865.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Grand results from small beginning, 680.
Grandeur of the centennial celebration, 960.
Granger movement, commencement of the, 927.
Granite warehouses in Boston destroyed like lead in the
great fire, 921.
Grant, General, his siege and capture of Vicksburg, 806.
Grappling with the monster Merrimac, the little Moni
tor, 782.
Grave-yard scenes at the height of the " plague " visita
tion, 621.
Graves and Cilley, their duel, 283.
" Great Eastern," arrival and exhibition of the steam
ship, 729.
Greatest conquest of intellectual over inanimate matter.
735.
Greatest Defeat and Victory of American Arms
in the Indian Wars, 146-152.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Greatest railroad route on the face of the earth, 903.
Greeley's tribute to Judge Douglas's abilities, 672.
Greenland, explorers' experiences in, 535.
Greene's, Mrs., timely suggestion to Eli Whitney, 164.
Greeting Macready, the actor, with groans, hisses, and
missiles, 509.
— Scott's order with a quick-step, 400.
— s, Lafayette's, with old comrades, 280,
Grief at Alexander Hamilton's death, 195.
— In America at the news of Lafayette's death, 281.
Grim old Merrimac, Buchanan's, 855.
Grinnell expeditions to the Arctic seas, 533.
Grog for Jack before the battle, 865.

INDEX.

983

Growth of ocean steam transit, 731.
 the order of grangers in five years, 928.
Gulfs and chasms spanned in constructing the Pacific
railroad, 898.
Gunnery of the Kearsarge compared with the Alabama's,
846. H.
Habits of Gen. Jackson in war, 260.
Hagerstown, Md., Lee's troops' arrival at, on their
northward march, 815.
" Hail Columbia," sung by Jenny Lind andDaniel Web
ster, 645.
Hair-breadth escapes at the Pemberton Mills catastro
phe, 715.
Half a month's earnings to hear Jenny Lind sing, C17.
 century anniversary and celebration throughout
the country, 291.
— an hour with the terrible horse known as " Cruiser,"
763.
Hall of the U. S. senate, appearance of, during Mr.
Webster's speech, 302.
Halo, or corona, during the solar eclipse, 200.
Halt made by Cornwallis, at Yorktown, 105.
Hamilton's fatal duel with Burr, ISO.
— plan for locating the national capital, 169.
 of government for the U. S., 136.
Hammer of pure silver employed in completing the
Pacific railroad, 901.
Hammond, E. P., the revival preacher, 648.
Hampton Roads, memorable combat in the, 7C2.
Hancock, John, his remarkable signature to the Declar
ation of Independence, 71.
Hand-to-hand conflict, 820.
Handcuffs rs. champagne, 738.
Hanging of Spencer and his comrades, 422.
— the telegraph wires, 345.
"— together or separately," Franklin's remark to his
colleagues, 295.
Happy conversation between Prof. Morse and Miss
Ellsworth, 350.
— frame of mind during his last day, Pres. Lincoln's,
877.
— unconsciousness during surgical operations, 460.
Harmer's expedition against the Indians, failure of, KT.
Harmonies and wondrous beauty of the Boston organ,
836.
Harold, trial and execution of, for conspiracy, 887.
Harrison's defeat of Tecumseh, 152.
— victory of the Thames, 241.
Harrowing experiences of the Central America's pas
sengers, 629.
Hartford and Tennessee, battle between the, 852; dis
comfiture of the latter, 855.
Hartstene, Capt., sent to Dr. Kane's relief, 538.
Harvard College, Cambridge, Mass., 454.
Harvests reaped by outlaws in California, in its earlier
days, 550.
Hasty removal of the confederate archives from Rich
mond, 873.
Having a shot at the sea-serpent, 577.
Hawkins, the Baltimore temperance reformer, 395.
Hawley, Gen. J. R., head of the centennial exposition,
949.
Hayes, Dr. Isaac J., his heroic explorations in the Arc
tic regions, 539.
Hayne, Robert Y., his great debate with Daniel Web
ster, 297.
"He is gone; he is dead! " Pres. Lincoln's death an
nounced hy his physician, 881.
Head of the sea-serpent, remarkable appearance of the,
681.

Headlong descent of hundreds of children down tho
school-house stairs, 568.
— velocity of navigation required on the Jordan, 495
Healey's commemoration of the " Great Debate," 298.
Heart's Content, arrival of the Atlantic cable at, 893.
Heat of the falling meteors of Nov., 1833, 332.
Heaven-wide auroral radiance, 380.
Heavy cost of the Union triumph, 807.
Hegira of women and children during the Chicago fire
915.
Height of city stores preventing their preservation, 922.
Heintzelman's division, Gen., at Bull Run, 777.
Heir to the British throne, his tour in the United
States, 747.
Help for Chicago poured forth from the whole land, 918.
Helping a bravo man without pay, 240.
Helpless agony of hundreds of children, 568.
Henry, Patrick, his eloquent summons, 'We must
fight! ' 66.
"Her name is not there! "—reading the list of the
dead, 71s.
Herndon, Captain, his bravery in tho hour of peril, C2fi.
Heroes of antiquity and Gen. Jackson, comparison be
tween the, 258.
— quailing at the surgeon's knife, 450.
Hideous mutilation of the Pemberton Mills victims, 715.
Hiding himself from himself, Gibbs's attempts at, 319.
 place, the assassin Booth's, 883.
High social position of Dr. Parkman and Webster his
murderer, 523.
Highway from the gates of the East to sunset itself,
903.
Hippodrome meetings in New York, Moody and San
key's, 664.
"His blood was up! " 251.
— wits saved him, 794.
Historic actors as well as deeds described in this vol
ume, 12.
Historic scene in the heart of America wonderful, 899.
History illustrating itself by example, 10.
Hoarse roar of the flames in the Boston fire, 921.
Hoisting the first American naval flag, 82.
"Hold the Fort!" 655.
Holding the disputed ground, 792.
— — dying president's hand in his own, Senator Cum-
ner, 880.
 hill at Antietam, Burnside's feat of, 700.
Holland acknowledges the independence of America,
71.
Holmes, Dr. O. W., his tribute to the wonders of ether
ization, 458.
Holy land localities, American interest in the, 404.
Honduras, fatal result of Walker's fiUibustering expe
dition at, 7i2.
Honeymoon in another world, spending the, 520.
Hong Kong, China, via Chicago, 902.
Hood's fatal movement in favor of Sherman. 853.
Hooker leading the advance of the grand army, 7E7, is
shot and disabled, 787.
Hope of transferring the operations of the war to the
North, Gen. Lee's, 815.
Hopeless resistance by Lee to Grant's army, 870.
Horizontal movement of the San Francisco earthquake,
224.
Horological wonders of the electric telegraph cable,
894.
Horse-taming feats by Mr. Rarey of Ohio. 761.
Horseshoe Bend, battle with tlie Indians at, 152.
Horticultural exhibition at the centennial, 954.
Hospital scenes at Gettysburg, 818.
— use of etherization, 462.
Hospitalities, national to Lafayette, 276.
Hostile meeting between Clay and Randolph, 285.

984

INDEX.

Hot and suffocating air during the Sept. gale, 268.
— chain, a, in a bucket of tar, 665.
— -blooded assailants of John Quincy Adams, 367.
Hotels, churches and theaters, in ashes, by the Chicago
fire, 914.
"Hounds," the organized society of, in California, 550.
How Miller became a Second Advent preacher, 433.
— Pres. Lincoln passed his last day, 877.
— spiritualism originated, 473.
— things appeared during the " Dark Bay," 95.
— they fought at Bull Run, 771.
— the phonograph operates, 945.
Howard, Gen., commanding in Sherman's army, 860.
Howe, Elias, Jr., his wonderful inventive genius, 464,
Hughes, Ball, his statue of Hamilton, 360.
Hull, Captain, his eager acceptance of Capt. Dacres's
challenge, 228.
Human enterprises, the grandest, 894.
Humanity and science, memorable co-operation of, 535.
Humboldt's tribute of admiration to American explor
ers, 402.
Humiliation of King George in parliament, 121.
 the Emperor of Morocco by America, 185.
Humor, good, of John Paul Jones, towards his enemy,
85.
Humorous side of the electric telegraph, 351.
— treatment of his country's enemies in England,
Beecher's 831.
Hundreds of families in mourning for the early dead,
574.
— — millions' value lost in the Chicago fire, 918.
Hung near the spot of his birth, Prof. Webster, 530.
Hungarian cause, Kossuth's advocacy of in America,
590.
Hunt, Walter, his prior invention of the sewing-machine
467.
Hunter's division, Gen., at the battle of Bull Bun, 770,
Hunting excursions at the west by the Prince of Wales,
747.
"Hurrah for the flag!" shouts of a Union sailor who
had lost both arms and legs, 780.
Hurrying through the streets with their ledgers, Boston
merchants during the fire, 922.
Husbands fleeing from wives during the epidemic, 517.
Hydesville, N. Y., singular and humble origin of the
spiritual knockings at, 472.
Hymn for the centennial inauguration by J. G. Whittier,
949.
Hypotheses of the Nov. meteoric shower, 333.

" I am shot ! "—Cilley's exclamation at the third fire,
702.
" I must have another shot ! "—Graves's remark at the
duel, 701.
" I will never leave the ship ! " 626.
Ice-bound continent, hitherto unknown, reached by the
U. S. explorers, 389.
"If the bridge is lost all is lost ! " 792.
Ignoble origin of the great Chicago conflagration, 914.
Ill-starred career of pirate Gibbs, 316.
Illegality of their acts acknowledged by the vigilance
committee, 557.
Illinois political contest, memorable, 672.
Illumination of lighthouses by electric apparatus, 941.
Illustrious men in the convention for framing the Fed
eral Constitution, 133.
— virtues of Gen. Washington, tribute to the, 179.
Imbedded in ice for successive months, 534.
Imitation among children in a scene of panic, 571.
Immediate cause of the great religious revival, 645.

Immortality guaranteed to Earey in England if success
ful in taming "Cruiser," 762.
Impatience of the Constitution's crew to commence the
fight, 232.
 North for a movement on Richmond, 769.
Imperishable honors crowning Sherman's name, 857.
Impetuous desire to advance on the North, Lee's troop's,
815.
Impetuusity of Wayne's troops, 151.
Impetus given by railways to manufacturing interests,
680.
Impetus given to commerce by the California gold dis
coveries, 507.
Important question and answer in Prof. Morse's career,
346.
Imposing coup oVseil at the White House, 445.
— magnificence of Kossuth's reception in the U S.,
687.
Imposition of $300 fine on Mr. Brooks for his assault on
Senator Sumner, 623.
Impostors in the religious world, 436.
Impotency of human effort in staying the Chicago fire,
914.
Impressions produced by the Boston musical celebra
tion, 907.
 on Washington by Lafayette, 274.
Impressive appearance of Washington on resigning his
commission as commander-in-chief, 117.
Imprisonment of Jefferson Davis in Fortress Monroe,
873.
Impromptu prayer-meetings during the meteoric
shower, 330.
Improved apparatus for school instruction, 452.
Improved means of transit, 679.
Improvements in telegraphing made by different in
ventors, 351.
In the hottest and thickest of the fight, 489.
Inappreciable but momentous point of time, 444.
Inauguration of Washington, as first president of the
U. S., 139.
Incalculable wealth of our natural resources, 9.
Incidents of the total solar eclipse, 203.
Incomparable dignity and grace of Kossuth, 590.
— organ erected in Boston music hall, 833.
Incredulity excited by Fulton's attempts at steam-nav
igation, 213.
Indebtedness to French aid at Yorktown, Washington's
acknowledgment of, 110.
"Independence Forever," John Adams's toast for the
nation's half-centennial, 295.
— of the Republic, fiftieth anniversary and celebra
tion of, 291.
Indescribable joy at the North over the Gettysburg vic
tory, 823.
— rapidity and force of the wind during the September
gale, 265.
" Indestructible " storehouses crumble like chalk in the
great Boston fire, 921.
Indian defeat, 151 ; and victory, 148.
Indications of the approach of the San Francisco earth
quake, 224.
Indictments against the assassination conspirators, 886.
Indigence of Eli Whitney's early condition, 154.
Indignation of Washington at the proposal to make him
king, 115.
—-, public, at Hamilton's fate, 195.
Individual instances of bravery at Gettysburg, 823.
— losses, immense, in the great N. Y. fire, 357.
— vs associated efforts, grangers' views of, 932.
Industry at the South, impetus given to, by the cotton-
gin, 159.
— of All Nations, exhibition of., at London— grand
finale, 558.

INDEX.

985

Ineffectual resistance to Brooks attempted by Sumner,
619.
Inexhaustible deposits of precious metal in California,
506.
Inexplicable character of the manifestations known as
"spiritual," 475.
Infamy of Admiral Cockburn at Washington, 217.
Inglorious flight at Rivas, 738.
Inhalation of ether, discovery of, as a preventive of pain,
456.
Initiating the grangers' organization, 928.
Initiation of a plan of government for the U. S., 133.
Inscription of the Penn. Bible Society at the centen
nial, 955.
— on the corner-stone of the national capitol, 171;
and on the corner-stone of the extension, 173.
 Liberty Bell, in Independence Hall, 07.
Inserting the most important word in the emancipation
proclamation, 798.
Insignia of the Cardinal, 934.
Inspecting the horrors of the Irish famine, 485.
Inspection of the victorious yacht America by the Queen
and Prince Albert, 565.
Instant and awful death of Secretary Gilmer, 441.
— stunning of Senator Sumner by Brook's cane, 620.
Instant summons, trial, and hanging, by the vigilance
committee, 554.
Insurrection, whiskey, in Pennsylvania, 160.
Intellectual prowess, Judge Douglas's, 676.
Intellectual range exhibited by Daniel Webster, 299.
Intemperate debates in congress, 369.
Intended breakfast at Arnolds's, by Washington, 101.
— conversion of the U. S. Brig Somers into a pirate, 416.
Intention of Shay's followers to seize Boston, 129.
Intercourse claimed to be opened between human and
disembodied spirits, 472.
Interest excited by the first railway undertaking, 682.
Interest of foreign countries in the Industrial Exhibi
tion, 601.
 other nations excited by the treaty between the
U. S. and Japan, 728.
Interior of Fort Sumter after the bombardment, 759.
Internal affairs to be regulated by the States, 673.
International regatta, the yacht America triumphant
in the, 558.
Interposition, Col. Benton's, in the Clay and Randolph
duel, 288.
— of America in Kossuth's behalf, 586.
Interpretation of the language of the spirit world, 473.
Interview between Aaron Burr and his pursuers, 208.
— — Consul Harris and the Emperor of Japan, 599.
 Gen. Gates and Gen. Burgoyne, 78.
 Gen. Washington and Lafayette, 274.
 Generals Grant and Lee, 874.
 Generals Grant and Pemberton, 811.
 Jenny Lind and Mr. Barnum, flrst, 545.
 John Adams and King George, 121.
 John Paul Jones and his antagonist Commodore
Pearson, 85.
 Lafayette and " Red Jacket," 280.
 Pres. Grant and the Emperor of Brazil, 940.
— — Pres. Lincoln and Gen. Grant, 877.
 Pres. Lincoln and Sec. Stanton, memorable, 872.
.  the assassin Booth and his captors, 884.
 Prince of Wales and a Bunker Hill veteran,
 Washington and Mrs. Arnold, 102.
 Webster and Hayne, after the debate, 304.
Introducing Kossuth to congress, 589.
Introduction of Lafayette to Gen. Washington, 274.
Invasion of Mexico by the U. S. forces, 488.
 the North determined on by Gen. Lee, 815.
Invention of that Wondrous Piece of Mechan
ism, the Sewing, Machine, 464-471.

(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Invention of the cotton-gin by Eli Whitney, 153,
 Electric Telegraph, 345.
Investiture of Cardinal McCloskey, in New York, 030.
Invitation to Kossuth to come to America, 586.
 Lafayette to become one of Washington's Mili
tary family, 274.
Inviting Gen. Grant to a peace interview, Gen. Lee,
870.
Involuntary exclamations of wonder during the total
eclipse, 198.
Ireland's appeal borne across the Atlantic, 481.
Irish harps and American eagles, 4S6.
Iron and coal display at the centennial, 955.
 stone no barriers to the Boston fire, 521.
— -clads Merrimac and Monitor, combat between tha
778.
— hearted, but in tears, 209.
— roofing and plating the Merrimac, 779.
— span across the wide continent, 900.
Irregularities of Miller's followers reproved by him,
437.
Irrepressible emotions excited by Mr. Webster's oratory,
302.
Irresistible pressure of gentleness on horses, Mr Rar
ey's 768.
Irritation between Mexico and the U. S. leading to war.
487.
Irwinsville, Ga., capture of Jeff. Davis at, 873.
Isle of Wight, scene of the international regatta, 560.
Issues involved in the triumph of Gen. Grant at P.ich-
mond, 866.

J.

Jackson, Dr., his claim to the ether discovery, 463.
— , General, his terrible rout and slaughter of the Brit
ish at New Orleans, 257.
— , Gen. " Stonewall," at Antietam, 788.
 , President, his proclamation against nullification,
323.
 , scheme of Lawrence to kill 337.
James, army of the, reunion of, at the centennial, 952.
Jamestown, voyage of the ship, 483.
Japan, naval expedition to, 592.
Japanese Embassy to the U. S. government in 1860, 721.
Java, frigate, Bainbridge's capture of the, 231.
Jayne's Hall, Phila., during the religious revival, 646.
Jealousy in congress, on selecting a general for the rev
olutionary army, 112.
Jefferson, Thomas, a sketch of his career, 295.
 , his account of the final compact for locating the
national capital, 168.
 ; his authorship of the Declaration of Independ
ence, 292.
 ( bis death on the 50th anniversary of American
independence, 291.
Jewish appreciation of Moody and Sankey's labors,
653.
Jocular remark of Pres. Lincoln about being shot, 878.
John Brown's Capture of Harper's Ferry, Va.,
704-711.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.) ,
John-street prayer meeting, New York, 646.
Johnston, Gen., at the battle of Bull Bun, 776.
Joint debates between Lincoln and Douglas, 673.
Jones, John Paul, his capture of the British ship Sera
pis, 81.
Jordan's banks described by the explorers, 495.

986

INDEX.

Journeying around the world made easy by the Pacific
railroad, 903.
Joy, national, at the result of the convention for fram
ing the Federal Constitution, 138.
— occasioned after the " Dark Day " was over, 96.
Jubilation at the South at the Bull Bun victory, 777.
Jubilee in Boston in honor of the return of peace, 904,
Judge Douglas's high opinion of Mr. Lincoln, 672.
Judgment Day supposed to have come, 89.
Judging of railways from a social point of view, 680.
July 4, 1776, 65; July 4, 1876, 948.
Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, 903.
Jury, address by Prof. Webster to the, 528.
Justice administered in San Francisco by the vigilance
committee, 550.

K.

Kalakaua, King, tour of, in the United States, 951.
Kane, Dr. E. K., his expedition to the polar seas, 535.
Kansas, debate on, in the U. S. senate, 617.
Kearsarge and Alabama, battle between the, 840.
Keeping at bay the whole Union fleet, the ram Tennes
see, 852.
— his plan of blood in his razor-case, 417.
— the California gold- discovery a secret, 505.
Keim's brilliant narrative of operations at Vicksburg,
808.
Kelly, O. A., one of- the founders of the grange move
ment, 927.
Key, Francis, his composition of "The Star Spangled
Banner," 249.
— to Mexico held by the Americans, 490.
Keyes's brigade, Gen., at the battle of Bull Bun, 772,
Kilpatrick's, Gen., battle-flag at Gettysburg, 822.
— leading the cavalry, 860.
Kinds of phenomena included in " spiritualism," 476.
King Charles's charter for Rhode Island, dissatisfaction
with, 408.
— Frederick William's opinion of Fremont's explora
tions, 402.
— George's conversation with John Adams, 123.
 speech on acknowledging American independ
ence, 121.
 statue destroyed in New York, 68.
— , Samuel W., his defeat of Thomas W. Dorr, 412.
Kingly ceremony in parliament on acknowledging
American independence, 120.
" Kingly pastime," Mr. Morphy's opinion of chess, 661.
Kirk Edward N., the revival preacher, 648.
Kiss of peace, giving the, 937.
Kit Carson, the intrepid adventurer, 403.
Knapp, Jacob, the revival preacher, 648.
Knell of the lawless in California, 551.
Knighthood conferred upon a defeated officer, 85.
Knights of Pythias, parade of at the centennial, 952.
Knowledge of the rock-oil sources in olden times, 688.
Kossuth, Gov., arrival of, as guest of the nation, 587.

Laconic message of McDonough announcing his victory,
350.
Ladies, enthusiasm of the, towards Gen. Washington,
142.
— ' sanitary fair at Chicago, Pres. Lincoln's gift to, 804.
Lady spectators of the Princeton tragedy, 442.
Lafayette's brilliant services at Yorktown, 105.
— visit to America, as the guest of the Republic, 272-
281.

Lake Champlain, McDonough's victory on, 250.
— Erie, Perry's victory on, 234.
Lakes and swamps formed by the western earthquake,
223.
Lamps for electric illumination, 940.
Land speculators swarming the west, 636.
Landing of Lafayette at New York, 275.
Landmarks saved from the fire in Boston, 922.
Laryngitis, the disease of which Washington died, 178.
Lashed to the mast in Mobile Bay, Farragut, 855.
Lashing the flag to the mast-head during battle, 230.
Last hours and words of Gen. Washington, 177.
— war-flag of America in British waters, 482.
Latter-Day saints, 306.
Laudnum soup for savages, Dr. Hayes's timely use of
540.
Laudation of Lafayette, all over the land, 276.
Laughing a congressional resolution out of existence,
366.
Launched from the gallows by pairs, 557.
Laurels crowning the head of the conqueror of peace,
874.
— won by Rarey from monarchs and princes, 761.
Lavish and magnificent hospitalities to the Japanese
officials, 728.
Law of nations expounded by Kossuth, 590.
Lawless classes terrified by the action of the vigilance
committee, 555.
Lawrence, Mass., tragedy of tbe Pemberton Mills in,
712.
— , Richard, his plan to shoot Pres. Jackson, 337, his
insanity, 340.
Laying aside all etiquette, royal visitors at Barey's per
formances, 766.
— of the the telegraph cable across the Atlantic ocean,
899.
— the corner-stone of the national capitol, 171.
 keel of the first Atlantic steamship, 732.
Leading nullifiers threatened with the gallows, 327.
Lear, Col., his account of Washington's wrath, 150.
Leaving her rivals, one by one, 564.
— the White House for the theater, Pres. Lincoln, 878.
Lee, Gen. Henry, subdues the Penn. whiskey insurrec
tion, 166.
Lee's, Gen. B. E., great army surrenders to Gen. Grant,
872.
 great military object, 787.
Legions of Union soldiers besieging Bichmond, 866.
Legislation by congress for celebrating the centennial,
949.
Leisurely movements of the yacht America when start
ing on the race, 561.
Length of the Great Eastern, 680 feet, 732.
 sea-serpent, 578.
Lesson taught by the exhibition of the industry of all
nations, 607.
 the North by the Bull Run defeat, 777.
" Let the Bright Seraphim," sung by Parepa-Rosa be
fore Pres. Grant, 908.
Letter from King George on the Yorktown catastropbe,
109.
— in a golden box from Pres. Fillmore to the Emperor
of Japan, 592.
— , last, written by Washington, 175.
— of friendship from Emperor William to the United
States, 966.
— received by Arnold showing his detection, 101.
Levee at the White House, Jackson's after the Web
ster and Hayne debate, 304.
"Leviathan," the sea-serpent supposed to be the, 578.
Liberation of slaves, John Brown's plan for the, 704.
" Liberty and no Excise," motto of the Penn. whiskey
insurrectionists, 161.

INDEX.

987

Liberty for Kansas, Sumner's speech on, 617.
Life among the gold-diggers, 506.
— or death depending on a single word, 628.
Light produced by electricity, 941.
Lightning rapidity of the names at the Chicago fire,
914.
Lights and shades and tone marvelously combined in the
Boston organ, 837.
Lincoln, Abraham, his call for 75,000 men, 760.
— , Abraham, his election as president, 753.
— , Abraham, his proclamation of emancipation, 796.
— , Abraham, his visit to Richmond, 872.
— , Abraham, is assassinated at Ford's theater, Wash
ington, by J. W. Booth, 876,
— , Abraham, obsequies and sepulture, 883.
Lincoln and Douglas debates in Illinois, 672.
— , Gen., dispersion of Shays's followers in Massachu
setts by, 130.
Lincoln, Gen., successes at Forts Edward, Anne, George,
etc., 75.
Lind, Jenny, her great musical tour in the United
States, 641.
Line of battle formed on Lake Champlain, 253.
 electric telegraph, the first, 348.
Line's of Lee's army fatally broken into, 868 ; his re
treat, 870; capitulation, 871.
Linnsean Society's report on the sea-serpent, 581.
Lion-like energy of Pres. Jackson on being shot at
338.
Liquid treasures spouting forth from the earth, 687.
Lisbon, celebration of the American centennial at,
965.
List of the dead and wounded, reading the, 718.
" Little Turtle," his defeat of St. Clair, 150.
Liverpool, Eng., Beecher overcoming the yelling mob
at, 827,
Livingston's aid to Fulton, 213.
Lizzie among the awful ruins, 718.
Localities unrecognized after the earthquake, 221.
Locked in-doors during the raging fire, 924.
Locomotive pioneer, the " Rocket," 680.
London, celebration of the American centennial at,
965.
— heraldry office visited hy. John Randolph, 289.
Long Island, battle of, 114.
Longfellow's mansion in Cambridge, formerly Washing
ton's head-quarters, 114.
Long's Peak, in the Rocky Mountains, 403.
Longstreet, Gen., at the battle of Antietam, 788.
" Look on this picture — and on this," 10.
Looking over the Southern map, Sherman, 859.
— the Tycoon in the face, 599.
Loomis, Prof., his astronomical observations, 383.
Lord Chatham's death, after his passionate speech
against the American colonies, 70.
Losing his whole family and noble ship at the same
time, 615.
Loss of the Splendid Collins Steamship Arctic,
of New York, by Collision with the Iron
Steamer Vesta, 608-615.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Losses of the two armies in the battle of Bull Run, 769.
" Lots " in western cities, 636.
Louisiana, intended invasion of by the British, 258.
Love's last embrace on the Austria, 667.
Lowenthal's game of chess with Paul Morphy. 657.
Lowering her colors to Her Majesty, during the height
of the race, 565.
Luminous train of 108,000,000 miles to the comet, 425.
Luster reflected on American industry, 607.
Lustrous grandeur of the aurora borealis. 381.
" Luxury on wheels," 684.

Lyell, Professor, his account of the western earthquake,
222.
— , — , — opinion of the sea-serpent, 578.
— 's travels among the Second Adventists, 436.
Lying in state, Senator Broderick, 700.
" Lynch-law," healthy operations of, 550.
Lynch's expedition to the Orient, 494.

M.

Macaulay's Lord, tribute to the value of Whitney's
cotton-gin, 153.
" Macbeth and Banquo " in a changed scene, 609.
Macedonian, frigate, capture of the, by Decatur. 231.
Machinery building at the centennial exhibition, 952.
Mackenzie, Capt. A. S., his dealing with the mutineers,
417.
Macon, Ga., surrender of Gen. Cobb at, 874.
Macready, W. C, the English tragedian, mobbed in
New York, 512.
Maddened sea of insult at Liverpool, Mr. Beecher stems
a, 827.
Madman's attempt on Pres. Jackson's life, 337.
Maffit, John N., the revival preacher, 648.
Magnanimity of Jackson in the flush of triumph, 203.
Magnanimity of Senator Douglas, 678.
Magnates in state and church doing honor to Jenny
Lind, 546.
Magnetism of Rarey's presence among horses, 768.
Magnificence of the international exposition at Phila
delphia, 957.
Magnificent Aurora Borealis Encompassing
the Whole Firmament to its Farthest
Bounds, 379-385.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Magnifying inaudible sounds to loud noises by the micro
phone, 047.
Magnitude and hazard of Pakenham's campaign 263.
Mail-wagons for China on the Pacific railroad, 902.
Main point of the America's superiority over her com
petitors, 566.
Majestic drama of our century's events, 8.
— oaks twisted into shreds by the terrible gale 267.
— organ erected in Boston music hall, 833.
Makes his final confession as the murderer of Park-
man, 530.
Making for her antagonist at full speed, the ram Ten
nessee, 852.
— known the result of Grant and Lee's interview,
872.
Male and female, in youth and beauty, buried in the
Pemberton Mills ruins, 713.
Malignant epidemics, the tender passion still alive dur
ing, 520.
Mammoth steamship Great Eastern in New York har
bor, 735.
Managing his mob audiences in England, Mr. Beecher's
tact in, 833.
Manassas, or Bull Run, battle of, 769.
Manchester, England, attempts to silence Mr. Beecher
in, 826.
Mania for land investments, 636.
 piracy, Spencer's, 420.
"Manifest destiny" of the United States, illustration
of the, 896.
Mann, Hon. Horace, 372.
Mansard roofs the cause of the great Boston fire,
921.
Mansfield Gen., his lamented death in the midst of
battle, 788.

088

INDEX.

Mansion, presidential^ its condition when flrst occupied,
170.
Manuscript of the emancipation proclamation, Mr. Lin
coln's, 804.
Marble column erected at Yorktown, Va., by congress,
110.
March to the sea, Sherman's, 857.
— upon Baltimore, by the British, 249.
— 's account of Mr. Webster's great speech, 299.
" Maria," the name of Gibbs's piratical craft, 316,
Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, gift from, to Gen.
Washington, 179.
Marine disaster never before equaled in American
waters, 626.
— monster, the sea-serpent or the, 575.
Marking the distance for the duel, 697.
Marshall, James W., his discovery of gold in California,
504;
Martyred president, the, 878.
Maryland entered by Gen. Lee's forces, 788.
Masonic ceremonies at the laying of the capitol corner
stone, at Washington, 171.
Massachusetts, Shay's rebellion in, 125.
Massing of opposing armies at Washington and Rich
mond, 769.
Masterpiece of musical art in America, 837.
Mastodon, gigantic, brought to view by the western
earthquake, 221.
Matched against all the chess celebrities of Europe,
658.
Mathew, Father, his visit to this country, 398.
M auna-Loa, explorers on the summit of, 392.
McClellan, Gen., in command at Antietam, 787.
McCloskey, Cardinal, solemn consecration of, 934.
McCrea, Miss, murder of, at Fort Edward, 73.
McDonough's Naval Victory on Lake Champlain,
250-256.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
McDowell, Gen., commands the army at Bull Run, 776.
commencement of his march, 770 a lost battle, 772.
McDuffie, Senator, his advocacy of nullification, 320.
McLean's farm, first and last battle in the rebellion
fought on, 872.
McPherson, Gen., formal surrender of Vicksburg re
ceived by, 812.
Meade, Gen., in command at Gettysburg; his defeat of
the confederate hosts, 822.
Means of escape, ingenious, from the earthquake at the
west, 222.
Measures for subduing the Penr. whiskey insurrection,
164.
Mechanism of Whitney's cotton-gin, 157.
Medals of gold presented to the Japanese ambassadors
by Pres. Buchanan, 728.
Mediation by means of champagne, 594.
Medical college, Boston, scene of Dr. Parkman's mur
der, 525.
— men exultant over the discovery of ether, 457.
— treatment of Senator Sumner in Paris, 624.
" Mediums " in spiritual intercourse, 475.
Meeting of the Massachusetts insurgents in Shay's re
bellion, 129.
 • — Somers mutineers on their way to be hung,
421.
Melodies of America and Ireland, singing the, 484.
Melting of iron and granite structures in the Chicago
fire, 916.
Members of the convention for framing the Federal
Constitution, appearance of tbe, 133.
Mementos of tbe Japanese visitors, eagerness to obtain,
726.
Memorial from slaves to congress, 365.

Memory and modesty, Morphy's wonderful, 658.
Menaces or blandisbments spurned by John Quincy
Adams, 363.
"Mending tbe still," Penn. insurrectionists' motto, 162.
" Mental reservations " not now in order, 327.
Merchants' Exchange building, N. Y., the burning of
354.
Merciless ridicule of the electric telegraph idea, 348.
Mercury and whiskey frozen solid, 536.
Merrimac, havoc done by the iron-clad monster, 779;
her history 778, her discomfiture, 784.
Message from heaven, reputed, sent to Joseph Smith,
307.
— between the President and Queen inaugurating the
Atlantic telegraph cable, 893.
Message in Latin from the Pope to Cardinal McCloskey,
938.
— to his parents, Spencer, the pirate's, 420.
Meteoric shower all over the United States, 329.
Meteors, 240,000, visible at Boston, Nov. 30, 1833, 330.
Method of expunging a vote of censure, 378.
Miami, Indian battle on the banks of the, 150.
Microcosm of art and science at Philadelphia, 949.
Microphone, invention of the, 946.
Middlemen in trade, objection of grangers to,
Midnight scenes of terror in Chicago during the fire
915.
Mid-ocean collision, at noonday, of the Arctic and Vesta,
610.
— union of the telegraphic cables, 892.
Midshipman Spencer's scheme of piracy, 415.
Mifflin, Gov., of Pennsylvania, his efforts to suppress
the whiskey insurrection, 165.
Mightiest work of utility ever achieved by man, 899.
Miles's division, Gen., at the battle of Bull Bun, 770,
" Military glory," Andre's expected reward of, 100,
Militiamen meeting Major Andre, 98.
Miller's exciting prediction of the second advent of
Christ, 431.
Millions of faces viewing the eclipse, 203,
 money made by a flash upon his mind, 469.
 treasure sink with the Central America, 626,
Mine, terrible disaster at the Avondale, 720.
Mining operations in the American El Dorado, 507.
Minister Plenipotentiary, first, from the young Republic
to England 119.
Minnesota, fight between the Merrimac and the, 782.
Minute guns and tolling bells for the Princeton tragedy,
445.
Miracles of Science, or four New Wonders of
the World, 940-947
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Miscalculations made by Cornwallis at Yorktown, 105.
Misery of the Irish during the famine, 479.
Misinterpretation of prophetic texts, 435.
Mission of Commodore Biddle to Japan, 593.
Mississippi, earthquake on the, 219.
Missive from Santa Anna to Gen., Taylor, 488.
Missouri, earthquake in, 218.
Mistake which led to Arnold's escape, 100.
Mob law threatened in congress, 367.
Mobile Bay, military operations in, 849.
Modus operandi of the sewing- machine, 467.
Mohammed comparison of the mormon "Prophet"
with, 306.
Moment (the) on which a statesman's life depended,
698.
"Monarch of the deep," the, 578.
Monarchs contribute to the International Exhibition of
industry, 601.
Monarchy preferred by some officers in the revolution
ary army, 115.

INDEX.

989

Money and rank unavailing in cholera times, 518.
— center of America in flames, 356.
Monitor and Merrimac, battle between the, 782.
Monmouth, battle of, 114.
Monongahela whiskey district, excitement in the, 160.
Monroe, President, his invitation to Lafayette, 275.
Monster meetings of whiskey insurrectionists in Penn.,
164.
— petition in congress, 363.
Monterey and Cherubusco, battles of, 488.
" Monthly Magazine," thrilling chapter in the, 322,
Monticello, the residence of Thomas Jefferson, 292.
Monument in honor of the discovery of ether, 462.
Moral uses of the telegraphic cable, 894.
Moody and Sankey, great revival movement under the
lead of, 652.
More than four hundred lives lost by the Central Amer
ica disaster, 626.
 three million slaves declared forever free, 800.
Morgan, Gen. Daniel, bravery of, in the campaign of
1777, 76.
Mormons, the rise and progress of the, 306.
Morocco, humiliation of, by the young Republic, 188.
"Moroni," the alleged angel from heaven to Joseph
Smith, 307.
Morphy, Paul, the chess champion of the world, 657.
Morse's Invention of the Electric Telegraph,
345-352.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Mortal blow dealt Dr. Parkham by Prof. Webster, 529.
Mortal Duel between Hon. Jonathan Cillev
and Hon. W. J. Graves, 712-714.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Mortal fear excited hy the great meteoric shower, 329.
— wound received by Alexander Hamilton, 194.
Morton, Dr., his claim to the ether discovery, 463.
Most grand and brilliant of celestial phenomena, 329.
— important paper since the Declaration of Inde-
pendece, 800.
— majectic musical demonstration of modern times,
912.
Mother and daughter choose a watery grave from the
burning ship, 666.
 Washington, the, her parting words to the Gen
eral, 141.
Motion made by John Adams that congress adopt the
army and appoint a general, 113.
Mount Vernon, departure of Washington from, for the
presidential office, 140.
 , the Washington residence, 140.
 visited by the Prince of Wales, 748.
Mountains tunneled, rivers bridged, on the Pacific rail
road route, 808.
Mounting the fatal platform, 710.
Mourning, universal, at Washington's death, 174.
Moving his troops across the Potomac, Gen. Lee, 815.
— pillar of light seen during the great aurora borealis,
383.
Mrs. Clay, appearance of, the night before the duel,
283.
— Fremont's gift to the prayer-meetings, 651.
Mudd,' trial of, for assassination conspiracy, 887.
Multiplied crimes of Gibbs, the pirate, 319.
Municipal centennial celebrations, 959.
Murder of Dr. George Parkman, a noted Boston
Millionaire, by Prof. John W. Webster, of
Harvard College, 523-532.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Murder of President Lincoln bt J. Wilkes
Booth, 876.

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Murder of Samuel Adams, of New York by John
C. Colt, 531.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Music Hall, erection and inauguration of the great organ
in Boston, 833.
 playing by the French troops in America, 108.
Musical festival for five days in Boston, 904.
— tour of Jenny Lind, the " Swedish Nightingale," 541.
Mustering the hands aft, Capt. Semmes, 843.
Mutiny on Board the U. S. Brig-of-War Somers,
415423.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Mutual attachment between Washington and Lafayette,
275.
— friend chosen for the Clay and Randolph duel, 283.
— protection and advancement aimed at by the gran
gers, 928.
" My child ! my child ! "—cry of a bereaved mother at the
school-house catastrophe, 570.
"My Mother's Gold Ring," 394.
Myriads of fire-balls in the heavens, Nov. 30, 1833, 330.
Mysterious dark days, 89.
— disappearance of Dr. Parkman of Boston, 523.
 the comet in the unknown realms of space,
429.
— fate of Theodosia, Burr's daughter, 211.

K

Nahant beach, sea-serpent seen by thirty persons at,
578.
Narrative of the solar eclipse, Cooper's, 197.
Narrow escape of Pres. Tyler, at the Princeton explo
sion, 441.
Narrowness of Boston streets contributing to the extent
of the fire, 921.
National capital founded, 167.
— flags for winding-sheets, 441.
National Peace Jubilee and Musical Festival
for Five Days, in Boston, 904-912.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Nature, transition in, occasioned by the sun's eclipse,
198.
— 's secrets unbosomed by the western earthquake,
221.
Nautical peculiarities of the mammoth Great Eastern,
732.
Nauvoo, the Mormon Mecca, 311.
Naval Expedition to Japan, under Commodore
m. c. Perry, 592-599.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of thit
Event.)
Naval warfare revolutionized by the combat in Hamp
ton Road, 786.
Navigation by steam due to American ingenuity, 212.
Near approach of the comet to the sun, 427.
Nebulous diameter of the wonderful comet, 427.
Neglect of all secular concerns by Miller's followers,
436.
Negroes not allowed to take up arms in the war, 797.
" Nelson," Washington's magnificent charger at York-
town, 107.
Nerve of Admiral Porter in battle, 856.
Nestor of Massachusetts statesmen, the, 370.
Net-work of telegraphic communication over the whole
world, 350.

990

INDEX.

Never-to-be-forgotten-scene in Hampton roads, 783.
" Never will we surrender the ship ! "—Morris's reply to
Buchanan, 785.
New constitution for Rhode Island proposed, 409.
— Haven, view of the auroral phenomenon at, 379.
— Orleans, defeat of the British army by Gen. Jackson
at, 257.
— spectacle in the western world— inauguration of a
president, 144.
— themes and actors on the theatre board, 649.
— York City, tremendous fire in, 353.
,  to San Francisco by rail in seven days, 903.
New-born agent of civilization, 888.
" New-fangled craft," term applied to Fulton's steam
boat, 212.
Newburgh, Washington's farewell to the army at, 116.
News of Gates's surrender, Washington's reception of,
79.
 the California gold discovery, spread of the, 505.
Newspapers, banks, etc, destroyed by tbe Chicago fire,
911.
Niagara, conveying the Japanese officials by the ship-of-
war, 728.
Niblo's Garden, Barey's astounding performances at,
767.
Nicaraguan schemes of Gen. Walker, 740.
Night of terror for New York, Dec. 16, 1835, 354.
— scenes at Richmond on its evacuation, 868.
" Ninety and nine," 655.
 five concerts and $700,000, Jenny Lind's, 544.
" No compromise with traitors," 326.
No English flag on Lake Champlain, 256.
— general ori the battle-field, 776.
— hand to smooth his couch or wipe his brow, 700.
— mercy to shoot a man in the knee, 288.
** — obstacles to him who wills," 586.
— sunlight for one hundred and forty days, 534.
— superiority in Morphy's chess games until after his
twentieth move, 660.
Nomination of Washington as General of the Army, in
congress, by Mr. Johnson, of Md., 113.
Noonday comet, the, 425.
Normal schools for training teachers, 453.
North America covered, for hours, with fiery meteors,
330.
Northern soil invaded by the confederate army, 815.
— States, the, wrapt in a dense black atmosphere for
fifteen hours, 89.
North-west expedition of discovery by Fremont, 402.
Not a female saved from the Arctic's awful doom, 615.
— able to make the thing work, 465.
— much encouragement for Dead Sea travelers, 498.
— to be intimidated, 367.
Notable scene in the consecration of America's first
Cardinal, 937.
Novelty in naval combats in 1779, 83,
Nucleus of a great empire on the Pacific, 505.
Nullification Outbreak in South Carolina, 320-
328.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Number of pupils in our free schools, 454.

o.

" O Lord, my God ! " dying words of Smith the Mormon
" prophet," 312.
Oak Ridge cemetery, Pres. Lincoln's remains conveyed
to, 882.
Cath administered to Washington, at his inauguration,
144.

Oath to support the Constitution, Calhoun taking the,324.
Object of Randolph in firing at Clay, 287.
Objections, religious, to the introduction of anaesthetics,
458.
Objects contributed by crowned heads to the centennial
exposition, 955-956.
Obliteration of streets in Boston hy the great fire, 925.
Obsequies of Pres. Lincoln, imposing character of the,
882.
Observations of the total eclipse of the sun, 200.
Observatory established by the south pole voyagers, 387.
Obstinacy of King George in American affairs, 120.
Obstinate bravery of the hosts at Antietam. 794.
Occupation of a foreign capital for the first time hy the
U. S., 488.
Ocean navigation, greatest achievement in, 731.
— spray covering the interior, during the great gale,
269.
— telegraph cable, successful laying of the Atlantic,
893.
Odd Fellows, parade of, at the centennial, 952.
— talk during the etherization process, 461.
Ode for the centennial by Bayard Taylor, 957.
" Of such is the kingdom of heaven," — tragic fate of the
little ones, 568.
Offense given to South Carolina by Senator Sumner's
speech, 617.
Offers his hand to Clay, Randolph, 288.
Official commission appointing Washington commander-
in-chief, 113.
Ogden's house untouched in the midst of the Chicago
fire, 919.
Oglesby, Gen., his interview with Pres. Lincoln, 877.
"Oh, for four regiments ! " — Gen. Johnston's exclama
tion at Bull Run, 776.
" Oh, God ! It is all over,— it is all over !"— Lord North's
exclamation at Comwallis's defeat, 104.
" Oh, my poor mother and sisters !" 612.
Ohio valley, earthquake felt all along the, 219.
Oil regions in Pennsylvania, etc., 687.
O'Laughlin and Arnold, trial of, for assassination con
spiracy, 887.
Old and new: sewing hy hand and machine, 470.
— animosities, continuance of, between England and
America, 119.
— coach traveling, 680.
" Old Ironsides," pet name of the frigate Constitution,
225.
" Old man eloquent,' the, 1erm applied to J. Q. Adams,
363.
" Old Osawatomie," John Brown known as, 704.
— salts venturing their opinions on the results of the
race, 560.
"Old South" church, Boston, narrow escape of, from
burning, 922.
Olive-branch of patriotism, 678.
Olympian oratory of Mr. Beecher in Europe in defense
of the Union cause, 826.
Omens of disaster to the business world, 636.
On a plank in the yawning ocean, 631.
— his way to the gallows, John Brown, 710.
— the top of the Sierras, railway cars, 897.
"On to Richmond! "—the Union war cry, 769.
" On to the Capital! "—Scott's order to his troops, 490.
— Utah Lake, 405.
One fearful shriek and all was over, 613.
— hundred and fifty thousand dollars for a chance in a
boat, 614.
— — elaborate orations by Kossuth in his country's
behalf, 590.
 thousand men on each side of the battle, 792.
 persons made homeless by the Chicago fire,
918.

INDEX.

991

One hundred yachts at Cowes witness the international
regatta, 561.
 years ago, 65.
— of the flrst conversions in the great awakening,
649.
" Only knocked down temporarily," 758.
— occasion on which Jenny Lind complimented her
own singing, 514.
Only one boat of the Austria safely afloat, 665.
"Onward, my brave comrades! " Jeff Davis to his troops
at Bull Kun, 776.
Open polar sea discovered by Dr. Kane, 537.
Opening of the attack on Fort Sumter, and of the
great civil war, 754.
— the Mississippi once more to commerce, Gen. Grant,
813.
Opera-house riots, New York, 508.
Opinion of Judge Douglas on the slavery question, 673.
Opinion of the Massachusetts rebellion expressed by
Washington, 127.
Opposed to all unconstitutional anti-slavery acts, Pres.
Lincoln, 796.
Opposition steam-boat lines, first, 217.
— to the tax laws in Massachusetts, 126.
Oppressions, British, complained of by the American
colonies, 69.
Oracular predictions of the enemies of free govern
ment, 8.
Oration by Mr. Evarts at the national centennial, 957.
— in France, on the death of George Washington, 180.
Oratorical Championship of America's Cause in
England by Rev. H. W. Beecher, 825-832.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Oratorical powers displayed by Kossuth, 591.
Oratorios and symphonies in Boston in honor of the re
turn of peace, 909.
Orchestra of two thousand instruments at the world's
peace jubilee, 912.
Ordeal of Burnside's corps at Antietam, 790.
Order out of chaos, 371.
Orders from England to " lay waste " America, 242.
— of glory conferred by foreign governments on Prof.
Morse, 351.
— to Union generals on the treatment of slaves, Pres.
Lincoln's, 797.
Oregon, early exploration of, 405.
— , Fremont's tour to, 450.
Organ, erection and inauguration of the great Boston,
833.
Organic form of government needed by the U. S., 132.
Organization of the Southern Confederacy, 754.
Oriental visitors at the capital, 727,
Origin of the duel between Clay and Randolph, 283.
Original magnetic-telegraph instrument, 347.
— pick and shovel used on the Pacific railroad, 898.
— principle of the sewing-machine, 464.
Orion, stars of, visible during the solar eclipse, 197.
Other side of the picture, 693.
Out-stretched forefinger of a century, the, 10.
Outburst of popular enthusiastic greeting for Lafayette,
272.
Outcaroled hy the woodland warbler, Jenney Lind, 547.
Outpouring of sublime and patriotic music at the Bos
ton peace- jubilee, 996.
Outrages committed in the Penn. whiskey insurrection,
162. '
Outwitting the U. S. oflicials, 740.
Ovation, national, to Lafayette, 281.
— s to Washington on his journey, 142.
Overmastering intensity of heat in the Boston fire, 921.
Overpowering quiet and solitude in the Rocky Mount
ains, 404.

Overthrow of St. Clair, " Little Turtle's," 148.
 the four years gigantic rebellion, 866.
Overtures and cheers— Henry Clay at Jenny Lind's con
cert, 548.
— , choruses, anthems, etc., by ten thousand voices
906.
— to Farragut to join the South, 848.

P.
Pacific railroad, triumphant completion of the, 896.
Pageant in New York, on Kossuth's arrival, 587.
— of auroral splendor covering Europe and America,
385.
Painless performance of surgical operations, 456.
Painting the emancipation event, Rf r. Carpenter, 798.
Pakenham, Gen., his command of the British army at
New Orleans, 261; his fall at the onset, 261.
Palace of glass and iron in New York, 602.
. — s and hovels of Chicago a common prey in the great
fire, 914.
Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palmer, battles of, 488.
Pang of horror at Pres. Lincoln's fate universal, 881.
Panic among the women, during the California earth
quake, 224.
Panorama of vastness and grandeur along the Pacific
railroad, 898.
Papal document read at Cardinal McCloskey's conse
cration, 938.
Papers discovered in Andre's boots, 99.
Parents forsaking children and fleeing from the cholera,
517.
Parepa-Rosa, her marvelous performances at the peace-
juhilee. 910.
Paris, celebration of the American centennial at, 965.
Parkinson's Ferry, Va., convention of whiskey insurrec
tionists at, 165.
Parkman, Dr. George, murder of, in Boston, by Prof.
J. W. Webster, 523.
Parliament acknowledging American Independence,
120.
— , the British, stunned by the news of Burgoyne's
capitulation, 80.
Parliamentary triumph of John Quincy Adams, 371.
Parlor interview between Gens. Grant and Lee, 871.
Parting of Gen. Lee with his soldiers at Richmond, 872.
— s and deaths on the Central America, 629.
Partisan prejudice disowned by the grangers, 929.
Parton's admirable sketch of Howe's invention, 465.
Pass from den. Arnold exhibited by Andre, 99.
Passage down the Jordan, the sacred river, 495.
Passage of Benton's Famous "Expunging Reso
lution" in the U. S. Senate, after a Three
Years Parliamentary Struggle, 373-378.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Passage-money, flrst steam-boat, 216.
Passing the batteries of Forts Jackson and St. Philip,
851.
 royal yacht, 565.
Passionate oratory of Senator Hayne, 299.
Passions and vices of human nature illustrated during
the cholera scourge, 520.
Past rivalries and animosities forgotton, 296.
Patentoffice displays at the centennial, 954.
Pathetic letter of Eli Whitney to Robert Fulton, 159.
— scenes during the Chicago fire, 919.
Patriotic conciliation in the convention for framing the
Constitution, 137.
Patrons of Husbandry, 930.
Pavilion for women at the centennial, 965.

992

INDEX.

Paying him their heaviest compliments, 853.
— $3,000 for the original emancipation proclamation,
803.
— " tribute " to the Barbary States," 182.
Payne, trial and execution of, for conspiracy, 886.
Peabody, George, his visit in Boston, 910.
Peace between the United States and Great Britain,
treaty of, 257.
" Peace in Europe "—first telegraphic dispatch over the
Atlantic cable, 893.
— jubilee and musical festival in Boston, 904.
Peals of thunder during the " Dark Day, 93.
Pecuniary importance of mechanical inventions, 471.
— relations between Parkman and Webster, 524.
Pemberton, Gen., his command of Vicksburg, Miss., 807;
his surrender, 812.
— Mills in Lawrence, Mass., fall and conflagration of,
712.
Pen with which the proclamation of emancipation was
written, 796.
Penal colonies of England emptied into California, 551.
Penalty of Walker's fiUibustering expeditions, 744; his
execution and last words, 744.
Pennant of the Alabama, running up the, 843.
Penning his official dispatch, announcing the fall of
Sumter, Major Anderson, 759.
Pennsylvania whiskey insurrection, 160.
Penobscot Bay, visit of the sea-serpent at, 576.
Pentecost, the American, 650.
Perkins, Hon. T. H., his near view of the sea-serpent,
578.
Peroration, impressive, of Webster's speech, 303.
Perry, Commodore, his capture of the British squadron,
234.
— ', Com. M. C, his expedition to Japan, 592.
Personal appearance of Aaron Burr, 191.
 Brigham Young, 312.
 Capt. Hull, on ordering the Constitution's
fire, 233.
 Daniel Webster, 302.
 George Washington, 180.
¦  Gen. Jackson at the battle of New Orleans,
263.
 Gen. Robert E. Lee, 871.
 Gen. Sherman, 865.
 Gen. Walker, the fiUibustering chief, 744.
 Gov. Kossuth, 590.
 John Brown, 708.
—  John Quincy Adams, 369.
 Lawrence, the would-be assassin of Pres.
Jackson, 341.
 Prof. J. W. Webster, 527.
 Robert Fulton, 217.
 the ambassadors from Japan, 725.
 Prince of Wales, 752.
— intercourse with Arnold avoided in England, 103.
— offering from Victoria to the World's Fair in New
York, 606.
Peschka-Leutner, her musical performances at the
World's peace jubilee, 912.
" Pet lambs " in battle, bravery of the, 774.
Petersburg evacuated by the confederate army, 868.
Petroleum Excitement in Pennsylvania, 687-
695.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Phases of the solar eclipse at the South, 209.
Phenomenon of terrible heat in the Chicago and Bos
ton fires, 921.
Philadelphia, international exposition at, 949.
— occupied hy Gen. Howe, 72.
Phillips and Ole Bull at the great musical jubilee in
Boston, 910.

Philosophy of Mr. Rarey's method with the horse, 763.
Phonograph, discovery of the, 944.
Photographing the total solar eclipse, 201.
Phraseology of the Tycoon's letter to the President,
725.
Physical difference between the white and black races,
675.
Physico-psychological phenomena, wonderful, 472.
Pick, the, that struck the flrst blow on the Union Pa
cific railroad, 898.
Picked men employed by the British against America,
251.
 on board the Alabama, 841.
Picture gallery of the national centuty, 14.
Pierce, President, inauguration of the N. Y. industrial
Exhibition by, 605.
Piercing and sinking the frigates, the monster Merri
mac, 781.
Pilgrimage to the tomb of a " rebel " general, the
Prince of Wales's, 748.
" Pillar of salt, or Lot's wife," Americans visit the, 499.
Pinioning John Brown on the scaffold, 711.
Pioneers in the oil-boring business, 688.
Pipes of the colossal Boston organ, immense size of
the, 836.
Pirate Gibbs, his career, capture, and execution, 314.
Piratical powers, America dealing with the, 182.
Piteous appeal to Gib b's, a young girl's, for her life,
317.
Pitiable sights during the burning of Chicago, 919.
Pittsburg, Penn., memorable conflagration in, 353.
Pius IX., his contribution to the centennial, 956.
Plan of government submitted by Randolph, 135.
Planets seen during the total solar eclipse, 202.
Planting the U. S. flag on the Rocky Mountain peak,
404.
Plattsburg reached by the British, 251.
Plaudits and congratulations exchanged for stampings
and hisses, 832.
Playful raillery between Washmgton and Lafayette,
101.
Playing against and beating eight rivals, Morphy blind
folded, 659.
— whist at a neighbor's, after the murder, Prof. Web
ster, 530.
— with the grass and flowers, Grant and Pemberton,
811.
Plaza of Granada, Gen. Walker executing his old foe
in, 740.
Pleasant courtesies between Webster and Hayne, 304.
Pleasantries between Clay and Randolph after the
duel, 289.
Pleasure tourists on board the ill-fated Arctic, 615.
Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibraltar of
America, to the British, 97-103.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of thit
Event.)
Pluck of an Irishman in a scene of horror, 717.
 Commodore McDonough, 250.
Plump and dexterous retort by Beecher to the English
mob, 830.
Plunder of the American capital by the British, 248.
Plymouth, Mass., appearance of the sea-serpent at,
576.
Poem for the centennial inauguration by John G.
Whittier, 949..
Point of exception taken by South Carolina to Mr.
Sumner's speech, 617.
Polar wonders discovered by the U. S. scientific expedi
tion, 391.
Policy of compromise opposed by Mr. Webster, 325.
Political Debate between Abraham Lincoln
and Stephen A. Douglas, in Illinois, 672-678.

INDEX.

993

(For topical and analytical details, tee first page of this
Event.)
Political issue made in Rhode Island, 409.
Polities and dueling in America, 696.
Polk's proclamation of war with Mexico, 487.
Polygamy " divinely" introduced among the Mormons,
312.
Pontifical briefs appointing an American cardinal, 936.
Poor evidence of courage, 593.
— farmers becoming millionaires in tho oil country,
693.
Pope Pius IX's tribute to America, 935.
Popular interest of the subjeots treated in this volume,
10.
— labor organizations, 927.
Popular sovereignty as expounded by Judge Douglas,
673.
Portentious dispatch in parliament, Comwallis's sur
render, 108.
Porter, Admiral, his naval achievements, 849.
— , Gen. Fitz John, at the battle of Antietam, 792.
Portland harbor, magnificence of, on the Prince of
Wales' departure, 752.
— , Maine, vast destruction in, by fire, 353.
Possibilities of the phonograph, 945.
Possible cause of the " dark Day," 95.
Posthumous honors to Pres. Lincoln, 883.
Potomac, army of the, reunion of, at Philadelphia, 952.
— , the national capital to be located on the, 168.
Potter John.D., the revival preacher, 648.
Pouring a broadside into the Bon Homme Richard, 85.
Power of capital in railway enterprises, 680.
— to become a free or slave state, 676.
Powerlessness of the officers on board the Austria,
665.
. Practicability of painless surgery first demonstrated,
459.
Practical applications of the phonograph, 946.
Prayer at Pres. Lincoln's death-bed, Dr. Gurley's 881.
— before battle, Com. McDonough's, on Lake Cham
plain, 253.
— -meetings all over the land, 645.
Preaching characteristics of Wm. Miller, 437.
Precarious tenure of human life, impressive illustration
of the, 567.
Precipitate flight of President Madison from the British,
246.
— retreat of the federal army at Bull Run, 773.
Precipitated into the abyss of destruction, 571.
Precisely mistaking their man, 367,
Preparations for Christ's second coming, 436.
Prerogatives conferred upon Cardinal McCloskey, 934.
Presence of mind during the Pemberton Mills catastro
phe, 715.
Present of a banner from Cork to Boston, 485.
Presenting Kossuth to the American people, 587.
President Jackson, attempted assassination of, 337.
 's wrath aroused, 326.
— Lincoln assassinated at Ford's theater, by J. W.
Booth, 876.
Presidential honors at the White House, to Jenny Lind,
545.
— reception of the Prince of Wales, England's future
. king, 746.
Press and pulpit discussions of the " spiritual " phenom
ena, 477.
Pressing her baby to her breast and jjiifpingfrom the
burning ship, 667.
Pressure of the wind during the great September gale,
265.
Prestige given to American naval prowess, 82.
— to American arms gained by the victory at New
Orleans, 257.
63

Presumed jeopardy of half a continent, 335.
Pretext, Aaron Burr's alleged, for his suspicious move
ments, 204.
Price of Arnold's treason, 103.
— paid for the original proclamation of emancipation,
804.
Prima-donnas at the musical festival In Boston, 906.
Prince of Wales, his tour in the United Kates, 745.
Princeton, battle of, 114.
— , session of congress at, 168.
Principle involved in Mr. Rarey's wonderful success
with horses, 767.
— s and aims of the grange societies, 928.
— s of action governing the California vigilance commit
tee, 651.
 government agreed upon by the federal conven
tion at Phila., 137.
Prismatic brilliancy of the heavens, Nov. 13-14, 1837, 383.
Prisoners of war at last, Gen. Walker and his army,
743.
Prize offered for the successful yacht in international
regatta, 558.
Problem of steam propulsion solved by Fulton, 217.
— s of public policy, 11.
Proceeds of Jenny Lind's flrst concert in America all
given to charity, 546.
Processes and results of industry revolutionized by In
ventive skill, 470.
Proclamation of Emancipation as a War Meas
ure, by President Lincoln, 796-805.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Prodigious velocity of the great comet, 427.
Producers and consumers, grangers' views of, 928.
Programme of the Boston musical festival, 904.
Progress of the total solar eclipse, 199.
Prohibition of slavery in the U. S. declared by constitu
tional amendment, 805.
Projected British invasion of the northern states, 250.
Prolonged embarrassment and distrust in the business
world, 643.
Promises made by Burr to his followers, 206.
Promontory Point, uniting the two grand divisions of
the Pacific railroad at, 899.
Promulgating the emancipation proclamation at the
South, 803.
Proofs of Lafayette's patriotism and military skill, 275.
Property seized at the South, at the beginning of the
civil war, 753.
Prophecies of the Bible as interpreted by Mr. Miller,
434.
"Prophet of the Lord," the, title assumed by the Mor
mon leader, 306.
— s of evil omen across the water, 8.
Proposed location of the national government on tha
Susquehanna, 168; or in New York, 168.
— memorial tribute to Senator Sumner, after tbe as
sault, 621.
Proposed national system of education, 453.
Prospect of awful grandeur produced by the great Are,
360.
Prosperity and power of the republic on its centennial
anniversary, 948.
Prostration everywhere of all branches of industry, 641.
Protest by John Quincy Adams in congress, 363.
 Pres. Jackson, against the senate's resolution of
censure, 375.
Proud day for America, 107.
Provisional peace between England and America, 71.
Psalms and hymns instead of polkas and opera songs,
649.
Public services of Alexander Hamilton, 190.
Publicists' opinion of the granger system, 930.

994

INDEX.

PUNISHMENT AND COMPLETE DEGRADATION OF THE
Barbart States bt the Torso Republic, 182-1S8.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Pure white combined with vivid colors in the wonderful
aurora, 382.
Purple tinge of the atmosphere during the earthquake,
219.
Purpose of the assassination conspirators, 876.
Purses of gold untouched in the face of death, 633.
Pushing the line of railroad to the Pacific to completion,
898.
Putting in operation the first recording electric tele
graph, 346. Q
Quacks and nostrums rife in time of pestilence, 522.
Queen of England's interview with John Adams, 124.
" Queen of song." the. in America, 541.
 the Netherlands present at the Moody and San
key meetings, 653.
— Victoria witnesses the racing match in which the
America won, 585.
Question asked Farragut by a lady, r>55.
 Mr. "Webster by Mr. Hayne, and its answer, 303.
— of power between the whites and Indians forever
settled, 152.
Quiet coolness of voice and manner in treating horses,
Mr. Rarey's, 768.
Quincy, Mass., Adams's mansion at, 296.

E.
Race for the " cup of All Nations," in the great interna
tional regatta, 558.
Rage of the Turks against America, 187.
Raging and furious animals made docile by Mr. Rarey's
system, 763,
Raging and foaming of the rivers, during the great
September gale, 265.
— fire night and day in Boston, 922.
Railways introduced, 681.
Railroad to the Pacific, construction of the, 897.
Rain-gauge during the September gale, 271.
— of shot and shell at Antietam, 789.
Raleigh, arrival of Sherman's army at, 864.
*' Rally round the flag ! "—troops at Vicksburg singing,
S12.
Randolph John, his duel with Henry Clay, 282.
Rank held by Benedict Arnold in the British army, 103.
Rapid increase In the construction of railways, 683.
Rapturous applause by Queen Victoria, on witnessing
Rarey's horse-taming feats, 765.
Rare commingling of artillery, bells and music, 907.
Rarey, John S., his success in taming furious horses,
762.
Ratification of the Federal Constitution, 138.
Ravages of the cholera when at its deadliest prevalence,
516.
Reading King George's letter on Comwallis's surrender,
109.
— his commission to his ship's hands, Capt. Semmes,
843.
 constituent's petition, in congress, Mr. Adams, 361.
— the Declaration of Independence to the army, 68.
 Declaration of Independence in Philadelphia,
July 4, 1876, by Richard H. Lee, 967.
 indictment for murder to Prof. Webster, 527.
 names of the lost and saved, 609.
Ready to rip themselves open for the captain's satisfac
tion, 593.

Re«l name of Gibbs the pirate, 314.
Reasons given by the Pope for appointing an Amen
can Cardinal, 935.
Rebellion ix Rhode Island undeb Thomas W.
Dorr, 408-414.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Rebellion, Shay's in Massachusetts, 126.
Receiving Comwallis's surrender, Gen. Washington,
10$.
Reception given the Declaration of Independence in
England, 69.
Reception of Gov. Kossuth, the Great Hunga
rian Exile, as the Guest of the Nation, 5S3-
591.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Reception of the Japanese treaty ambassadors, 721.
Reckless stock gambling. 642.
Reclaiming the intemperate, 398.
Reclamation of hardened characters during the relig
ious revival, 650.
Recognition of Kossuth by his hat, 587.
Recognizing Parkman's charred and dismembered re
mains, 525.
Recommendations by Pres. Grant for celebrating the
centennial, 949, 966.
Recovery and illustrious career of Senator Sumner, 625.
Red-coats, Gen. Jackson's warning to the, 263.
 hot condition of the great comet, 429.
 letter days in the century's history, 9.
— -tinted garniture of nature, Nov. 14, 1837, 380.
Redness of the sun and moon, May 19, 1780, 90.
Re-entombment of Washington's remains, 178.
Reflecting over the Vicksburg problem, Gen. Grant, 813,
Reflection of the comet in the ocean, 426.
Refusal of the colonies to be unjustly taxed by Great
Britain, 65.
Bef using a commission of major-general, Sherman, 865.
Begatta, international, at Cowes, 558.
Begenerator of Central America, title applied to Gen.
Walker, 739.
Regular ocean steamer, the first, 731.
— s and volunteers alike demoralized at Bull Run, 774.
Reign of the Vigilance Committee in Califor
nia, 550-557.
(For topical aiid analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Reigning crowned heads, visit of, to the 17. S.( 951.
Relation of the cotton-gin to the themes and events of
American history, 159.
Relative equality of the Kearsarge and Alabama, 845.
Release of 17. S. sailors in Japan demanded by Commo
dore Biddle, 593.
Relieving pain by the use of ether, 456.
— starvation in Ireland, 485.
Religious devotions resorted to on the " Dark Day," 89.
— world, great awakening in the, 644.
Reluctance of Washington to accept the presidency,
139.
Reluctantly attends the theater on the fatal evening,
Pres. Lincoln, 878.
Remains of Dr. Bar km an found in Prof. Webster's
laboratory, 525.
Remark made by Washington to Knox, at Yorktown,
107.
Remedies proposed by grangers for business troubles,
932.
Remedy for murder and arson, the vigilance comntit-
tee's, 551.
Removal of Pres. Lincoln from Ford's theater, 880.
 the deposits, Jackson's, from the U. S. Bank,
374.

INDEX.

995

Rendering the verdict in Prof. Webster's case, 528.
Rendezvous of the British at Ship Island, 259.
Renewal of the Unaed States Bank charter, the oppo
sition to, 374.
.Reno, Gen., his untimely death, 793.
Renovation of California society by " Lynch-law," 553.
Repartee with his English hearers, Beecher's ready,
830.
Reply of John Paul Jones to the British commander,
83.
 King George to John Adams, 123.
 McClellan to Burnside's request on the b»Jtle-
fleld, 792.
Reporting the battle of Antietam, 795.
Repossession of Fort Sumter by the U. S., 874.
Republic of the United States, Birth op the,
05.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Repulse and retreat of the monster craft Merrimac,
784.
Reputed origin of Smith's " Divine Records," 307.
Requests for prayers at the revival meetings, 649.
Requirements of territories becoming states, 676.
Rescuing the women and children on board the Cen
tral America, 627.
Residence of Gen. "Washington in New York, 143.
Resignation by Washington as Commander-in-
Chief, 115.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Resignation of his seat in congress, by P. S. Brooks, 623;
his unanimous re-election, 623; his speedy and terri
ble death, 623; fate of his accomplices, 623.
Resolution of censure, Clay's, in the U. S. senate, 375.
 Colonial Independence offered by Richard Henry
Lee, 66.
Resources of both armies tasked to their utmost at
Vicksburg, 819.
Resplendent auroral glories spanning the whole hemi
sphere, 382.
Responses in kind from embittered rivals, 509.
Resting-place on his march to the sea, Sherman's, 859.
Restoration of peace, grand celebration of, in Boston in
1869, 904.
Results of the cotton-gin invention, 159.
Retirement of Washington as revolutionary leader,
112.
Retribution for the Barbary States, 183.
Retrospect of the century's annals, 11.
Returning to his camp after his surrender.Gen. Lee,872.
Revelations, alleged, from the unseen world, 477.
Reverses in the Indian wars, 146.
Revival movement, the great religious, 644.
Revolution, industrial, produced by the cotton-gin, 159.
Reynolds, Gen., his corps at Gettysburg, 816.
Rhapsody of Burr over his scheme of conquest, 206.
Rich men and paupers buried alike during the epidemic,
518.
 made penniless in a single night, 357.
— prizes taken by the pirate Gibbs, 317.
Richardson, Gen., at the Battle of Bull Run, 770.
Richest spot in America burnt to ashes, 353.
. Richmond, Va., the confederate capital, capture of, hy
the Union army, 866.
Ride out to his farms, last, by Gen. Washington, 175.
Riding from the White House to the theater, Pres.
Lincoln, 878.
— though the city of Richmond, Pres. Lincoln, 873.
— to jail at night, Prof. Webster, 526.
Rig and points of the yacht America described, 566.
Right of Congress to prohibit slavery, 677.
Right of petition, the struggle for, 362.

Rights of political citizenship conferred upon the freed
men, 805.
" Ring out the Old,— Ring in the New ! " 0.
Ringing the bell in Independence Hall, Phila., 67.
Rink, Moody and Saukey's meetings at the Brooklyn,
655.
Riots at the Astor place opera-house, N. Y., 508.
Rise and Progress of the Mormons, or " Latter-
Day Saints," 306-313.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Rising and sinking of the ground in the great western
earthquake, 218.
— of the water to the window tops, during the great
gale, 265.
Rites of religion administered to the dying senator,
099.
Rivalry between the North and South in selecting a
revolutionary leader, 113.
Rivas and Virgin Bay, Walker's battles at, 739.
Roasting alive on the steamship Austria, 667.
Rochester, N. Y., early spiritual manifestations at,
474.
Rock oil, first attempt to obtain, by sinking a well, 688.
— y Mountains, explorations of, 404.
Rogers, Captain, commands the first ocean steamer,
731.
Roman Catholic tribute to the value of Mr. Moody's
work, 653.
Romance of traveling in former days, 680.
Root of the whole financial difficulty, 642.
Rose-colored clouds of Judea observed hy explorers,
494.
"Roslin Castle," played at Washington's farewell to
the army, 116.
Ross, General, his capture of Washington, 247.
Rosy illumination of the entire arch of the heavens,
380.
— protuberances during the solar eclipse, 201.
Rotunda of the capitol, Pres. Lincoln's remains in the,
882.
Rousing the patriotism of the Nicaraguans, Gen. Walker,
738.
 Southern forces at Bull Run, 770.
Rout and slaughter of the British at New Orleans, 257.
Rowing and warping in a calm, the Constitution, 227.
Royal civilities to John Adams, first minister to Eng
land, 123-124.
— visitors to the first steamer from the U. S., 731.
Rudersdorff's musical performance at the World's peace
jubilee, 912.
Ruins of the Pemberton Mills, scenes among the, 714.
Rule adopted by Com. Perry in naval battle, 236.
" Rule Britannia" practical comment on by the yacht
" America," 559.
Rules established by Washington for the presidential
office, 145.
— observed on the dueling-ground, 193.
Rum not necessary for heroism, 401.
Rumble of the dead-carts in the cities, 521.
Run upon the banks for specie, 640.
Running past the confederate batteries, Farragut, 851.
Runyon, Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 771.
Rupture between the two greatest of modern tragedians,
509.
Rush for the spoils by the British army in Washington,
247.
— , his account of Washington's wrath at St Clair's de
feat, 149.
— out their victims from the roof -beams, the vigilance
committee, 557.
Russia acknowledges the independence of the V. S., 71.
— 's sword makes Kossuth an exile, 586.

996

INDEX.

S.

Sacking of the presidential mansion by the British,
247.
Sacrament administered to Alexander Hamilton, 195.
Sacramento, Cal., great fire in, 353.
Safety of Union men's lives under Pres. Jackson, 328.
Sailing 90,000 miles in four years, 386.
— under the black flag, 316.
— while enveloped in furious flames, 665.
Saint Clair, his defeat by the Indians, 148.
Salvos of artillery, chords of music, rounds of cheers,
908.
 on Comwallis's surrender, 110.
Salt Lake City, the Mormon Zion, 313.
Samoan group, Wilkes's survey of, 389.
San Francisco, calamitous fire in, 353*
 , earthquakes in, 223.
Sandwich Islands, visit of the king of the, 951.
Sanguinary programme against America, 242.
Sanguine expectations of Lord Cornwallis, 104.
Sanitary fair, Pres. Lincoln's gift to the, 804.
Sankey, Mr,, his popular religious songs, 655.
Santa Anna's flight in the dead of midnight, 493.
Sapping and mining at Vicksburg, 808.
Saratoga, encampment of Burgoyne's army at, 75.
Sarcasm characterizing John Randolph, 283.
" Satisfaction " on the dueling-ground, 289.
Savages enlisted by Gen. Burgoyne, 73.
Savannah, Ga., capture of, by Sherman's army, 864.
" Save the admiral! Save the admiral! " 854.
Saving the vast treasures of State street from the fire,
922.
— s-bank excitement in the great panic, 640.
Scanning the battle-field in the midst of action, McClel
lan, 792.
Scanty provision for education in early times, 451.
Scarlet columns of dazzling beauty rising from the
horizon, 380.
Scarlet scull-cap worn by the new Cardinal, 935.
Scheme devised by Benedict Arnold for betraying his
country, 98. ' '
— for making Washington a king, 115.
— to free the slaves, John Brown's, 704.
Scene of horror at Ford's theater, on the night of the
assassination. 880.
Scenes and customs, educational, in former years, 461.
School house catastrophe in New York, 667.
School-houses in " ye olden time," 451.
Schurz, Carl, his centennial oration at St. Louis, 964.
Schuyler, Gen., his operations against Burgoyne, 75.
Science, contributions to, by Wilkes's exploring expedi
tion, 386.
Scientific perfection of the present telegraphio system,
351.
— preparations for observing the eclipse, 199.
Scope of this volume — wonders and prodigies, men and
events, 9.
Scorching reply to Senator Butler, by Senator Sumner,
617.
Scores of thousands of railway inventions, 683,
Scott, Gen., in the Halls of the Montezumas, 487.
Scourge of the cholera and yellow fever, 518.
" Scourge of the ocean," name given to Gibbs, 315.
Scourging the country in pursuit of Booth, 884.
Screech from the confederate army on commencing bat
tle, 817.
Scriptural evidence of his views cited by Wm, Miller,
437.
" Sea of Death," examination of the, 499.
 Tiberias crossed by the American explorers, 495.
— -fowls driven hundreds of miles into the interior by
the gale 268,

Sea-serpent, Ita appearance in several places, 576.
Seaboard destruction by the memorable gale, 268.
Sealed paper handed Benton by Randolph before the
duel, 285.
Sealing their fate at Cemetery Hill, confederate troops,
821.
Search by Americans for Sir John Franklin, the lost
navigator, 633.
— for Dr. Parkman, the missing millionaire, 524.
— made for stars during the total solar eclipse, 201.
Seat of government, plans for the location of the, 168.
•  the U. S. government at New York, 142.
— — war transferred from the South to the North,
815.
Seating himself in the felon's dock, Prof. Webster,
527.
Seclusion of Japan broken into, 592.
Second advent of Christ predicted, 431.
Secret of the gold findings disclosed through whiBkey,
505.
Secretary Upshur's instant and awful death, 441.
Sectarian prejudice and disputation ignored by Mr.
Moody, 652.
Secular pursuits abandoned during the " Dark Day,"
89.
Sedgwick, Theodore, president of the N. Y. Association
of the Industry of All Nations, 602.
— 's, Gen,, corps at Gettysburg, 823.
Seditions, violent, in New England, after the revolu
tionary war, 126.
Seizure of Burr's flotilla, 207.
Selection of Mr. Brooks as their champion by aggrieved
Southerners, 618.
Seminole Indians, war with, 147.
Semmes, Captain, in command of the Alabama, 840;
fights and is sunk hy the Kearsarge, 845.
Seneca Indians, war with the, 146.
Sensation of a Pemberton Mills operative on seeing the
vast structure giving way, 715.
— , unprecedented, in the religious world, 448.
Sent to the bottom at last, the Alabama, 845.
Sentence of the conspirators against Pres. Lincoln,
887.
September gale, the ever-memorable, 264.
Sepulchral scene in the presidential East room, 445.
Series of victorious battles, Grant's, 807.
Serious objection, supposed, to Whitney's cotton-gin,
157.
Serviceableness of the electric light at sea, 941.
Services of Aaron Burr to his country, 190.
Settling up hiB government at Danville, Jeff. Davis,
873.
Setting some matters of ceremony with the Japanese,
594.
Seven circles by the Alabtma and Kearsarge around
each other, 844.
 from New York to San Francisco, 903.
— fine children and their parents jump from the burn
ing ship, 667.
— oratorical tournaments, 673.
— States secede from the Union and form a Southern
Confederacy, 760.
— years' labor, the Boston organ the result of, 833.
Seventeen British ensigns disappear in two hours,
256.
Seventy-five thousand volunteers called for by Pres.
Lincoln, 760.
— three miles of street burned in Chicago, 918.
— tons, weight of the great Boston organ, 837.
Severe denunciation of the U. S. bank by Pres. Jackson,
374.
Seward, Hon. W, H., Payne's attempt to assassinate,
386,

INDEX.

997

Sewing-machine, the, constructed at last, 466.
Shadowing forth the new political doctrine, 321.
 with their lato leader, Lee's oflicers, 872.
Shays's rebellion in Massachusetts, 125; suppressed by
Gen. Lincoln, 131.
" She sings like one immortal!"— applied to Jenny
Lind, 542.
Sheet of fire and death covering the British at New Or
leans, 261.
Sheridan, Gen., at Five Forks, 868.
— 's splendid military capacity, 867.
Sherman's grand march through the South, 807.
Shifting his flag in the midst of battle, 238.
Ship Arctic deserted by her crew, 610.
— of war changed to a ship of peace, 481.
 named in honor of Lafayette, 2S1.
Shippen, Miss, her betrothal to Benedict Arnold, 98.
Ships Serapis and Bon Homme Richard mooting each
other, 82.
Shook and " glory " of war on a colossal scale, 792.
— s of earthquake, 224.
Shooting stars, wonderful November shower of, 329.
Shore-end of the ocean telegraph cable, laying of at
Valentia Bay, 893.
Short work, Gibbs's, with his captured crews, 317.
Shot in the breast, Senator Broderick, 699.
Shoulder to shoulder for the Union, Lincoln and
Douglas, 678.
Shouting for the passing vessel, 629.
Shovel used in moving the first earth for the Union
Pacific railroad, 898.
Shower of meteoric bodies all over the land, 335.
Showing the flrst grains of gold to Mr. Sutter, 505.
Shrieks of horror at the wonderful meteoric display, 330.
Shrouding the land in mourning, April 15, 1865, 881.
Shuddering at the name of Gibbs, 314.
" Sic semper tyrannis ! " Booth's tragical shout, 879.
Sick man's help, a, in battle, 237.
Side-light scenes in our country's history, 12.
Sierra mountain tops, first railroad across the, 897.
— Nevada, expedition to the, 405.
Sighting the first gun before battle, 254.
Signals of defiance from the frigate Guerriere, 228.
Signing his name for the last time, Pres. Lincolon, 878.
— the Declaration of Independence, 71.
 Federal Constitution, 137.
 temperance pledge, 400.
 treaty, Japanese and American commissioners
593.
Silencing Mr. Beecher, attempts of English mobs at,
827.
Silliman, Prof., his opinion of the origin of petroleum,
691.
— , — , his scientific observation, 379.
Similarities in the career of Adams and Jefferson, 291.
Simmi Boojsen Nokami and Mooragaki Awajsi Nokami,
Japanese ambassadors, 727.
Simple accident that led to finding California gold, 504.
— principle of the electrio telegraph, 346.
Simplicity of mechanism in the telephone, 943.
Simpson, Bishop, devotional exercises by, at the centen
nial exposition, 949.
Simultaneous deaths of ex-Presidents John Adams and
Thomas Jefferson, 291.
— shriek of agony from five hundred voices, 627.
Singer's loan of forty dollars; his subsequent princely
wealth, 469.
Singing the Grand Hallelujah Chorus at the World's
Fair, 606.
Singing the " Old Hundredth Psalm " at the centennial,
957.
"Sink-holes," remarkable, formed by the western
earth-quake, 222.

Sinking of the ill-fated Guerriere, 229.
 noble steamship Arctic stern foremost, 610.
 wells for petroleum, 0H9.
Sisterly devotion displayed at the Chicago conflagration,
919.
Site for a national capital, Washington's preference,
169.
Six feet of water in the streets during the great Sept.
gale, 268.
— hearses at the White House, 445.
— hundred thousand temperance converts, 400.
— months' labor in a garret, Howe's, 466.
— reformed drunkards, the, of Baltimore, 395.
— thousand teams engaged on the Pacific railroad, 897.
 voices, tho capacity of the Boston organ, 836.
Sixteen hours' raging Are in N. Y., In midwinter, 353.
Sixty centuries of human advancement illustrated at
Philadelphia, 949.
— -Ave acres of massive structures consumed in Bos
ton, 911.
— -seven degrees below zero, 636,
— thousand dollars paid for the great Boston organ,
834.
 voices cheering General Grant, 907.
Size and profusion of the Nov. meteors, 336.
— of Washington's limbs, 180.
Slaughter of the innocents, 567.
Slaves liberated by Pres. Lincoln's proclamation, 796.
Sleeping on the field of victory, 792.
Slight source of a wholesale horror, 568.
Slocum's wing in Sherman's army, 860.
Small amount of gold in the world prior to the Cali
fornia flndings, 503.
Smalley's account of the battle of Antietam,. 794.
Smarting of the hands and face caused by the Dead Sea
waters, 497.
Smith, Joseph, founder of the Mormon sect, 307.
Smithsonian Institute, exhibit of at the centennial, 955.
Social customs in former times, 394.
— intercourse suspended during the yellow fever
panic, 518.
" Society of California Pioneers," 601.
" Society of the Cincinnati," song sung by Hamilton
before the, 192.
Solar eclipse, total, at mid-day, 196,
Solemnities on board the Somers after the executions,
423.
Solemnity inspired by the total, solar eclipse, 199.
Solicitude of the telegraph layers on board the Great
Eastern, 892.
Solid granite warehouses consumed hy the hundreds in
Boston, 921.
Solitary event in American naval history, 415.
Solving the mystery of the spirit rappings, 473.
Somers mutiny, the tragedy of the, 415.
Sonora fiUibustering expedition, under Gen. Walker,
737.
Sore trials of inventors and public'benefactors,467.
Sorrow and anguish among the Austria's five hundred
souls, 667.
Sound transmitted by the microphone, wonders of, 946.
Source of national wealth and industry, new, 687.
South Carolina, enthusiasm in, at the passage of the
Declaration of Independence, 69.
 nullification outbreak, 320.
— Pass, Fremont's party at the, 403.
— Pole expedition, Wilkes's, 386.
Southern Confederacy, establishment of, 754.
— strides in wealth, after the cotton-gin invention, 159.
Souvenirs for his friends, Randolph's, in ease of death,
285.
Sovereignty of the State, supreme, claimed in South
Carolina, 320.

998

INDEX.

Spain acknowledges the independence of the United
States, 71.
Spangler, trial of, for assassination conspiracy, 886.
Spanning the Atlantic ocean with the telegraph cable,
893.
Sparkling tribute from John Bright to Mr. Field's tele
graphic triumph, 895.
Special envoy sent by Pope Pius the IX to America, 934.
— request that the fatal Stockton gun be fired, 442.
Specific day fixed for the end of the world, 437.
Spectroscopic discoveries during the total solar eclipse,
201.
Speculating in "fancies," G01.
Speech of Daniel Webster in reply to Hayne, 300.
 >at the laying of the corner-stone of the
Bunker Hill monument, 279.
— — Dr. Franklin before the convention for forming
the Federal Constitution, 136.
 Gen. Walker, before being shot, 744.
 Gen. Washington, bidding adieu to the army, 116.
 , resigning his commission, 117.
 John Adams advocating Washington's nomina
tion, 113.
 on being presented to King George, 123 ;
and the King's reply, 123.
 John Brown in court on his conviction, 709.
 John Quincy Adams defending the right of peti
tion, 369.
 King George acknowledging American Independ
ence, 121.
 Lord Chatham advocating America's cause, 70.
 ¦  against America, 70.
 Patrick Henry, on American Independence, 66.
 Miv Evarts, orator at the national centennial cel
ebration, 957.
 Pres. Grant at the centennial inauguration cere
monies, 949.
 John Quincy Adams, on Lafayette's departure,
280.
 Preston S. Brooks in his defense, G23.
 tlie ambassador from Japan to Pres. Buchanan,
728 ; the president's reply, 728.
 Washington, at his inauguration, 144.
Speechless and unconscious after the fatal shot, Pres.
Lincoln, 880.
Speed of railway travel in Europe and America, 684.
Speedy fulfillment of the earth's destiny predicted, 434.
Spell-bound by Jenny Lind's musical power, 546.
Spikes of the richest gold used in finishing the Pacific
railroad, 911.
Spiritual Kxockings and Table-Tippings, 472-477.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Spirituous liquors, Washington's opinion of, 393.
Splendid school funds in the different States, 450,
Splendor of the electrio light, 910.
 N. Y. Industrial Exhibition, C07.
 national capitol, 172.
Splicing the telegraph cable in mid-ocean, 892.
Spontaneous desire for Washington as first president,
139.
— uprising of the loyal people, 760.
Spontaneousness of the great religious awakening, 645.
Spot where Senator Broderick fell, 696.
Spots of solemn beauty on the banks of the Jordan, 496.
— on the sun observed before the total eclipse, 200.
Spread of the Boston fire in all directions, 922.
 temperance reform, 398.
Springfield, Mass., Shay's dispersion of the court in, 130.
Springing a leak, the steamer Central America, 627.
Squadron combat between America and England, 234.
Square talk by Farragut concerning his country's ene
mies, 854.

St. Louis, disastrous fire in, 353.
 , the Prince of Wales a guest of the cii/ of, 747.
Standard of education, old and new, 451.
Standards by the score captured at Gettysburg, 823.
Standing by the batteries, 820.
— in Independence Hall, Kossuth, 589.
Stands of colors presented by congress to Washing
ton, 110.
Stanton, Secretary, at the death-bed of Pres. Lincoln,
880.
Star actors, English and American, tragical feud be
tween, 508.
Stark's defeat of the British, at Bennington, 75.
— spurs at the centennial, 955.
" Stars of destiny," Gen. Walker's belief in, 737.
Stars seen through the comet's train, 429.
— visible during the eclipse, 197.
State occasions, dress of Washington on, 180.
— street, Boston, treasures of, reached by the great
fire, 922.
Statements of eye-witnesses of the sea-serpent, 577.
States and cities conquered by Gen. Sherman without a
serious battle, 857.
States responsible for the education of children, 448.
Statesmen and sages in council, 133.
Stature and physique, Washington's magnificent, 180.
Steam as a locomotive power, first use of, 6£2.
Steam successfully applied to navigation, 215.
Steamer Central America, foundering off Cape Hat
teras, 626.
— Mississippi conveys Kossuth to America, 586.
Steamship Arctic, loss of, 608.
— Austria, burning of the, on her way from Hamburg
to New York, 664.
— Great Eastern, arrival and exhibition of, in the U. S.,
735.
Steel prow of the Merrimac, terrible havoc made by the,
780.
Steers, George, designs the famous yacht America, 559.
Stephens, Alex. H., his defense of the U. S. goverment,
753.
Steps in the progress of railway conveyance, 681.
Stevens, Com. J. C, in command of the yacht America,
558.
Stevenses, the, their success in steam-boat experiments,
217.
Stigma of "blackleg" applied by Bandolph to Clay,
283.
Stockton's great gun "the Peacemaker," explosion of,
439.
Stores aud guns, supplying the Alabama with, 842.
Storming of Vicksburg abandoned, 807.
Storrs, K. S., centennial orator in New York, 964.
Story of Gibbs, the pirate, a#told by himself, 318.
Strain endured by Earey in his contest with wild horses,
768.
Straining his eyes toward Fort McAllister, Sherman, 863.
Stranding of a young sea-serpent on the coast, 581.
Strange and beautiful cmen before the Lake Cham
plain battle, 253.
 threatening motion of the comet, 425.
— theories of the cause of the " Dark Day," 95.
Strategic importance of Vicksburg iu the war, 813.
Strauss's orchestra at the international musical festival ,
912.
Stray document in the convention for framing the Fed
eral Constitution, 135.
Streets and avenues of Washington, magnificence of
the, 172.
Strength of the American and British fleets on Lake
Champlain, 252.
 , confederate forces at Bull Bnn, unexpected,
770,

INDEX.

999

Strengthening the federal capital on the breaking out
of the rebellion, 771.
Stricken in the hour of his country's greatest need, 678.
Strong gale prevailing at the Chicago fire, 914.
Struck down in his seat in the senate chamber, 616.
Struggle fob the Right of Petition in Congress,
362-372.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Siruggles of Eli Whitney to secure his cotton-gin inven
tion, 157.
Stuart's picture of Gen. Washington saved from the
British torch, 248.
Stubborn bravery of the Hartford and Tennessee, 852.
Studying the principle of steam navigation, 213.
Subjugation of New England sought by England in
1814, 250.
Sublime and inspiring harmonies from ten thousand
voices, 906.
Sublime Meteoric Shower all over the United
States, 329-336.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Submerged plains at the Dead Sea bottom, 498.
Submergence of hills and islands during the western
earthquake, 221.
Submission of the Barbary States to America, 188.
Submitting the proclamation of emancipation to the
cabinet, 798.
Subsisting llis army on the enemy's country, Sherman,
859.
Substitute for grog, Farragut's, 855.
 middlemen in trade, granger's, 928.
Substituting corn for guns, 482.
Success of the electric light on a large scale, 942.
Success of Whitney's cotton-gin invention, 156.
Successful Laying of the Telegraph Cable
across the Atlantic Ocean, 888-895.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Succession of vivid auroras and parhelias in the Arctic,
535.
Successive great and terrible waves drag the Central
America under, 626.
Successor to Franklin in pleading the cause of the Re
public, 825.
Succumbing of Downie's fleet to McDonough, 256.
Sucked in hy the whirlpool, 628.
Sudden and tumultuous force of the great gale, 267.
Sudden Appearance of a great andFieky Comet
in the Skies at Noonday, 424-429.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Sufferings of war ameliorated by ether, 459.
Suffocation of birds during the " Dark Day," 89.
 nearly fifty children to death, 573.
Suffrage movement in Rhode Island, principles of, 411.
Suicide attempted by Prof. Webster on being arrested,
527.
Suicide rather than death by burning, 917.
Suit of clothes, machine made, the first ever worn, 466.
Sulphuric ether as an anaesthetic, 457.
Sultan, the, his courtesies to Lieut. Lynch's party,
495.
Summary of the splendid achievements of Dr. Kane's
party, 538.
Summit of the Cordilleras, the unbroken and oppressive
silence at, 388.
Sumner, Charles, assault upon, 616.
Sumptuous banquet given by congress to Kossuth, 589.
Sumter, Fort, its bombardment and reduction, 753.
Sun, total eclipse of, 196.
Sunday's battle off Cherbourg, 841.

Sunken country, at tho west, caused by the earthquake
223.
Sunny excitement and delight all over the land pro
duced by Jenny Lind's tour, 511.
Superb naval tactics of Com. John Paul Jones, 86.
Superior advantages of our modern school system, 452.
Supernatural pretensions of Smith, the Mormon leader
307.
Supply of petroleum oil for tho whole world, 692.
Supplies of men aud money by France, for the colonies,
Supposed flro in a N. Y. school-house, dreadful panic
caused by a, 068.
Supreme crisis in the fate of the nation, 760.
— rank of General conferred upon U. S. Grant, 874.
Surgery tortures no longer necessary, 456.
Surmounting the works at Vicksburg, Illinois troops,
809.
Surprise of St. Clair's army by the Indians, 148.
Surratt, John H., trial of, for assassination conspiracy,
887.
— , Mrs., trial and execution of, for conspiracy, 887.
Surrender of Lee's great army to General Grant, 872.
Survey of the river Jordan, 496.
— of banks all over the land, 639.
 business during the earthquake, 223.
Sutter's Mill, Cal., discovery of gold at, 504.
Swallowing a bitter pill, 328.
Swamping of the Austria's boats, 665.
Swamps, hills, quagmires, storms and floods, overcome
by Sherman's army, 864.
Swarming of felons in California, in its early history,
550.
Swarms of bold robbers at the fire, 358.
Swede*! acknowledges the independence of America,
71.
" Swedish Nightingale," the, name applied to Jenny
Lind, 541.
Sweep of Sherman's armed columns, 860.
Sweet and tender devotion of the little ones in the
school-house panic, 570.
Swift and terrible destruction of frigates by the iron
clad Merrimrc, 781.
 executions in California, 552.
Sword presented by Frederick the Great to Gen. Wash
ington, 180.
Sympathetic meetings in Senator Sumner's behalf, 621.

Table-tippings and knockings, 472.
Tableaux of a century's history, 12.
" Take the life of no one if possible," John Brown'i
order, 705.
Taking his countrymen by the hand, 588.
— off Andre's boots, 100.
— passage on Fulton's flrst steam-boat, 216.
Taking the blame to himself, Gen. Walker, 744.
 oath, Washington, at his inauguration, 144.
Talk of an American with the emperor of Japan, 599.
Tampering with a man of honor, 416.
Tariff discussions and strife, 321.
Tarrings and featherings in the Tenn. insurrection, 161.
Task of uniting the old world and new by telegraph
cable, 892.
Taunts and curses of the anti-Union mobs in Eng
land, 827.
Taylor, Bayard, his centennial ode, 957.
— , Gen., liis unbroken series of victorious battles, 490.
Te 'neum's sung in Southern churches for battles won,
777.
Teachings of the Mormon bible, 308.

1000

INDEX.

Tearing up Gen. Sherman's protest, Gen. Grant, 814.
Tears and mourning, a whole nation in, 881.
— shed by Cornwallis, at the fate before him, 107.
Tecumseh, Indian chief, war with, 147.
" Teetotalism," origin of, 394.
Telegram to Pres. Grant announcing the completion of
the Pacific railroad, 901.
Telegraph cable successfully laid across the bed of the
Atlantic, 893.
— , invention of the electric, 345.
Telegraphing his fate to Jeff Davis, Gen. Lee, 873.
— religious tidings during the great revival, 647.
Telephone, invention of the, 943.
Telescopic instruments, splendid, used in observing the
eclipse, 199.
" Tell Gen. Burnside that this is the battle of the war,"
McClellan's message, 792.
Telling his own story, Gen. Sherman, 857.
Temperance reformation, the, breaking out and progress
of, 393.
Temple erected by the Mormons, 313.
Temporary rescue from the hands of the vigilance com
mittee, 554.
Ten hours of chess with eight opponents, Morphy's tri
umphant game of, 659.
— thousand persons assembled to welcome Jenny
Lind's arrival, 515.
— thousand persons present at Moody and Sankey's
first meeting in Phila., 655.
— thousand singers in the coliseum at Boston, 908.
— years of difficulty and failure in ocean telegraphy
conquered at last, 893.
Tendency of the phenomena of spiritualism, 476.
Tender but strong hands, 716.
— treatment of Mrs. Benedict Arnold by Washington,
103,
Tennessee, Admiral Buchanan's monster ram, 853.
Tent of Washington, reception of Lafayette in the,
277.
Tenuity of the meteors in the great November display,
332.
Termination of the second war with England, 257.
Terms of adjustment to be arranged by gunpowder, 488.
 surrender allowed by Grant to Lee, 871.
Terrible Crisis in the Business and Financial
World, 635-643.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Terrible Fire in the Business Heart of Boston,
920-926.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Terror inspired abroad by John Paul Jones's naval ex
ploits, 82.
— , reign of, in Pennsylvania, during the whiskey in
surrection, 163.
Terry, Gen., his achievements at Fort Fisher, 856.
Terry, Judge, fatally wounds Senator Broderick in a
duel, 699.
Test in breaking horses, Mr. Barey's explanation of his,
764.
Testimony given by Senator Sumner relating to
Brooks's assault, 619.
Testing a treaty on the spot, 598.
Thanksgiving appointed for Southern victories, 777.
That "one touch of nature," 609.
" The battle of the war," 793.
" The Drum," Hamilton's favorite song, 192.
The Ever-Memorable September Gale, 1815, 264-
271.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
"The fate of the ship shall be mine," 614,

" The Federal Union : it Must be Preserved," Jackson's
toast, 321.
The " Great Awakening " in the Religious
World in 1857 ; and the Popular Revival Move
ment (in 1875-6) under Messrs. Moody and San
key, 644-656.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
The "Great Debate" between Webster and
Hayne, in Congress, 297-305.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
"The Great Panic," 635-643.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
The National Grange Movement, 927-923.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
"The Pathfinder," Fremont's well-earned title of, 402.
" The ship is on fire ! "—panic cry on every hand, 665.
The solitary bumble-bee on the Bocky Mountain peak,
404.
"The Star Spangled Banner," circumstances of its
composition, 249.
"The Washington ofthe seas," John Paul Jones's title,,
81.
Theater, Ford's, scene of horror on the night of the as
sassination in, 880.
— in Richmond, Va., burning of the, 354.
— of war .transferred from the South to the North, 815,
— turned into a house of prayer, 649.
Theodosia, Burr's daughter, her devotion to him, 210 ;
mysterious fate of, 211,
Theories as to the origin and source of petroleum, 694.
— of Agassiz, Herschel, etc., concerning spiritual
manifestations, 475.
Thermometer, fall of the, during the total solar eclipse,
201.
Third street, Philadelphia, during the great panic. 637.
Thirteen hundred miles traveled in the open air by
Kane's party, 538.
Thirty hours' tornado of fire in all directions at Chicago,
918.
— minutes required by Hull to capture the Guerriere,
229.
Thirty Thousand Miles of Railway in Thirty
Years, and 80,000 in Half a Century, 679-686,
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Thirty years' history of spiritualism, 477.
Thomas, Gen., defense of the border States by, 859.
Threatening letter sent by Arnold to Washington, 102.
Three cheers for a brave leader, 490.
Three Days' Battle between the Concen
trated Armies of Generals Meade and Lee,
at Gettysburg, Tenn., 815-824.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Three days' chase of the Constitution by British vessels,
227.
Three decks of the Austria instantly become a sheet of
fire, 665.
— ¦ fair and beautiful corpses tight together, 717.
" Three hearty cheers for the flag," 423.
— hours' minute and deliberate examination of the
sea-serpent, 580.
— hours' struggle with an English audience, Beecher's,
827.
— miles of troops in flight at Bull Bun, 773.
— plunges and the noble ship sinks, 628.
— years' illness of Senator Sumner, 625.
 parliamentary struggle, Benton's, in the U. S.
senate, 375,

INDEX.

1001

Thrill of ecstacy at the sight of a vessel, 629.
 enthusiastic joy at the success of the ether dls-
discovery, 457.
Thronging crowds to hear Mr. Webster's reply to
Hayne, 299.
Throwing away his purse of gold while drowning, 614.
Throws his sword away and jumps overboard, Capt.
Semmes, 845.
Thunder of American guns before Tripoli, 182.
Tickets to Jenny Lind's concerts, highest priced, 546.
Ticonderoga, investment of, by Gen. Burgoyne, 74. '
Tide of emigration to California from all countries,
501.
7- seventeen feet higher than usual during the New
England gale, 267.
— , vast and unprecedented, during the great flood,
.269.
Tidings of Washington's death, 174.
Ties of affection sundered while the cholera prevailed,
517..
Time, manner, and circumstances of the first spirit
knockings, 473.
— marks in our earlier history, 10.
— to test the strength of the Constitution, 825.
Timely witticism of a secretary of war, 442.
Times that tried men's souls, 12.
Tippecanoe, battle of, 152.
" 'Tis well," Washington's last words, 177.
Title civen the president by the Japanese visitors, 726.
Tohopeka, battle of, 152.
Toils of the sewing machine inventor, 466.
Tokens of honor received by Fremont for his exploring
achievements, 402.
Tolling of the vigilance committee's signal bell, 552.
" Tom the Tinker," insurgent leader in Penn., 163.
Tomb of Washington, 178; visited by Lafayette, 280.
— s and graves consumed in the appalling fire at Chi
cago, 915.
Tomes, Dr., his admirable historical delineations, 236.
Tommy, the ladies' pet among the Japanese visitors.
727.
Tone, countenance, and manner peculiar to Webster,
302.
Too busy to be marrying, people in times of epidemic,
520.
Topical or classified list of events in this volume, 49.
Torch of the British vandals at Washington, 248.
Tories, American, in the revolutionary war, 69.
Torrent of rain for forty hours, 271.
Torture and death in every form, 667.
Total revolution in naval warfare by the Monitor's suc
cess, 786.
Total Solar Eclipse at Mid-Day, 196-203.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Touching reply of Captain Herndon's wife, 631.
— request of a dying girl in the midst of the ruins
718.
Touching scene between Washington and his comrades-
in-arms, 116.
Tour of 5,000 miles, Lafayette's, in America, 280.
Tour of His Koyal Highness, Albert Edward,
Prince of Wales, through the United States,
745-752. '
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Towers, domes and sculptures, of the great Boston or
gan, 837.
Towns and cities springing up in the oil regions, 687.
Traces of Sir John Franklin's melancholy fate, 534.
Tracing the Jordan to its source, 495.
Trade-customs' reform demanded by the grangers, 930.
Tragical death of Smith, the Mormon leader, 312.

Tragical fate of the conspirators against Pres. Lincoln's
life, 8t7.
Train of cars on the top of the Sierras, the flrst, 897.
Training-schools for teachers, 454.
Trans-Atlantic steam navigation, inauguration of, 731.
Transcendent beauty and power of Jenny Lind's sing
ing, 5-12.
— chapter in human history, 7.
Trans-continental railroad, successful construction of
the, 901.
Transition from gaiety to anguish in a moment, 440.
 joy to sorrow, the nation's, July 4, 1846, 291.
Translating the Mormon bible, 307.
Transmission of the human voice by the telephone,
943.
Transmissive property of the electric spark discovered,
346.
Transports of joy on the surrender of Lee's army, 874.
Trapping an unsuspecting official, flllibusters, 738.
Traveler's dependence iu former times, 680.
Treading the children under foot on the burning ship,
665.
Treason of Major-General Benedict Arnold,
97-103.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Treatment of Gen. Burgoyne by King George, after his
surrender, 80.
Treaty of peace and commerce brought by Japanese
ambassadors in I860, 721.
 — between the United States and Great Britain,
257.
Tree planted by the Prince of Wales at Washington's
tomb, 748.
— twelve feet in girth uprooted by the September
gale, 265.
Tremendous Fike in New York City, 353-361.
(For topical and analytical details, see flrst page of this
Event.)
Tremulous signature to the emancipation proclamation,
Pres. Lincoln's explanation of, 799.
Trenton, battle of, 114.
Trepidation behind the scenes, 512.
Trestle at Seerettown on the Pacific railroad, 898.
Trial of Aaron Burr for conspiracy, 204.
 John Brown for treason and murder, 709 ; his
conviction, 709 ; is hung, 711.
 John C. Colt for the murder of Samuel Adams,
531.
 Prof. Webster for the murder of Dr. Parkman,
527.
 Richard Lawrence, for attempted assassination,
341.
 Thos. W. Dorr, for treason, 413.
 the assassination conspirators, P86.
— s of the early California emigrants, 506.
Tribute by Lord Chatham to the congress at Philadel
phia, 70.
Trifling with an old sailor's loyalty, 849.
Trinity church, Boston, destruction of, by fire, 922.
 N. Y. its gift of a Prayer-book to the Prince of
Wales, 749.
Trip of the little Monitor from New York, 782.
Tripolitan ship-of-war strikes to the American flag, 183.
Tripped by the flag of his country, the assassin Booth,
879.
Triumphal journey of Washington to New York to be
inaugurated President, 142.
Troops listening to the reading of the Declaration of
Independence, 68.
Trophies of Gen. Gates's victory at Saratoga, 78.
Truce requested by Gen. Pemberton, 810.
Trust committed to Farragut by his country, 849.

1002

INDEX.

Truxillo, landing of Gen. Walker's men at, 741.
Trying to identify streets after the Boston fire, 925.
Turning the tide of fortune, the little Monitor, 784.
Twelve thousand tons, weight of the Great Eastern,
735.
— years' old chess-player beating Herr Lowenthal,
657.
Twenty-five thousand men employed in building the
Bacific railroad, 897.
— sudden and terrible blows on Senator Sumner's
head, 617.
— thousand rioters surrounding the the N. Y. opera-
house, 514.
 spectators, breathless and excited, witness the
vigilance committee's executions, 557.
 tons' burden, the Great Eastern's measurement,
731.
 voices in sublime choruses, 911.
Two days' speech, Hayne's against Mr. Webster, 298.
 watch for Senator Sumner, 618.
— facts underlying Morse's discovery, 346,
— great poli'-ieal champions, Lincoln and Douglas,
678.
— hundred persons viewing the sea-serpent, 580.
Two Hundred years of FreeFopularEducation,
448-455.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Two little babes on board the Central America, the,
633.
— names, the, ever fresh in American gratitude, 272.
— panics — 1837 and 1857— comparison of the, 635.
— thousand acres devastated by fire in Chicago, 918.
 men extricating the Pemberton sufferers, 718.
Tycoon of Japan, President Buchanan's letter to the,
728.
Tying himself among the rigging, Farragut, 855,

u.

Unanimous choice of Washington, as president of the
U. S-, 140.
— request by congress to Lafayette to revisit America,
275.
Unbounded Joy produced at the South by Whitney's
cotton-gin, 15G.
" Uncertainty struggling against certainty," tribute to
Morphy's chess playing, 659.
" Unconditional surrender," Grant's terms, 811.
Uncontrollable panic and headlong flight at Bull Bun,
773.
Undaunted heroism of John Quincy Adams, in congress,
367.
" Under the protection of the flag," 257.
Undertaker and John Brown, conversation between
the, 710.
Undismayed demeanor of Macready when assaulted on
the stage, 509.
Undying bravery of the troops at Gettysburg, 821.
Unexpected international embrace, Prince of Wales in
an, 749.
Unfurling the stars and stripes from the Mexican na
tional palace, 493.
Unheard-of casualty on the ocean in the case of the
Arctic, G09.
Unification of the Republic, 968.
Union men on a visit to Pres. Jackson, 328.
— of nearly forty great States in 1876, 948.
— square, N. Y., magnificent centennial display in,
964.

United States Grinnell Expeditions to the
Arctic Seas, 533-540.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
United States, the, an Independent Nation, 65.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
United States' " tribute " to Barbary, 182.
Uniting the papal banner and the stars and stripes, 936.
Universal heart touched by these events, 11.
Unmistakable British origin of the Alabama, 841.
Unmoved amidst the tempest, 366.
Unobserved approach of Brooks to Sumner, 619.
Unparalleled conflagration in the history of civilization,
at Chicago, 913.
— gale since the settlement of the country, 264.
Unprecedented spectacle in the halls of legislation, 364.
Unprovoked destruction of Washington's property by
the British, 247.
Unrivaled Performances by Paul Morphy, the
American Chess Champion, 657-663.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Unrivaled tactics of tbe frigate Constitution, 226.
Unscrupulous character of Aaron Burr, 191.
Unselfish cry of a little girl in the Pemberton Mills
ruins, 718.
Unsheathing his sword to the President's niece, 727.
Unswerving fidelity to the old flag, 849.
Unusual appearance of the water during the "Dark
Day," 91.
Upham, Dr., his grand conception of a great organ, 833.
Upwards of one thousand sewing-machine patents, 470.
Urgent appeals to Washington to accept the presidency,
140.
Use of a locomotive, flrst, in the United States, 682.
Use of a U. S. Ship granted by congress to carry food
to Ireland, 481.
" Useless, useless ! " last words of the assassin Booth,
886.
Uses discovered for petroleum, 695.
— of the telegraph, morally considered, 894.
Ushering in the centennial ceremonies, 957.
Utah, the " Promised Land" of Mormondom, 312.

v.

Vain efforts to reconcile the North and South, 754.
— predictions of the enemies of free government, 8.
Valentia, laying the shore-end of the ocean telegraph at,
893.
Valley of the shadow of death, 485.
Valor displayed in terminating the great civil conflict,
867.
Valuable improvements and modifications of the sew
ing-machine, 469.
Vanguards of the Gettysburg armies in action, 817.
Vapors, peculiar, during the " Dark Day," 91.
Various effects of the inhalation of ether, 460.
Vaunted wager of battle from Cornwallis, 104.
Veiled statue in marble, beauty of the, 606.
Velocity of the falling meteors, Nov. 30, 1833, 336.
Venango county oil designated on ancient maps, 687.
Vengeance of an outraged community, 552.
Vera Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, battles of, 488.
Verdict in the trial of Lawrence, the would-be assassin
of Pres. Jackson, 344.
Vermillion tinge to nature, given by the famous aurora
borealis, 383.
Versatility of American inventive genius, 943.

INDEX.

1003

Vessels driyen through the streets, during the great
gale, 2C5.
Vetoing the bill for chartering the U. S. bank, 374.
Vicissitudes of Burr's career, 209.
Vicksburg, Miss., besieged and captured by Gen. Grant,
806.
Victor Emanuel, king of Italy, his centennial saluta
tions, 9G7.
Victoria acknowledging the kindness of the American
nation to her son, 752.
Victorious Race of the Yacht America, in the
Great International Regatta, 558-577.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
*' Victory or death," Jackson's watchword at New Or
leans, 263.
View of death, Washington's, 176.
Vigilance committee in California, reign of the, 550.
Vindication of Pres. Jackson, 378.
"Vinegar of Four Thieves," tbe cholera panacea, 522.
Violent attack in the senate chamber, on Hon. Charles
Sumner, 616.
— defiance of the tax laws, in Massachusetts, 126.
Virginia, enthusiasm in, at the declaration of independ
ence, 68.
— war operations transferred to Pennsylvania, 815.
Visit of Lafayette to America, as the Guest
of the Republic, 272-281.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Visit to Richmond by President Lincoln, 873.
 the Queen of England by John Adams, 124.
 tomb of Wasbington, Prince of Wales's, 748.
Visits of Moody and Sankey to the various cities, 656.
Vocal prodigy, the, of modern times, 541.
Voice of Jenny Lind described, 549.
Volleys in honor of the Princeton victims, 445.
Vortex of ruin during the Chicago fire, 914.
— , the September gale like a moving, 270.
Voting for the flrst time for president, 140.
Vow to God made by Pres. Lincoln on the emancipation
question, 800.
Voyage of discovery to the far southern sea, 386.
— — Lafayette to America, 273.
 the first steamer, the Savannah, to Europe in
1818, 730; voyage of the largest in the world to
America in 1860, 733.
Voyage of thr U. S. Ship Jamestown, with food
for the Starving in Ireland, 479-486.
For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Tulcanean hue cast by the aurora borealis display,
380.

w.
Wager of $50,000 offered in favor of the yacht America,
559.
 war boldly staked by the South, 754.
Wagner's centennial inauguration march, 948.
Wail of agony and despair on the sinking ship, 613.
 lamentation and anguish at President Lincoln's
death, universal, 876.
Waiting eagerly for the order to fire, 233.
— for news of the steamship Arctic, 609.
— to announce the Declaration of Independence, at
Philadelphia, 67.
Walker's various fiUibustering schemes, 737.
Wall street, New York, a sheet of flames, 354.
 ,  , during the great panic, 639.
" Wanted money, not bank-notes," 284.
Wanton character of British warfare in America, 242.

Ward, J. Q. A., his elegant sculptured monument in
honor of the ether discovery, 463.
Warfare on the ocean revolutionized by the Monitor
786.
Warning to Gen. St. Clair against surprise, Washing
ton's, 147.
Warriors, great army of Indian, 1C2.
Washington, Col. George, advocates American inde
pendence, 66.
— , Gen., farewell visit to his mother, 140.
 , first draws his sword as commander-in-chief,
114.
 , surrender of Lord Cornwallis to, 105.
 , his adieu to the army, 116.
 , exclamation of, on securing Burgoyne's surren
der, 79.
 , — on the news of Arnold's treason, 102.
 , spurns the oiler to make him King, 115.
 , resigns his commission as commander-in-chief,
115.
 , his presidency of the convention for framing the
Constitution, 132.
 , inaugurated president of the U. S., 139.
 , remark of, on signing the Constitution, 132.
 , lays the corner-stone, of the national capital,
170.
 , death of, 174.
— , Mrs. Martha, wife of Gen. Washington, at his €''-
ing bed, 176.
Washington, the national capital, founding of, 167.
— ,  , sacked by the British, 242.
" Washingtonian " temperance era, 396.
Watching and waiting for a battle, 235.
— in grave-yards and on roofs, Miller's followers,
435.
— the land market for bargains, 636.
Watchword at the battle of New Orleans, 263.
Water-works at Chicago, unfortunate destruction of,
during the fire, 914.
Waters of the Dead Sea examined by Lynch's party,
497.
Wayne, Gen., his great victory over the Indians, 147.
" We have met the enemy and they are ours," — Perry's
dispatch, 234.
" We must fight ! " — Patrick Henry's summons to the
colonies, 66.
Wearisome litigation among inventors, 466.
Webster and Hayne's great debate in the U. S. senate,
297.
— , Daniel, lays the corner-stone of the capitol exten
sion, Washington, 173.
 , his splendid eulogy of Lafayette, 279.
 , unsurpassed as an orator in modern times. 299.
— Prof. John W., murder of- Dr. Parkman by, 523.
Weehawken dueling ground, 192.
Weeks of stormy debate in congress, 375.
Weeping for their children, 572.
Weitzel, Gen., enters Eichmond, the fallen capital,
872.
Welcome to Lafayette, 276.
Wells, Dr., his claim to the ether discovery, 463.
— , effect of the great September gale on, 270.
— , sinking of, for petroleum, 689.
West Point military academy, reception of the Prince
of Wales at the, 750.
 to be delivered to the British by Arnold, 102.
Western " paper cities," 636.
Western liberality in behalf of education, 450.
 rivers, adaptation of steam navigation to, 217.
"What hath God wrought ! "—first formal telegraphio
dispatch, 350.
What the telephone does, 943.
What Webster thought of Kossuth, 589.

1004

INDEX.

Whirlpool of excitement among the gold seekers, 501.
Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania, 160.
— jug, General Taylor's, 401.
Whispering his farewell to the President, the Japanese
ambassador, 728.
White House, or presidential mansion, description of,
170.
— instead of red flags, 482.
— Plains, battle of 114.
— -haired sage, a, rebuking his assailants, 367.
Whitefield's portable pulpit at the centennial, 955.
Whittier, John G., poem for the national centennial by,
949.
Whitney's Extraordinary Cotton-Gin Inven
tion, 154-159.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Whole regiments almost annihilated, 793.
" Whom can we trust now," Washington's exclamation
on hearing of Arnold's treason, 102.
Why Gibbs killed his captured crews, 319.
— the proclamation of emancipation was delayed,
800.
Wide fears of a collision between the earth and the
comet, 425.
Widow Hamilton's accidental meeting with Aaron
Burr, 195.
Wilcox, Gen., at Bull Run, 777.
Wild enthusiasm of the confederates at Bull Bun, 774.
— shouts of approval of the vigilance committee's
method, 554.
— speculation's, and enormous debt, result of, 612.
Wilkes's exploring expedition to the South Pole. 386.
" Will nobody help my brother ? " 667.
" Will you pay me my money ? — yes or no ! " 641.
Willard's history quoted from, 411.
William, emperor of Germany, his letter of friendship
to Pres. Grant, 967.
Willing to pay any price demanded, speculators in oil
lands, 689.
Wilson's wonderful sewing-machine device, 469.
Winder and Barney's operations at Washington, 243.
Winslow, Captain, in command of the Kearsarge, 841;
fights and sinks the Alabama, 841.
Wintering of American explorers in the ice-bound and
sunless Arctic, 534.
Winthrop, B. C, centennial orator at Boston, 959.
Wiping out a bad stain, Commodore Hull's method of,
231.
Wise, Henry A., Gov., hia tribute to John Quincy Ad
ams, 371.
 ( very high opinion of John Brown, 708.
Wit of John Paul Jones, in the midst of battle, 85.
 ¦ John Quincy Adams in a. scene of excitement,
366.
Withdrawal of the government funds from the U. S.
bank, 374.
Without a peer in the world, Morphy as a chess-player,
660.
 on the roll of modern warriors, Gen. Sher
man, 857.
Wives aud husbands, adieus of, on board the Austria,
667.
Womanly courage on the deck of the Arctic, 615.
— devotion of Burr's daughter Theodosia, 210.
Women in childbirth helpless while the epidemic raged,
518.
Wonderful Dark Day, May 19, 1780, 89-96.
(I* or topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Wonderful gate-way in the Bocky Mountains, 403.
Wonders of the skies, 429.
" —  World," so-called in ancient times, 729.

Wondrous mechanism achieved in the sewing-machine,':
465.
Worden, Lieut., in command of the Monitor, 782; his
splendid success, 784.
Words, last, uttered by Gen. Washington, 177.
— penned by Pres. Lincoln, the last, 878.
Work done by the temperance reform, 394,
Working capacity of the first sewing machine, 466.
— of the mind in sudden and dreadful catastrophes,
444.
 telegraph, 346.
— the pumps of the Central America, 627.
World's Peace Jubilee and International Mu
sical Festival, 904-912.
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this
Event.)
Would like to fight the Kearsarge, 344.
Wouldn't drink Captain Glynn's sherry, 594.
Wrapped in flames, the richest locality in America, 356.
Wrath of Washington, at St. Clair's defeat, 150.
Wreaths and bouquets on the senator's coffin, 700.
— of flowers for Lafayette, 276.
Wrestling single-handed for three hours with the Liver
pool mob, Mr. Beecher, 838.
Wright, Silas, his firm dealing with insurrectionists,
414.
Writhing in the fearful heat of the burning Austria,
667.
Written protest of Gen. Sherman against Grant's plan
at Vicksburg, 814.
Wyoming, massacre at, 73.

Y.

Tacht America, victorious race of the, 558.
Yale college, New Haven, Ct., 454.
" Yankee Doodle " played at the Prince of Wales's de
parture, 752.
Yankee products, sui generis, in Ireland, 485.
— valor on the ocean, a fixed fact, 233.
Year of jubilee throughout the land, centennial, 948.
 suspense, critical, in the nation's history, 138.
— s of bold and successful piracy, Gibb's, 314.
Yellow appearance of the clouds during the "Dark
Day," 93.
— fever and cholera epidemics, 515.
Yielding his sword at last, Admiral Buchanan, 854.
Yorktown chosen by Cornwallis as his defensive post,
105.
— , determined operations at, by Washington, De Ro
chambeau and De Grasse, 105.
— , Gen. Comwallis's surrender at, 107.
Young, Brigham, successor to Smith, the Mormon head,
312.
Youth and marvelous genius and triumphs of Paul
Morphy, 657.
Youthf ulness of Com. Perry at the time of his splendid
victory, 241.

z.

Zeal of American geographical research, 494.
 Lafayette for the American cause, 273.
Zerrahn Tourjee and Eichberg, leaders at the Boston
musical festival, 906.
Zest and good humor during the Morphy chess-playing
era, 657. .
Zouaves in battle, 806.

•ALE UNIVERSITY

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