|; •k}'^'^^m

*s»'l

i^i

'Y^LIE'^MIIYIEI^SILirY"

'¦^^"-''¦•^-•^•"'•¦-'¦^•"'

RANDOM

RECOLLECTIONS

BY HENRY B. STANTON.

SECOND EDITION.
COPTRIGHTED BT THE AUTHOR.

Macgowan & Slipper, Pbintisbs,
30 Beekman Street, New York.
1886.

FIRST EDITION
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1885, by Henby B.
Stanton, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at
Washington, D. C.

SECOND EDITION
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1886, by Henby B.
Stanton, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at
Washington, D. C.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDFITON.
The following pages have been the work of the leisui-e hours of
the past six weeks. They were prepared at the request of relatives
and friends. The materials are drawn from memory, and perhaps are
not the best selections from a large stock of the same kind. As 1 am
near the .close of my eightieth year, 1 have paid little attention to
mere style. A copyright will be secured, and a few numbers printed
for private circulation, but there will be none for sale.
H. B. S.
New Yobk, March, 1885.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

The first edition of this small book was all gone in less than six
weeks after it was printed. I was urged by friends to issue a second
and enlarged edition. Here it is.
This edition is not quite twice as large as the flrst. The new mat
ter is mostly scattered through the last two-thirds of the work. Be
fore composing it I made many notes. I grew weary ere I had
utilized half of them, and stopped writing.
To the numerous newspapers and correspondents that voluntarily
noticed the flrst edition of this little publication in terms far beyond
its merits, my thanks are cordially tendered.
H. B. S.
Tekafly, N. .T., .January, 188G.

RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS,

MY BIRTHPLACE.

I was born on June 2T, 1805, on the margin of the river
Pachaug, in the part of Preston which, in 1815, became Gris-
wold, County of New London, Connecticut. I dwelt in the little
hamlet of Pachaug till 1814, when my father removed to
Jewett City, in the same township, a pretty village, situated
just where the Pachaug empties its pellucid waters into the
more stately Quinnebaug, on whose banks I lived till the spring
of 1826. These two beautiful streams flow lovingly along
together some five miles southwesterly, till the Shetncket, which
had already captured the Willimantic, comes pouring down
from the north, gives them its own name, and leads them a
rippling dance to Norwich. Here the Yantic, having previously
taken in small rivulets in the northwest, tumbles heedlessly over
fantastic rocks, and joins the Shetucket. These five rivers and
their accessories, after working their way toward the sea by
turning the wheels of hundreds of factories, form the Thames in
front of Norwich, and it marches off with its Indian tributaries
in lordly style, as becomes its English name. After greeting
Fort Griswold and New London, the Thames falls into Long
Island Sound just below the Pequod House.
MY ANCESTRY.
My father was Joseph Stanton. He was born in Washington
County, R. I., on- the shores of the Atlantic, whence he went in
his early days to Preston, to begin a mercantile career. He had
a distinguished ancestry. His father was an officer in the Revo
lutionary war under his eldest brother, who was a young lieuten
ant in the army that conquered Canada from France in 17/>9,
and subsequently a colonel in the Revolution, and a senator
and representative in Congress from Rhode Island for many
years. Another of the ancestral line was an officer in the
forces that wrested Louisburg from the French in 1745, their

stronghold in North America. From my father this line is
traced directly upward through five generations to Thomas
Stanton, who was born in England in 1615, and came to New
England in 1635. He was learned for those days ; became
famous as a negotiator with the Indians, whose dialects he
thoroughly mastered ; was appointed by the Commissioners
of the United Colonies Indian Interpreter-General for New
England ; was a Judge of the New London County Court, and
deputy tor ten years to the General Court. He died in 1677.
My mother was Susan Brewster, born in Preston. Her
father was Simon Brewster, who died in Griswold, August 16,
1841, aged ninety years three months and fifteen days. He
was a wealthy farmer, and in due time a magistrate. He was
one of the defenders of Fort Griswold when it was stormed by
Benedict Arnold. The line of the Brewsters goes straight
upward from my mother to William Brewster, who was born at
Scrooby, England, in 1566; was educated at Cambridge, entered
the diplomatic service, was imprisoned at Boston a long time
for non-conformity, and came to America by the way of Hol
land in the Mayflower, and landed on Plymouth Rock, Decem
ber 22, 1620. Here he ministered as the ecclesiastical head of
the Pilgrim colony till his death, on April 16, 1644, aged
seventy-eight. He is a prominent figure in the picture of the
embarkation of the Pilgrims which hangs in the rotunda of the
Capitol at Washington.
Thus my paternal line goes back in this country two hun
dred and fifty years, and my maternal line two hundred and
sixty-five years, which I think entitles me to call myself a
native American.
My parents were married at Pachaug on January 25, 1803.
My father was an enterprising country merchant, a shipper
of goods to and from the West Indies, and a woollen manu
facturer. He was a political leader of the Jefferson school,
thoroughly versed in military matters, courtly in manners, and
of indomitable courage. He died at New York in 1827. My
mother was ofthe Puritan stock, intelligent, high-spirited, and
tender-hearted. She died at Rochester, N. Y., in 1853.
INDIANS.
In early times three great tribes clustered in New London
County, viz., the Pequods, the Mohicans, and a branch of the
Narragansetts. In my youth quite a body of Mohicans dwelt

near my home, while a liberal sprinkling of Narragansetts and
a bare trace of Pequods remained.
In 1637, the Pequods had a palisade fortress at Mystic, six
miles from Pachaug. Warlike and cruel, they had long been
the scourge of Connecticut, and it was resolved to exterminate
them. Their sachem was the bloody Sassacus. The hypocriti
cal Uneas was the chief of the Mohicans. " Uncas Rock " is ,
still a famous landmark, overlooking the Yantic Falls, near
Norwich. The chief of the Narragansetts was the generous
Miantonomoh, one of the noblest and most unfortunate of his
race. He was the nephew of the great Canonicus, the sachem
who saved the Plymouth Pilgrims from' destruction, and suc
cored Roger Williams when he was banished from Massachu
setts.
EXTERMINATION OF PEQUODS.
In May, 1637, Captain John Mason, with ninety white
soldiers, seventy Mohicans under the lead of Uncas, and several
hundred Narragansetts, commanded by Miantonomoh, attacked
the Pequods at dead of night in their stronghold at Mystic. The
battle was desperate. It became a massacre. The assailants
set fire to the birch-bark wigwams within the palisades. The
swamp was soon a lake of flame, devouring men, squaws, and
papooses, while those who attempted to flee were shot or pierced
with arrows. A few escaped, and never rested foot till they
reached the Mohawk beyond Albany. A handful received
quarter from the gentle Miantonomoh. It was the end of the
once powerful Pequods.
And now for the sad fate of Miantonomoh. In 1643 he was
attacked by Uncas. Their tribes had a fierce struggle on
Sachem's Plain, just west of Norwich. Miantonomoh was
defeated. Heartless white commissioners delivered bira into the
hands of Uncas, who took his victim to the field where the day
had gone against him, and near the " Uncas Rock " he cut from
the shoulder of the unflinching Miantonomoh a slice of flesh,
broiled it before his eyes, devoured it, and said, "It is the
sweetest meat I ever ate." He then despatched the fallen
sachein with his own tomahawk. In 1844, two hundred years
after this barbarous deed, Connecticut rendered tardy homage
to the intrepid Miantonomoh by erecting a monument to his
memory at the spot where he met his cruel death.
In the last century a dirge was composed to the memory of

Miantonomoh, and set to a plaintive melody. In my childhood
we had a negro slave whose voice was attuned to the sweetest
cadence. Many a time did she lull me to slumber by singing
this touching lament. It sank deep into my breast, and moulded
my advancing years. Before I reached manhood I resolved that
I would become the champion of the oppressed colored races of
my country. I have kept my vow.
BENEDICT ARNOLD, THE TRAITOR.
Benedict Arnold was born in Norwich in 1740. In my
youth I often passed the house where he first saw the light, and
once ventured timidly within. It cowered among gloomy trees
away from the street, as if ashamed to face the sunshine. Arnold
having failed to deliver West Point to the British, they fitted
out an expedition under his command to eastern Connecticut
in the fall of 1781. He burned New London, and expressed
malignant regrets that he could not lay his native town in
ashes. He attacked Fort Griswold, on Groton Heights, and
massacred a large portion of the garrison. Colonel William
Ledyard, the intrepid commander, the brother of the famous
traveller, was thrust through with his own sword after he had
surrendered. The wounded were thrown into carts, which, by
their own weight, plunged with their writhing freight furiously
down the rocky declivity toward the Thames. A shapely
monument now crowns the Heights. On marble tablets at its
base are engraved the names of the one hundred and more who
where slain on that bloody day. Among them are four Stan-
tons — my kindred. My grandfather Brewster participated in
this deadly affray, but came out uninjured. I scarcely need add
that the people of my county were taught to detest the cowardly
caitiff Benedict Arnold. THE WAR OF 1812-1815.
As New London was rather a fighting county, I will dispose
of the war of 1812-15 before touching on a few topics that
occurred earlier. In 1813 Commodore Stephen Decatur, the
lion of our navy, undertook to go to sea with his fleet through
the eastern end of Long Island Sound. Commodore Hardy,
who had been the captain of Nelson's flagship at Trafalgar,
where the great Admiral fell, chased Decatur into New London
with a superior force. Well do I remember the prodigious sen-

9
sation this caused in the rural towns. Hardy blockaded Deca
tur's fleet more than a year, ravaging the coast by incursions on
shore at safe points, frightening the women with the thunder of
his guns, and keeping the militia of the county constantly on
the alert. The division of my father was at the front nearly
half the time. As became a staunch Madisonian, he was busy
drilling the militia for home consumption and in raising volun
teers to go to Canada, and in manufacturing songs adapted to
the exigency. I recall scores of these doggerel verses. One gory
ballad rang out :
" Brave boys, don't be afraid or skittish,
But go and learn to fight the British.''
The aforesaid "'boys " were told not to dread the Red Coats,
for — " If you'll boil a lobster in a stew,
He'll look as red and gay as they do."
On a sunny day in September, 1814, I went to Mrs. Ephraim
Tucker's, a couple of miles from home, to play. Her husband,
a lieutenant in my father's command, was at the seaside. Soon
we heard the boom of Hardy's guns floating up from Stoning-
ton Point. Mrs. Tucker and I were seated on the doorsteps.
An infant lay in her lap. Boom! boom! boom! went the can
non for hours. Tears stole down her ashen cheeks, and she
shook like an aspen leaf. I was nine years old. In my boyish
way 1 tried to comfort her by telling her that my father would
see to it that Mr. Tucker was not hurt. The attack at Stoning-
ton was a fiasco. Hardy's firing was wild.
In the Fremont campaign of 1856, 1 went to Norwich to
address a mass meeting. It occurred to me to run out to
Pachaug, which I had not visited for a loilg period. I seated
myself on the doorsteps of the Tucker house, now occupied by
strangers. My eye rested on the cemetery which crowned the
neighboring hill, where lay in dread repose the generation I had
known in my youth. I mused deeply on the events that had
transpired in my life in the forty-two years that had passed
since I sat there before. Such thoughts and scenes rarely come
to us except in the visions of the night.
COMMODORE O. H. PERRY.
At the close of the war I visited relatives of the name of
Hazard, at Westerly, R. I., near the old Stanton homestead.
Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, my father's cousin, was born

10
in that county. One day the hero of the battle of Lake Erie
suddenly dropped in at the Hazard's. His visit elicited a burst
of enthusiasm. His dashing^ manners and brilliant uniform
filled me with visions of naval glory, and I wanted him to take
me to sea. He bore a striking resemblance to the portraits and
statues of him which I saw in riper years.
I longed to see the ocean and hear the beating of its great
heart. My father, in company with the Commodore, took me
to Watch Hill near the mouth of Pawkatuc River. We arrived
late in the evening. The sky was clear, the wind was brisk, the
full moon was playing on the waves. I did not sleep a wink.
All night I sat at the window and gazed at the whitecaps ofthe
billows, or lay on the bed listening to the roar of the breakers.
" Time writes no wrinkles on thine azure brow;
Such as Creation's dawn beheld thou rollest now."
Perry described to us the victory on Lake Erie; how
Lawrence's dying words, " Don't give up the ship 1 '' streamed
from the fore, and how he went in an open boat from one of his
disabled ships to another, tbe cannon balls of the enemy whiz
zing arouqd him, and there hoisted again the Lawrence motto,
which waved defiantly till the English surrendered.
BITTER POLITICS.
The politics of this epoch was extremely bitter. I have
witnessed three such eras : the Madisonian, in Connecticut ; the
Anti-Masonic, in western New York ; and the persecution of
the Abolitionists everywhere; and I hardly know which was
the most acrimonious. Leaving the two latter to take their
turn, I will say a few words about the first.
In Madisonian days schoolboys pulled hair, and gi'own men
drew swords. I took a hand in the first mentioned pastime,
understanding just about as much ofthe merits of the scrim
mage as the mass of voters do nowadays in Presidential con
tests. As to deadly weapons, I saw my father, in 1812 or 1813,
drive out of his grounds at Pachaug, sword in hand, a whole
company of Federalist militia, who had come there to insult him.
The lawsuit which followed cost him a round sum. Smaller
fights were often ludicrous. The standing menace of one old
Federalist, when heavily loaded with cider brandy, was: "I
will not say that every Democrat is a horse thief, but I do say
that every horse thief is a Democrat." A sturdy Democrat,

11
who had smelled powder at the seaside, taught me to stand on
a chair and say that " The Hartford Convention was hatched in
the purlieus of hell ! " What purlieus meant, and what the
Hartford Convention was, I did not know, and I presume the
most of my admiring auditors were in the same predicament.
After much delay a new Democratic journal came to town. Its
motto was from Shakespeare's Henry VIII., "Be just and feur
not." A warm Madisonian wiped bis spectacles. His eyes fell
on the motto. He read it through without a pause, " Be just
and fear not Shakespeare." Lifting his fist, he exclaimed, " I'll
let 'em know I don't fear Shakespeare or any other Federalist."
All through Connecticut in those turbulent years, infiamed par
tisans rent families, churches, and neighborhoods asunder.
Vituperation furnished the staple of political discussion.
THE BLUE LAWS.
The Cougregationalists, or " the Standing Order," as they
were called, had long been the established church of Connecti
cut. In 1818 portions of the Federalists of other denominations
united with the Democrats, and defeated the Federal party.
The last trace of the Blue Law dynasty soon disappeared. It
was one of the bitterest political confiicts I ever saw. An
amendment of the constitution placed all sects on a basis of
political equality.
OUR MEETING HOUSE.
Our Congregational house of worship stood on a lawn sur
rounded by oaks, on the banks of the Pachaug. It was con
structed of wood, according to the severest order of Puritan
architecture, large, square, with two stories of glaring windows
on four sides, the pulpit a perch, the galleries ample, the pews
boxes, except the negro pew, which was a pen near the ceiling.
Opposite the front entrance was the whipping post, near by
were the stocks, while on a distant hill grinned the skeleton of
a gallows. In my childhood I saw a wretch scourged at the
post, a drunkard writhing in the stocks, and a negro executed
on the gallows. These exhibitions have sufficed me for a life
time. For many years we had no fires in the church in the winter,
and we worshipped God and shivered over the Westminster
Catechism till finally the congregation came to the conclusion

12
that freezing was not a means of grace, and two huge stoves
were brought in. We had fine singing, but no musical instru
ment except the choirister's pitchpipe. Ere I left Griswold I
saw the gallery desecrated by a bass viol and a flute. We had
no clock wherewith to time the sermon, though the minister had
an hourglass in the pulpit. One of the early clergymen of
Pachaug used to pray sixty minutes by the glass, the audience
all standing. Now I am on timepieces, I will add that I doubt
if, when I was born, there were flve gold watches in the county.
How changed ! In this progressive age, every boy claims one
as soon as he has learned to swear. Silver Swiss watches were
common ; the poor resorted to sun dials, and the affluent had
eight-day clocks in their parlors, counting the passing hours
with owl-like gravity. The pitchpipe reminds me that I recol
lect seeing only two pianos in my county, though harps and
harpsichords were not infrequent, and there was a surfeit of
drums, fifes, fiddles, bugles, and trumpets, as befitted a martial
people.
THE CLERGY.
There was rare stability in the ecclesiastical affairs of
Pachaug. Three Congregational ministers were settled there
in unbroken succession from 1720 to 1830, viz., Hezekiah Lord,'
Levi Hart, and Horatio Waldo. Dr. Hart was the scn-in-law
ofthe famous Dr. Bellamy, the rival of Jonathan Edwards, and
he was the friend ofthe celebrated Dr. Hopkins, the founder of
the Hopkinsian sect. Drs. Bellamy and Hopkins often preached
in Pachaug. Dr. Hart died in October, 1808, an event I
remember as if it had happened yesterday. His venerable
form, arrayed in the clerical dress of the Revolution, rises before
me as I write this line. This fact is perhaps worthy of notice
as showing that octogenarians may distinctly recall things that
occurred when they were three years old.
A few words about other clerical celebrities. The echo of
Whitefield's fame lingered among my native hills. My grand
mother told me of the mellow accents of his voice, now soft as
a flute, anon swelling like a bugle, of his dramatic gestures and
thrilling appeals, which swayed great- audiences as if swept by
the wings of the tempest, and how he rode at full gallop from
town to town to meet engagements, the skirts of his silk gown
streaming behind on the wind. I have bent reverently over
the sepulchre of the peerless preacher in Newburyport. The

13
Baptists were occasionally represented in our town by their two
great lights, the Rev. Silas and Roswell Burroughs, of Stoning-
ton. Rev. Ammi Rodgers, a flowery speaker, built a stone
church for the Episcopalians at Jewett City. Tbe strangest
and widest known of all was Lorenzo Dow, a Methodist, who
had travelled the world over, and lived near Griswold, where he
often preached and drew crowds. He looked like Joe Jefferson
in Rip Van Winkle. His sermons were sharply anti-Cal-
vinistic, and his illustrations the quaintest imaginable, while
his manners overstepped all ordinary bounds. When discours
ing, he bestrode the pulpit, stood on the stairs, or walked
through the aisles. One characteristic anecdote must suffice. It
was in the height of the summer solstice. An aged matron
occupied a conspicuous seat. She wore a tall cap with a wide
limpsey border, which rose and fell under the impulse of abroad
fan in a style so odd that the boys kept tittering. Mr. Dow
endured it for a while, and then, pausing in his sermon and point
ing his finger at the venerable lady, exclaimed : " Oh, God, send
an arrow of convinction down from Heaven straight through
that old woman's cap into her heart ! " The fan was folded, the
boys subsided, and the discourse went on.
SOME OAK TREES.
I have spoken of the oaks that surrounded the Pachaug
church. I was aware that the large things of youth look small
in riper years. I had seen many large oaks in this country and
Europe, when, in 1868, being near Pachaug, I thought I would
run over and measure those oaks, which I had not seen in a long
while, but had never been able to get wholly out of my head.
Alas ! the biggest had sunk under the weight of age,^ and the
next biggest had succumbed to an autumn gale. I measured
the two largest that remained. The trunk ofthe smallest of
these averaged sixteen feet in circumference, and from tip to
tip of its longest limbs it measured through the body 110 feet.
The trunk ofthe largest averaged eighteen and a half feet in
circumference, and from tip to tip of its longest limbs it measur
ed through the body 120 feet. These were not " the babes of
the woods." Nobody knew anything of the age of these patri
archs.

14 *
SCHOOLS AND BOOKS.
Well do I remember the little red schoolhouse in which I
had learned the A B Cs. The sun glared upon it in summer,
and the snow blockaded it in winter. The great fireplace blaz
ed with hickory logs from November to April. Consequently,
the youngsters who sat on the low hard benches near the hearth'
were roasted, while the big boys and girls, who Occupied the
back benches near the rattling windows, shivered with cold.
Our ordinary textbooks were Webster's Spelling Book,
Daboll's Arithmetic, Murray's Grammar, Morse's Geography,
Flint's Surveying, Tytler's History, Belknap's Biographies, the
American Preceptor, and the never-to-be-forgotten Westminster
Catechism. We had no maps, atlases, blackboards, or any
other of the modern aids and appliances for the acquisition of
knowledge. We lost less by this than many imagine. Learn
ing is like gold. Those who get it the hardest generally keep
it, while from those to whom it comes without the asking, it is
liable to slip away. The most of what I obtained in the red
schoolhouse at Pachaug and the rickety building at Jewett
City in youthful days stays with me yet. Aside from school-
books, Bibles, psalm-books, and the professional books of the
clergy, the physicians, and our one lawyer, I presume all the
volumes in this rather wealthy town did not exceed one
hundred and fifty. I went through the whole of them more than
once.
OUR TEACHERS.
Nathan Daboll, the arithmetician, was a native of our county.
Of course, we thought he was the greatest mathematician in the
world. One day we heard he was about to pass the red school-
house. We were marshalled out to greet him, the pupils all in
a row, and the master at the head of the line. Mr. Daboll
approached on a venerable gray horse, his white beard touching
the pommel ofthe saddle. We gave him a low bow; he lifted'
his aged hat, smiled benignly, and rode on. He had taught
school in Griswold.
One of my teachers at Jewett City was George D. Prentice
the poet, who was born within a stone's throw of me. He is
better known as the witty editor ofthe Louisville Journal, now
the Courier-Journal, managed by Henry Watterson. Many
were the literary favors I received from Prentice. He was a

15
graduate of Brown, an admirable instructor, a ripe scholar, had
a wonderful memory, and was a skilful wrestler. I have seen
him on a wager read two large pages in a strange book twice
through, and then repeat them without a miss. The champion
wrestler of the county met Prentice casually in the barroom of
the Jewett City hotel. The champion was a stalwart fellow,
tall, athletic, and weighed fifty per cent, more than Prentice.
The floor was hard and the ceiling was high. They clinched.
The struggle was .desperate. The champion went under rather
lightly. He insisted upon another hold. No sooner were they
ready than Prentice threw the champion clear over his shoul-
¦ders, bringing him to the floor with a thud that made the house
jar, and beating all the breath out of his body.
Prentice studied law at Griswold. He wore a pistol, but
had no use for it there. When he went to Louisville and took
up the editorial pen, the pistol came into play.
FACTORIES.
Ln passing through Jewett City, the industrious Pachaug
River propelled the wheels of a dozen mills. Among them was
a woollen factory erected at the opening of the century by a Mr.
Schofield, an Englishman, who brought his machinery from
beyond the Atlantic. It was said that threats were made to
kill him, in order to crush this then scarcely born spfecies of
industry. England has since learned to accomplish the same
end by prostrating the protective tariffs of her rivals. My
father was ultimately the partner of Schofield. At the same
time he manufactured machinery and owned three country
stores. The years I spent in these stores and factories gave me
a close acquaintance with merchandise and machinery. The
latter served me an excellent purpose in later times, when I be
came a patent lawyer and tried patent suits in the courts.
HENRY CLAY.
We always celebrated tbe Fourth of July. We had our
dinner, read the Declaration of Independence, drank our lemon
punch, gave the thirteen regular toasts, and then called for
volunteers ; that is to say, the full grown men did this. I was
brought up to admire Henry Clay. In 1824, Clay, Crawford,
Adams, and Jackson were running for the Presidency. The
Fourth of July brought its celebration. Captain Charles Fan-

16
ning, my great-uncle, who had fought through the Revolution,
was to preside at the dinner. How I got in I do not now
remember. Clad in the garb of the previous century, and
crowned with a flowing wig, Captain Fanning sat at the head
of the table, gave the regular toasts, and asked for volunteers.
I sprang to my feet, delivered a speech about half an inch long,
and gave, "Henry Clay: the eloquent champion of domestic
manufactures and internal improvements." My prim old uncle
stared at me with amazement. The Clay men clinked their
glasses, pounded the table, and I sat down covered with confu
sion and applause. This was the first of the sixteen Presidential
campaigns in which I have delivered speeches — sometimes not
a few.
GENERAL LAFAYETTE.
In 1825, Gen. Lafayette, in his last visit to this country,
passed through Jewett City on his way from New Y'^ork to Bos
ton. We had short notice of his coming. The whole village
turned out to greet him. Captain Fanning, who had fought
under him at Monmouth, and had taken a hasty breakfast with
him just as the battle was commencing, did the honors of the
present occasion. Lafayette and Fanning had not met in
nearly forty-five years, and the latter was wondering if the
Marquis would recognize him. The coach drove up. It was
late in the evening. The Marquis alighted with his son and
other companions, and entered the hotel. Captain Fanning
stood in the parlor without moving. Lafayette gazed intently
at him for a moment, then walked straight up to him, and
throwing his arms around him, French fashion, exclaimed,
" Captain Fanning ! God bless you, my old comrade ! "
JOURNEY TO ROCHESTER IN 1826.
Early in April, 1826, I started for the " Far West," even to
the Genesee country, which seemed then farther off than Oregon
does now. My route was by Long Island Sound, the Hudson
River, and Erie Canal, which had been completed the October
previous. I arrived at New York in the morning. It then
contained a population of one hundred and fifty thousand. I
rushed into Broadway. All the world seemed to be there. I
stared at the tall houses, and everybody I didn't run into ran
into me. I was specially attracted by the omnibuses, as I have

17
seen to be the case with other immigrants in later years. They
were bound for such far-off" villages as Greenwich and Chelsea,
which, I subsequently learned, were located, one near the foot
of Tenth street, and the other at Eighteenth street, on the west
side. We had taken Major Noah's newspaper, and I knew
about Tammany Hall and the Bucktails. 1 sought the famous
building. I stood before it. I remembered the couplet :
" There's a barrel of porter in Tammany Hall,
And the Bucktails are swigging it all the day long."
I confronted the City Hall. To my youthful eye it seemed
an architectural marvel. Well, to this day it is one of the most
unique specimens of its kind in the country.
ALBANY.
I reached Albany in the forenoon. Its population was
fifteen thousand. I repaired to the Capitol. It filled me with
wonder. I thought it equal to the edifice which crowned Capi-
toline Hill in ancient Rome. I was bewildered when I learned
that it cost $110,000. The Tweed style of doing this sort of a
thing had not then been discQvered. There it stood — its mas
sive walls ; its fluted columns ; its towering dome surmounted
by the statue of Justice bearing aloft the scales. I entered
the Assembly Chamber, and listened to an angry debate between
Samuel Young, Erastus Root, and Francis Granger, then among
the renowned politicians of New York. Granger was the
attraction of the ladies' gallery. Dressed in a bottle-green coat
with g'lt buttons and brilliant appurtenances, he was a model
of grace and beauty. I went into the Senate Chamber, and
heard a discussion about the Canals and State Road, by Cad-
wallader D. Colden, Peter R. Livingston, and Silas Wright.
Lieutenant-Governor James Tallmadge, who had won distinc
tion in the Missouri controversy, filled the chair. These things
and these men looked large to me then. Years afterward, when
a member of the same body, and standing behind the scenes,
they dwindled in magnitude.
DE WITT CLINTON.
I saw the Governor in the Executive Chamber. De Witt
Clinton was one of the most magnificent men that ever stood on
the soil of New Yoi'k. He was then in the height of his
grandeur and glory. The Erie Canal, his greatest achieve-

ment, had been finished the previous fall, and he had come
down from Buffalo to Albany in the canal boat " Seneca Chief"
through an unbroken succession of cheers and the booming of
cannon. Amid many imposing ceremonies, a barrel of water
brought from Buffalo to New York was emptied into its harbor,
and then another barrel was carried from New York to Buffalo
and poured into its harbor, and thus was Lake Erie wedded to
the Atlantic Ocean. Mr. Clinton then ranked among the fore
most statesmen in the nation. ROCHESTER.
The canal not being wholly free of ice, I went by stage
coach to Utioa. The tributaries of the Mohawk River not
having been then denuded of their protecting forests, its banks
were full. On arriving at Utica, I could say with Campbell,
"From break of day to set of sun,
I've seen the mighty Mohawk run."
Utica was a gem of a city, with four thousand five hundred
souls. I took the packet boat for Rochester. We passed
through Syracuse in a drizzling rain. It contained about two
thousand five hundred people, and was just scrambling out of
its salt pits, covered with mud and slime. By the bye, I had
supposed that the Erie Canal was a pellucid stream like my
own Pachaug. I found it the muddiest ditch I ever saw. We
shot into Rochester through the aqueduct across the Genesee as
the sun was peeping over the shoulders of the hills in Brighton.
The aqueduct seemed to nie equal to those famous structures
which supplied old Rome with water.
In April, 1826, Rochester was a little town of three thousand
five hundred inhaliitants, clinging with tenacity to both banks of
the Genesee. In the centre of the village roared the Falls, one
hundred feet high. It already shovyed premonitory symptoms
of its coming beauty and greatness. It was growing with
marvellous rapidity. Stumps of trees were standing in its prin
cipal streets, and the woodman's axe washewing down the forest
to make room for other streets.
WILLIAM MORGAN.
In September, 1826, William Morgan was abducted from
Canandaigua, carried through Rochester, and incarcerated in
Fort Niagara, which had been abandoned by the government.

19
Then broke out the anti-Masonic excitement, which convulsed
western New York for many years. These bitter controversies
tore society all in pieces. Their history has been written again
and again, and I shall not repeat a line of it, although I was a
witness of the whole of it. The statement of Thurlow Weed,
published since his death, in regard to the fate of Morgan is, no
doubt, substantial!}' true. I knew all the principal characters
mentioned in that statement. I have seen many sharp political
and social contests in my day, and viewed in some aspects I
think the anti-Masonic feuds excelled them all.
THURLOW WEED
When I came to Rochester in 1826, Mr. Weed was the edi
tor of a dingy weekly Clintonian newspaper, called the Monroe
Telegraph. He had been a member of Assembly the year
before. He was one of the poorest and worst dressed men in
Rochester. He dwelt in a cheap house in an obscure part of
the village. In the central and western counties of the State,
however, he was then as great a power in politics, perhaps, as
at any subsequent period of his life. He was often sent by his
associates on missions of grave importance into various States.
He sometimes had to borrow clothes to give him an appearance
befitting his talents. I was standing one day in the street with
Mr. Weed and Frederick Whittlesey, who was afterward Vice-
Chancellor and Judge of the Old Supreme Court, when up
came Weed's little son, and said : " Father, mother wants a
shilling to buy some bread.'' Weed put on a queer look, felt in
his pockets, and remarked ; " That is a home appeal, but I'll
be hanged if I've got the shilling." Whittlesey drew out a
silver dollar, gave it to the boy, and said : "Take that home to
your mother." He seized the glittering prize, and ran off like a
deer. I don't mention these things to the discredit of Mr.
Weed, but to his honor. It was rare that a man who was so
poor should be so great. Spattered with ink, and with bare
arms, he pulled at the old hand press of the Telegraph, and
at a rickety table that would have been dear at fifty cents, he
wrote those sparkling paragraphs which in later years made the
Albam,y Evening Journal famous.
HENRY O'REILLY.
In the fall of 1826, Luther Tucker & Co. established in
Rochester the earliest daily journal issued between the Hudson

20
and Delaware rivers and the Pacific Ocean. It was entitled
the Rochester Daily Advertiser, and was edited in a spirited
manner by Henry O'Reilly. It continues to the present day as
the Advertiser and Union. Soon after it was started, the
Advertiser became a Democratic exponent, and for many months
a good share of Weed's and O'Reilly's time seemed to be
devoted to firing red-hot shot at each other. Having been
inducted into the mystery of newspaper scribbling about two
years before by my townsman, George D. Prentice, I took a
hand occasionally in those pen and ink contests.
SAM PATCH.
Sam Patch, the famous jumper and diver, came to
Rochester in the fall, we will say, of 1S28 or '29, and proposed
to leap from the Falls in the heart of the village. On the day
fixed, Sam appeared. The banks of the river as far as the eye
could reach were lined with spectators. He was dressed in a
suit of white ; and I will state for the benefit of other fools of
the same class, that before he leaped he placed his hands firmly
on his loins, then sprang from the shelving rock, and went down
straight as an arrow. He came up feet foremost, and swam
ashore amid the shouts of thousands. A few days later he pro
posed to leap again. He erected a scaffold twenty-five feet high
on the brink of the Falls, making the descent one hundred and
twentj'-five feet. On the day named another immense throng
assembled. Mr. Weed and I happened to meet at the foot of
the scaffold. Patch came, dressed as before, and apparently
under the infiuence of liquor. As he ascended the scaffold Mr.
Weed left, but I remained. He made a ridiculous speech, and
then jumped. As Patch went down, his arms were all in a
whirl, and he struck the water with a stunning splash. The
crowd waited for hours. He did not rise. The next spring the
mangled remains of the poor wretch were found at the foot of
the Falls at Carthage four miles below.
GERRIT SMITH AND FRANCES WRIGHT.
Gerrit Smith at Rochester, in 1827 or '28, delivered a Coloni
zation address in the Court House. Then thirty years of age
in glowing health, and with a voice that was pronounced supe
rior in melody to Henry Clay's, he was a noble specimen of

21
manly dignity and beauty. He was nfiaster of a theme that
attracted the attention of philanthropists and statesmen.
It was in that year, I believe, that in the same building I
heard a speech from a very different orator on quite a dissimilar
subject. This was the famous Fanny Wright, who advocated
views concerning Woman which were then novel, but have
since become familiar. She spoke with grace and ability, but
was hardly as beautiful as the engraving in vol. i. of " The
History of Woman Suffrage." EDMUND KEAN.
We had a little theatre at Rochester, managed by an Eng
lishman named Williams, who had played subordinate parts to
Edmund Kean in London. Kean stopped at Rochester with
one or two companions, on his way to Niagara Falls for rest.
Williams was always in debt, and generally in the hands of the
sheriff. He saw Kean at the hotel, and implored him to play one
night and help him out of difficulty. Please remember this was
the original Kean, the real Kean, the great Kean ; not the feeble
imitation which appeared in his son Charles Kean. The peer
less actor yielded to the importunities of Williams. Ample
time for preparation was given ; the jirice of seats was put far
above the current rates in New York ; the play was " The Iron
Chest," Kean, of course, taking the part of Sir Edward Morti
mer. The elite of Monroe and one or two adjoining counties
crowded the house in every part. The aff'air was a grand suc
cess. At the close of the performance we got a speech out of
Kean, and Williams got out of the hands of the sheriff.
DEATH OF DE WITT CLINTON.
In February, 1828, De Witt Clinton died without a
moment's warning, at Albany. The profound impression
which his decease produced in New York has never been
equalled by any similar event. The contest for the Presidency
between John Quincy Adams and Andrew Jackson had just
opened. Clinton had declared in favor of Jackson, and was
bringing over to his standard, as rapidly as possible, his great
following. The per8<jnal party which Clinton had built up was
never surpassed in the State. Martin Van Buren, Senator in
Congress, head of the Albany Regency, and an opponent of
Clinton, was the Jackson leader in New York. Il was under-

22
stood that Jackson's partialities for Clinton were so strong that
in case of his election he would have made him Secretary of
State, and Van Buren would have had to wait. At a meeting
of the New York delegation in Congress, held at Washington
in regard to the death of Clinton, Stephen Van Rensselaer pre
sided, and Van Buren made the memorial speech. He closed
with these words : " I who never envied him anything while
living, am now tempted to envy him his grave with its honors.''
MARTIN VAN BUREN.
Van Buren was in due time nominated for G<:>vernor for the
ensuing election, to help Jackson carry New York. His first
mission was to conciliate the friends of Clinton. In the summer
of 1828, he made a tour tor that purpose. He came to
Rochester. The next day was the Sabbath. He attended the
First Presbyterian Church, the wealthy and aristocratic church
of the town, and occupied tlie pew of General Gould, one ofthe
elders, who had been a life-long Federalist and supporter of
Clinton. All eyes were fixt-d upon the man who held Jackson's
fate in his hands. As everybody knows, Van Buren was rather
an exquisite in personal appeanuice. His complexion was a
bright blonde, and he dressed accordingly. On this occasion
he wore an elegant suuft-colored broadcloth coat, with velvet
collar; his cravat was orange with modest lace tips; his vest
was of a pearl hue ; his trousers were wliitB duck ; his silk hose
corresponded to the vest ; his shoes were morocco ; his nicely
fitting gloves were yellow kid ; his long-furred beaver hat, with
broad brim, was of Quaker color. Roscoe Conkling, his distin
guished successor in the Senate, never excelled that.
My idol, Mr. Clay, then Secretary of State, was involved in
the struggle between. Adams and Jackson, and I was, therefore
for Adams. Early in the spring, I made a speech in favor of
Adams, at Rochester. In the summer I attended a Youn<»-
Men's Adams State Convention at Utica, whereof William H.
Seward was President. Here commenced an acquaintance
between us which lasted till the death of that great statesman in
1872. I delivered several addresses in Monroe County durino-
this campaign, and wrote some articles in Mr. Weed's Telegraph
and in November cast my first Presidential vote. The Adams
nominee for Governor, an old Bucktail, and then on the
upreme bench at Washington, was Smith Thompson after

.>

23
whom Van Buren had named one of his sons. The day went
against us in New York, owing to votes thrown away on
Solomon Southwick, the anti-Masonic candidate for Governor.
Van Buren was chosen, and in March he took the office of
Secretary of State under Jackson.
SAMUEL WILKESON.
When I passed through Albany in 1826, 1 saw in the Senate
Samuel Wilkeson, of Buffalo, one of the most remarkable of
the pioneers that built up western New York. Buffalo then
contained only 4,500 people, but was rapidly increasing in
population, trade, and wealth. Judge Wilkeson, eagle-eyed
and lion-hearted, possessed keen sagacity and indomitable enter-
prize, and though not versed in the lore of the schools, he had
what no amount of learning can supply — an original creative
genius. He was the founder of the commercial prosperity of
Buffalo. He constructed its harbor, and thus made it the ter
minus of the Erie Canal and the outlet of the trade of the
upper lakes. The city recognizes its obligations to the man to
whom it is so largely indebted for its early growth and present

greatness.

COURTS OF LAW.

In January, 1829, 1 became Deputy Clerk of Monroe. The
Clerk lived many miles out of town, and the responsibilities of
the office fell entirely upon me. I officiated as Clerk for nearly
three years in all the Courts of Record. In witnessing conflicts
of lawyers, and some of them were the heads of the profession,
I learned a great deal of law, and especially in the matter of
evidence. Indeed, I was studying law all these years. Among
the leaders of the profession in Monroe were Daniel D. Barnard,
Addison Gardiner, and Samuel L. Selden, names that will be
instantly recognized by the Bar throughout the State. We had
occasional visits from such men as Daniel Cady, Elisha Williams,
John C. Spencer, Dudley Marvin, B. Davis Noxen, and Henry
R. Storrs, while among the young lawyers who tried causes in
our county were Millard Fillmore and William H. Seward. It
was under such auspices that I took my first lessons in legal
lore.
ALBANY EVENING JOURNAL.
In 1829 it was resolved to run Thurlow Weed for the Assem
bly. The campaign was to the last degree acrimonious.

24
Weed's leadership in the anti-Masonic excitement had raised up
against him an army of enemies. The famous cry of " A good
enough Morgan till after the election " was worked for all it
was worth. Weed was a tremendous power at the polls. With
one hand full of ballots and the other on the shoulder of a hesi
tating voter, it was impossible for his prisoner to escape the
infiuence of his magnetic eye. Weed's opponent was a promi
nent member of the First Presbyterian congregation. It was
deemed important that Weed should attend service there on
the Sabbath previous to the election. He borrowed some gar
ments, came in on time, wearing a wretched cravat and a
shocking bad hat. The next day he abstained from the polls,
but could not help taking a seat in a loft which overlooked the
principal voting place of Rochester, and for three days during
which the contest lasted he walked the room like a caged lion.
I now and then repaired to the room, and as Weed would look
out upon the sidewalk and see a doubtful voter approaching the
polls, he would wring his hands and say ; " Oh, what would I
give if I could see that man for one moment ! " Weed was
triumphant, and went to the Assembly, and in April, 1830,
he issued the first number of the Albany Evening Journal.
MR. WEED AND GOVERNOR MARCY.
Anecdotes of the living paint truer likenesses than funereal
orations. The phrase "A good enough Moigan fill after the
election " grew out of the charge that Mr. Weed had clipped
off with shears the whiskers of the dead Timothy Monro to
make him pass for William Morgan, then not known to be dead,
who had no whiskers. At Rochester, in the Presidential elec
tion of 1828, Mr. Weed for three days was waving his magic
wand over the ballot boxes. A rough fellow kept all the
while close to his heels clipping at him with shears three feet
long, bearing the words, "A good enough Morgan till after
the election," conspicuously engraved on each blade. Mr.
Weed endured the insult with becoming equanimity.
Who has not heard of William L. Marcy's charge against
the State, " For mending my pantaloons, 50 cents" ? In 1830
he was sent into western New York while Judge of the Supreme
Court under a special law to try the anti-Masonic cases, the act
providing for the payment of his travelling expenses. When
auditing accounts as Comptroller, he always demanded itemized
bills, and as special judge he adhered to this proper rule, and

25
therefore put the fifty cents in with the other items. While
running for Governor in 1831, this item literally cut a great fig
ure all over the State. At Rochester the anti-Masons erected a
pole fifty feet high on the main street, and suspended at its top
a huge pair of black trousers with a white patch on the seat
bearing the figures 60 in red paint, where it fiapped through
three gns*^y days. The grand old Governor always enjoyed
this fifty-cent episode in his political career. So he did the
prank of the stage driver in whose coach he was riding in west
ern New York in the spring after he was chosen Governor.
The road was horribly muddy and rough. As they were wal
lowing through an exceptionably bad slough, the driver shouted,
" Now, ladies and gentlemen, hold on tight, for this is the very
hole where Governor Marcy tore his breeches." The Governor
paid for the dinners at the next tavern.
Governor Marcy relished jokes on himself. Mr. Weed did
not.
CHARLES G. FINNEY.
The clergy of Rochester in 1830 were exceptionally able.
The minister of the First Presbyterian church was Dr. Penny ;
the pastor of the second was Mr. James, son of the Albany
millionaire, familiarly called " Billy " James ; the pulpit of the
third w;as vacant ; the Episcopal clergyman was Mr. White-
house, subsequently the distinguished Bishop of Illinois ; Dr.
Comstock of the Babtist Church had served six years in Con
gress; the Methodist preacher was a brother of Millard Fill
more. In October, 1830, Charles G. Finney, the famous evan
gelist, came to Rochester to supply the pulpit of the Third
Presliyterian church. I had been absent a few days, and on
my return was asked to hear him. It was in the afternoon. A
tall, grave-looking man, dressed in an unclerical suit of gray,
ascended the pulpit. Light hair covered his tall forehead ; his
eyes were of a sparkling blue, and his every movement digni
fied. I listened. It did not sound like preaching, but like a
lawyer arguing a case before a court and jury. This was not
singular, perhaps, for the speaker had been a lawyer before he
became a clergyman. The discourse was a chain of the closest
logic, brightened by felicity of illustration and enforced by
urgent appeals from a voice of great compass and melody. Mr.
Finney was then in the fulness of his powers. He had won
distinction elsewhere, but was little known in Rochester. He

26
preached there six months, usually speaking three times on the
Sabbath, and three or four times during the week. His style
was particularly attractive for lawyers. He illustrated his
points frequently and happily by references to legal principle^.
The first effect was produced among the higher classes. It
began with the judges, the lawyers, the physicians, the bank
ers, and the merchants, and worked its way down to the bottom
of society, till nearly everybody had joined one or the other of
the churches controlled by the different denominations. I have
heard many celebrated pulpit orators in various parts of the
world. Taken all in all, I never knew the superior of Charles
G. Finney. His sway over an audience was wonderful. Do
not infer that there was a trace of rant or fustian in him. You
mitjht as well apply these terms to heavy artillery on a field of
battle. His sermons were usually an hour long, but on some
occasions I have known an audience which packed every part
of the house and filled the aisles to listen to him without the
movement of a foot for two hours and a half. In his loftiest
moods, and in the higher passages of a discourse on a theme of
transcendent importance, he was the impersonation of majesty
and power. While depicting the glories or the terrors of the
world to come, he trod the pulpit like a giant. His action
was dramatic. He painted in vivid colors. He gave his imagi
nation full play. His voice, wide in scope and mellow in
pathos, now rung in tones of warning and expostulation, and
anOn melted in sympathetic accents of entreaty and encourage
ment. He was a fine singer, and, when a lawyer, used to lead
the choir and play the bass-viol in his town. In singing the
Doxology he alone could fill the largest edifices. His gestures
were appropriate, forcible, and graceful. As he would stand
with his face toward the side gallery, and then involuntarily
wheel around, all the audience in that part of the house toward
which he threw his arm would dodge as if he were hurling
something at them. In describing the sliding of a sinner to
perdition, he would lift his long finger toward the ceiling and
slowly bring it down till it pointed to the area in front of the
pulpit, when half his hearers in the rear of the house would rise-
unconsciously to their feet to see him descend into the pit
below. Bear in mind that this was without the slightest
approach to rhodomontade or excitement on the part of the
orator. Mr. Finney regarded his success at Rochester as
among the greatest of his remarkable career. In theology he
was a New School Presbyterian.

27
LANE SEMINARY.
I desired to supply deficiencies in an imperfect education.
After studying the Classics a year or more in and around
Rochester, during which time one of my instructors was Rev.
Ferdinand Ward, father ofthe now notorious Ferdinand Ward,
of Grant & Ward, I went in the spring of 1832 to Lane
Seminary, near Cincinnati, over which Rev. Dr. Lyman Beecher
was to preside. Having to support younger brothers in their
educational aspirations, I would fain save a little by going to
Cincinnati part way on a raft of lumber. I helped to load a
raft at Oleau, N. Y., and then aided to guide it down the whirl
ing currents of the Alleghany River to Pittsburgh. There I
took a deck passage on a steamboat to Cincinnati. I believe I
did my full share of the work of managing an oar on the raft,
and preventing it from following the bad example of several
other rafts, which lost their heads and scattered their bones
along the banks of the turbulent river.
FIRST ANTI-SLAVERY SPEECH.
In the summer of 1832, 1 was passing through the hall of the
Seminary, and saw on the bulletin board of my club that the
question for debate that evening was this : " If the slaves ofthe
South were to rise in insurrection, would it be the duty of the
North to aid in putting it down i " I glanced at the board, and
never dreamed there would be more than one side to the ques
tion, and that the negative. When the hot evening came, to
my surprise everybody arranged themselves in the affirmative
part of the room except myself. As it afterward came to pass
that this was the beginning of my life-work, and lent color to
my whole future existence, I shall be pardoned for a few per
sonal details. This was in the midst of the Southampton
insurrection in Virginia, when Nat. Turner, a deluded negro,
had raised an insurrection which made the cheek of the .ancient
Dominion turn pale and its knees smite together in terror. As
the only person on my side of the pending debate, I had the
privilege of waiting till all my opponents were through before
I spoke. I first divested myself of my cravat, then of my coat,
then of my vest. As the debate went on, and the perspiration
started from me in unwonted streams, 1 repaired to my room,
took off my boots, put on my slippers, and returned to the club
When I arose to speak, I might be regarded as standing in the

28
regular ball costume in Arkansas, viz., a shirt collar and a pair
of spurs ; but I never spoke with more fervor and satisfaction
for three-quarters of an hour than on that occasion. This was
my first anti-slavery speech. For nearly forty years I " fought
it out on that line," till I saw the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and
Fifteenth Amendments incorporated into the Constitution, and
Horace Greeley the regular Democratic candidate for President,
when I was ready to say with one of old, " Now lettest Thou
Thy servant depart in peace, . . . for mine eyes have
seen Thy salvation."
LYMAN BEECHER.
Dr. Beecher was tried for heresy by the Presbytery of Cin-
¦ cinnati for certain utterances of his in New England. The case
had got up to the "Synod, which met in Cincinnati in 1834.
The testimony was all in. One forenoon Dr. Beecher com
menced summing up in his defence. As usual, he was able and
ingenious while addressing his distinguished auditory. On the
adjournment at noon he took a select party to his house for
dinner, among whom were some of his antagonists. As was the
Doctor's wont in enthusiastic hours, he kept right on making his
speech at the dinner-table. He was vivid, elastic, and facetious.
He seemed particularly desirous of favorably impressing
his moderate opponents. Suddenly there piped up from the
lower end of the table a voice which uttered these words :
" Father, I listened to your speech in the Synod this morning,
and I know you are plagued good at twisting, but if you can
twist your creed on to the Westminster Confession of Faith, you
can twist better than I think you can." The Doctor's counte
nance fell, but only for a moment. He suddenly rallied, and
said, '' All my boys are smart, and some of them are impudent."
Then, of course, rose a laugh. The voice that piped up from
the lower end of the table belonged to Henry Ward Beecher.
Whether he can twist his creed on to the Confession of Faith, it
does not become me to decide. The Doctor's case went up to
the General Assembly, and was yet undecided when the Presby
terian Church was rent in two in 1838.
Doctor Beecher was one of the magnates of the New School,
in whose ranks shone Dr. Nathaniel W. Taylor, of New.Haven,
Albert Barnes, of Philadelphia, Dr. N. S. S. Beman, of Troy,
and Charles G. Finney. Mr. Beman was the debater of his

29
faction. The leader of the Old School side was Dr. Ashbel
Green, President of Princeton College. The combatants fought
just like the world's people, and kept the church in turmoil for
years. Dr. Beman was often sarcastic. It will be remembered
that in the flyJeaf of the old cathechism were poetic couplets,
arranged under the letters of the alphabet, and set to horrible
rhymes. The one under A read :
" In Adam's fall,
We sinned all. "
Dr. Beman used to repeat this, and then add to it :
" In Adam's fall,
We sinned all ;
In Cain's murder,
We sinned furder ;
By Doctor Green,
Our sin is seen.''
1 could give many anecdotes illustrating the peculiar char
acteristics of Dr. Beecher ; but I forbear except to tell one, to
show his chronic absent-mindedness. He preached in the Third
Presbyterian Church, the aristocratic, rich church of Cincinnati.
He was always doing some odd thing. One Sunday he came in
late ; the house was packed ; he walked rapidly up the aisle
with a piece of blotted manuscript in his hand; ascended the
pulpit ; opened the Bible ; spread his manuscript, took his text,
and was about to begin his sermon without any preliminary
exercises. One of the Elders rose from his pew, and stood.
The Elder looked at the Doctor ; the Doctor looked at the
Elder. The Elder came out of his pew, the Doctor came down
the stairs, and they met. The Elder whispered a few words in
the Doctor's ear, the Doctor reascended, closed his Bible, and
said, " Let us pray." This was a specimen of many such per
formances. I don't know of any better way of accounting for
it than to tell what the Doctor once said to us at the Seminary
when giving a lecture on oratory. " Young gentlemen," said
he, " don't stand before a looking-glass and make gestures.
Never mind your gestures. Pump yourselves brimful of your
subject till you can't hold another drop, and then knock out the
bung and let nature eaper." In the instance ofthe sermon the
Doctor had pumped himself full on the subject in his study, and
when he reached the church was too eager to knock out the
bung.

30
JAMES G. BIRNEY.
In 1834, I went to Danville, Ky., to obtain a letter from
Mr. Birney, giving his reasons for joining the Anti-Slavery
Society. It was a remarkably able document, and had a large
circulation. He had been a slave-holder, belonged to one ofthe
first Kentucky families, and was a profound lawyer. He was
Corresponding Secretary, with Elizur Wright and me, of flie
American Anti-Slavery Society. I will disregard the chrono
logical order of events by adding that, in the London Conven
tion, of 1840, he by his solid and varied attainments, rich fund
of information, courtesy, candor, and fine debating powers
inspired confidence in his statements and refiected credit upon
his country. He was a wise and patriotic man. The Liberty
party honored itself by making him its first candidate lor the
Presidency. His son, David B. Birney, sacrificed a lucrative
law practice in Philadelphia to become a defender of liberty
and the constitution on the battle-field. While commanding
a corps in front of Richmond, in 1864, he was stricken with
fever and took to his couch at home, where he became delirious.
One night, his cheeks all ablaze, he suddenly sprang up in the
bed, and shouted in tones that made the house ring, "Boys!
keep your eye on that flag ! " and fell back dead.
LANE SEMINARY AND ANTI-SLAVERY IN 1834-'35.
I attended the anniversary of the American Anti-Slavery
Society in New York in 1834, and there encountered the first
of my two hundred mobs. We had a great Anti-Slavery debate
at Lane Seminary, and formed a society during that fall.
Pro-Slavery trustees required that we should dissolve it. We
refused to do so. They then passed arbitrary rules in respect
to discussion and even conversation on the subject of slavery at
the Seminary. A goodly portion of us, who were not to be thus
throttled, left. It was a heavy blow to the Seminary, which
hardly regained its feet for the next six years. I was on the
committee that issued' an address in vindication of our course.
It produced a profound impression. In the early spring of
1835, Mr. Birney and myself went east on an Anti-Slavery
mission. We spoke at Philadelphia and New York. I then
held meetings at Providence, R. I., Boston, Mass., and Concord,
N. H., intending to return west and pursue my studies. On
reaching New York, I received a commission as general

31
agent of the American Anti-Slavery Society. I immediately
entered upon the work which occupied so large a share of my
active life. THE LOUISVILLE JOURNAL" IN 1832-'35.
When I dwelt at Cincinnati, the great daily of the Southwest
was the Louisville Journal, founded in 1830 by George D.
Prentice, and conducted by him till his death in 1870. It was
the leading Whig organ in the Western States during the exist
ence of that party. He wrote some beautiful [loems. As an
editor he was full of wit and fire, and his paragraphs exploded
like glycerine, he fighting out his quarrels with pen or pistol
as the case required. The paper is now known as the Courier-
Journal. Long ago I wrote a little for Prentice's Journal. The
last time I saw Prentice was in 1859, at New York, where he
had come to publish a volume of his witty sayings. I noticed
his arrival at the Astor. Though we had not met for a third
of a century, he instantly recognized me when I called him by
name. Years only added to the zest with which we talked of
the events of youth.
EARLY ANTLSLAVERY CAREER.
I shall deal as summarily as possible with this subject.
When I entered upon my life-work, Slavery had the State and
Church by the throat; and though the Abolitionists advocated
peaceful measures for the emancipation of the bondmen, they
were everywhere at the mercy of mobs. For the dozen
years following the fall of 1834, I was in the field. I was sev
eral years on the Executive Committee, and Secretary of the
American Anti-Slavery Society, and as such I addressed mil
lions of men and women in every Northern State, from Indiana
to Maine, in Kentucky, Maryland, and Delaware, and in Eng
land, Scotland, Ireland, and France. I appeared before ten
Legislative Committees in seven States, and addressed the first
committee of that kind in the country — that of the Senate and
House of Massachusetts, in February, 1837, in support of John
Quincy Adams' course in Congress. The Hon. S. G. Goodrich
— better known as Peter Parley — was a member of that com
mittee. I spoke for two days in the Hall of the Representa
tives in Boston; and at the close, joint resolutions were passed
by the Legislature in favor of the abolition of slavery in the

32
District of Columbia, and John Quincy Adams' course in Con
gress was approved. Three hundred thousand copies of my
speech on that occasion were distributed.
I subsequently addressed committees of the Massachusetts
Legislature against the annexation of Texas, eliciting reports in
accord with my arguments.
MOBS.
The early Anti-Slavery men doubtless made hard hits. But,
in the language of Weiister in his reply to Hayne, we recog
nized the fact that there were blows to take as well as blows to
give. Indeed, it was my habit to covet questioning while on
the platform, and to invite replies when I was through. And
what was the usual response — mobs. Vice-President Wilson, in
the "Rise and Fall ofthe Slave Power," is my authority forsay-
ing that I was mobbed at least two hundred times. I always
spoke strongly in favor ofthe Constitution, the Union, and the
Church ; and yet, in ten free States through a series of years, I
advocated the claims of the slaves to their liberty at the hazard
of my life. I have a right to say this, because in this turbulent
epoch I was voluntarily pleading for a humble race, which by
no possibility could reward me, or ever hear of my existence.
DISTURBANCE IN EAST GREENWICH.
In 1835, I went into the town of East Greenwich, R. I., and
was the guest of Judge Brown, a gentleman of high standing.
My Anti-Slavery meeting was advertised. A constable arrived
at Judge Brown's, and I was served with a warrant warning me
out of town as a vagrant without visible means of support, and
therefore liable to become a town charge. Judge Brown gave
bail for me, and I held the meeting, and invited the constable
to hear me. In those days it was the practice to get signatures
to the Anti-Slavery roll. The first name signed was that of the
constable who had served the warrant. I viewed the capture
of that constable as a great achievement.
We resorted to odd expedients to get in Anti-Slavery
speeches. The temperance cause was popular. In 1835, in
Rhode Island, I agreed to address an audience an hour and a
half on Temperance, if they would then let me speak an hour
and a half on Slavery. On the next Sabbath the compact was
faithfully fulfilled on both sides in the presence of a large con
course.

33
THE OCTOBER MODS OF 1835.
The year 1835 was an epoch of mobs. In the forenoon of
October 21, 1835, a large convention met at Utica to form a
State Anti-Slavery Society. Judge Henry Brewster, of Monroe
county, my uncle, presided. Leaders like Lewis Tappan, Alvan
Stewart, and Gerrit Smith were present. A mob, headed by
the Utica member of Congress, and afterward Chief Justice of
the State, entered the church where the convention was sitting,
and dispersed it by violence. To avoid mistakes, I will add
that this man's name was Samuel Beardsley. No bodily harm
was done to any one in particular, except the tearing of a few
garments and the shaking of cowardly canes over the heads of
some aged Abolitionists.
In the afternoon of the same day the Boston Female Anti-
Slavery Society, in which Mary S. Parker and Maria W. Chap
man were conspicuous members, held a meeting. William Lloyd
Garrison was present. A howling mob, which some of the
Boston newspapers called an assemblage of " gentlemen of
property and standing," compelled the ladies to abandon the
hall wherein their society was sitting. They pursued
Mr. Garrison into an adjoining building, where he had retired
to avoid these peculiar " gentlemen." They seized him, put a
rope around his body, and led him through the streets. Pretty
much all that was really accomplished by these " respectable"
rioters may be summed up by saying that they thoroughly
frightened the women and covered themselves with infamy.
In the evening of the same day I was honored with a little
mob while addressing a small meeting at Newport, R. I. The
Anti-Slavery advocates in that town were " a feeble folk."
The mob was of respectable size in comparison with the dimen
sions of the assembly. It was led by an ex-lieutenant or mid
shipman of the navy. They stoned the building, smashed the
windows, and drove us into the street.
Soon afterward I met Lewis Tappan. He facetiously said
that he had ascertained the distance from Utica to Boston, and
thence to Newport, and the precise time when the mobs broke
out, so as to see how many miles an hour the devil had to travel
to take charge of all three of them. He thought the devil
must have been ashamed of his following.

34
MOB IN PROVIDENCE.
In 1836, I was outrageously treated while attempting to
speak to a meeting in a Methodist church at Providence. The
mills of the gods ground slowly, but they did not stop. I
addressed an immense Fremont out-door meeting at Providence,
in 1856. In respect to Slavery, I dealt with it far more severely
than in 1836. There were plenty of Governors on the plat
form, and Bishop Clark, of that diocese, was at my right hand.
A man on the platform, bedecked with orders, was chief mar
shal. His enthusiasm in repeatedly calling for cheers bothered
me while speaking. After I had finished, I asked who that chief
marshal was, and the Bishop, laughing, said ; " Don't you
remember that, in 1836, when you were delivering an Anti-
Slavery address in the Methodist church here, a howling mob
kept rushing up the aisles, shaking their fists at you and yell
ing, and they finally broke up the meeting? Well, he was the
leader of that mob, and now he is making amends."
CHURCH BURNING.
The respectable individuals who encouraged these crimes
against society had no regard for the kind of edifices their vul
gar tools assailed. I delivered one evening an address in a
beautiful little church in Livingston county, N. Y. I cannot
now recall the name of the town where I spoke. The next
morning the church was a heap of ashes. Pro-Slavery incen
diaries had set it on fire during the night.
PENNSYLVANIA HALL.
This calls to mind the burning of Pennsylvania Hall, in
Philadelphia, a large, costly, and beautiful edifice, erected by
the friends of free speech. It was dedicated in May, 1838,
with imposing ceremonies, wherein I bore a humble part!
,The principal oration was by Alvan Stewart. Whittier con
tributed a noble poem. On May 21st the women were holding
an Anti-Slavery meeting in the Hall, when a brutal mob, which
some newspapers called indignant citizens, burnt it down. For
many years the charred ruins frowned on the city founded by
William Penn, and which witnessed the birth of American
Independence.

3S
MOB IN PORTLAND.
In Portland, in 1838, an Anti-Slavery Convention sat for
four days in the old Quaker meeting-house. Gen. Samuel Fes
senden, a leading member of the Bar of Maine, presided, but
not all his influence could deter the mob. The meeting-house
was utterly riddled. At length the best men of Portland said,
" This won't do." The poet John Neal organized about two
hundred special constables, and leading them himself, put the
mob down. Years afterward, meeting Gen. Fessenden's son,
Senator William Pitt Fessenden, in Washington city, I eulo
gized his father's behavior in 1838. He asked, " Do you recol
lect that on one of those evenings a young man took your arm
as you walked out of the meeting to go through the outside
mob, and said, ' I will accompany you to your lodgings, and
share the peril with you'?" I told him I well recollected
it, and had often wished I knew who the young gentleman
was. " I am that person," said the Senator.
JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
I went to Washington in 1838, to look after the imperilled
right of petition. John Quincy Adams, who was fighting our
battle in Congress, received me with marked courtesy, partly,
perhaps, because I had defended him so warmly in my speech
before the Committee of the Massachusetts Legislature. I saw
him on a field day in the House. He coolly presented his
pile of Anti-Slavery petitions one by one, and scarified the
Southern members who interrupted him. Mr. Polk, the Speaker,
was annoyed, but could not help himself. Indeed, he was evi
dently afraid of Mr. Adams, the old man eloquent ! In youth
he had exhibited the wisdom of age ; in age he was displaying
the vigor of youth.
At a later day I witnessed the spectacle when Mr. Adams
presented the petition in the famous Latimer case, the fugitive
slave that sought shelter in Boston, and whose beleaguered
master was finally persuaded by stress of circumstances and a
few dollars to abandon the attempt to recover his human chattel.
The petition was of such an immense length that for conven
ient handling it was wound on a great reel, which, on the morn
ing of presentation, stood on Mr. Adams's desk in the House.
This unique object was the observed of all observers in the

36
Hall, which was crowded to repletion, as the old patriot shook
its rustling folds in the face of the frowning Speaker.
A word about Speakers of the House. I have seen nine in
the chair. As presiding officers I think Mr. Banks was the
best, and Mr. Pennington the worst.
COLONEL DICK JOHNSON.
I spent a few hours in the Senate. The lions were there —
Clay, Webster, Calhoun, Wright, and Benton. I had, pre
viously heard Mr. Clay on a platform in New York, Mr. Web
ster before a jury in Boston, and Mr. Wright in the New York
Senate. I now listened to a ten minute speech each from Mr.
Benton and Mr. Calhoun, and had to be therewith content.
Vice-President Richard M. Johnson was in the chair. He was
shabbily dressed, and to the last degree clumsy. What a con
trast between him and Martin Van Buren, his urbane,
elegant predecessor ! Colonel Johnson owed his promotion
. largely to two acts, neither of which he performed. He was
as guiltless of the killing of Tecumseh at the battle of
the Thames, in the war of 1812, as was William Tecumseh
Sherman, and he did not write a line of the famous Sunday
mail report. FORESHADOWING.
In 1838 I made a speech before the American Anti-Slavery
Society, wherein I predicted that slavery would ultimately fall
by means of an amendment of the Constitution, and that this
would result from the preponderance of free States in the West.
My prediction came to pass nearly thirty years afterward. The
speech is on record.
CALEB GUSHING.
In 1838 the Abolitionists began to put test questions to can
didates for Congress, and then cast their votes for or against
them as their answers were satisfactory or otherwise. Caleb
Gushing was one of those who replied unsatisfactorily. We
held a convention at Salem, Mass., to take measures to defeat
him. I handled him severely in a speech in a church in the
evening. I was not then aware that he was a listener in a dark
corner of the gallery. John G. Whittier, a friend of Gushing,
visited him early the next morning at his hotel, and told

37
him that he must instantly write another letter to appease
the Abolition convention, which was about to adjourn, or
he would be ruined at the polls. His night robe was very
thin, and the chair was very cold. But the epistle was penned,
and the writer was re-elected. Caleb Gushing was a man of
extraordinary talents, but an unscrupulous politician. The
exposure of his duplicity in regaard to Secession finally brought
him to grief when he was nominated for Chief Justice.
The Republican party grew out of this practice of putting
questions to candidates. This plan proving to be unsatisfac
tory, the Liberty party was organized in the spring of 1840, with
James G. Birney as its Presidential nominee. This ripened
into the Free Soil party of 1848, when Martin Van Buren led
its attack on the Slavery propagandists. This ultimately
widened into the Republican party of 1855-'56.
GETTYSBURGH.
Wishing to enlarge its lecturing corps, the Anti-Slavery
Society deputed me, in 1839, to go through the country and
employ seventy public speakers. I travelled far on this errand,
paying special attention to colleges, theological schools, and
young lawyers. I visited Gettysburgh on my tour. I was at
the Lutheran Theological Institution on Seminary Ridge, which
loomed high above the village on the west. The view was
beautiful. It swept over Cemetery Ridge and the Round Top,
lying easterly of the town. The intervening fields smiled with
fruit trees and waving grain. Little dreamed I then that
twenty-four years later these landmarks would win world-wide
celebrity by listening to the roar of one of the bloodiest battles
of modern times, waged to defend and destroy the cause I was
there to promote.
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
John G. Whittier accompanied me during a portion of this
tour in search of lecturers, cheering me with his genial presence
and wise counsel.
I am not so beside myself as to imagine that any
encomium from me could add to Whittier's literary fame. But
having toiled by his side for several years, and spent many a
delightful hour in his cottage at Amesbury, it may become me
to record that he rendered valuable aid to the Anti-Slavery cause

38
by his brave example, while his pen sent ringing words of
encouragement and shed unfading lustre over the field where
the battle raged. i
After the expiration of a week or two the picked men whom
we had selected assembled in New York, and were instructed in
the usual Anti-Slavery arguments by a series of discourses in
which Theodore D. Weld took the leading part. Thus
equipped, they reaped where the harvest was abundant and the
laborers few.
NEWSPAPERS.
From 1833 onward, I wrote much for the Anti-Slavery
press, and for such religious and political newspapers as would
give us a hearing. My contributions would fill volumes, for
which as a general rule I received no pay.
In 1839, I contributed a series of articles to the New York
America-n, conducted by Charles King, subsequently President
of Columbia College. The title of the series was, " Glances at
Men and Things." The signature was " Rambler." The topics
were miscellaneous. Some of the numbers were widely copied.
The author was not then known.
EARLY ANTI-SLAVERY LEADERS.
In and around Boston clustered a constellation of leaders in
the Anti-Slavery cause whose central figures were William
Lloyd Garrison, John G. Whittier, Samuel J. May, John Pier-
pont, Wendell Phillips, and Amos A. Phelps. Its equal in
importance appeared in and near New York, whose most con
spicuous members were Lewis Tappan, James G. Birney Elizur
Wright, William Jay, Joshua Leavitt, and Theodore D. Weld.
These two cities were the fountains whence arose currents that
flowed to the remotest parts of the country — in heavy and steady
volumes at the East and North, in tricklihg and fitful streams
at the West and South.
For many years an influence in behalf of the slave radiated
from the central counties of New York which was felt beyond
the borders of the State. It was largely due to four men
quite unlike in salient characteristics, though each was remark
able in his sphere. They were acute reasoners, ready writers
and never quailed before mobs. Those who witnessed the
majestic eloquence of Gerrit Smith, the quaint humor and

39
pathetic appeals of Alvan Stewart, the luminous logic and
merciless sarcasm of Beriah Green, and the instructive disquisi
tions and pointed periods of William Goodell will regard
this as a faint tribute to their abilities and services.
'The most rapid glance over this locality could not fail to
see Wesley Bailey, long the able editor of the Liberty Press,
and subsequently elected a State Prison Inspector. He was
the father of E. Prentiss Bailey, now the editor of the Utica
Observer. In 1838 or 1839, Rev. Mr. Hawley, a Methodist
clergyman, removed from North Carolina to central New York.
Having witnessed the evils of slavery, he was of great value
to the Emancipation party. He was the father of General
Joseph R. Hawley, who served with honor in the war of the
rebellion, and is now the editor of the Hartford Courant and
Senator in Congress from Connecticut.
Turning westwardly, no one beyond the Alleghanies would
overlook Elijah Parrish Lovejoy, the Alton martyr, Joshua
R. Giddings, Salmon P. Chase, and Gamaliel H. Bailey, subse
quently editor of the Washington National Era.
SOME WOMEN.
Emancipation in this country and Great Britain owes much
to women. In 1824, Elizabeth Heyrick issued in England a
pamphlet advocating immediate as contrasted with the pre
vailing doctrine of gradual abolition. It struck the keynote
of the contest which resulted ten years later in the overthrow
of slavery in the British West Indies.
In 1833, Prudence Crandall changed her boarding school
for white girls at Canterbury, Conn., into a school for colored
girls. Miss Crandall was a semi-Quarker, of benevolent disposi
tion, mild manners, and the highest respectability. I took
unusual interest in her enterprise (though far away at Lane
Seminary), because Canterbury adjoined the town where I was
born. Immediately there commenced a persecution of Miss
Crandall and her scholars that would have disgraced barba
rians in the dark ages. Its ferocity was excelled only by its
meanness. The citizens dragged her school-house into a swamp,
grossly insulted *he preceptress, and pelted the timid pupils
with stones and offensive filth. Of course, the school was
broken up. The leader of Miss Crandall's defenders was the
eloquent divine, Samuel J. May, who then preached in

40
Brooklyn, near Canterbury. The leader of her infamous assail
ants was Andrew T. Judson, afterward United States District
Judge for Connecticut.
Lydia Maria Child had won distinction in literature when
in 1834 ahe issued her "Appeal in behalf of that class of
Americans called Africans." This admirable productipn,
replete with apposite facts, graphic sketches, and pathetic
exhortations for justice and mercy to a proscribed race, at
once became the text-book of the advocates of the slave.
Early in the struggle, Angelina and Sarah Grimke, culti
vated women of Southern birth, delivered Anti-Slavery addresses
in the Eastern States that elicited high encomiums, while the
beautiful life of Lucretia Mott, even to its golden sunset, was
adorned by her good works for the negro race.
I can merely glance at Mrs. Stowe's " Uncle Tom's Cabin."
It gave the Anti-Slavery cause an impulse that never subsided
until the Thirteenth Amendment was engrafted upon the
Constitution. One of my cherished memories is the occasional
glimpses I caught at Walnut Hills of Harriet Beecher, ere
she was the wife of my learned, witty, and rather sarcastic
teacher, the Reverend Dr. Calvin E. Stowe.
The celebrity in this country and Europe of two women in
another department has thrown somewhat into the shade the
distinguished service they rendered to the slave in the four
stormy years preceding the war and in the four years while the
sanguinary conflict was waged in the field. I refer to Elizabeth
Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony.
FREDERICK DOUGLASS AND ROBERT PURVIS.
The negro himself was an important element in the struggle
for emancipation. The representative man of the race in this
country, their most eloquent orator and distinguished leader,
was, and is, Frederick Douglass. Born in slavery, he was
indebted for personal freedom to his own stern purpose, clear
eye, fleet foot, and brave heart; and he reached his high posi
tion among his fellow citizens mainly by his own exertions.
Looking down the long vista of the past, I recognize the fine
presence of Robert Purvis, of Philadelphia, a colored gentle
man of rare excellence, who during the third of a century pre
vious to emancipation was the wise champion of his brethren in
bondage.

41
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES.
The Abolitionists were compelled not only to post up on the
science of mobs and on the Bible argument, but also to famil
iarize themselves with the Federal Constitution. That instru
ment had no more diligent students than those who conducted the
Anti-Slavery argument, for from the outset they were opposed on
constitutional grounds by the great leaders in State and Church.
The ignorance of its text and spirit by persons well informed
on other subjects was both amazing and amusing. I was riding
in a stage coach, in New England, when slavery became the
topic of discussion. My antagonist, opulent in flesh and pom
posity, was called Judge, and had been in the Legislature. For
ready reference, the Anti-Slavery Society had caused to be pub
lished a copy of the Constitution so small that it could be put in
one's vest pocket. During the warm debate, the Judge purported
to quote from the Constitution something that was not in it. I
pulled out the small brochure, and tendering it to him, skid
quietly: "Sir, will you turn to the clause you have cited?"
Drawing himself up, he replied with mingled dignity and con
tempt, " That little primer the Constitution ? Why, the Con
stitution of the United States is as big as a family Bible 1 "
TOUR IN EUROPE IN 1840.
I took ship for Europe on May 12, 1840. I was united in
marriage on May 1, 1840, with Elizabeth Cady, of Johnstown,
N. Y., daughter of Daniel Cady, then a leader of the New York
Bar. The main object of my trip was to attend a convention
in London for the promotion ofthe Anti-Slavery cause through
out the world.
APPROACH TO LONDON.
On June 3, 1840, we first approached London from the west,
striking the Thames at Reading. To see old Father Thames
had been my day dream in life's morning inarch, when my
bosom was young. And here it dazzled my eyes! As we
neared the metropolis, we discovered a lofty object that floated
on a sea of dingy smoke. It was the dome of St. Paul's, lift
ing its gilded cross high above the dark canopy that hovers over
London so much of the year.

42
PUBLICATIONS.
I shall speak very little in this book of my travels. While
in Europe, I wrote letters to the New Torh American, describ
ing my tour, under the caption of " Foreign Rambles," signed
" Rambler." Toward the close a few bore the signature of" Man
hattan." They extended from July, 1840, to February, 1841.
Portions of them were widely copied. In the winter of 1848- '49
I published a long series of numbers in the National Era, of
Washington, a Free-Soil paper, edited by Dr. Bailey, an
accomplished scholar, whose press had been thrown years before
into the river at Cincinnati. They were entitled, " Sketches of
Reforms and Reformers in Great Britain and Ireland." After
thorough revision and many additions they were issued in 1849,
in a volume of four hundred pages, bearing the same title, in
New York and London, by John Wiley. Portions were translated
and printed in Paris. At a later date a second edition was
issued by Charles Scribner. Every reform that has since been
carried through Parliament for Great Britain and Ireland was
foreshadowed in those numbers of the Era and in that volume.
BROUGHAM, MELBOURNE, MACAULAY, AND
RUSSELL.
A debate on the famous Scotch Presbyterian question (then
in a critical condition) was to occur in the House of Peers. I
went to the House in company with a Birmingham lawyer, and
asked the doorkeeper for admission to the gallery. He said it
was full. The offer of a silver crown did not reverse his
decision. My Birmingham companion counselled a retreat. I
took my card and addressed it to Lord Brougham, writing
thereon that I was Secretary of the World's Anti-Slavery Con
vention from New York, and would be happy if he would admit
me and a friend to the gallery to hear the pending debate.
The lawyer and the doorkeeper were astounded at my audacity.
" I think I know my man," was my response. The card was
taken in, and in a minute the flunky returned, bowing nearly to
the floor. We were ushered into the space allotted to the
Commons when summoned to the bar of the Peers. We were
the sole occupants. Lordly eyes were turned upon us, and a
buzzing bevy of Peeresses from behind a curtain craned their
necks, wondering probably who on earth we were. Earl Dal-

43
housie, an Elder in the Scotch Church, was closing a speech.
Brougham arose. For twenty minutes the lawyer, statesman,
and orator whose name and fame were the property of mankind
rolled off sonorous periods on the subject under debate. He
then crossed the chamber in front of where we were sitting, and
made a bow, as much as to say, " What do you think of that? "
He was perhaps the vainest man in England. The Premier,
Lord Melbourne, delivered the last speech. He was majestic in
personal appearance, elegantly dressed, and had the fatherly
aspect which fitted him to act as a sort of a guardian to the
youthful Queen. But what an orator ! His speech was clumsy
and slipshod in the extreme. He hemmed and hawed for
fifteen minutes, and the House adjourned.
At a later day I entered the gallery of the Commons to hear
a discussion concerning Canada, just then in the throes of an
incipient rebellion. I was scarcely seated when from under the
gallery there poured a stream of words, pitched in a monotonous
key, sparkling with metaphors. The House had been rather
thin, when instantly the doors began to slam, tidings having
passed out that Macaulay was up. His address reminded me of
his essays in the Edinburgh Reveiw. Lord John Russell,
Colonial Secretary and Whig leader in the Commons, closed the
debate. He was a better orator than Melbourne, but our House
of Representatives would have listened to him impatiently.
However, I got used to poor public speaking before I left
England. As orators they are far behind America.
WESTMINSTER HALL.
I entered the great Hall of William Rufus, in Westminster,
whose old oaken arches had witnessed tbe crowning of many
Kings, the trial of Charles I., the expulsion of the Rump Parlia
ment by Cromwell, and the bursts of eloquence of Burke and
Sheridan on the arraignment of Warren Hastings for high
crimes and misdemeanors, and I was spellbound as I paced its
stone fioor, worn by the footsteps of centuries.
I visited the apartments where the courts were in session.
There sat Lord Chancellor Cottenham, Chief Justice Denman,
of the Queen's Bench, Lord Abinger, of the Exchequer, better
known to the Bar in America as Sir James Scarlett. Of course,
I was deeply interested in witnessing the proceedings of tri
bunals that gave law to so large a part of Christendom, and

44
whose decisions are daily cited in the courts of the United
States. I had heard a speech from Lord Cottenham in ,the
Peers. I now listened to arguments in the courts from Sir
Frederick Pollock, Sergeant Talfourd, and Sir William Follett,
leaders of the Bar. In matter they were able ; in manner bad.
ORATORY AT HOME AND ABROAD.
While in England, Scotland, and Ireland, I heard much
public speaking in Parliament, at the Bar, in the pulpit, and on
the platform from persons of all types. It is only echoing the
general opinion to say that this foreign oratory was far inferior
to ours. The English specimens could not have been worse.
Such hesitating, hemming, hawing, stammering, stuttering,
stumbling ! They cultivate this style, and think it aristocratic.
While they seem to reverence their sleezy diction and slipshod
uttterance as if it were a part of the British Constitution, to
other nations it appears not merely contemptible, but makes
their orators a laughing stock. Of course, I met many excep
tions to this sweeping rule.
On the other hand, not only in the matter of oratory, but in
everything else, the British turn up their noses at us. It is no
wonder. The snobbery and servility of our tourists in that
country, and of our last three or four Ministers to the Court of
St. James, have confirmed them in their fancied superiority over
the Americans. Indeed, our toadyism has reached a point where
it is deemed unfashionable to give American names even to our
hotels, and therefore we call them after some ofthe most infa
mous characters in British history.
Some of our citizens can recall a scene that enabled them to
compare American with English orators. I refer to the recep
tion given by the Union League Club, of New York, to the
Right Honorable W. E. Forster, for his steady advocacy of the
Union cause in the House of Commons during the Civil War.
Arrayed in a dress coat and white cravat which Beau Brummel
or George IV. would have envied, Joseph H. Choate, the Presi
dent of the club, rained down for half an hour upon Mr. Fors
ter a brilliant shower of encomiums that made the plainly
dressed semi-Quaker quail. In matter and manner it was one of
Choate's happy efforts, while Forster's response was thoroughly
English in style and sentiment. The contrast between the two
performances was striking and instructive.

45
It may readily be believed that the rhapsodies of English
authors over the oratory of the Pitts, Fox, Burke, and Sheridan
were, so far as delivery and manner were concerned, mainly due
to the fact that in these two particulars they rose above the ordi
nary level, which was then perhaps as low as it is now.
THE LONDON ANTLSLAVERY CONVENTION.
The great Anti-Slavery Convention met in London in June
1840. Thomas Clarkson, the Abolition patriarch, was President.
James G. Birney was one of the Vice-Presidents, and I was
honored with a seat among the Secretaries. Many nations were
repsesented. I will name a few of the most distinguished who
took part in the proceedings, viz.: The Duke of Sussex, uncle
to the Queen; Lord Brougham ; Lord Morpeth, then Chief Secre
tary for Ireland ; Daniel O'Connell ; Guizot, the French Minis
ter at the Court of St. James ; Dr. Lushingtdn ; Dr. Bowring ;
Thomas Campbell, the poet; Samuel Gurney, the great Quaker
banker ; Joseph Sturge ; Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton, and many
other Parliamentary leaders; Rev. John Angell James, Rev. Dr.
-Cox, Rev. Thomas Binney, Rev. Dr. Wardlaw, and a long list of
clergymen of various denominations ; and two young men then
little known — John Bright and William E. Forster. The cause of
Abolition wore gold slippers in England. The Duchess of Suth
erland, Mistress ofthe Robes; Lady Byron, widow ofthe poet ;
Elizabeth Fry, Mary Howitt, Amelia Opie, and several other
female celebrities smiled upon the Convention. The proceed
ings were reported in a volume of six hundred pages. B. R.
Haydon, the famous artist, executed a large painting of the
prominent members of the Convention, which now hangs in the
National Gallery. While at work on this picture, he told me
many racy anecdotes of his times. Poor Haydon ! He had
the infirmities of genius. He died by his own hand in 1848.
MEETINGS IN EUROPE.
I was abroad till January, 1841. I delivered thirty or forty
speeches in Great Britain and Ireland, and attended two con
ferences in France. I had come from the land of mobs, where,
the press, with few exqeptions, delighted to misrepresent Aboli
tionists. It seemed a pleasant change to find myself introduced
to audiences by members of Parliament, Fellows ofthe Univer
sity, Lord Mayors of cities, Peers of the realm, Bishops of the

I I
46
Establishment, and the manager of the Edinburgh Review, and
then to see my speeches fully and fairly reported in the news
papers. I took courage, and dared to say in the words of
Ebenezer Elliott, the Corn-Law Rhymer, whom I met in Shef
field : "There's a good time coming,
A good time coming ;
We may not live to see the day,
But Earth will glisten in the ray
Of the good time coming ;
Wait a little longer."
I lived to see the day. IN FRANCE.
While in France in the summer of 1840, I attended two
important Anti-Slavery conferences in Paris. This was a part
of my object in going to Europe. These conferences were par
ticipated in by M. Isambert, a prominent member of the Cham
ber of Deputies, and M. Cremieux, subsequently Minister of Jus
tice in the government of Lamartine, and other leaders of opin
ion. I cannot even allude to the manj' famous places I visited on
the Continent, but I will except three or four. It was in a
memorable Napoleonic year that I saw France. In Paris, under
the dome of the Hotel des Invalides, they were preparing a
magnificent mausoleum for the great Emperor, whose remains
were to be received from St. Helena in the autumn. The old
soldiers on the banks of the Seine, who b.ad fought under the
Little Corporal in many battles, were aglow with enthusiasm at
the approach of the pageant. I stopped in July in the public
square of Boulogne, and noted its points of interest. Two
weeks later the young Pretender, known afterward as Napoleon
III., dashed into the square with fifty armed followers, posted a
proclamation on the walls, and called upon the people to rise
and drive Louis Philippe from France. The wild adventurer
was sentenced to the citadel of Ham for lite, but he contrived
to escape from his grim prison in May, 1846. Other historic
mile-stones dwelt in my memory, and furnished the keys
whereby I subsequently interpreted the downfall of Louis Phil
ippe in 1848 and the extinguishment of the Napoleonic dynasty
in the Franco-German war of 1870.

47
RETURN TO ENGLAND.
On returning from the Continent, we had a night ride on a
coach from Dover to London. We reached Shooter's Hill just
as the orb of day was breaking through a bank of clouds. The
basin wherein the great metropolis reposes seemed a vast lake
whose bosom was rippled by the wind. The dome of the
cathedral loomed above the surface and glistened in the morn
ing sunbeams, while Highgate stood sentry over the scene on
the north. The illusion was perfect.
By the bye, in November we saw one of London's dark days
— a perfect specimen of its kind, I was told. It was among the
most unique spectacles we witnessed in all Europe.
WILLIAM THE CONQUERER.
One of the attractive places I visited in France was Rouen,
the capital of Normandy. It was from this renowned spot that
William went forth in 1066, to conquer England. Rouen is
beautifully situated on the Seine. It was there that I first saw
the river so famous in the annals of Europe. After his
stormy life was ended, the Conquerer was buried here. A cen
tury later, the ashes of Richard Coeur de Leon were deposited
under its cathedral. In 1431, Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans,
was burnt at Rouen. I visited, as thousands do annually, the
statue erected to her memory.
On my return to England I went down to Hastings to see
the harbor and the pier where William anchored the seven hun
dred vessels and landed the sixty thousand men for the great
conquest. Six miles inland is the field where the grim invader
in October, 1066, fought the battle that placed the kingdom of
Alfred the Saxon under the heel of William the Norman.
Poor Harold, the English monarch, pierced in the eye by an.arrow,
lost his crown and his life in the struggle. Here the Conqueror,
"of pious memory," erected Battle Abbey as a memorial of the
victory that gave England the feudal system and the Domes
day Book. The abbey is a frowning edifice, partially in ruins,
a crumbling landmark of British history.
LANDMARKS.
I shall run through the country at random, merely pointing
to a few landmarks, which stand as blazed trees along the track

48
where history has hewed its path. I am not writing a sketch
of my tra,vels. The letters to the New York American, above
mentioned, give glimpses of my wanderings, arfd show that I
did not attend solely to Anti-Slavery matters, but for six months
went the beaten track of a tourist. In what I jot down I shall
generally have some reference to human progress.
RUNNYMEDE.
Oh the south bank ofthe Thames, a few miles from London,
I saw a beautiful meadow. At the west I caught sight ofthe
towers of Windsor Castle, while my eyes scanned the dense
smoke that canopied the metropolis on the east. In 1215, there
transpired on this little meadow one of the most important
events in the history of England. Gloomy King John came
over from Windsor to Runnymede to confer with his rebellious
barons. On the 19th of June, at their dictation, he affixed the
royal seal (perhaps he could not write his name) to Magna
Charta. Thousands of Englishmen daily sail up and down the Thames
past this sedgy spot without being aware that their Declaration
of Independence was issued here six hundred years ago. There
is nothing strange in this. Crowds of Americans daily beat their
surges against a little brick edifice in Philadelphia without
remembering that within its walls on July 4, 1776, a few
feeble colonies issued the immortal document that hurled
defiance (to quote Webster) at a power whose morning drum
beat, starting with the sun and keeping company with the
hours, encircled the earth with one continuous and unbroken
strain of the martial airs of England.
RICHARD III. AND HENRY VII.
The wars of the Roses changed the line of descent of the
English crown from the Plantagenets to the Tudors. In 1485,
the White Rose of York was blasted by the Red Rose of Lan
caster on Bosworth field. I had seen the battle fought so often
on the stage by Booth, Forrest, and Macready that, after view
ing the old school-house at Leicester, wherein Dr. Sam. Johnson
was once usher, I rode a little way out of town to the plain
where the genuine crook-backed Richard was slain, and the
coronet placed on the brow of Henry VII. by Lord Stanley.
The guide was loquacious, as became his calling. I swallowed

49
his stories without a grimace till he told me my feet at that
moment rested on the very sod where Richard cried aloud, " A
horse I A horse ! My kingdom for a horse ! " Then I was
tempted to bolt the track, because no historian informs us that
" White Surrey " had been killed or had fled ; and while that
renowned steed lived, what need had Richard of another horse?
However, I early learned to accept such tales as true, and
get as much enjoyment out of the delusion as possible. When,
for example, they exhibited the block in the Tower of London
whereon Lady Jane Grey is said to have been beheaded, I
admitted that some sharp instrument had made a cleft in it.
They pointed me to the school-room at Huntingdon where
Cromwell learned his A B Cs, and to the identical wooden
desk at which he sat. I conceded that the latter had been
thoroughly whittled, and the only wonder was that it had stood
the jack-knives so well for two hundred and fifty years. When
gazing at certain suspicious-looking scratches on the window
sill of Whitehall, and on being assured that these were the prints
of the spikes that helped to hold up the scaffold whereon
Charles I. was put to death in 1649, I did not for a moment
dispute that that unfortunate monarch lost his head in that
vicinity about that time. So when in the Highlands of Scotland
an ancient dame charged only half a crown for letting me handle
Rob Roy's alleged musket, I drew an approving smile from the
old crone by the remark that the barrel was uncommonly long
and the lock very rusty. Is not this the best way to deal with
this kind of so-called information ? Tourists must not be too
critical.
CROMWELL.
Oliver Cromwell prepared the way for the expulsion of the
Stuarts. I walked through the brick house and over the fair
fields of Huntingdon where the Puritan spent his youth. The
mansion resembled a large Pennsylvania farm-house of the
higher class. Here, in mature years, he trained his Ironsides,
who marched to the tune of Old Hundred, but in many an
encounter met undismayed the legions of the Court and hier
archy, oft sweeping them like chaff before the wind. His well-
planned battle at Naseby ruined Charles. I traversed the
hillock over which the lion-hearted general, sword in hand, led
the decisive charge. When he became Protector of the Com-

50
monwealth, he took up the despised name of Kingless England,
and bore it aloft on the eagle wings of a far-sighted policy, and
made it respected and feared at every Court in Europe. He
was a great soldier and a greater ruler, and stood among the
foremost men of his time.
LORD JEFFREYS AND THE BLOODY ASSIZES.
I skirted the fatal field of Sedgemoor, where the unfortunate
followers of Monmouth sought to dethrone James II. before
his hour had fully come. I sat in the old Court House at
Taunton, where the monster Jeffreys held the Bloody Assizes,
which condemned to death three hundred and twenty-six men,
women, and boys for participating in this uprising, and sent
eight hundred and forty-one victims into perpetual slavery.
The vials of retribution was poured upon the head of this
infamous judge when his master fell. He cowered in a taproom
at Greenwich, disguised as a servant, and on discovery begged
to be lodged in the Tower as a protection from the populace;
who threatened to tear him limb from limb. There he
howled like a maniac, haunted by the ghosts of those whom he
had condemned to the gallows and the galleys at Taunton. The
blackest villain that ever stained the Bench was George
Jeffreys.
WILLIAM OF OEANGE.
Torbay is one of the most beautiful ocean inlets my eyes
ever beheld. It lies in the lap of luxuriant Devonshire. I
saw it in the high noon of summer exuberance. In this bay,
on the 5th of November, 1688, William, the Stadtholder of
Holland, anchored the great fieet and landed the grand army he
brought over to drive James II. from the British throne. The
credulous King was slow to believe that his nephew had been
invited to invade England by eminent leaders of public opinion.
It was an easier conquest than that of the other William who
landed at Hastings six hundred and twenty-two years before.
James fled to France. In July, 1690, he made a last feeble
rally for his throne at the battle of the Boyne. In early youth
I read a pictorial history of England. Among its illustrations
was a vivid sketch of William crossing the Boyne and shouting
to his soldiers, " To glory ! My lads, to glory ! " It has been

51
the rule of my life to deepen the good impressions of my youth.
Of course I saw the Boyne, and sat down on the northern bank,
where William was wounded, and fancied I saw the cowardly
James fleeing over the hills on the opposite side, the first one to
run away. William III. was the greatest monarch who ever
sat on the British throne. OLD SARUM.
This once celebrated rotten borough was the laughing stock
of the Whigs in the day of the first Reform Bill of 1832. I
visited its site, getting glimpses of Salisbury Plain, a locality
which had nestled in my memory since I read the religious
tract entitled " The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain." I could
scarcely believe my eyes as I looked upon Old Sarum. For
centuries previous to the Reform Bill it had sent two mem
bers to Parliament, though not a soul had lived there since
the Tudors mounted the throne. It was a mere sand-hill,
without showing even the ruins of a dwelling, though once it
had a small population. Yet this utter waste, down to 1832,
had as large a representation in the Commons as Lancashire
with its million and a half of people. The voting at elections
used to be done by the owner of Old Sarum, who sent himself'
and a favorite, or two of the latter stripe, to Parliament.
THE CHARTISTS.
Though the Reform Bill of 1832 abolished absurdities like
Old Sarum, it left the representation in the House of Commons
in a very unsatisfactory state. This led to Chartism, a well-
meaning but rather turbulent faction, whose five foundation
principles were universal suffrage, voting by ballot, equal Par
liamentary districts, no property qualification for representatives,
and the payment of salaries to members. This platform will
seem familiar to the people of the United States, but the
announcement of the Chartist creed threw England into con
vulsions. I happened to speak at a large Chartist meeting. Some
English friends told me not to attend, but I said I had rode out
many mobs in America, and rather liked it. The organization
was already drifting upon the shoals of violence. I warned
them against disorder. But in a few years they destroyed

52
themselves and their party by outbreak and bloodshed. In later
times, and under the guidance of Gladstone, Bright, and their
associates, the cause of Free Suffrage and Parliamentary Reform
has recovered some of the ground which the Chartists proved
incompetent to occupy.
SOME ENGLISH POETS.
An amusing scene occurred in the London Anti-Slavery
Convention that may be worth mentioning. I was on the plat
form reading a report when Thomas Campbell entered. He
was greeted with applause. I stopped reading. Mr. O'Connell
with a flourish reminded the American delegates that the author
of " Gertrude of Wyoming " stood before them, and there were
loud calls for a speech. The poet in a muddled style began to
compliment American institutions, and then plunged in a zig
zag way into a contemptuous criticism of our poetry. His man
ner was peculiar, his pose unsteady, his tongue thick. I
replied, eulogizing his productions, and warmly vindi-.
eating the authors he had assailed. He kept jump
ing up and interjecting responses, and our colloquy
kept the audience in a roar. All this was taken down by
the stenographer, but it was omitted from the published report
by the English managers, on their excuse that Campbell was
intoxicated. But I was not disposed to sit still and hear Bry
ant, Whittier, and Longfellow abused by any British bard,
whether sober or drunk.
A glance at two or three other poets must suffice. A letter
of introduction brought me in front of " Elliott & Co.'s Iron
and Steel Warehouse," at Sheffield. I went to his house, where
I was greeted with a hearty " Walk in," from the Corn-Law
Rhymer, who was standing on the threshold in his stocking
feet. He made no apology for his rough appearance, drew on
his shoes, and opened a racy dialogue about America. He was
enthusiastic in his admiration of General Jackson, and dilated
on his heroism in the battle with "Biddle and the Bank."
Elliott, like Burns, was the poet of the poor, and his songs were
the lays of labor. Unlike the Ayrshire ploughman, the York
shire ironmonger did not draw his inspiration from open, breezy
fields, but from the stifling air of hot furnaces. Burns was the
bard of yeomen, Elliott was the bard of artisans. Presenting
me with a copy of his works, and slightly changing his dress

. 53
we ascended the hill to the embowered cottage of James Mont
gomery. The contrast could hardly have been greater than
that between the rugged rhymster and the sacred singer. Pol
ished in manner, neat in dress, calm in conversation, Mont
gomery inquired about the Pro-Slavery mobs in the United
States, especially the destruction of newspapers, his voice rising
to indignation as he spoke of his own imprisonment in York
Castle in early days for the publication in the Sheffield Iris of
liberal doctrines offensive to the administration of the younger
Pitt. In London, I met Lady Byron in company with her daugh
ter. Lady Lovelace, better known as Ada Augusta, the " gentle
Ada," sole heiress of her father's fame. The mother took a
deep interest in emancipation in America, but evaded all refer
ence to her late husband. The eyes of the daughter sparkled
when I told her that not only in the mansions of the rich in the
cities, but in log huts beyond the Alleghany Mountains, his
poems were familiar as household words. Her countenance
seemed to me to reflect more closely the brilliant features of the
father than the plain face of the mother.
CARLYLE AND EMERSON.
I met Thomas Carlyle. He was dressed in a shabby suit of
gray. I was not delighted with this " writer of books," as he
called himself. We talked about America, and he betrayed
great ignorance of a people at whom he sneered. He conversed
rapidly, walked the room nervously, and shot out porcupine
quills indiscriminately at good and evil. As a specimen of his
talk, I will say that he called Victor Hugo " a glittering hum
bug." His vicious style of writing caused him to go by crooked
ways up to an idea, instead of advancing toward it by a straight
path. Much of his assumed profundity sprang from this source.
In later times his execrable style grew more and more mislead
ing. Take, for instance, some of his lauded writings, and dis
entangle and analyze paragraphs that appear to hide in their
meshes ideas too deep and awful to be expressed in plain Anglo-
Saxon, and you will discover that the matter is either quite mean
ingless or very commonplace. But notwithstanding his crab
bed sentences, rooted prejudices, and sour temper, Cariyle's war
on "Shams" was beneficial to mankind, while his pen, at lucid

54
intervals, shed valuable light along the track of history and
biography. Americans must not be too severe on the unique
Scotchman, though he is reported to have said of our Emerson
that his few ideas would be more clearly and beautifully clothed
if he used half as many words to cover them. Transcendental
writers do indeed need translators to put their productions into
idiomatic English. It is mere affectation to go into raptures
over chapters, one-third of which nobody really understands.
Life is too short to be wasted in sifting a few kernels of wheat
out of bushels of chaff.
I might describe many persons whom I met abroad, men and
women, celebrities, oddities, famous, infamous, but I have nO
room for them. Several are noticed in my volume of " Sketches
of Reforms and Reformers."

SCOTLAND.
We must give England a rest, and repair to Scotland. I
went the grand rounds of the Lowlands and the Highlands, and
sketched outlines of my tour in letters to the N. Y. American.
Repetitions will be avoided. I jot only here and there.
DR. CHALMERS.
I listened to a sermon by Dr. Thomas Chalmers, then in the
fulness of his prime, and the leader in the movement that
ultimated in the disruption of the church of John Knox. His
discourse was a chain of close reasoning, flittering with imao-ery
and glowing with fervor. Its drawback to me was the strone:
Scotch accent of the orator. His delivery lacked the mellow
cadence of Dr. Wardlaw of Glasgow, who, to Dr. Chalmers, was
as ApolloB to Paul. THE EDINBURGH REVIEW.
Our large Anti-Slavery meeting in the Scotch capital was
presided over by the publisher of the Edinburgh Review
With what dash, audacity, and brilliancy did that celebrated
periodical leap into the arena of journalism in the dark, troubled
and despotic epoch of 1802. The cause of freedom in both
hemispheres is its debtor. Perhaps the highest place in the

55
long list of writers who imparted lustre to its pages and
gathered fame by their contributions during the first forty
years of its existence belongs to Sydney Smith, Francis Jeffrey,
Henry Brougham, and Babington Macaulay. It.made them all
Lords except Smith, who would have been a Lord Bishop if he
had not cracked so many jokes over the head of the Established
Church. I had heard Brougham and Macaulay in Parliament.
In a country parish I rode ten miles in the rain to listen to
a sermon by Smith, the Canon of St. Paul's, who was visiting a
rural rector. It was a plain discourse, though, two or three
paragraphs reminded me that Peter Plymley was in the desk.
In Edinburgh I had an interview with Lord Jeffrey, then at the
head of the Scotch Juoiciary. He took an interest in law
reform, and asked me a good many questions about the New
York Revised Statutes and their authors, which I reciprocated
by inquiring into the habits and studies of the strange old
codifier Jeremy Bentham, then deceased, who always seemed to
me to be in law what Dr. Franklin was in science, Dr. Johnson
in literature, and Dr. Greeley in journalism. I deemed it
fortunate that I had seen and heard the four greatest of the
Edinburgh reviewers. MACBETH.
While stopping at Perth, I took a chaise and went out to
Birnam Wood, and from thence a dozen miles to the hill of
Dunsinnan. I cut two memorial canes at Birnam, and took
them over to Dunsinnan, and could then affirm that " Birnam
Wood had come to Dunsinnan." By the bye, I found that the
local pronunciation of this word was Dunsmnan, and not
Uansinnane, as we hear it on the stage. The little grove at
Birnam rustled in the breeze of a crisp but bright autumn day.
• The hill of Dunsinnan showed the ruins of the rough ramparts
said to have been built by Macbeth in the year of 1056. Why
dispute the story told by Shakespeare ? Does it not shed a
brilliant light on a dark period in the annals of Scotland ?
Who would give up King Duncan and Lady Macbeth and the
blood-stained daggers and the witches around the cauldron on
the heath and the ghost of Banquo at the royal banquet, to
please all the historians that Scotland ever saw ?
Let us roll up the curtain, and stand by the bard of Avon,
and Hollinshed.

56
BANNOCKBURN.
I walked from Sterling to Bannockburn, for here was an
undisputed landmark in the romantic annals of Scotland.
Bruce encount^ed Edward II. of England in the summer of
1314, and routed him. On this well-preserved grassy meadow
I touched the rock where Bruce set up his standard, and waded
through the marsh in which Edward's soldiers were mired.
Burns has set the battle to music. When I was there, a minstrel
sang the familiar ballad,
" Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,"
accompanying his melodious voice with a harp. The interven
ing centuries melt away before the imagination in such scenes.
THE LAST OF THE STUARTS.
Charles Edward made a gallant stand at Preston Pans in
1745, just below Edinburgh, for the crown of his grandfather.
His Scotch claymores " hewed deep their gory way " into the
ranks of the English, and they fled. But the tide turned against
the young prince the next year. On a bleak ridge near Inver
ness he fought the fatal battle of Culloden in April, 1746. In
spite of his winning manners and indomitable courage, his
cause was ruined. Having again and again declaimed at school
Campbell's '¦' Lochiel ! Lochiel ! beware of the day," I saw Cul
loden on a blustering October afternoon, and almost wished that
the chivalrous Charles Edward had fared better.
At Playford Hall, the residence of Thomas Clarkson, the
conversation turned upon the Stuarts. " The four Stuarts,"
said the companion of Granville Sharp and William Wilber-
force, " were a bad lot." Then, as if in parenthesis, he added,
" And so were the four Georges." Time will never reverse this
verdict.
DANIEL O'CONNELL.
When in London, Mr. O'Connell invited me to Dublin, and
laughingly said he would induct me into the mysteries of his
agitation for the repeal of the union between England and Ire
land. His son John, then in the Commons, presided at- our
Anti-Slavery assembly in Dublin. He was a faint copy of his
sire. The father gave me a special ticket to a Repeal meeting

57
He delivered an elaborate address of two hours' length, intended,
as he said, to inform me of the ends he had in view.
Mr. O'Connell was foremost among the eloquent public
speakers of his era. John Randolph said he was the greatest
orator he heard in Europe. He won the title of " Liberator of
Ireland." In the address I have referred to, he said that no
political reform was worth the shedding of one drop of blood.
His repeal agitation brought him to prison, and came to naught.
Though something of a demagogue, he was the friend of man
irrespective of clime, color, creed, or condition. Wherever
humanity sank under the blow of the tyrant, there were found
the genial heart and clarion voice of Daniel O'Connell sympa
thizing with the fallen and rebuking the oppressor.
Ireland is supposed to desire national independence. Within
the last half century it has tried Daniel O'Connell and agita
tion, Smith O'Brien and bloodshed, Charles Parnell and threat
ening, O'Donovan Rossa and dynamite, but the union with Eng
land is still unrepealed.
Will Ireland ever become really free and independent till it
ceases to wear any man's collar ? In the elections of 1885, the
Anti-British party permitted Charles Stewart Parnell to nominate
Irrevocably every one of its candidates for Parliament. Is this
" Home Rule '' ? It certainly is not Self-'Rvde. If the Parnell-
ites believe what they say, and are in earnest, let them study the
American Declaration of Independence.
I MUST HALT.
Other scenes rise before me, but I must stop and hie to Amer
ica. It would be pleasant to sketch a visit to Boston, where Wil
liam Brewster, my Puritan ancestor, was long imprisoned for
non-conformity ; and to the gloomy gaol at Bedford, where John
Bunyan wrote the Pilgrim's Progress ; but there is no space for
them. Nor is there for descriptions of other famous places I
saw, as, for example, Fledden Field, immortalized by Scott in
Marmion ; and the site of the Rye House, whose plot sent
Algernon Sydney and William Russell to the scaffold ; and
Moor Park, where William III. was wont to consult Temple,
and where Swift captivated and ruined " Stella ; " and Blen
heim Castle, whose stately halls saw tears of dotage flow from
Marlborough's eyes ; and Daylesford, rebuilt by Warren Hast
ings, and to which he retreated when pursued by Burke, Fox,

68
and Sheridan, in the great impeachment trial ; and also other
similar landmarks.
AT HOME AGAIN IN 1841.
On my return from Europe I completed my law studies, and,
in 1842, went into practice at Boston. But I still performed
much work in the Anti-Slavery cause, both on the platform and
in the press.
To make way for other matters, I shall say little of my labors
in this field, except to refer, out of order, to a mob or two.
MOB IN NORWICH, CONN.
In 1845, I went to Norwich to delivery an Anti-Slavfery
address in the Town Llall. The Hall was stoned, and all the
windows broken, and we adjourned until evening. In the inter
mission, three-inch planks were spiked on the inside of the win
dow near which I had to stand, to shield me from the missiles of
the mob. And this in my native county ! In that same Town
Hall I addressed a crowded meeting in the Fremont canvass —
a meeting presided over by Mr. Buckingham, subsequently
Governor and Senator — and I was introduced to the audience
by Governor Cleveland. I remembered the mob, and freed my
mind for two hours. A throng came over from Griswold and
Preston, and I received enthusiastic plaudits instead of whiz
zing brick-bats.
VERMONT.
In remote days it was fashionable for everybody to read the
Waverley novels. An English gentleman, who had long been in
foreign 'countries, returned home. Wherever he went, he was
pointed out as the man who had not read the Waverley novels.
He liked the distinction so well that he resolutely abstained
from those fascinating volumes. By a queer sort of analogy,
this reminds me of the course of Vermont during the mob
epoch, where I delivered from time to time some Anti-Slavery
addresses. I was mobbed in every State from Indiana to Maine,
except Vermont. I never heard of an Anti-Slavery mob within
its borders. The land of Stark abstained from that fascinating
practice. I shall say no more about mobs, though I "assisted" at a
few after the one in Norwich.

59 , •
LAW AND LAWYERS— COURTS AND CASES.
In disposing of these subjects at one sitting, I shall illus
trate the rule that adherence to the order of topics is more
important than regard for the order of time. Beginning at
Boston, I will describe one of its greatest lawyers.
JEREMIAH MASON.
While I dwelt in Boston, Jeremiah Mason was one of its
greatest lawyers. For half a century he was a commanding
figure at the New England Bar. Born and educated in my
native county, he spent his best years in New Hampshire,
whence he removed to Boston in 1832. I recall his tall form,
six feet seven inches high, as he passed along the streets, or
towered above his brethren in the courts. I heard him once
before the full bench. Deliberate, methodical, luminous, com
pact, with little rhetoric and few gestures, his argument was a
masterly performance of steel-linked logic.
Daniel Webster in his autobiography, written in 1838, gives
a graphic sketch of his great rival. I quote a paragraph : " For
the nine years I lived in Portsmouth, Mr. Mason and myself, in
the counties where we practised, were on opposite sides of each
case pretty much as a matter of course. ... If there be
in this country a stronger intellect, if there be a mind of more
native resources, if there be a vision that sees quicker or sees
deeper into whatever is intricate or whatsoever is profound, I
confess I have not known it. I have not written this paragraph
without considering what it implies. I look to that individual
who, if it belong to anybody, is entitled to be an exception.
But I deliberately let the judgment stand." The individual
referred to was Chief Justice Marshall. This opinion of Mason
was recorded after Webster had been thirty-four years at the
Bar, and twenty years in Congress.
One of Mr. Mason's latest and greatest achievements while
in Boston was his successful defence, under the most adverse
circumstances, at Newport, Rhode Island, of the Reverend
Ephraim K. Avery, on an indictment for the killing of his mis
tress, a Miss Cornell, while trying to produce an abortion by
his own unskilled hand. The trial was replete with dramatic
incidents, and famous in its day. Mr. Mason cleared another
sort of prisoner by quite a different method. After he had
become distinguished in New Hampshire, he went into a rural

60
county to try a civil suit. A pompous little judge was on the
bench. He assigned Mason to defend a negro on an indictment
for petty larceny. With surprise, tinged with indignation, '
Mason declined the task. " Sir, you must obey the order of the
Court," said the little judge. " All you need do is to take your
client into the adjoining room, and give him the best advice you
can." This struck Mason in a funny light, and he arose, beck
oned to the negro, and stalked into an empty room with his
" client " at his heels. " Are you guilty ? " asked Mason. " Yes,
sir," responded the negro. " Can they prove it ? " " Yes, sir;
all the witnesses are here." Mason put his head out of the
open window, and said, " It is about fifteen feet to the ground.
Do you see those woods?" The negro leaped, and Mason
returned into the Court. By and by the case was called, but
the negro did not respond. " Where is your client ? " asked the
little judge. " I do not know," replied Mason. ''Your Honor
directed me to give him the best advice I could, and the last I
saw of him he was running for those woods over there." Every
body laughed except the little judge, and the curtain fell on the
seene. The acquittal of Avery by Mr. Mason, the conviction ofthe
Knapps by Mr. Webster for the murder of Joseph White, and
the acquittal of Albert J. Tirrill by Rufus Choate for the mur
der of Maria Bickford, were the greatest triumphs in criminal
cases ever won by Boston lawyers.
It was a rare privilege to listen, as I did, to Mr. Webster's
eulogium on Joseph Story and Jeremiah Mason when announc
ing their death before the Bench and Bar of Boston.
NOVEL CASES.
I will refer to two or three law cases wherein I was engaged
which involved novel points.
In 1844-'45, William Wilbar kept a large wholesale and retail
liquor store in Taunton, Mass. Benjamin Williams printed a
lively temperance newspaper in that town. Under the simili
tude of " A Dream " he published a scathing article about
Wilbar's store. The dream painted the establishment in the
most appalling colors. The devil, fire and brimstone, liquid
death and distilled damnation figured conspicuously in the lurid
sketch. Wilbar sued Williams for libel, laying his damages at
several thousand dollars. Williams retained me as his counsel;

61
The plaintiff was selling liquor without a license. I set up in
defence that the publication was an allegory, and not to be con
strued literally, and that, so far as it confined its pictorials to
Wilbar's business of liquor selling, he could not recover because,
as he had no license, he was himself violating the law, and
therefore had no standing in Court. The case was tried in
the Supreme Court before Judge Hubbard and a jury. After a
close contest of three or four days, the Court ruled with me on
the law, and my client got a verdict. The ease was reported,
and several thousand copies of the trial were sold.
The next year I appeared for the defendant in a criminal
prosecution for a similar libel, at New London, Conn. It
bristled with difficult points, but I got a verdict for my client.
The prosecution was ably conducted by District-Attorney
John T. Wait, the present distinguished representative in Con
gress, and LaFayette S. Foster, afterward United States Sena
tor, both of Norwich.
I could find no reported case in this country or England that
covered the precise ground in controversy at Taunton and New
London.
RUFUS CHOATE AND ANOTHER CASE.
George Daniels, a slippery shoe manufacturer, had for a year
or more been in the habit of making notes payable to the order
of Alfred Daniels, his wealthy brother, and then forging Alfred's
name on the back of the notes, and passing them in Boston.
George absconded, leaving notes to the amount of some $20,000
unpaid in the hands of his victims. I brought suit against
Alfred Daniels in a single action on all these notes, simply
declaring against him as endorser in the usual form. Rufus
Choate was counsel with me. The defence was conducted by
Charles G. Loring and Benjamin R. Curtis. The latter was
subsequently appointed a Justice of the Supreme Court of the
United States. We tried our case before Justice Wilde and a
jury at Boston. We proved that from time to time some of the
notes in suit and others just like them had been presented to
Alfred Daniels, and he was asked if they were " all right," and
that his replies were either evasive or that the notes would prob
ably be looked after when they became due. We took the ground
that if Alfred Daniels' name was forged, and he knew it, and
our clients did not, Alfred should then and there have exposed

62
the forgery, and that from his failure to do this the jury might
infer that Alfred had made George his agent for passing such
notes. We could find no case in the books like the one at Bar.
But Judge Wilde ruled for us. It had devolved on me to put
in the testimony, during the contest of four days. Mr. Choate
argued the case to the jury with his usual power and splendor.
The jury gave the plaintiffs a verdict.
THE BOSTON BENCH AND BAR.
At the time of which I am speaking, the Bench and Bar at
Boston were exceptionally distinguished. Joseph Story was in
the zenith of his fame ; Judge Sprague, of the United States
District Court, who won a high reputation as Senator in Con
gress, was his worthy associate. Chief Justice Shaw, of the
State Supreme Court, was one of the ablest lawyers in New
England. The leader of the Bar was of course Mr. Webster.
But viewed in some lights, the most brilliant figure was Rufus
Choate. He was appreciated by the four great men just men
tioned, and was the admiration of his junior brethern of the
profession, who were accustomed to pack the courts to witness
his wonderful displays of logic, learning, and eloquence. What
spectator that beheld him on these occasions could ever forget
that tall figure, that sallow complexion, that piercing dark eye,
those black locks, which hung in curls over an expansive fore
head, those dramatic gestures that gave point and emphasis to
pungent sentences, that majestic tread, which shook the room
till the windows shivered, that voice whose notes now swelled
like a trumpet and anon sank into a wail as if a gentle breeze
were sighing in the tree tops, and all this without the slightest
aff'ectation, and with a clearness of vision that saw the pinch of
his case, and a sincerity of manner which proved that victory,
and not display, was the end he kept steadily in view ? Mr.
Choate argued a case in the Supreme Court at Washington. A
distinguished Southern Senator heard him, and speaking to Mr.
Webster the next day said : " I listened to your Mr. Choate
yesterday. He is an extraordinary man." " An extraordinary
man ? " replied Webster. " Sir, he is a marvel."
Like Edmund Burke, whom he studied and admired, Mr.
Choate drove " a substantive and six." Judge Shaw was a man
of few words. He looked like a rough fragment of the feudal
system. Short, thick, with a head covered with coarse, frowsly

63
hair, ,which appeared never to have been combed, he had a habit
of resting his elbows while in court on the shelf before him, and
holding up his chin by his hands, and glaring at counsel through
spectacles trimmed with tortoise shell instead of silver or gold.
A rather striking resemblance to a grizzly bear sitting on his
haunches. But his head was clear as sunshine, and his rhetoric
a model in style, though his growling voice made the short
opinions he delivered on side issues during the trial of a cause
seem like nectar gurgling from a tar barrel. The Old Chief, as
he was familiarly called, had a gentle heart, and there was a
soft place in it for Choate, of whom he was really proud, though
apt to jerk him up with a short rein when too wordy. One
afternoon I stepped into court when Choate was flashing his
lightnings around the Chief Justice, who kept interrupting him.
Walking with Mr. Choate to our lodgings an hour later, I
remarked that the Old Chief was unusually restive and annoy
ing during his argument. "Yes," said Choate, "he is an old
barbarian ! " Then taking a few long strides, he added in
slow, solemn style, " But life, liberty, and property are safe in
his hands.'' He was arguing on another occasion a novel point
of law before the full bench. He was on the crest of the
wave. He expressed his gratification at the opportunity of
discussing this new question at the bar of a tribunal whose
reputation for learning and integrity had long since overfiowed
the boundaries of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and
reached the uttermost .limits of the Union. The Old Chief
broke in : " Mr. Choate, do you present that as a serious
argument to this Court ? " " Oh, no, your Honor," replied
Choate, in his humorous style, "it was only a rhetorical flour
ish." Then stooping down, he said to his associate in a tone
loud enough to be heard all around, " The Chief Justice is an
urbane gentleman. It is a pity he don't know any law.'' But
there is no end to stories of this sort about Mr. Choate, and I
forbear. It has been my fortune to hear many of the foremost lawyers
in this country and in Great Britain. As an advocate before a
jury, especially in a difficult case, I never saw the superior of
Rufus Choate.
The habits of such consummate orators are worthy of study.
Immediately before he was to address ^ jury, Mr. Choate would
step across the street to the Boston Delmonico's,and drink two or
three strong, piping-hot cups of coffee. A jug of smoking hot

64
water would stand by his side in the court room. The coffee
stimulated the brain. Sips of the water kept up the stimulus,
and lubricated the throat. And now came the cylone. The man
knows little about physiology who resorts to brandy before
making a speech, and imbibes cold water during its delivery.
The interval between Mason and Choate was very wide.
The happy mean was hit by Mr. Webster when addressing
either the judge or the jury.
A PATENT SUIT.
I have said that my early acquaintance with machinery
aided me in the trial of patent suits. About 1847, one Hovey
and one Stevens, of Massachusetts, were rival manufacturers of
a machine for cutting straw by spiral blades or knives. The
knives revolved on their axis, and the straw passed between
them and a cylinder. The knives had to be ground so that
when in motion they would describe a perfect circle. There
was no patent on the straw cutter, but Hovey had obtained a
patent for a machine for grinding the knives. Impelled by
sharp competition, Stevens " pirated " Hovey 's grinding
machine. He sued Stevens, who applied to me to defend
him. There was no escape from heavy damages except to
invalidate Hovey's patent by showing that he was not the first
inventor of the grinding machine. 1 remembered that thirty-
three years before, in my father's woollen factory at Jewett City,
they sheared broadcloth with spiral knives or blades that
operated like those in the straw cutter, and I inferred that there
must have been a machine for grinding them. I sent Stevens
to Jewett City, where he learned that^such a machine was for
merly used there, but some twenty years ago it had been bought
by two men and taken to a factory at Hoosick Falls, New York.
I sent Stevens there, where he found the two men, wh© hunted
up in an outbuilding the dilapidated and abandoned grinding
machine, with the dried grit of the stone still adhering to it. It
was exactly like Hovey's alleged invention. Stevens brought
the antique to Boston, and at the trial the two men appeared as
witnesses. Under appropriate pleadings the old machine cut a
great figure in the contest. The counsel for the plaintiff were
Benjamin F. Hallet and Charles Sumner. The defence was
conducted by me and Horace E. Smith. Of course, we whipped
them out of their boots.

65
Mr. Smith was for some time my partner. For several years
past he has been the accomplished Dean of the Albany Law
School. Joel Prentiss Bishop, of Boston, the widely known
author of valuable treatises on the law, was admitted to the
Bar while a student in my office. He was at home in a library
full of rare old law books.
THE NEW YORK BENCH AND BAR.
I have always felt at home with the judges and lawyers of
the State of New York, for it was with them that I first began
to be acquainted nearly sixty years ago.
The old Supreme Court, the Court of Errors, and the Court
of Appeals, in the opinions pronounced by Kent, Spencer,
Thompson, Nelson, Cowen, Sutherland, Bronson, Denio, and
their associates, illuminated all branches of the law in a style
worthy of the best efforts of Mansfield and Marshall. The
decisions of the courts of New York have, from the first volume
of Johnson downward, held superior rank in the judicial tribu-
« nals of the Union, and have been quoted with approbation at
London, Paris, and Berlin. In 1814, James Kent, the new
Chancellor, took his seat in one of the small rooms of the
Capitol. Throwing its doors wide open, he caused the proceed
ings of the Court to be regularly reported, and thus poured a
flood of light along the track of equity jurisprudence in this
country. It would be in vain to attempt to give the names of
the great lawyers of New York who have aided the Bench in
erecting its judicial system on solid foundations. The Bench, of
course, has been selected from the Bar. Besides this, the pro
fession in New York has furnished one Chief Justice and five
Associate Justices in the Supreme Court of the United States,
and five Attorney-Generals. JARNDYCE VS. JARNDYCE.
After I removed from Boston to Seneca Falls, in 1847, I
became associated in the famous suit of the Burden Company
against the Corning Company of Troy and Albany, brought for
an alleged violation of the patent of the former by the latter for
the manufacture of hook-headed spikes used for fastening T
rails to ties on railroad tracks. The case had been carried on
appeal to the Supreme Court at Washington, which had given

a decision in favor of the plaintiffs, and had issued the usual
oirder to the Circuit Court in New York to enter final judgment
for the plaintiffs, and then send it to a Master to take an account
of the damages and fix the amount thereof. Lawyers will
understand this line of proceedings.
EX-CHANCELLOR WALWORTH.
The case had been a long time reaching this point. Samuel
Stevens, my associate, was leading counsel for the plaintiffs, and
Governor Seward for the defendants, with whom was Samuel
Blatchfbrd. We tried in vain for a good while to agree upon
some one to take the account. Judge Samuel Nelson, of the
Supreme Court, finally referred the matter to ex-Chancellor
Walworth. And now commenced a series of interminable
delays, which threw Jarndyce vs. Jarndyce of Bleak House fame
quite into the shade. Burden, an ardent man, believed the
proceedings would be closed in three months, and that, as the
defendants had made an enormous amount of spikes, the plain
tiffs would be awarded at least $250,000 damages. Alas!,,
Burden had not carefully studied Jarndyce or Walworth.
The case went on, it stood still, it went on, it stood still, till
all the original counsel were frozen out of it or had died. But
the tough ex-Chancellor, who was drawing heavy fees as he went
along, was like Jefferson's Federalist office-holders — he neither
died nor resigned. And so the years rolled away till the
constantly accumulating testimony reached tens of thousands
of folios, and being put in print from time to time filled many
great volumes. Au incident or two will illustrate the mode
of taking evidence. The ex-Chancellor held the reference in
his office at Saratoga, where all the witnesses appeared. One
witness came from Troy, and was sworn. At Saratoga he
became acqtiainted with a young lady, married her, and was
a father before he left the stand. Another witness was sworn.
Burden saw him well under way, and then sailed for Europe
to take out certain patents in foreign countries. He travelled
extensively for this purpose in Great Britain and on the
Continent, and after an absence of several months he returned
and found the same witness still testifying. These facts will
serve as specimens.
After wasting years on the case, Walworth decided that the
plaintiffs were not entitled to recover any damages whatever.

67
An appeal was taken from this decision, and what then became
of the matter I do not know.
Walworth for nineteen years occupied the seat which James
Kent had adorned. He was a nightmare on the jurisprudence
of New York. One of the moving causes for the adoption of
the Constitution of 1846 was to rid the State of the Court of
Chancery and of Reuben tlyde Walworth as Chancellor.
Clients of mine erected for the Federal Government at
Buffalo and Oswego buildings for post offices, custom houses,
and other purposes. In 1855-'56, 1 brought suit for damages
in the Court of Claims for violation of our contracts. The
Government fought desperately, and the conflict was long and
weary. The Court awarded my clients $36,000. I took the
case to Congress, which increased the award to about $80,000.
This was the only case in which Congress ever increased an
award of that Court. The amount we obtained was fair and
just. My success in Congress was mainly owing to Rueben E.
Fenton and William S. Holman.
ELISHA WILLIAMS.
Columbia county was the birthplace of four distinguished
lawyers — ;Elisha Williams, Daniel Cady, William W. Van Ness,
and Martin Van Buren. I listened to them all except Judge Van
Ness, who had a great reputation for a peculiar style of attract
ive eloquence, though Williams was his superior before a jury.
This scene was described to me by Mr. Cady, but so long ago
that it has somewhat faded in my memory. He was junior
counsel with Williams, who led for the plaintiff in a trial
which involved a large tract of land. The plaintiff's recovery
depended on sustaining the correctness of a line run by two
surveyors, just after the Revolutionary war, in which they had
won honor as officers. At the time of the trial they had been
dead about twenty years, but their memory was revered in the
counties along the Hudson.
In addressing the jury, the defendant's counsel vehemently
denounced the two officers, attacking at great length their
capacity as surveyors and their characters as men. And now
came Williams's turn to reply. The court room was so densely
packed, especially near the door, that the audience reached
down the stairs into the street. Williams vindicated the two
surveyors and scathed their traducer in glowing terms, or, as

68
Mr. Cady called it, in " thunder-clap eloquence." He referred
to their unblemished reputation, their services in the struggle
for Independence, and described their personal appearance and
the military uniform they had worn in the field. He wished
they could be there, and take the stand, and confound their
assailant. The audience had been wrought up to the highest
pitch, when Williams, assuming a slow, solemn air, said, amid
breathless silence : "The imposing figures of the revered patriots
rise before me ; I feel the approach of their awful presence."
Lowering his voice and bowing his head as if listening, he con
tinued, " I hear their footsteps on the stairs. They will take
the witness box and speak for themselves." Then suddenly turn
ing toward the stairs, and waving his hand, he exclaimed in a
thrilling tone, " Make way for them ! They come ! They
come ! " The crowd around the door opened to the right and
left, and the twelve jurors rose and stood on tiptoe to see two
men enter the court room who had been in their graves twenty
years.
THE NEW YORK TIMES.
On the first of January, 1855, Daniel Cady resigned from the
Bench of the Supreme Court. Lieut.-Gov. Henry J. Raymond,
editor of the New York Times, asked me to write him an article
on the subject. I complied with his wishes. This hastily pre
pared production duly appeared in the Times, and, much to my
surprise, it subsequently occupied twelve pages in the appendix
to the eighteenth volume of Barbour's Reports ofthe New York
Supreme Court, where it was given the rather high-sounding
title of " A Part of the History of the Bar and Bench of New
York." This is a good place to slip in an anecdote of Henry J. Ray
mond. He was a lively companion, and told a story well. In a
familiar conversation at a dinner table in Washington, he was
asked why it was that Mr. Greeley called him " The little villain
of the Times f " Oh," replied Raymond, " that is to distin
guish me from the big villain ofthe Tribune.^""
COMMODORE VANDERBILT.
In the summer of 1838 or '39, I took passage at New York
on a Vanderbilt steamboat plying through Long Island Sound.
A Southern gentleman with a colored chattel and a large trunk

'69
in his train violated the rules by putting the trunk in his state
room. Soon after passing Hurl Gate, the deckmaster pulled the
trunk out. 4- scuffle ensued, and the Southerner seized the
deckmaster by the collar, the negro lowering darkly in a corner
as a reserved corps. A crowd of passengers were spectators of
this sharp tussle, in which the Vanderbilt forces were getting
worsted. Suddenly a well-knit man dashed into the ring with
a battle-cry that sounded exactly like swearing. In an instant
his coat was off and his fists doubled. Just at this point the
colored contingent wheeled into line. The new-comer dealt a
blow that set the chattel to spinning, and then moved at double
quick on the Southerner's works. The affair was rapidly
approaching the precincts of a rough and tumble fight between
the four combatants, when the passengers intervened, and pro
posed an adjournment. The motion was carried. The trunk
remained outside the state-room, and the other chattel retired
to repair his nose. This was the first time I ever saw Captain
Cornelius Vanderbilt.
About forty years after this, I was retained to collect for a
client a just debt of $10,000 from Cornelius Jeremiah Vander
bilt, a son of the Commodore, which had somehow become
mixed in the contest over the Commodore's estate. Patient
negotiations having failed to secure a settlement, I brought suit
against C. J. Vanderbilt to recover the debt. The summons
was served in the morning, and in the evening of the same day
he blew his brains out. Poor Cornelius ! He had generous
qualities, and in mien and manners was a closer copy of his
father than were any of the other children.
The effort to collect this debt brought me unwillingly into
the possession of a mass of so-called facts concerning the
famous controversy about the Commodore's will, some of which
were true and some of which were false. They abounded in the
dramatic, and contained materials for more than one tragedy,
comedy, and novel. I shall not soil these pages with any of this
scandalous matter. The family fight of these coarse-grained
people over the old Commodore's dead body was one of the most
unsavory in the annals of American litigation. Four of the
conspicuous characters in that conflict have since gone to '
¦that undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller
returns. It required all the learning, skill, and forbearance of
Mr. Surrogate Calvin to hold the scales of justice with an even
hand among the fierce combatants.

70
JOHN P. HALE.
Having finished with the law, we will return to New England.
One of the boldest ofthe early blows against the slave power
from a public man was struck by John P. Hale in New Hamp
shire in 1844. He was in Congress, and was the regular Dem
ocratic candidate for re-election. The pending issue was the
annexation of Texas. First in a pungent letter, and then in a
powerful speech, he declared against annexation. The leaders
of the Democracy rose upon him, and the State was soon all
afiame. I went up from Boston to help the robust rebel.
After a long struggle Hale was defeated for Congress, but
Dover sent him to the Legislature, and his services in the Free
Soil cause were soon rewarded by his election to the United
States Senate.
Hale was a novice in Anti-Slavery literature, and I assisted
in preparing two or three of his early Free Soil speeches in the
Senate. He was indolent, a brilliant declaimer, but an indiffer
ent reasoner. Surrounded by foes, it was his proverbial jollity
that protected him from assault. He bubbled over with wit
and humor. I entered his room at Washington one hot evening,
where an inextinguishable coal fire, fed by a stupid servant, had
run the thermometer up to about 100 degrees. He was stripped
to his skin ; the perspiration was dripping from his chin ; a
great pile of documents was before him, which he was indus
triously franking. Putting out his hand, he said, " This is the
penalty paid for greatness."
He told me this fact, which illustrates a peculiarity of that
extraordinary man, Theodore Parker. In a trial in the Federal
Court at Boston which grew out of the famous attempt to
rescue by force a fugitive slave from the clutches of the law,
Hale was counsel for Mr. Parker, and for two weeks his guest.
Twice each day he had baked fish served (with no meat), because
this diet furnished, as he said, phosphorus for the brain. It was
Parker's ordinary custom to have baked fish only once daily, but
to meet the strain ofthe trial, Hale, who hated fish in any form,
was required to lay in a supply of phosphorus at every breakfast
.and dinner while the legal conflict lasted.
WEBSTER AND THE "CONSCIENCE WHIGS."
The Whig State Convention of Massachusetts met in the
fill of 1846, at Faneuil Hall. It was during the Mexican war.

71
The Whig party in that State had long been seconding the
Presidential aspirations of Mr. Webster. An element known
as " Conscience Whigs '' elected several delegates to the con
vention, among whom were Stephen C. Phillips, Horace Mann,
Charles Allen, and Charles Francis Adams, all good debaters
and full of courage. They offered resolutions about the war and
slavery that did not run in the Websterian grooves. In the
afternoon the discussion waxed warm, and the revolting faction
(the counterpart of the New York Barnburners) were getting
the best of it in their encounter with the Conservatives. Charles
Francis Adams (I think it was) was on the platform, throwing
out short, pungent sentences that flew like arrows through the
hall. I was a close observer of the scene from the gallery, which
looked down upon the rostrum, but had not noticed that two
prominent Whig leaders had left an hour before. The conven
tion sat with its back to the great door of the hall, around which
was a crowd of spectators. While Adams was speaking, a clap
ping of hands suddenly broke out near the door, and instantly
there emerged from the excited throng the grand form of
Webster leaning on the arms of Abbott Lawrence and Robert
C. Winthrop. A shout of " Webster ! " went up from the floor,
and three cheers bounded to the roof. The two messengers
found the Great Expounder (so it was reported) at dinner. His
cheek was a little flushed. Adams subsided, and Webster
ascended the platform. His first sentence was, " I like to meet
the Whigs of Massachusetts in State Convention assembled,
because their proceedings always breathe the spirit of Liberty."
He hesitated a second or two before pronouncing the word
" liberty," but when it came out it seemed to weigh ten pounds.
It was a shot right between wind and water. He spoke briefly,
closing substantially as follows : " In the dark and troubled
night that surrounds us, I see no light by which to guide our
course except in the united action of the united Whig party of
the United States."
The resolutions of the Conscience Whigs were laid on the
table ; but in due time the recoil came, and six years later Daniel
Webster turned his face to the wall at Marshfield, and died,
because he could not obtain a nomination to the Presidency,
while these Whigs marched onward with the procession that
ultimately saved the Union and destroyed slavery.

CRITTENDEN ON CLAY AND WEBSTER.
A dozen years or more after this event in Faneuil Hall, I
happened to be one of a dinner party in Washington where
John J. Crittenden and Thomas Corwin were the shining lights.
The conversation turned on Clay and Webster, both of whom
were then in their graves. Mr. Crittenden said : " We all {i. e.,
the Clay Whigs) desired to see Clay and Webster elected to the
Presidency, and we felt that to accomplish this object it was
necessary that Mr. Clay should come first, but we were never
able to make Webster and his personal friends see this, and
therefore neither of them won the prize." The following anec
dote was vouched for by competent authority. In the stormy
days of John Tyler, while Webster was his Secretary of State,
and Ruf\is Choate was in the Senate, and Congress was in extra
session in the fall of 1841, the question of chartering a United
States bank was shaking the country. Mr. Clay, as chairman
of the Finance Committee in the Senate, was pressing the meas
ure, and Tyler was resisting it. A conference of leading Whig
Senators was held. Clay, with lofty mien, was for waging
relentless war on the accidental President, who had stepped into
the White House over the dead body of Gen. Harrison. Choate
again and again told what Webster thought ought to be done.
Clay was restive, and exclaimed, "Who cares a damn about
what Webster thinks ? " In 1844, Clay was the Whig candidate
for President. The tariff and the annexation of Texas, wherein
he had conspicuously figured, were the leading issues of the
canvass. On a memorable occasion in the campaign, Webster
made an elaborate speech, but never once mentioned Clay's
name. It must have severely taxed his ingenuity to avoid it.
These probably are fair illustrations of the relations in which
these eminent statesmen stood toward each other during the
last ten years of their lives.
HENRY CLAY.
I went to Washington in February, 1848, to attend to busi
ness in the Supreme Court. I heard Mr. Clay argue a case.
For two hours his sonorous voice pealed through the corridors,
and delighted a great throng. Mrs, James Madison sat by his
side. The venerable lady was as proud of the orator as she was
thirty-six years before, when he championed the administratipn

of her eminent husband in Congress during the war with
England. The first time I saw Mr. Clay was in the Senate in the win
ter of 1838, when he spoke a few minutes. His manner was
easy and graceful,,but imperious and commanding. The Senate
then shone with exceptional lustre. In the front rank towered
the giants, Clay, Webster, Calhoun, Benton, Buchanan, and
Wright. Next to them stood such statesmen and orators as
Crittenden, Southard, Tallmadge, Rives, Preston, and Clayton.
Even distinguished men like King of Alabama, Frank Pierce,
Grundy, Robert J. Walker, Allen of Ohio, and Hugh L. White
felt honored by being assigned to the third class. , The conflict
between rechartering the United States Bank and establishing
the Sub-Treasury was then at its height, and Clay and Webster
predicted a revolution if the latter prevailed over the former-
But these eminent men lived years after the marble building
in Philadelphia, where the Bank so long kept watch and ward,
was quietly converted into a Sub-Treasury. If the ghost of Nick
Biddle ever revisits the glimpses of the moon, it must have been
shocked as it glided up Chestnut street, and saw " the base
uses" to which the fine old Grecian edifice was put.
In the summer of 1839, I heard Mr. Clay deliver an
elaborate speech on the Bank and Sub-Treasury question from
an open barouche, at the steps of the New York City Hall.
He had been conducted by a long cavalcade of horsemen from
the banks of the Hudson, and he was now surrounded by an
immense concourse. I stood at the junction of Broadway and
Park Row. His voice rang out so loud and clear that his
words were distinctly reverberated from the wall of the Astor
House. He was then putting in his bid for the next Presi
dential nomination. But, though their greatest leader, the
Whigfe declined to run him in the campaigns of 1840 and
then in 1848, when he cpuld certainly have been successful.
Soon after the disastrous contest of 1844, in a short, humorous
speech he accounted for his failure. He said some of his
opponents were like those of Doctor Fell :
" 1 do not like you, Doctor Fell,
The reason why,I cannot tell ;
But this alone I know full well —
I do not like you, Doctor Pell."
He was looking forward to a nomination in 1848. 1
watched him with interest as he lingered in the Senate Cham-

71
her and Supreme Court lobby, surrounded by admirers over
whom the sway of his personal magnetism was as irresistible
as that of Napoleon over his Old Guard.
One summer evening in 1852, I arrived at the Delavan
House, in Albany, retired to rest, and was soon fast asleep.
By and by, the strains of martial music fioating on the mid
night air awoke me, and called me to the open window. It
was a band playing the Dead March in Saul at the head of
a procession that had just taken the remains of the great
Kentuckian from a steamer on the Hudson, and was escorting
them to the train that was to bear them to their final resting
place at the West.
RIVALRIES OF POLITICAL LEADERS.
Rivalries of the type displayed by Clay and Webster have
been common among leaders of parties, and have often torn
them in pieces, as, for instance, those of Jackson and Calhoun ;
Van Buren and Cass; Benton and Atchinson ; Marcy and
Wright; Buchanan and Dickinson; Ritchie and Blair; Cass
and Douglas ; John Van Buren and Seymour ; Seward and
Chase ; Weed and Greeley ; Wade and Chase ; Greeley and
Raymond; Dix and Tilden ; Conkling and Fenton ; Hendricks
and McDonald ; Cameron and Grow ; Thurman and Payne ;
Blaine and Conkling.
The glass shows many more. Let no one complain that
his name is omitted. If all were included, the line would
stretch out till the crack of doom.
This class of politicians are wont to make chasms in parties
through which they themselves often drop, and disappear for
ever.
WASHINGTON AND JEFFERSON.
It is natural to desire to see distinguished persons; and next
to seeing the very individuals is the privilege of conversing
with their doubles. Who does not wish that he could behold
two men who look and talk as Jefferson and Washington did ?
I boarded for some months in Boston at the United States Hotel.
Whenever he visited the city, Dr. Samuel B. Woodward, Prin
cipal of the Insane Asylum at Worcester, dined at that hotel.
As he walked erect and majestic through the long room to the

(O

head of the table, every knife and fork rested, and all eyes
centred on him. He received similiar notice when appearing
as an expert witness in the courts. The reason was this :
Young men who saw George Washington after he passed
middle life traced the very close resemblance between him and
Dr. Woodward. Aware of the cause, the Doctor was fiattered
by these attentions. Forty-five years ago, I spent a long eve
ning at Buffalo in the company of Albert H. Tracy, who had
previously been prominent in Congress and the State Senate.
In mien, size, bearing, visage, and conversation, he was the
counterpart of Thomas Jefferson when about the same age.
Mr. Tracy was fully conscious of this likeness between him and
the author of the Declaration of Independence.
ECCENTRICITIES OF SOME ANTI-SLAVERY MEN.
As reformers in all ages when fighting their battles against
desperate odds have been wont to be indiscriminate in their
censures, so was it with the early Abolitionists (especially those
ofthe Boston type). Ultimately the Anti-Slavery men were
divided into two classes, known as the Boston School and the
New York School ; the former very radical, the latter rather
conservative. In a few years the Bostonian platform broad
ened till it covered many evils besides slavery; and in the
opinion of the New York leaders, their brethern of the Tri-
mountain City became somewhat loose in their doctrines and
fanatical in their operations. I pass no judgment upon the
merits of this feud.
I would not disparage Abolitionists of any type. The ultras
of the Bostonian -school were charged with fanaticism in the
stages of the contest previous to the formation of the Republi
can party. One of the last of their conventions that I saw was
in Boston before the war^ There was a representative array on
the front seat, near the platform. First was Garrison, his coun
tenance calling to mind the pictures of the prophet Isaiah in a
rapt mood ; next was the fine Roman head of Wendell Phillips;
at his right was Father Lampson, so-called, a crazyloon— -his hair
and flowing beard as white as the driven snow. Lampson always
dressed in pure white from head to foot, even including the shoes.
He was the inventor of a valuable scythe-snath, and, invariably,
he carried a snath in his hand. His forte was selling his wares
on secular days and disturbing religious meetings on Sundays.

76
Next to Lampson sat Edmund Quincy, high born and wealthy,
one of the best classical scholars that ever graduated from Har
vard, the son of the famous President Quincy. Next to Quincy
was Abigail Folsom, another lunatic, with a shock of unkempt
hair reaching down to her waist. At her right was George W.
Mellen, clad in the military costume of the Revolution, and
fancying himself to be Gen. Washington. Poor Mellen died in
an asylum for the insane. Well, it is no wonder. The terrible
strain put upon the human intellect in those old Anti-Slavery
days turned some light-headed persons' brains. I must add that
high over these motley assemblages rose the inspiring strains of
the celebrated Hutchinson family.
Parker Pillsbury, an Anti-Slavery leader, pungent on the
platform and in the press, with a rich vein of humor in his com
position, laughingly told me that he made a stumping tour in
New Hampshire with Stephen S. Foster, and that pretty much
all his time was consumed in getting Foster bailed out of jail
for intervening in religious meetings in his peculiar style.
Foster would sometimes advance up the aisle during the sermon
and call the minister a wolf in sheep's clothing, whereupon the
deacons would carry him out, Foster emerging from the scuffle
minus one or two of his coat-tails. He thought he was a second
George Fox.
SANFORD E. CHURCH AND GEORGE P. BARKER.
In the fall of 1841, 1 was in Buffalo at a Democratic meeting
addressed by George P. Barker, who had won a reputation for a
a style of oratory like that ascribed to John Van Buren. Tall,
graceful, with a kindling eye and clarion voice, Barker's speech
swept the audience along like an overflowing river. The annexa
tion of Texas was beginning to loom threateningly upon the hori
zon. TheDemocracygenerally were favoring the scheme. Barker
was suspected of unsoundness on this question. A few Whigs
had gone in with the throng. One of them, in the hope of
annoying Barker, who was dashing forward in his usual brilliant
manner, cried out, " Are you in favor of annexing Texas to
strengthen the slave power of the country ?" Turning to his
questioner, but not pausing in his speech. Barker threw in the
reply, as if it were a parenthesis, " All the world for freedom ;
Salt River for the Whigs." This sally silenced the Whig, and
drew cheers from the Democrats.

77
In the following January I was introduced to Sanford E.
Church, then the youngest member of the Assembly of 1842,
where appeared such leaders as John A. Dix, Horatio Seymour,
Michael Hoffman,. Arphaxed Loomis, and Peter B.Porter. I
referred to the scene at Buffalo, and Church said he was going
to make Barker Attorney-General ; and he did, and the worthy
predecessor of John Van Buren he was.
Mr. Church was a member of the Buffalo Convention of
1848. Dean Richmond, James S. Wadsworth, Jaines W. Nye, and
I were taking a lunch, when Church came in, dripping with per
spiration, and said there was a great clamor in the convention,
some calling upon Charles Francis Adams for a speech, and
others shouting for Frederick Douglass. " Nye," said Church,
" it is a contest between a Whig and a negro, and they have
agreed to compromise on you. Will you go over?" This
tickled Nye's fancy, and he went to the tent under which the
convention sat and made one of his witty speeches, that restored
the sweltering assembly to good humor. Mr. Church rose stead
ily in favor When twice Lieutenant-Governor and as Comptrol
ler and Chief Judge of the Court of Appeals. He was not a
genius, knew little of general literature, but brimmed all over
with sagacity and common sense.
VAN BUREN AND POLK.
Mr. Van Buren having been beaten in 1840 on the Sub-
Treasury and cognate issues, the great body of the Democrats
believed that he ought to be renominated in 1844. He had a
large majority of the delegates in the National Convention of
the latter year; but an intrigue, in which Gen. Cass was the
central figure, sprung on him the two-thirds rule, and defeated his
nomination. To prevent Cass or any of the other intriguers from
getting it, the friends of Van Buren (who had previously con
ferred with James K. Polk about putting him on the ticket for
Vice-President) now changed front in the convention, and nom
inated Polk for President. He owed his candidacy to the Barn
burners, and expressed gratitude to them for it. To enable him
to carry New York. at the election, Silas Wright, then a leader in
the Senate, consented to run for Governor. The prize having
been won, and Henry Clay beaten by the loss of New York,
Polk now turned traitor to the men who had made him Presi
dent. Wright having been chosen Governor was out of the

question for a seat in the Cabinet, but Polk hypocritically
offered him the Treasury. Wright declined it, and, with the
concurrence of Mr. Van Buren and all the leading Barnburners,
proposed that the representative of New York be either Benja
min F. Butler for the State Department or Azariah C. Flagg
for the Treasury. Polk whiffled, equivocated, fell into the
hands of the Hunkers, and spurned the recommendation of those
who had lifted him from obscurity into the Presidency. The
Barnburners " nursed their wrath to keep it warm," and in 1848
emptied the vials on the head of Gen. Cass, the Hunker candi
date for President, and opened the breach in the party that was
never closed till slavery was overthrown.
DEATH OF J. Q. ADAMS.
In the chilly morning of February 21, 1848, I met Mr.
Adams by the fire-place in the rear of the Speaker's chair in the
House of Representatives. He had walked, as was his wont, to
the Capitol. As he shook my hand, he trembled with cold. He
took his usual seat. Some fulsome resolutions eulogizing Gen.
Taylor, who was looming as a possible Presidential candidate,
were the first business. They created an uproar. Forty mem
bers were shouting to the Speaker. Mr. Winthrop was
vigorously plying his gavel. My eye fell upon Mr. Adams.
His hand was nervously creeping up his desk as if he were
trying to rise. I thought he was about to take part in the din
that filled the Hall. But instantly I saw the pallor of death on
his cheek. His hand dropped by his side, and he slowly
inclined over the arm of his chair. I spoke to Washington
Hunt, a member: "Look to Mr. Adams, he is falling in his
chair." He rushed toward him. A call for help arrested the
attention of the House. It became silent as the grave. The
aged patriot was borne to the Speaker's room, never to leave it
alive. Sage of Quincy ! He had fought a good fight for the
liberty of the Press, Freedom of Speech, and the Right of
Petition. He fell in the plenitude of his fame, on the theatre
of his grandest achievements, with the roar of battle sounding
in his valiant ear.
THE BARNBURNER REVOLT OF 1847-'48.
In the fall of 1847, I was a spectator at the Democratic
State Convention of that year, held in Syracuse. The conven-

79
tion tore itself asunder in a desperate struggle over the
renomination of Azariah C. Flagg as Comptroller, the defeat
of Martin Van Buren at the Baltimore Convention of 1844, the
assassination of Silas Wright when running for Governor the
second time in 1846, and the attempt to incorporate the Wilmot
Proviso into the platform of the party. The great chiefs of both
factions were on the ground, and never was there a more fierce,
bitter, and relentless confiict between the Narragansetts and the
Pequods than this memorable contest between the Barnburners
and the Hunkers. Mr. Wright was the idol of the Barnburners.
He had died that summer. James S. Wadsworth voiced the sen-
, timents of his followers. In the Convention some one spoke of
doing justice to Silas Wright. A Hunker sneeringly responded,
"It is too late; he is dead." Springing upon a table. Wad s»
worth made the hall ring as he uttered the defiant reply :
" Though it may be too late to do justice to Silas Wright, it is
not too late to do justice to his assassins." The Hunkers laid
the Wilmot Proviso on the table, but the Barnburners punished
them at the election.
The Barnburners were the Girondists of the Democracy.
Listen to a sample of names : Martin Van Buren, Silas Wright,
B. F. Butler, Churchill C. Cambrelling, Michael Hoffman, Dean
Richmond, John Van Buren, Samuel J. Tilden , Addison Gar
diner, A. C. Flagg, Samuel Young, G. P. Barker, Nicholas Hill,
Sanford E. Church, John A. Dix, William CuUen Bryant,
Preston King, James S. Wadsworth, A. Loomis, J. W. Nye,
William Oassidy, Andrew H. Green, Abijah Mann, John
Bigelow, Reuben E. Fenton, and Charles J. Folger. A slight
acquaintance with the politics of New York suffices to show
that these were men of mark.
In the stormy epoch of 1847-48, the Hunkers were ably led
by William L. Marcy, Daniel S. Dickinson, Edwin Croswell,
Horatio Seymour, Charles O'Conor, Reuben II. Walworth, and
William C. Bouck.
THE BALTIMORE CONVENTION OF 1848.
The Syracuse Convention of 1847 had divided the New York
Democrats into two bitter factions. The convention for
nominating the National ticket was to meet at Baltimore in May,
1848. Each faction appointed full delegations, each claiming to
be regular. In 1848, the Democratic Legislative caucus at

80
Albany issued an address to the country, defending the regu
larity of the Barnburner delegates, and presenting with
consummate ability the Free Soil side of the slavery controversy.
It is now known that this address was the joint production of
Martin Van Buren, Samuel J. Tilden, and John Van Buren.
After an acrimonious contest at Baltimore, the Convention
refused to admit the Barnburners as the sole delegates, but would
allow half of them and an equal number of Hunkers to represent
the State ; or, as I happened to put it in a speech at a meeting
soon afterward in Albany, which tickled Nicholas Hill, the
chairman, " The regular delegates might occupy half a seat
apiece, provided each of them would let a Hunker sit on his
lap." The Barnburners declined to enter on these conditions.
, General Cass was then nominated for President, and the Free
Soil Democracy resolved to defeat him.
THE UTICA CONVENTION OF 1848.
The proceedings at Baltimore set the Free Soil ball to roll
ing, and enthusiastic meetings were held all over New York.
A tumultuous assemblage in the City Hall Park was addressed
by John Van Buren and Churchill C. Cambrelling, the latter
declaring in sonorous tones that " Slavery had received its
death sentence." A Democratic State Convention met at
Utica, in June. A large representation of the most distin
guished Democrats of New York was present, and the veteran
Samuel Y'^oung took the chair. He delivered a vehement
speech, in which he said, " A clap of political thunder will be
heard in this country next November that will make the pro
pagandists of slavery shake like Belshazzar." Utterances like
these from Democrats of such eminence as Cambrelling and
Young reverberated all over the Union, giving slavery a blow
from which it never recovered. Mr. Tilden made an able report
respecting the proceedings at Baltimore, and Martin Van Buren
addressed a noble letter to the Convention, vindicating the con-
stitutionalty and wisdom of the Wilmot Proviso. The Conven
tion nominated him for President. The Free Soil stream soon
broke over the Barnburner dykes, and the result was the
famous gathering in August at the Queen City of the Lakes.
THE BUFFALO CONVENTION.
The nomination of Gen. Cass for the Presidency by the
Democrats, and Gen. Taylor by the Whigs, led to the Buffalo

81
Convention of 1848. The Barnburners had opposed Cass in
vain at the Baltimore Convention. They had made the Monu
mental City lurid with their wrath, frightening the delegates
from the back States almost out of their wits. At Buffalo, I
was one of the committee that drafted its Free Soil platform.
It was a motley assembly. Pro-Slavery Democrats were there
to avenge the wrongs of Martin Van Buren. Free Soil Demo
crats were there to punish the assassins of Silas Wright. Pro-
Slavery Whigs were there to strike down Gen. Taylor because
he had dethroned their idol, Henry Clay, in the Philadelphia
Convention. Anti-Slavery Whigs were there, breathing the
spirit of John Quincy Adams. Abolitionists of all shades of
opinion were present, from the darkest type to those of a milder
hue, who shared the views of Salmon P. Chase. An immense
tent was raised on the Court House Square, for the accommoda
tion of the convention, where the crowds were regaled with
speeches and music. Its real business was conducted by
delegates locked in a Baptist church close at hand. There
was a rooted prejudice against Mr. Van Buren among the Whigs
and Abolitionists. But the adroit eloquenee of his former law
partner, Benjamin F. Butler, of Albany, and an admirable Free
Soil letter from the Sage of Lindenwald himself, carried him
through, and he was nominated for President, with Charles
Francis Adams for Vice-President. The Democratic revolt in
,New York gave the thirty-six electoral votes of the State to
Taylor and Fillmore, which was exactly their majority in the
Union. AN ERROR.
Some Barnburners have said that tlie Democratic revolt of
1847-'48, was the beginning of the Free Soil movement. This
is an error. It is mistaking the rocky cataracts over which the
stream fell for the remote fountains whence it rose. The revolt
gave a mighty impulse to the current, but did not originate it.
Even long before Garrison appeared, it had broken forth in the
Missouri controversy of 1819-'20. Whoever roads the speeches
of James Tallmadge, John W. Taylor, and Rufus King in Con
gress in that troubled period will find that they were as sound
in doctrine, as strong in argument, as splendid in diction as any
of the utterances of the following forty-five years, when the
Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution closed the contro-

82
versy for all time. For a mere boy I took a strange interest in
the Missouri struggle, reading the newspapers find participating
in conversations in regard to it, but not then dreaming that, I
was destined to bear a share in the conflict that overthrew the
slave power.
REUNION OF THE NEW Y'ORK DEMOCRACY'.
In 1849, the Barnburners and Hunkers held separate State
conventions at Rome to try to reunite the party. The leaders of
each faction were present, and committees of conference
exchanged opinions. A resolution offered by me to adhere to
the Wilmot Proviso was adopted. We split on that rock, and
the conventions adjourned. A pressure from the rank and file
brought them together again, when a frail coalition was effected.
John Van Buren described it in his graphic style : " We are
asked to compromise our principles," said he. " The day of
compromise is passed ; but in regard to candidates for State
officers, we are still a commercial people. We will unite with
our late antagonists," he added. Then, paraphrasing the Declar
ation of Independence, he said : " And we will hold them as we
hold the rest of mankind — enemies in War, in Peace friends."
This effort to combine incongruous elements failed. A mixed
ticket for the five State candidates was nominated. With one
exception, they were all defeated at the ballot-boxes.
IN THE NEW YORK SENATE.
I was elected to the State Senate in 1849, and took my seat
in 1850. I was therciduring the agitation over the compromise
measures growing out of. the Mexican war. A great variety of
resolutions were introduced in the Legislature on those ques
tions. While this subject was before the Senate, I drew a very
radical resolution by way of amendment to a series then pend
ing. It elicited warm debate, and was put to test on a call of
the yeas and nays. It was adopted. Every Whig and every
Democrat who voted for this amendment subsequently became
a member of the Republican party.
THE CANAL BILL.
The Whigs in the Legislature at the session of 1851 intro
duced an unprecedented bill, which appropriated many millions

83
, of money for the purpose of enlarging the canals. The Barn
burners deemed it unconstitutional, as did Democrats generally.
The bill had passed the Assembly, where the Whigs had a large
majority. To prevent the presence of the three-fifths quorum
necessary to carry it in the Senate, it was thought best that '
twelve Senators should resort to the desperate expedient of
resigning their offices. The consequence was that the bill fell
in the Senate.
And now came the tug of war. Elections were ordered on
short notice to fill the twelve vacancies, and an extra session of
the Legislature was called for June. The tide ran against the
resigning Senators, all of whom stood for re-election. Six,
whose districts were far away from the canals, were successful.
The other six, who lived in canal districts, were overwhelmed,
with one exception. There were three canals, stretching forty-
two miles, in the three counties of my district. There were
twelve stump speakers in the field against me, marshalled by
Gerrit Smith. At the close ofthe savage fight I was re-elected
by five majority. The bill was passed at the extra session. I
opposed it step by step. The Judiciary vindicated the sou'nd-
ness of the doctrines of the resigning Senators. The Court of
Appeals adjudged the law to be unconstitutional, null and void.
In this contest I was the special target of the " Canal Ring."
On both occasions when I ran for the Senate, my district, on a
fair test of the strength of parties, was politically opposed to me.
I was at each election carried through by a large number of
votes from the opposite party in my own town and three ad
joining towns, and particularly from the poorer citizens in these
four towns. To be thus sustained at home in these sharp strug
gles, and when I had to bear up against great moneyed interests
and profiigate legislation, I regarded as a higher compliment
than to have received the degree of LL.D from the proudest
university in the country.
I was not a candidate for a subsequent nomination to the
Senate. I could not afford to be a member.
MEMBERS AND MEASURES IN THE SENATE.
During my membership, the Presidents of the Senate were
Lieutenant-Governors Patterson and Church. In the front rank
of my colleagues stood Edwin D. Morgan, afterward Governor and
United States Senator; James M. Cook, subsequently Comp-

84
troller and Bank Superintendent ; Thomas' B. Carrol, who
became a Canal Appraiser ; George Geddes, the accomplished
civil engineer ; William A. Dart, United States District-Attor-
ney and Consul-General to Canada ; George R. Babccck,
Charles A. Mann, Clarkson Crolius, James W. Beekman, and
Dr. Brandreth, of medical fame.
Among an unusual number of important measures adopted
were the general railroad law, the general school law, and a
complete revision of the then very defective code of procedure.

HAMILTON FISH CHOSEN SENATOR.
I have taken part in the election of five Senators in Congress.
One of the stormiest confiicts we had in the Legislature of 1851
was over the choice of a Senator to succeed Daniel S. Dickin
son. The Whigs held the State Senate by a majority of two.
In the Assembly they had a good working majority. Their
caucus nominated Hamilton Fish for Senator. James W.
Beekman, a Whig Senator, of New York city, threw out the
hint that he would not support Fish, because he had fallen too
much under the control of Thurlow Weed. The day for elect
ing the Senator arrived. Sixteen Whigs voted for Hamilton
Fish, the fifteen Democrats voted for as many different candi
dates, so that the Fish Whigs could not double over upon them.
Beekman voted for Francis Granger. Thereupon I moved that
the Senate adjourn. The roll was called. The sixteen Fish
Whigs voted nay, and the fifteen Democrats and Beekman
voted yea — a tie. The movement was such a surprise to Lieu
tenant-Governor Church that he forgot to give the casting vote.
He was hurrying down the steps, with the gavel in his hand,
when somebody pushed him back to the chair, and he announced
his vote in the affirmative, and declared the Senate adjourned,
amid great excitement. All this while the Assembly was slowly
going through the roll, and it was nearly an hour after we had
adjourned before they had nominated Governor Fish.
However, our Whig friends lay in wait, and stole a march
upon us a few weeks later. One morning, when two Demo
cratic Senators were in New Y'ork city, they sprung a resolu
tion upon us, to go into the election of a Senator in Congress.
After an unbroken struggle of fourteen hours, Mr. Fish was

85

elected, the exultant cannon of the victors startling the city
from its slumbers, and convincing the Silver Grays that the
Woolly Heads still held the Capitol.

HOFFMAN AND LOOMIS.
The Democratic policy in respect to the canals was mainly
due to Michael Hoffman and Arphaxed Loomis of Herkimer,
who represented that county in the Constitutional Convention
of 1846, and often appeared as colleagues in the Assembly. In
1843, T spent a week or two in Albany, and frequently dropped
into the Assembly, where a bill in regard to the enlargement of
the canals was pending. For four days the debate shed dark
ness rather than light over the subject, and the Chamber grew
murky. One morning a tallish man, past middle age, with iron
gray locks drooping on his shoulders, and wearing a mixed suit
of plain clothes, took the fioor on the Canal bill. I noticed that
pens, newspapers, and all else were laid down, and every eye
fixed on the speaker. I supposed he was some quaint old joker
from the backwoods, who was going to afford the House a little
fun. The first sentences arrested my attention. A beam of
light shot through the darkness, and I began to get glimpses of
the question at issue. Soon a broad belt of sunshine spread
over the Chamber. I asked a member, " Who is that ? "
" Michael Hoffman," was the reply. He spoke for an hour,
and though his manner was quiet and his diction simple, he
was so methodical and lucid in his argument that, where all had
appeared confused before, everything now seemed clear. Mr.
Hoffman was at home on this subject, and his speech fore
shadowed the articles in the Constitution of 1846 on the canals
and the finances.
Judge Loomis was a leader in the convention of 1846 on
questions pertaining to the Judiciary and the Legislature. The
articles on these subjects were moulded by him. The Canal
law of 1851 having been adjudged unconstitutional, it devolved
upon him in the Legislature of 1863 to frame and carry through
the new Constitutional Amendment by which the State tided
over the difficulty. He and Mr. Hoff'man approved the course
of the Senators who resigned to defeat the measure of 1851.

86
JOHN VAN BUREN.
I shall not try to paint a portrait of the brilliant Barn
burner. There could hardly be a wider contrast between two
men than the space that divided the Sage of Lindenwald from
Prince John. In one particular, however, they were alike.
Each had that personal magnetism that binds followers to
leaders with hooks of steel. The father was grave, urbane,
wary, a safe counsellor, and accustomed to an argumentative
and deliberate method of address that befitted the Bar and
the Senate. Few knew how able a lawyer the elder Van
Buren was. The son was enthusiastic, frank, bold, and given
to wit, repartee, and a style of oratory admirably adapted to
swaying popular assemblies. The younger Van Buren, too,
was a sound lawyer. Some of his admirers were wont to tell
him that he made a mistake in not aiding to lay the foundations
ofthe Republican party; "for," said they in 1856, "if you
had, you would now have been where Fremont is." " Wait and
let us see," was the sarcastic response, "how Fremont turns
out." I heard John Van Buren relate this little anecdote with
characteristic humor : When he was Attorney-General, he had
obtained for an elderly female the valuable monopoly of the
right to sell apples, cakes, and candy in the rotunda of the
State Capitol. She was an ardent admirer of Prince John,
and a vociferous Barnburner. It was admitted that in the
campaign of 1848 he had led in the Democratic revolt that
gave the thirty-six electoral votes of New York to General
Taylor, which was his precise majority over General Cass.
When the Whigs came into power, they threatened to turn
the Barnburner woman out of the Capitol. With ruin staring
her in the face, she repaired to her patron, and begged him to
save her. He went to Thurlow Weed, who was supposed to
own the Whig party, explained the case, pleaded his services
in the Presidential campaign, and said he asked only the
single favor of the salvation of the apple stand. Mr. Weed
squeezed the hand of the Prince, shed a sympathizing tear,
and hoped he might be able to pull the old woman through.
But when the tide of administration reform reached Albany,
she was swept out of the Capitol, and the apple stand was
bestowed on a female of the Whig persuasion.
The last time I saw John Van Buren was before he left for

87
Europe, to make a final effort to regain his health. I was on
the H. R. R.R. The conductor said a gentleman in a seat far
ther forward (pointing to it) wished to see me. As I took the
proffered place by his side, and gave him a puzzled look, he
said, " You don't know me ! " The tones of his voice instantly
told me that it was John Van Buren. Though faded, wan, and
feeble, the wit remained. As a dernier ressort, he had been to
a water-cure establishment. " Think of trying to bring me up
by cold water," remarked the Prince, with a quiet smile.
" Why," he added, " as they put me in a pack, the other
night, and stowed me away in an upper loft, where the moon
beams came trickling down upon me through the skylight, I felt
as if I was dead and laid out."
When afterward I heard of the sad death of my friend, and
his burial in mid-ocean, I recalled the lines of Scott ;
" Fleet foot on the corrie,
Sage counsel in cumber,
Red hand in the foray.
How sound is thy slumber ! "
MARTIN VAN BUREN.
In 1858, 1 had the pleasure of spending a day at the hospita
ble mansion of ex-President Van Buren, near Kinderhook.
The Sage of Lindenwald was instructive and entertaining. The
most interesting portion of his conversation related to slavery.
Referring to the campaign of 1848, he said that his utterances
on the great evil were his matured convictions. " I have noth
ing to modify or change," he remarked. With serious earnest
ness he added : " The end of slavery will come — amid terrible
convulsions, I fear, but it will come." A word about Mr. Van
Buren's personal following. Has it ever been equalled by any
other New York statesman ? In the contest of 1848, he carried
over, on a bolt from the regular Presidential nominee, more
than half the Democratic voters in the State. How few Gov
ernor Seward was able to lead over to Andrew Johnson's
" policy " in the election of 1866 !
WHIG CONVENTION OF 1852.
The Whig National Convention met at Baltimore in May,
1852. I was on the train for Washington. At that day we had

to cross the mouth of the Susquehanna at Havre de Grace by
ferryboat. As the passengers were descending the long, steep
stairs into the gorge, I saw Mr. Webster, leaning heavily on
the arms of two gentlemen, and surrounded by a cavalcade of
friends. He was a candidate for the Presidency in the conven
tion then about to assemble. It was a sad spectacle. The great
statesman was then so shattered in health that four months
afterward he sank into his tomb. But though a wreck, he bore
up sturdily while clutching at the glittering prize he had so
long pursued. He received a mortifyingly small vote in the
convention. General Scott carried off the nomination. " Oh,
Caleb," exclaimed Webster to Mr. Stetson, of the Astor House,
a few days afterward, " what pains me is that the South, for
which I had done and sacrificed so much, did not give me a
single vote ! "
General Scott made a tour of the country, exhibiting his
stalwart figure, and discoursing of " the rich Irish brogue and the
sweet German accent." He carried only the four States of
Massaohusetts, Vermont, Kentucky, and Tennessee. It was the
end of the Whig party. The slavery controversy destroyed
Webster in the Convention, Scott at the polls, and precipitated
that grand old organization into a fathomless pit. Close behind
stood the Democrats, giving three cheers for their victory, on
the crumbling edge of the chasm that had engulfed the Whigs.
" It is an irrepressible conflict," said Mr. Seward.
DEMOCRATIC CONVENTION OF 1852.
The Democratic National Convention at Baltimore, in 1862,
was a struggle for the nomination to the Presidency between
Cass, Buchanan, Marcy, and Douglass. The New York dele
gation was divided in the proportion of twenty-three for Marcy,
whose leader was Horatio Seymour, and thirteen for Cass,
whose leader was Daniel S. Dickinson. It soon became appa
rent that Mr. Dickinson himself was a candidate, and was look
ing for success to a combination between a large share of the
supporters of Cass and a smaller contingent of the friends of
Buchanan. Indeed, Mr. Dickinson told me so. The ballotings
were many and wearisome, each of the aspirants doing his best
to pull down his rivals.
At the close of the first day, I was passing through the hall
of Barnum's Hotel, when to my surprise I was invited by Dick-

89
inson to enter a room where the Virginia delegation (which
thus far had voted for Buchanan) was in consultation. After
an introduction, and a statement that I was a Barnburner, the
chairman asked me whether, if Mr. Dickinson were to receive
the nomination, he could carry New York ? Never can I forget
the anxious look of Dickinson as they waited for the answer. I
promptly replied that Mr. Dickinson, and Gov. Marcy, and Mr.
Douglas, and any other man whom the Convention nominated,
would receive the electoral vote of New York. I then retired
from this very unexpected interview. Dickinson followed me,
thanked me, but regretted that I had mentioned any other name
than his.
The next morning Virginia voted for Dickinson. I then
saw what the interview of the previous day meant. Dickinson
rose, made a short speech, thanked Virginia, and begged its
delegation to support Gen. Cass. This was the keynote for the
combination on Dickinson. He asked me if I thought Virginia
would adhere to him, and I frankly told him " No," for I had
reasons for regarding its vote merely as a compliment. Mr.
Dickinson's friends used to assert that he threw away the
Presidency on this occasion. I happened to know better. He
never stood for a moment where he could control the Virginia
vote. On the next ballot Virginia voted for Franklin Pierce. The
Convention was weary, and soon the stampede came, and the
New Hampshire Tsrigadier was nominated. He proved to be
the worst investment the Democracy ever made. He approved
the bill for repealing the Missouri Compromise, which afterward
sent the party to perdition.
The Barnburners did not weep over the defeat of Marcy,
rejoiced at the discomfiture of Cass, and were in doubt about
Pierce. The convention had adopted resolutions declaring the
Pro-Slavery Compromise Acts of 1850 a "finality" on that
subject. On the way home from Baltimore, a Hunker was
teasing Dean Richmond by telling him that the proceedings
were a finality on the Wilmot Proviso. " A finality on Cass,''
was the swift response of the bluff Dean. Though so destitute
of all literary f urnishment as to be scarcely able to write gram
matically, Mr. Richmond carried on his broad shoulders one of
the clearest heads in the ranks ofthe Barnburners.

90
PIERCE'S CABINET.
Pierce was a dissembler. He offered the New York seat in
his Cabinet to John A. Dix, who accepted it. It afterward
turned out that he had written to William L. Marcy, who was
then in the West Indies, off'ering him the New York seat, and
he came to Washington in pursuance of his invitation, and was
appointed Secretary of State. My authority for the first of
these statements was General Dix ; for the latter it was Gov
ernor Marcy.
JEFFERSON DAVIS.
The first time I saw Jefferson Davis was in 1848 or 1849, in
a short encounter between him and John P. Hale in the Senate,
on the subject of slavery. The New Hampshire Free Soiler
was facetious. The Mississippi Fire Eater was contemptuous.
He called slavery a blessing, and Hale told him to hug it to his
bosom and bless himself with it to his heart's content, assuring
him, in his jolly style, that he should not interfere with the bill
ing and cooing. In March, 1853, when Pierce was framing his
Cabinet, Davis was at Washington, and became Secretary of
War. He seemed gentle in speech, with a musical voice, and
was instructive and agreeable in conversation. He was the evil
genius of the Pierce administration on the slavery question,
whose ominous thunderings low down in the horizon already
foreboded the rising storm.
HORATIO SEYMOUR.
The resignation of Senators to defeat the Canal bill led to a
great meeting in the Capitol grounds at Albany, where Horatio
Seymour, who had been defeated for Governor the previous fall,
made a bold speech in their defence. Mr. Seymour was then
among the most eff'ective and eloquent platform orators in New
York. Less electrical than John Van Buren, he was more
persuasive ; less witty, he was more logical ; less sarcastic, he
was more candid ; less denunciatory of antagonists, he wa
more convincing to opponents. It was rare to meet these
aspiring young Democrats on the same rostrum, for they were
rivals — one carrying the standard of the Barnburners, the
other bearing the banner of the Hunkers. But on the Canal

91
issue they were in accord, each denouncing the unconstitutional
measure, and applauding the retiring Senators. Mr. Seymour
naturally took to statesmanship of a high order.
SAMUEL J. TILDEN.
When those animosities, rivalries, and prejudices that spring
from party strife have passed away, Samuel J. Tilden will be
classed among the eminent men of his era. I became associated
with him in the memorable contest of 1848, when he stood in
the front rank of the Barnburners. In the two rather incom
patible qualities of calm, studious, and philosophic statesman
ship and the capacity to gather, classify, and apply the statistics
of a political campaign, I do not remember to have met his
equal. As the Chairman of the Democratic State Committee,
he would deliver an address that might have honored Thomas
Jefferson. In the subsequent campaign he would handle the
figures of the canvass with a skill that astonished Thurlow
Weed. Mr. Tilden's forecast of the result of an election rarely
failed to be verifijed.
THE REPUBLICAN PARTY IN NEW YORK.
The precise date of the organization of the Republican
party in the nation is in dispute. In New York it was reduced
to fonn at Syracuse in the fall of 1855. Its component elements
were Anti-Slavery Whigs, Barnburner Democrats, Abolitionists
proper, and Free Soil Know Nothings. Committees of confer
ence, in which Thurlow Weed and Preston King were prominent
figures, settled the preliminaries, and the new party assembled
in Weiting Hall, with Reuben E. Fenton of the Barnburner
wing filling the chair. I helped to launch the new party, and
then on the afternoon train of that day, by request of BLenry C.
Martindale, who was subsequently Attorney-General of the
State and Major-General in the Army, I went to Rochester and
delivered a Republican speech. Of course, I was quite at home
on the slavery topic. My address was reported, and generally
copied in New York. I subsequently spoke in Buffalo with
Governor Seward, and addressed other large meetings in that
campaign. Our first venture on this stormy sea was not
successful. Our Slate ticket was submerged in the Know
Nothing breakers.

92
NATIONAL REPUBLICAN PARTY.
The Pierce administration repealed the Missouri Compro
mise. This insane measure precipitated the doom of slavery.
The Republican party was the legitimate outcome. I helped to
organize it in the State of New York, and was a member
of the National Convention at Philadelphia, in 1856, which
nominated Fremont and Dayton. I delivered numerous
addresses in their support from Maine to Ohio.
The feeble cause I had espoused at Cincinnati, in 1832, now
rested on the broad shoulders of a strong party, which was
marching on to victorv.

&

HORACE GREELEY.
Whenever I think of Horace Greeley, the scene rises before
me of a flaxen-haired boy, in a log cabin in a cleft of the Green
Mountains, lying on the hearth after a hard day's work in a
scrubby field, reading a book by the blaze of pine knots. But
these pine knots lighted the barefooted youth to the path that
led to great achievements and enduring fame.
I first met Greeley on the front stairs of a Graham boarding
house in New York city, where he was living on bran bread
and cold water. He was then editor of the New Yorker, a jour
nal of which he was justly proud. The encounter on the stair
way was accidental. His wife, fresh from North Carolina, had
sunk down at that rather inconvenient spot in a sort of hysteri
cal swoon, and seemed so reluctant to yield her vantage ground
that ingress and egress, by the boarders, were only possible by
carefully stepping over her. Mr. Greeley, with a deprecatory
air, was bending down, and in soothing tones was trying to per
suade her to seek a more comfortable resting place. Early
friends of the wedded pair will recall the fact that they became
acquainted at this William street hostelry, and that their espou
sals were chronicled in some pleasant verses, that bore the
refrain, "Maid of the Graham house, sunny and sweet ! "
As an illustration of the vicissitudes of journalism, while at
the same time pointing to a great political error, I will relate
the following anecdote. The first report that came from the
Liberal National Convention of 1872 stated that Charles Fran
cis Adams was nominated for President. Happening to be in
the Sun office, Mr. Dana asked me to write an article on the

93
subject. I went to my law office, and spent three hours in pre
paring three columns of what I thought was .excellent matter,
including a rather imposing sketch of the Adams family, from
the first John down to the alleged Liberal nominee. On
returning to the Sun rooms with my sparkling editorial, imagine
my surprise to learn that Horace Greeley, and not an Adams
of any sort, was the candidate. I cast my labored production
into the waste basket, and went home.
The campaign of 1872 was a blunder on the part of those
who opposed the re-election of Grant. If the bolting Republi
cans had nominated Greeley, and the regular Democrats had
presented a candidate like Horatio Seymour, for instance. Gen.
Grant would have been defeated. But it proved to be impossi
ble to persuade a large class of Democrats to vote for "the
founder of the New York Tribune.^''
My last glimpse of Horace Greeley was soon after the elec
tion of 1872. He darted out of the Tribune office, ran against
me, and started down Park Row at a rapid pace. I contrived tp
keep up with him, and followed him into a street car at the
Astor House. On accosting him, he gave me a wild stare that
alarmed me. I inquired after his health, and he replied : " I
have ruined all my friends in the election, and now they are
destroying me." A few more words satisfied me that his mind
was clouded. How sad was his end ! The conspirators who
tore from his editorial management the journal he had founded
and built up, and thus broke the old man's heart, and sent him
to a lunatic asylum and a premature grave, should receive the
execration of all generous minds for the deep damnation of his
taking off.
GERRIT SMITH.
Gerrit Smith helped to quarry the corner-stone of the Repub
lican party. He was the very friend of the slave. His purse
was always open for the promotion of their cause. When I was
a secretary of the American Anti-Slavery Society, he placed in
my hands at one time his check for $10,000 for its treasury— a
sum equal to $25,000 now. He was the protector and patron of
runaway negroes who followed the fortunes of the North Star.
Forty years ago, at his palatial mansion in Peterboro', and which
looked like the country seat of an English nobleman, it would
be singular if you did not find among the fashionable guests

94
/rom New York, Albany, and Philadelphia, surrounding his
hospitable board, at least one or two fugitive slaves. Indeed,
and especially in the summer season, bis visitors were of the
most miscellaneous and amusing description. There you might
meet a dozen wealthy and refined visitors from the metropolitan
cities; a sprinkling of negroes from the sunny South, on their
way to Canada; a crazy Millerite or two, who, disgusted with
the world, thought it destined to be burned up at an early day ;
an adventurer who wanted Mr. Smith to invest largely in some
utterly impracticable patent right, while the throng would be
checkered with three or four Indians of the neighborhood, the
remnants of the once powerful Oneidas, who remembered the
father, and felt pretty sure that they could get something out of
his munificent son. The high-born guests had come to enjoy
themselves during the summer solstice at this fine rural retreat,
and they always had a good time. As to the rest, they were
never sent empty away, especially the negroes and the Indians,
the former accepting cash in hand and good advice about the
best route to Canada, while the latter departed in due time with
shoulders stooping under burdens of fiour, beef, and other edi
bles. But Mr. Smith never was known to invest in any of the
patent rights, and he took not a single share of stock in the
scheme for burning up the world.
A MILLION AND MORE ACRES.
I was, many years ago, riding with Gerrit Smith in one of
the counties of Northern New York. He suddenly stopped the
carriage, and, looking around for a few minutes, said, " We are
now on some of my poor land, familiarly known as the John
Brown tract ; " and he then added, " I own eight hundred
thousand acres, of which this is a part, and all in one piece."
Everybody knows that Judge Peter Smith, his father, purchased.
the most of this land at sales by the Comptroller of the State
for unpaid taxes, and left it by will to his son Gerrit. He said
that he owned land in fifty-six of the sixty counties in New
York. Some of this brought him a handsome income, though
he gave a good deal of it away years before he died.
MR. SMITH AND JOHN JACOB ASTOR.
Early in 1837 Mr. Smith's father died, leaving a large estate
to Gerrit, charged with heavy legacies and debts. Two or three

95
months after the decease of his father the well-remembered panic
of 1837 occurred. The banks had suspended specie payments,
and could afford Mr. Smith no loans to meet pressing obliga
tions. So embarrassed was he, that his counsel advised him to
make an assignment of his property for the benefit of his cred
itors. Mr. Smith declined to make the assignment until he had
first conferred with the elder John Jacob Astor, the old friend
of his father. Smith wrote to Astor, and informed him of his
situation, and said that, if possible, he would be glad if he could
make him a loan, and take such security therefor as he had to
offer. Mr. Astor invited him to come to New York and talk the
matter over. He came, and dined with the great millionaire.
Astor, of course, knew his errand, but during the protracted
dinner seemed more inclined to tell anecdotes about his excur
sions thirty and forty years before with Peter Smith up the
valley of the Mohawk than to listen to details about Gerrit
Smith's present obligations and the value ofthe property which
he could put under mortgage. As they sat at the hospitable
board, Mr. Astor would frequently break in with the enthusias
tic exclamation, " Why, Gerrit, how much you do look as
your father used to when he and I went up the Mohawk among
the Indians after furs ! " At length they came down to business,
and Mr. Astor asked Smith how much of a loan he wanted. He
told him $260,000. " Do you want it immediately, and all at
once ? " said Astor. " I do," said Gerrit. " Then you shall
have it." It was arranged that Smith should give Astor a
mortgage on his Oswego water power, for which Smith had paid
$14,000 about fifteen years before, for this loan of $250,000.
Mr. Smith returned to Peterboro', and in three or four days
received Mr. Astor's check by mail for $260,000. He made out
the mortgage and sent it to Oswego to be recorded, with direc
tions to mail it to Mr. Astor as soon as it was inscribed on the
records. Smith went on using the money, and supposed that
all had gone right about the forwarding ofthe mortgage. After
a delay of several weeks, judge of his surprise at receiving a
letter from Mr. Astor, saying that he was afraid that his friend
Smith had forgotten to make out that mortgage which they
talked about when he was last in the city. Smith hastened . to
Oswego, and found that, through some stupidity, the County
Clerk had forgotten to mail the mortgage to Astor, although it
had been duly and seasonably recorded. Of course it was now
sent forward, accompanied by an appropriate explanation.

96
Thus, for several weeks, John Jacob Astor had nothing but
Gerrit Smith's word for a loan of $250,000. This incident lets
in a flood of light upon the characters of these two remarkable
men.
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
Mr. Seward represented New Y'ork in the Senate in a grand
and memorable era. He rose to the level of his responsibilities,
and was courageous, sagacious, sincere, and earnest. Pie led a
forloi-n hope against formidable foes, over which the cause he
championed finally triumphed. He was grave in argument and
dignified in demeanor, and, though rhetorical and even ornate
in style, he never indulged in those flashy flippances that some
times succeed in palming themselves off as wit, but which
legitimate wit repudiates as a bastard progeny.
Since Mr. Dickinson and General Dix left the Senate, New
York has sent several respectable members to that body, but no
really able men, when measured by a lofty standard, except Mr.
Seward and Mr. Conkling. Mr. Evarts is yet to be thoroughly
tried on this new field. He doubtless remembers that Erksine,
one of the greatest advocates that ever addressed ao English
jury, and Jeffrey, who shone so brilliantly in the Scotch courts,
failed in Parliament. The many-sided men like Brougham and
Webster are few in number.
SEWARD, FREMONT, AND WEED.
Nobody knew better than Mr. Seward that, if he had been
the candidate for the Presidency, in 1856, he would have
received the same vote that Fremont did, and that his nomina
tion in 1860 would have inevitably followed, and he would have
entered the White House, instead of Lincoln. Mr. Seward
more than hinted to confidential friends that Mr. Weed betrayed
him for Fremont.
Mr. Weed himself told the following story : He and Mr.
Seward were riding up Broadway, and when passing the bronze
statue of Lincoln, in Union Square, Seward said : " Weed, if
you had been faithful to me, I should have been there instead
of Lincoln.'' " Seward," replied Weed, " is it not better to be
alive in a carriage with me than to be dead and set up in
bronze? ''

97
At the close of the Fremont campaign some money remained
in the treasury of the National Committee. William M. Chace,
the Secretary, one of my old Anti-Slavery associates, favored its
expenditure on the famous " Helper Book." Edwin D.Morgan,
the Chairman, would consent to this, if Mr. Weed advised it.
Being at Washington in the winter of 1857-'68, I met Mr.
Chace, who had come there for the rather queer purpose of
requesting Mr. Seward to request Mr. Weed to request Mr.
Morgan to adopt Chace's plan for the disposal of this money.
Chace not knowing Mr. Seward personally, I went one evening
to his house to introduce him. The Governor was alone with
his after-dinner cigar. Chace explained his case to his atten
tive listener, I sitting near, reading a newspaper. The Governor
puffed out a cloud of smoke and began to talk in that deliberate
style so familiar to his friends. " Mr. Chace, I understand you
want me to speak to Mr. Weed, and request him to advise Mr.
Morgan to make a certain disposition of the funds in question ?"
Mr. Chace bowed. " Mr. Chace," resumed the Governor, " Mr.
Weed is a very peculiar man. He is a very secretive man. He
is an unfathomable man. He thinks I am always driving every
thing to the devil. But throughout my public life he has told
me to do this or that particular thing, and I have done it. He
has told me not to do this or that, and I have refrained from
doing it. Whether in all this he was cheating me or cheating
somebody else (for I take it for granted, he is always cheating
somebody), I don't know.'' He then suggested to Mr. Chace
to go to Senator Simon Cameron, and tell him he had sent him,
and take his advice in the matter of the funds. Some Con
gressmen dropped in, and Chace and I left. We did not speak
for a block or two. My Rhode Island coadjutor then jerked my
arm, burst into a laugh, and said, " Did you ever hear any
thing equal to that ? "
SEWARD AND SACKETT.
We never know a public man till we see him in undress.
Webster in a boat at Marshfield, with a fishing rod in his hand,
was a different person from Webster in the Senate holding spell
bound the elite of the nation. Mr. Seward was an intense
toiler in the thorny field of politics. He delighted to throw off
his burden and unbend in a small circle of friends. At Seneca
Falls there resided Garry V. Sackett, whom Seward, when

98
Governor, had appointed a Judge of the Common Pleas. He
was a gentleman farmer, large and stately in person, and
dressed in the style of Webster. He was on familiar terms with
Seward, took great liberties with him, and the Senator used
often come over to Seneca, and have a free and easy round of
fun. Sackett did not know as much as he thought he did, and
Seward sometimes made a butt of him and roared with laughter,
though the Judge would occasionally make reprisals on the
spot. When the Senator visited the Judge, I was generally
called in, and sometimes the young people of the village were
invited for the evening. The latter looked with awe upon the
distinguished statesman from Auburn.
During one afternoon, Seward had been firing his teasing
arrows at Sackett. In the evening, the Judge, arrayed in full
Websterian costume, posed before a house full of young people,
and went for the Senator. He brought out and pinned on the
wall the famous caricature in which, when Seward was Gov
ernor, Thurlow Weed is depicted as the State Fifer, with the
^principal State officers marching in Indian file behind him,
and straining themselves to the utmost to keep up with the
musician, who is blowing at the top of his bent. Indeed,
the little Governor, in trying to tread in the tracks of the tall
Fifer, had torn his trousers at rather a delicate spot. The
likenesses were perfect. The picture was widely circulated,
and it so closely accorded with the jeers in the Democratic
newspapers that it was very annoying to Mr. Seward even after
he became Senator, for Mr. Weed, in popular estimation, was
still " The Dictator."
On the occasion referred to, Sackett elaborately explained
the picture to the youngsters in the presence of Seward, telling
what a great leader Weed was, how obediently the Governor
followed him, how closely even to that day he kept step with him
(at this point seemingly trying to conceal the rent in his trous
ers), assuring the deeply interested listeners that Seward owed
his success in politics wholly to Weed; and then looking over
his shoulder to where Seward sat smoking, exclaimed, " Is not
that so. Governor ? " The response came back, " Sackett, you
are a fool. Go and get me another cigar."
At another time, before Mr. Seward and a like audience, and
to "get even" with the teasing Governor, the Judge told
the story of his visit to the Anti-Renters, in the Helderberg, in
company with Seward, soon after he was chosen Governor.

99
The Anti-Renters were making an uproar. The Legislature
had authorized a commission to consider their grievances, and
Mr. Seward had appointed Sackett one of the Commissioners.
The latter proposed that they visit the troubled district, the
young Governor assented, notice was sent out three or four days
ahead, and they rode to the Helderberg in a stately barouche
drawn by four horses. Long afterward, on due provocation, at
Seneca Falls. Sackett took reprisals of the bantering Senator
after dinner, by describing the scene at the Helderberg. He
said that when the barouche arrived, several hundred Anti-
Renters were on the ground. Sackett, standing six feet two
inches high, and dressed in his most imposing costume, got out
first. The crowd rushed upon him, saluted him as Governor,
and gave three cheers. The Commissioner lifted his gold-headed
cane high in air, and exclaimed, " Stop, gentlemen ! You have
made the same mistake that the people of New York made
last fall. They doubtless ought to have chosen me Governor,
but, instead, they elected this man, whom I present to you as
William H. Seward." Sackett, then addressing the dinner
party, would add, with great relish, "You ought to have seen
how the crowd fell back when I introduced Seward as the
Governor. He was clambering out of the carriage while they
were giving me the three cheers, and many of them said they
didn't believe that little man was the Governor." Then turning
to the Senator, he said, " Wasn't it a funny scene, Seward ? ''
The Senator replied that when the Commissioners went into the
Helderberg to take testimony, Sackett wasted all their time in
telling preposterous stories that nobody believed.
SEWARD AND CONKLING.
In 1858, Roscoe Conkling was the Republican candidate for
Congress in Oneida. Mr. O. B. Matteson, who had previously rep
resented this district, was zealously opposing him. Matteson
had long been a personal friend of Mr. Seward. Hard pressed, Mr.
Conkling sent for Mr. Seward and myself to address a county
meetino- at Rome. Mr. Seward was aummoned to counteract the
effect of Matteson's hostility. Wrapped in a blue broadcloth
cloak, with elegant trimmings, Conkling surveyed the large
audience with anxious eye. I spoke first, eulogizing Seward
and Conkling. The Senator commenced his address with a
hearty encomium upon Matteson, by way of preface to the mat-

100
ter in hand. He then spoke generally in support of the Repub
lican cause, and eloquently commended his young friend Conk
ling to the voters of Oneida.
The next morning I went to Utica, and was amused to see
that the only notice taken of the Rome meeting, by the general
press, was a nearly verbatim report of Mr. Seward's eulogium
of Mr. Matteson. This, of course, would go the grand rounds
of the newspapers in the State. I met Mr. Conkling. My
acquaintance with the English language is not sufficiently inti
mate to enable me to describe how angry he was.
Mr. Conkling was elected. Then commenced those twenty
years of service, in the House and Senate, which have left their
lustrous mark on the records of Congress.
SEWARD AND GREELEY.
I was at Mr. Seward's, in Auburn. The conversation ran
on public affairs and public men. He remarked that it was a
long time before he fathomed one prominent character in New
York. This was Horace Greeley. He said he had supposed
Greeley was doing his work from philanthropic motives, and
had no desire for office ; but subsequently he found he was mis
taken, and that he was very eager to hold office. I replied, in
rather a careless tone, " Governor, do you not think it would have
been better for you if you had let him have office?" Mr.
Seward looked at me intently, rolled out a cloud of tobacco
smoke, and then slowly responded, "I don't know but it would."
I was not aware how point-blank a shot I had fired, for I did
not then know of the existence of the letter of November 11,
1854, addressed by Greeley to Seward, dissolving the old polit
ical firm of "Seward, Weed, and Greeley," by the withdrawal
of the junior partner. Greeley's opposition to Seward's nomi
nation to the Presidency, in 1860, brought this unique epistle
out ofthe secret archives of Mr. Seward. It is printed in Gree
ley's " Recollections of a Busy Life," and will repay perusal by
students of fallen human nature.
JOHN BROWN.
I have not space to give even a list of the martyrs who
endured pains and penalties unto death in the Anti-Slavery
cause. The tears of an enfranchised race will bedew their

101
graves, and an appreciative posterity will erect monuments to
their memory. One well-remembered figure looms on my
vision from his lonely resting-place in the Adirondacks. I met
John Brown but once,and then unexpectedly, at Gerrit Smith's.
Mr. Smith's son. Green, was a sportsman. lie had an assoftment
of rifles, and was a fair shot. After dinner, Green went out with
a couple of companions to fire at a target. I was looking on,
when Captain Brown appeared on the scene. The flring "was
rather wild. Brown watched a while, and then closely exam
ined the rifles, selected one, loaded it, and faced the target. He
pointed the weapon at the ground with his eye on the barrel,
raised it rapidly, and the instant it came to a level he fired, and
hit the bull's eye right in the centre. Handing the rifie to
Green Smith, he said, with a grim smile, " Boys, that is the way
to shoot," and slowly returned to the house.
Soon after Brown's execution, an editorial from my pen
appeared in the New York Tribune, which I am willing should
stand as my opinion of his character and deeds. He will fill a
unique nitch in American history. The echo of his fame will
reverberate along the colonnades of the centuries, and preserve
from oblivion the names of those who put him to death.
CORWIN AND PENNINGTON.
Thomas Corwin was the prince of orators. He was elected
to Congress in 1858. He had long before won fame throughout
the Union. No party had an absolute majority in the House
that witnessed the terrible era that ushered in the rebellion.
The balance of power between the Republicans and Democrats,
in the House, was held by a small body of Northern Know
Nothings, Southern Know Nothings, and old line Whigs. John
Sherman, on the nomination of Corwin, became the Republican
candidate for Speaker. The contest, commencing in December,
1859, continued for eight weeks. The ballotings were inter
spersed with a variety of speeches. One morning Corwin arose.
The House and galleries overflowed with spectators. His
address lasted three days. His aim was to prove that in their
efforts to prohibit by law the extension of slavery the Republi
cans were, a constitutional party. It was one of the most won
derful speeches I ever heard. All that had gone before it, and
all that came after it, in this weary contest of two months,
seemed mere chattering in comparison with an effort that was

102
replete with logic, wit, humor, repartee, sarcasm, and pertinent
references to history, and sketches of statesmen in early days
who held the doctrines of the Wilmot Proviso ; and all the
while, amid the glitter ofthe lighter and gayer passages of the
speech, the orator was carrying forward the heavy chain of
ratiocination. One day there was an unusual commotion on the floor. The
pages were running to and fro, and a hundred quivering pencils
were keeping tally to the call of the Clerk. It was seen that
all the Democrats, and a dangerously large share of the Know
Nothings and old line Whigs, were voting for Mr. Smith, of
North Carolina, a new candidate. Ere the result was announced,
John Sherman rose. " Mr. Clerk, please call my name."
"John Sherman," said the Clerk. "Thomas Corwin, "responded
Sherman. On counting the tally list, it was found that the votes
cast for Sherman and the one vote for Corwin were precisely
equal to the total votes given to Smith. A narrow escape.
That evening Sherman withdrew, and ex-Governor William
Pennington, of New Jersey, was named as the Republican can
didate. There being no regular chaplain, it had been the cus
tom to invite the Washington clergy in turn to officiate in that
capacity. The next morning the Jewish rabbi appeared for the
first time. Arrayed in his sacerdotal robes, he lifted his open
eyes to the ceiling and prayed that the God of Abraham, Isaac,
and Jacob would break the deadlock in the House, and set the
wheels of Congress in motion. Winter Davis, who had steadilv
voted against Sherman, was pacing the hall in the rear of the
seats. When the Clerk called his name, he answered in a tone
that thrilled the crowd, " Pennington !'' The elegant member
from Baltimore had a following. After one or two ballots Pen
nington was chosen, and the Republicans had a Speaker. The
House took a long breath, and determined to have some sport.
A motion to adjourn was voted down, and so was another and
another. The new Speaker gave the floor to everybody that
asked for it, till a dozen members were talking at once, amid
screams of laughter. Mr. John Cochrane, a Democrat, crept up
the marble steps, and told Mr. Pennington that if he would rec
ognize him he would move an adjournment, and he believed
enough Democrats would vote with him to carry the motion.
" Oh, no, Mr. Cochrane," said the Speaker ; " let her run."
After it had had fun enough the House adjourned, with the
clumsiest presiding officer that ever filled the chair.

103
WADE AND TOOMBS.
Mr. Slidell introduced into the Senate a bill to appropriate
twenty or thirty millions of dollars (I forget which) for the
purchase of Cuba. Of course, the object was to strengthen the
slave power. When he moved to take up the bill, it was
antagonized by a motion to take up the bill for granting public
lands free of cost to settlers, known as the Homestead bill. A
debate immediately arose on the merits of the two measures,
which ran into the night, and became intensely bitter toward
the close. Toombs, of Georgia, whose seat was right beside
Benjamin F. Wade's, was eloquently abusive. He shook his
fist at Seward, who at that moment was standing in the door of
a cloak-room calmly puffing a cigar, and called him a little
demagogue. He accused the Republicans of being afraid of the
"lacklanders" (as he styled those who might wish to accept the
privileges of the homestead policy), frequently thumping his desk
by way of emphasis, and occasionally striking a blow on Wade's.
As be took his seat, half a dozen Senators sprang to their feet.
Vice-President Breckenridge could not but give the fioor to
Wade, for he leaped clear from the carpet. Turning short on
Toombs, he exclaimed, " Afraid, are we ? Afraid, are we ? I
never saw anything or any man under God's heavens that I was
afraid of," at the same time smiting Toombs' desk with his fist,
which came inconveniently close to the Georgian's nose. Two
or three more sentences in this vein were hurled at him, accom
panied by heavy thuds on the desk. Toombs rolled back his
chair, and said, " I except my friend from Ohio from my too
sweeping remark." " Very well," resumed Wade, " if .you
wish to back out, you can go." He then briefly dissected
Slidell's measure, contrasting it with the homestead policy, and
exclaimed, "We accept the issue tendered to us, and will go
to the people on it, viz., Land for the landless versus
niggers for the niggerless." The excited auditory burst into
loud applause, which was not easily suppressed. Slidell's
motion was rejected, Mr. Douglas rubbing his hands in great
glee at the discomflture of his sly, sour enemy.
It is rare that we meet a character that embodied so much
rough grandeur as Benjamin Franklin Wade's. He did not
know what fear was. Toombs was merely an eloquent bully.
He had little of that courage that stands fire.

104
GROW AND KEITT.
During Buchanan's administration, scenes often occurred in
the House more dramatic and perilous than any in the Senate-
I was present when Galusha A. Grow, of Pennsylvania, knocked
down Keitt, of South Carolina, under circumstances that came
near to involving the members, and perhaps the galleries, in
bloodshed. It was due to the caution and firmness of Speaker
Orr that the catastrophe was averted. At a later day Owen
Lovejoy, of Illinois, a brother of the Alton martyr, while
delivering a speech, unconsciously advanced step by step
across the area in front of the Clerk's desk. A Southern
member laid his hand on Lovejoy's shoulder, saying, "Go
back to your own side." Instantly the area was full of mem
bers, the most of whom were armed. The ominous "click''
of weapons was heard. Washburne, of Illinois, clutched at
the supposed hair of Barksdale, of Mississippi, and pulled off
his wig. High above the din rose the voice of Kellogg, of
Illinois, shouting, "My colleague shall be heard ! " The crowd
swayed to and fro, the mace of the little Sergeant at Arms
dancing about on the surface till it was thrown clear out of
the vortex, recalling the scene in Westminster Hall when
Cromwell, who had entered to expel the Rump Parliament,
was confronted with the mace, and cried, " Take away that
bauble!" The frightened Speaker rapped, rapped, rapped,
shouted " Order, order, order! " and the storm finally subsided.
STEVENS AND CRAWFORD.
Thaddeus Stevens, clearly within parliamentary rules, was
addressing the House on another occasion in his usual pungent
style, when Martin J. Crawford, of Georgia, followed by a dozen
other superheated Secessionists, rushed toward him, some of
them threatening to assassinate him on the spot unless he
retracted his words. The brave old Commoner maintained his
ground, and stood by his words. He was then in his sixty-
ninth year, and a cripple. Crawford was forty, and tall,
wiry, and athletic. The assault plunged the House into a vor.
tex of excitement. The deliberation and dignity of Stevens
cowed Crawford and his caitiffs, who, one after another, slunk
into their seats, while the great debater resumed his speech.
The steadiness of nerve exhibited by Mr. Stevens probably
saved the House from a bloody affray.

105
The subsequent career of Crawford illustrates his colossal
impudence. During the civil war he was a member of the
Rebel Congress, and was sent by that treasonable assembly to
Washington as one of a so-called commission or embassy to
negotiate a treaty of peace between the Confederacy and' the
United States, on the basis that the Union was already dis
solved. Could effrontery further go !
These tumults were the skirmishes that preceded Bull Run,
Antietam, Gettysburgh, and Appomattox Court House. Keitt
was killed in battle in front of Washington, and Barksdale
fell in the last terrible charge of Lee against Cemetery
Ridge, at Gettysburgh, but Crawford preferred to practise law.
STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS.
Rising from obscurity and poverty, Stephen A. Douglas,
without adventitious aids, advanced by sheer force of will and
perseverance to eminent leadership in the Democratic party.
He had little learning, but was endowed with rare oratorical
gifts, while his buoyant spirits made him popular, with the
multitude. He was a native-born Tribune of the people. A
little story will illustrate his jovial manner. Beverly Tucker
was sitting on his knee, with Douglas' arm around him. " Bev.,"
said he, " when I get to be President, what shall I do for you ? "
" Doug.," replied Tucker, " when you get to be President, all I
shall ask of you is to take me on your knee, put your arm around
me, and call me ' Bev.' "
In his contest for Senator with Mr. Lincoln, in 1858, he was
successful, but did not come to Washington in the following
winter until after his re-election to the Senate by the Legisla
ture. In his conflict with the "Tall Sucker" of Springfield,
the " Little Giant " of Chicago had been driven to the utter
ance of opinions on the Free Soil question which were repugnant
to the creed of such Slavery propagandists in the Senate as
Davis, Mason, Toombs, and Slidell.
His reception in the Senate on his first appearance was a
spectacle to be enjoyed. As he entered, a select crowd in the
galleries applauded. Mason, Slidell, and their bitter clique
scowled, and did not recognize him. When a distinguished
Senator' approached, he rose from his seat, and received the
greetino- with marked cordiality. The lesser lights were con
tent with a hearty shake of the hand, he maintaining a sitting

106
posture. Jefferson Davis came to his chair. Douglas rose, and
they bowed and bowed, but seemed to say very little. After
some of the yainor Republicans had paid their respects to the
lion of the hour, Mr. Seward crossed the aisle ; Douglas rose,
they bowed, and he then gave the leader of the opposition a.
seat by his side. Since the last session the Senate had removed
into its new chamber, where Douglas had never sat. Lest he
and Seward should be suspected of conversing about the Illinois
contest (which was delicate ground for Mr. Seward to tread),
the latter, with spectacles in hand and arm extended, was point
ing out the architectural beauties of the new hall, Mr. Dougks
following the spectacles with his eye, and twisting around in his
chair to keep pace with their meanderings.
For many days Douglas was quiet, content with his victory
at home. The Slavery propagandists determined to drive him
out of the party. A string of resolutions condemnatory of his
Illinois opinions was introduced into the Senate. The debate
lasted far into the night. The Republicans generally stood
aloof. The attacks upon Douglas were rare specimens of
malignant oratory. Mason and Slidell being particularly offen
sive. Douglas and his few Democratic coadjutors bore up
gallantly against their assailants. Mr. Stuart, of Michigan,
a Democratic Senator, was a strong, rough debater. In the
evening he converted the Senate Chamber into a threshing-
floor, and his tongue into a flail. He told the propagandists
that instead of receiving the distinguished Senator from Illinois
as a victor, they had treated him as if he was a pickpocket.
He pointed to the many seats, one by one, now occupied by
Republicans, which he had formerly seen filled by Democrats.
" And this," he exclaimed in stentorian tones, and shaking his
fist at the antagonists of Douglas, " is due to your detestable
doctrines." They quailed under the flagellation of Stuart. It
gave them a foretaste of the civil war.
The success oi. the North in the war of the Rebellion was,
strange to say, in part due to the author of the bill that repealed
the Missouri Compromise. I refer to the patriotic letter
Douglas addressed to his Democratic friends, which was
appended to Mr. Lincoln's call for seventy-five thousand
volunteers, in April, 1861. It produced an impression through
the country almost as profound as the President's proclamation.
It extinguished the hope ofthe South that they were to receive
open aid from the Northern Democracy in the attempt to

107
destroy the Union. Indeed, the accession to the patriotic
side of the struggle at a critical juncture of four such dis.
tinguished Democrats as General Cass, Mr. Dickinson, Robert
J. Walker, and Mr. Douglas went far to inspire confidence
in the ultimate triumph of the constitutional party.
It so happened that Mr. Douglas and I left Washington in
the same railway train in the perilous days of April, 1861. We
occupied adjoining seats till we reached the Relay House,
where he turneddiis face toward his Western home. He told me
he should spend the spring and summer in rallying the people
of Illinois to the support of Lincoln and the Union. Alas !
on the third of the following June, his sun set to rise no more
on earth.
SEWARD PREPARING FOR CHICAGO.
In 1860, Mr. Seward made a speech in the Senate which he
thought would remove all obstacles to his nomination to the
Presidency at Chicago. He read it to me before it was deliv
ered, and requested me to write a description for the New York
Tribune oi the scene in the chamber during the delivery, which
I did. The description was elaborate, the Senator hinriself sug
gesting some of the nicer touches, and every line of it was written
and on its way to New York before Mr. Seward had uttered a
word in the Senate chamber. Soon a large edition of the
speech and the description came to Washington. As he
handed me some copies, he said, in his liveliest manner,
" Here we go down to posterity together." He was in buoyant
spirits, seeming not to doubt that his nomination was assured.
He would have felt otherwise if he had known that, at that
critical moment, there were not five Republican Senators who
were heartily in favor of his candidacy.
THOMAS CORWIN IN NEW ENGLAND.
In the early spring of I860, State contests were pending in
Connecticut and Rhode Island whose results might exert a wide
infiuence in the next Presidential campaign. I spoke once in
Connecticut, and several times in Rhode Island. In the latter
State, a fierce struggle was raging for the Governorship between
two rich candidates, William Sprague, Democrat, and Seth Pad-
dleford. Republican. Each was flooding that little rotten bor-

108
ough with money. The Republicans urged me to get Mr.
Corwin to come from Washington and help them. I told them
he was poor, and could not afford to waste money in stump
speaking. I demanded a carte blanche as to the terms I was to
submit to the peerless orator. The.y gave it. I saw him. In
bis half-serious, half-comic style, he pronounced me a philoso
pher, and started eastward ; and on his return he remarked in
the same vein that the Yankees were the most magnificent and
munificent people on the face of the globe.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN IN NEW ENGLAND. .
When in the House of Representatives in 1848, I saw a tall,
lank, sallow-hued member bending over the chair of another
member, scarcely larger than one of the pages, whose dried skin
looked like parchment. On inquiry, I learned that they were
Abraham Lincoln and Alexander H. Stephens, both Whigs.
In the spring of 1860, Mr. Lincoln came eastward. He
delivered a wonderful speech in Cooper Institute, and went to
Connecticut and Rhode Island, where he addressed tumultuous
assemblies in the principal cities. His debate with Douglas,
his speech in New York, and his trip to New England gave
him the nomination to the Presidency.
SEWARD AND LINCOLN AT CHICAGO.
Mr. Seward was popular among his neighbors. On the day
when the Chicago Convention was to ballot for a Presidential
candidate, Cayuga county poured itself into Auburn. The
streets were full, and Mr. Seward's house and grounds over
fiowed with his admirers. The trees waved their branches on
the lawn as if betokening coming victory. Flags were ready to
be raised, and a loaded cannon was placed at the gate whose
pillars bore up two guardian lions. Arrangements had been
perfected for the receipt of intelligence with unwonted speed
from the scene where the battle was proceeding. At Mr. Sew
ard's right hand, just within the porch, stood his trusty hench
man, Christopher Morgan. The rider of a galloping steed
dashed through the crowd with a telegram, and handed it to
Governor Seward. He read it, and passed it to Morgan. For
Seward, 173^ ; for Lincoln, 103 ; and for other aspirants, 189^.
Morgan repeated it to the multitude, who cheered vehe-

109
mently. Then came the tidings of the second ballot : For Sew
ard, 184^; for Lincoln, 181 ; and for others, 99^. "I shall
be nominated on the next ballot," said Seward, and the throng
in the house applauded, and those on the lawn echoed the
cheers. The next messenger from the telegraph office lashed
his horse into a run. The telegram read, " Lincoln nominated.
T. W." Seward turned as pale as ashes. The sad tidings crept
through the vast concourse. The flags were furled, the cannon
was rolled away, and Cayuga county went home with a clouded
brow. Mr. Seward retired to rest at a late hour, and the night
breeze in the tall trees sighed a requiem over New York's emi
nent son.
IRA HARRIS CHOSEN SENATOR.
Mr. Seward's successor was to be elected to the Senate in
1861, he being about to enter Lincoln's Cabinet. Mr. Weed's
candidate was William M. Evarts. His principal antagonist
was Horace Greeley, but Ira Harris, whom Weed hated a little
less than he did Greeley, held about twenty votes as a balance
of power. There were a dozen or more votes floating around
loose. The Republican nomination was equivalent to an elec
tion. The prize was exceptionally valuable, for the Senator
would exert great influence in the distribution of patronage and
otherwise under the new administration. Evarts and Harris
were on the ground weeks previous to the day of trial, and
Albany was full of supporters of the rival aspirants. Greeley
was at the West lecturing. Governor Morgan favored Evarts,
and on the evening of the caucus gave Weed the possession of
the Executive Chamber for the Evarts headquarters. De Witt
C. Littlejohn, tall and lithe, was Weed's lieutenant. Greeley
and Evarts ran about neck and neck. Harris held the balance.
There were a dozen or fifteen floaters. For three ballots the
result hardly changed. Suddenly Greeley shot ahead of Evarts,
and it looked as if he would win on the next ballot. Pale as
ashes Weed sat smoking a cigar within earshot of the bustle
in the crowded Assembly room, where the caucus sat. Long-
leo-ged Littlejohn stalked over the heads of the spectators, and
reported to Weed. Unmindful of the fact that he had a cigar
in his mouth, Weed lighted another and put it in, then rose in
great excitement, and said to Littlejohn, " Tell the Evarts men

110
to go right over to Harris — to Harris — to Haeeis ! " The order
was given in the caucus. They wheeled into line like Napo
leon's Old Guard, and Harris was nominated. Cannon rever
berated on Capitol hill. They were not fired by the Weed-
Evarts faction. LINCOLN'S CABINET.
After it was known that Mr. Seward was to be Secretary of
State, great efforts were made by Vice-President Plamlin, Mr.
Greeley, Mr. Dana, Mr. Wadsworth, the elder Blair, and others
of that type, to get Mr. Chase into the Treasury Department,
as an offset to Mr. Seward. The President and Chase were on
the same fioor at Willard's Hotel. Mr. Chase had just been
chosen a Senator in Congress. In ignorance of the President's
intentions, he repaired to the Capitol and was sworn as Senator,
when the message appointing him Secretary of the Treasury
was opened in his presence. The ease of Gideon Welles was
not quite so singular. When Mr. Lincoln was stumping Con
necticut in 1860, Welles accompanied him through the State.
At Washington, he told me he was to go into the Cabinet ; and
when asked what portfolio he was to take, said he was not sure,
but supposed he would be Postmaster-General.
My authority for the following incident was present at the
Cabinet meeting where it occurred : Mr. Stanton, the Secretary
of War, came in with the details of a foreshadowed plan for a
simultaneous attack of the rebels at three points, in which he
would want a little assistance from the Navy. Stanton
described his first place of attack, and said the troops would need
the co-operation of one or two gunboats. The President,
addressing Welles, asked if they could be furnished. He wrig
gled around in his chair and said he couldn't tell, but would
inquire and let them know at the next meeting of the Cabinet.
And this, in substance, was his response on all the three points
of Stanton's programme. Putting one of his feet on the table,
the vexed President said, " Mr. Secretary, will you please tell
us all you know about the Navy, and then we shall know all
you don't know about it." I have thought that the other mem
bers of the Cabinet did not fully appreciate Mr. Welles. I was
much with him in the Fremont campaign, and know that he was
a gentleman of sound judgment and tireless industry. The
Cabinet was torn by factions, which the Secretary of the Navy
steered clear of, and minded his own business.

Ill
CHASE AND SEWARD GRAPPLE.
Notorious was the superiority of Seward over Chase in the
handling of Federal patronage, and the consequent mortification
of Chase. I will give one illustration of this, out of many that fell
under my notice. I must first tell of whom I am speaking. In
the winter of 1841, I was an onlooker at a debate, in the Sen
ate at Albany, on the causes of Mr. Van Buren's defeat in 1840.
John Hunter, a Democrat, of Westchester, a refined gentleman
and a classical scholar, declared that Van Buren's courage in
placing himself in the chasm between a corrupt bank and a
patriotic people had its fitting historic parallel in the Roman
Forum when Marcus Curtius leaped into the abyss to save the
republic. Andrew B. Dickinson, familiarly called Bray Dickin
son, a Whig, of Steuben, illiterate and rough-hewn, who doubt
less never till then had heard of Marcus Curtius, replied to Hunter.
When he came to the classical portion of the speech, he said
that the difference between that Roman " feller," Curtis, and
Van Buren was, that Curtis jumped into the gap of his own
accord, but the people throw'd Van Buren in.
When Mr. Lincoln became President, Mr. Dickinson and
Edward I. Chase, the brother of Secretary Chase, were rival
aspirants for the office of Marshal of Northern New York.
Secretary Chase took deep interest in his brother's success. He
procured for him the recommendation of Attorney-General
Bates, and as this office lay within his department, it was sup
posed that this ended the controversy. Dickinson had long
been a devoted follower of Mr. Seward, and the Secretary of
State now put forth every exertion for his old friend. It was
a stand-up fight between the two Secretaries. Seward prevailed,
and the badgered President appointed Dickinson. When the
news came to Chase, it was a scene for a painter. His eyebrows
twitched more nervously than usual, and his breath was short
an 1 hot as he spitefully said, "What a place you New York
men have got me into ! " Having won the day, Dickinson said
that Seward advised him to take his commission (if it may be so
called) to Secretary Chase, and tell him he felt sorry for
him and his brother, and that as Mr. Seward had offered him
(Dickinson) his pick of the foreign missions, he would decline the
Marshalship in his brother's favor. Dickinson did this; and
this in substance, and much more of the same kind, Dickinson

112
detailed before a large circle in the public hall of a Washington
hotel, seeming to take special pleasure in telling how badly
Secretary Chase felt, and how he pitied him, and how glad
Chase was to get the appointment for his brother on these terms,
and that Mr. Seward had generously ope:ied his book to him,
and he had selected the Mission to Central America.
Several contests occurred between the two Secretaries over
places more important than this Marshalship, and their oppugna-
tion rose far above offices, and reached measures and policies,
till they gave Mr. Lincoln as much trouble in his Cabinet as
General Washington had with Jefferson and Hamilton. The
sharp criticisms I heard from Mr. Chase on some of his col
logues, and even on the President, would be interesting reading.
Probably, Mr. Lincoln was glad to place him at the head of the
Supreme Bench, where, doubtless, Mr. Chase was glad to go.
DOWN IN DIXIE.— GENERAL B. F. BUTLER.
As already stated, I left Washington for New York in April,
1861. I had witnessed the arrival at the Capitol of the first
volunteer troops that came to its rescue on the 19th of the
month. It was that brave Massachusetts regiment commanded
b.y Colonel Jones (now Lieutenant-Governor of New York),
some of whose members bad been slain while passing through
Baltimore, and all of whom, doubtless, remembered that it was
the anniversary of the battle of Lexington, fought eighty-six
years before. I found Baltimore under the control of a mob.
A portion of them were armed with muskets, stolen from an
arsenal. While circulating among them (this was on Sunday),
their murderous purposes were readily perceived. The tele
graph wires and railroad tracks between Baltimore and Havre
de Grace (where trains cross the Susquehanna) had been
destroyed. Nevertheless, somebody had obtained a copy or two
of that number of the New York Herald which declared in
favor of maintaining the Union by force. The manifesto was
read to a great throng, and it was easy to pick out the Seces
sionists by the fall of their countenances.
On Monday, a small party of us hired at an exorbitant rate
a man to carry us to Havre de Grace. He proved to be a
deputy sheriff of Harford county, residing at Bel Air, who
had just come to Baltimore with passengers from the North.
Baltimore was then a nest of rebels, and Maryland was on the

113
verge of secession. The towns we went through were inflamed
with excitement. I was on the box with our sheriff, who
seemed to know everybody, and would shout to the crowds,
" Hurrah for Jeff.! " at the same time punching me and saying,
" I'll take care of my load." We stopped at Bel Air to dine.
Our wagon stood in the street with half a dozen trunks
marked "New York'' and so on, which loungers kept curi
ously inspecting. We waited a couple of hours after dinner ;
the horses had been stabled ; the sheriff could not be found ;
the landlord, whom we had liberally rewarded for our dinner,
was away, and there were no signs pf preparation for our
departure. The court house was near at hand, and I had
noticed that a tumultuous meeting was going on within,
while a rough crowd hung around the door. After a long
delay the landlord appeared, a team was attached to the
vehicle, and the landlord shook hands with us, saying in a
significant tone, " Gentlemen, you'll find us all right the next
time you venture down into Dixie."
Now for the cause of our detention. The meeting at the
court house had been summoned to decide whether the
county should go with the Secessionists. Our arrival had
raised a side issue in a small circle of violent men, some of
whom wanted to hang us, while others proposed to detain us
for examination. The sheriff or landlord interposed, and we
were allowed to depart. On arriving at Havre, we found that
General Butler had been there and captured all the ferry
boats for the transportation of Massachusetts troops to Wash
ington via Annapolis. We hired a rowboat to take us across
the Susquehanna to the railway depot, which a Pennsylvania
regiment was at that moment entering, the flags flying and
drums beating. Half a dozen fellows tried to prevent our
crossing the river. A small scuffle ensued, and we were
afloat. They fired muskets at us, but the shades of the evening
were gathering, and they missed the mark. I conferred with
the commander of the Pennsylvania regiment, giving him the
latest information from Baltimore and Washington, whither
he was bound, provided he could reach there.
Glorious Ben Butler ! His prompt seizure of tbe ferryboats
gave the country a foreshadowing of his stern quality. Clearer
than most others he saw the end from the bepinning. Balti
more never behaved so well as when cowering under the
muzzles of his cannon. But Maryland was slow to take in

114
the situation, and did not come to its senses till General
McClellan shut the doors of its Legislature to prevent the
State being carried out of the Union. And so was it in New
Orleans. That turbulent city was kept in good order when
ruled by General Butler's pen and sword.
MR. LINCOLN AND DR. MoPHEETERS.
My brother. Rev. R. L. Stanton, D.D., was a leader in the
Presbyterian Church and a warm friend of Mr. Lincoln during
the war. In the great struggle he was aggressivel.y on the side
of the Union, and in favor ofthe emancipation policy of Mr.
Lincoln. In 1862-'63, the Rev. Dr. McPheeters, a prominent
Presbyterian, was preaching at St. Louis. Ma,jor-General
Curtis commanded in that military department. One Sunday
Dr. McPheeters uttered some sentiments that were deemed
disloyal. The next Sunday Dr. McPheeters found the doors
of his church closed by order of General Curtis. There was
immediate trouble, not alone in St. Louis, but in Washington.
A committee composed of both factions went to see the Presi
dent. Finding Dr. Stanton in Washington, they requested him
to go with them to the White House and present them to Mr.
Lincoln. The President listened patiently, and then spoke
about as follows :
" I can best illustrate my position in regard to your St.
Louis quarrel by telling a story. A man in Illinois had a large
watermelon patch, on which he hoped to make money enough
to carry him over the year. A big hog broke through the log
fence nearly every night, and the melons were gradually disap
pearing. At length the farmer told his son John to get out
the guns, and they would promptly dispose of the disturber
of their melon patch. They followed the tracks to the neigh
boring creek, where they disappeared. They discovered them
on the opposite bank, and waded through. The kept on the
trail a couple of hundred yards, when the tracks again went
into the creek, but promptly turned up on the other side.
Once more the hunters buffeted the mud and water, and again
struck the lead and pushed on a few furlongs, when the tracks
made another dive into the creek. Out of breath and patience,
the farmer said, ' John, you cross over and go up on that side
of the creek, and I'll keep up on this side, for I believe the old
fellow is on both sides.' Gentlemen," concluded Mr. Lincoln,

115
" that is just where I stand in regard to your controversies in St.
Louis. 1 am on both sides. I can't allow ray Generals to run
the churches, and I can't allow your ministers to preach rebel
lion. Go home, preach the Gospel, stand by the Union, and
don't disturb the Government with any more of your petty
quarrels." Dr. Stanton said that when the belligerents reached Willard's
Hotel, they had a hearty laugh, and made up their minds that
they would go home and follow the President's advice.
ROSCOE CONKLING AND NOAH DAVIS.
In January, 1867, Mr. Conkling, having won a high reputa
tion in the House of Representatives, was a candidate for United
States Senator. He was supported with fidelity and enthusiasm
by a large body of the most skilful politicians in the State.
His leading opponent was Noah Davis, then on. the Bench of
the'Supreme Court in the Eighth District. In the contest at
Albany, Mr. Conkling prevailed over Judge Davis by a narrow
majority. The learning, acumen, and versatility displayed by Mr. Davis
on the Bench in Western New York, and as Chief Justice of the
Supreme Court in the metropolitan city, and while a mem
ber of the Forty-first Congress and United States Attorney
in the Southern District of New York, are recognized by his
fellow-citizens. But it is not so widely known that in the Free-
Soil conflict of 1**48 he was an active Barnburner. 1 was on
the platform with him before a large out-door meeting in
Albion, in that campaign. He was then the law partner of
Sanford E. Church. He would have ably represented the
State as a Senator in Congress.
DEFEAT OF MORGAN AND ELECTION OF FENTON.
In 1863, Edwin D. Morgan wielded the influence he had
acquired in two Gubernatorial terms to secure an election to
the Senate. His six years at Washington would expire in
March, 1869. He had no doubt that he would be his own suc
cessor. He heard that Reuben E. Fenton sought his place. It
did not occur to him that the wily Chautauqua sachem hadj'ust
completed four years' service in the Executive Chamber at
Albany, and still tarried in that city to manage his Senatorial

116
canvass. Morgan was cautioned to take heed to the selection of
a Speaker of the Assembly, for he would wield great power
especially in the appointment of the committees, most of which'
in those days, were lucrative. Morgan declared himself satisfled
with Truman G. Younglove for Speaker. He was under a
strange delusion, for Younglove was the fast friend of Fenton.
The new Speaker took the chair at the opening of the
session, the Assembly met daily, but no committees were
announced. Weeks rolled away, the Speaker's rooms were all
the time full of applicants for fat berths, and by and by he pro
claimed that no committees would be appointed till after the
Senator was chosen.
The capital city was crowded with Republicans from every
portion of the State. Fenton was as unruffied as Chautauqua
Lake in summer. Morgan began to be disturbed, broke up his
quarters at Washington, came to Albany, and put himself at
the head of his forces. Rumor was at fault if plenty of money
was not in circulation. It was asserted, and believed, that
$12,000 were paid for the sole item of bare rooms at one hotel
wherein to bivouac Morgan's troops. So hard pressed were
Fenton's lines that he invited his rich and liberal friend, Mar
shall 0. Roberts, of New York, to take his place as a candidate.
He came up, but after looking over the ground, and seeing a
demand for $260,000 by the lobby staring him in the face, he
returned to the city, because it was feared that in an attempt to
carry all the Fenton men over to Roberts, a few might fall out
of line. It was amusing to hear Roberts, in his characteristic
style, describe his escape out of the hands of the hungry Albany
lobby on this occasion.
The evening for holding the caucus arrived. Nobody who
was at the cai)ital during the previous twenty-four hours will
ever forget the exciting scene. The caucus assembled. It
elected its president, secretaries, and tellers, and now the
Republican Speaker, who had all the committees in his brain,
rose, and in a fltly framed speech nominated for Senator in
Congress, Reuben E. Fenton. It hardly need be added that
those who had been badgering him for several weeks for first-
class places on leading and lucrative committees read between
the lines, and were pretty sure that they saw, in clearest words,
dropping from the lips of Mr. Younglove :
"Now, all of you that want me to listen to you two days
hence, had better listen to me now."

117
The result was, that Mr. Fenton was nominated on the first
ballot. Mr. Morgan paid his bills and went back to Washing
ton, a wiser and a sadder man.

SEWARD'S TRIP AROUND THE WORLD.
On Mr. Seward's return, in the fall of 1871, from his trip
around the globe, Mr. Hugh J. Hastings arranged a plan for
my going with the Governor to Auburn, accompanied by a
stenographer, to get a condensed report of his journey for pub
lication in the New York Sun. Mr. Dana and I conferred, and
I went up. The report filled a broadside of the Sun, and, as
Mr. Seward subsequently told me, it saved him much trouble,
for, when any of his friends asked him about his trip, he imme
diately gave them a copy of the newspaper.
Of the many incidents that occurred during this trip to
Auburn, I will relate but one. The morning after our arrival,
Mr. Seward was walking in his grounds. The servant was
pointing him to this, that, and the other thing, but he kept say
ing, " Show me the bird." I did not understand what he meant.
Soon we stood before the largest eagle I ever saw, enclosed in a
great cage. The Governor looked at the eagle ; the eagle
looked at the Governor. They exchanged winks, as much as
to say, " We understand each other." Mr. Seward then
exclaimed, with some emotion, " When I was in Alaska, they
gave me that eagle, and that is all I ever got for my trouble in
negotiating the Alaska treaty, except a great deal of undeserved
personal abuse."
In the autumn of 1872, Mr. Seward died. In 1828, I had
been a member of the Young Men's State Convention, over
which Mr. Seward presided. I now stood by his open grave.
In the intervening forty-four years he had played a great part
in the history of his country.

THURMAN AND HAYES.
The contest for the Governorship of Ohio in 1875, between
William Allen and Rutherford B. Hayes, exhibited features of
national importance. I spent a few weeks in the State while
this extraordinary campaign was in progress. Both candidates

118
were addressing large audiences. Allen was impressive, saga
cious, bold. Hayes was respectable, commonplace, feeble.
Amjug other distinguished speakers whom I heard were ex-Gov.
Noyes, afterward Minister to France, Senator McDonald, of
Indiana, Judge Taft, subsequently Minister to Austria, and
Senator Allen G. Thurman. In a conversation with the latter
at Columbus, he made a prediction which then seemed to me
singular. He said that if Hayes defeated Allen in the pend
ing struggle, he would be the next Republican candidate for
the Presidency. Hayes did defeat Allen, and he was the can
didate. The ablest man whom I met in my Western tour was
Mr. Thurman.
It must annoy eminent statesmen like him, who aspire to
be President, to see small politicians preferred before them.
The Presidency is dwindling in importance with every passing
term. Congress controls the administration of the Federal
Government. The leader of the House and the leader of the
Senate exert more influence than Presidents in moulding vital
measures of public policy.

ELECTION OF LAPHAM AND MILLER.
I was strongly in favor of the return of Mr. Conkling and
Mr. Piatt to the Senate in 1881, after their resignation. I had
been a resigning Senator, in a small way, just thirty years
before, and knew how it was myself. So I stood by the
resigning Senators on this broader and grander fleld. I had
better luck than they, for I was re-elected, while they were
defeated. But I would not again resign, to prevent in that
way the passage of a fifteen million unconstitutional canal bill.
I do not know whether they would again resign, to prevent by
that method the appointment of a collector of customs for New
York. Their unwise rejection by the Legislature, and the elec
tion of Elbridge G. Lapham and Warner Miller in their stead,
was far-reaching in its consequences. It gave Alonzo B. Cor
nell leave to retire to private life at the close of his first
Gubernatorial term, and gave James G. Blaine long-coveted
leisure for employing a graphic pen on an interesting period of
modern history.

119
EDITORS.— MR. DANA.
For the past sixty years I have seen much of newspaper editors,
metropolitan and rural. During half of this long period I have
occasionally contributed to journals mainly or wholly directed
by Mr. Charles A. Dana. More thoroughly than any editor
I have met, he has what I call the true newspaper instinct.
Prompt in judgment and rapid in execution ; quick to dis
cern what will take with his clientage and what will not ; capa
ble of performing a large amount of work in a short space of
time ; ever welcoming valuable ideas and invoking picturesque
diction wherewith to clothe them ; fond of variety, pungency,
wit, and good humor, but, on sufficient provocation, hitting
where he strikes and leaving a mark where he hits ; if this
country has produced an abler and more versatile occupant of
an editorial chair, I have not known or heard of him. It gives
me pleasure to add that Mr. Dana was ever on the kindliest
relations with his editorial associates, and always courteous to
his employees.

ALBANY NEWSPAPERS.
In the conflicts between the Barnburners and the Hunkers,
the young Albany Atlas was the organ of the former, and the
venerable Albany Argus of the latter. William Cassidy, the
editor of the Atlas, was a versatile writer. He was assisted by
the solid abilities of Henry H. Van Dyck and the sparkling wit
of John Van Buren. Edwin Croswell, who had long managed
the Argus, was trained in the Albany Regency, a political
organization that controlled the Democratic party in New
York for twenty years. He was an editor of rare gifts. He
encountered an opponent worthy of his blade in Mr. Weed, of
the Albany Evening Journal. The Argus, at a later day, came
under the able direetion of Mr. S. M. Shaw, now of the Coopers-
town Freeman's Journal, and absorbed the Atlas. In those days.
Governor Marcy wrote occasionally for the Argus. The vete
ran George Dawson took the helm of the Evening Journal after
the brilliant pen of Mr. Samuel Wilkeson disappeared from its
columns. In the vicissitudes of parties from 1848 to 1858, I
occasionally wrote as a volunteer for all of these influential
newspapers.

120
THE TRIBUNE AND THE SUN.
I have never been on the editorial staff of either the New
York Tribune or the New York San. But for the past thirty
years I have written largely for each in turn, and mostly in the
editorial columns. The questions I treated were of every
variety. There is one topic, however, to which I will particu
larly refer. It often devolved upon me to prepare obituary
notices of distinguished persons. They exhibit the defects of
hasty writing, for they were produced under the pressure of
emergencies that would permit of no delay. I recall the fol
lowing names of subjects, selected at random: Daniel Cady,
John Brown, Salmon P. Chase, Charles Sumner, Robert Ran-
toul, Horace Greeley, Thaddeus Stevens, John A. Dix, William
Culien Bryant, William Lloyd Garrison, Benjamin F. Wade,
William Pitt Fessenden, Henry Wilson, Gerrit Smith, Daniel
S. Dickinson, William H. Seward, Sanford E. Church, Thurlow
Weed, James Watson Webb, Arphaxed Loomis, Reuben E.
Fenton, Robert L. Stanton, Mrs. Daniel Cady, Mrs. Gerrit Smith,
and Mrs. Lucretia Mott. It gave me a melancholy pleasure to
strew these stray flowers on the graves of many of my coad
jutors in a great and good cause.

ESPRIT DE CORPS OF JOURNALISM.
On Sunday afternoon, December 28, 1874, 1 called at the
house of General John Cochrane, in New York, and there
learned that Gerrit Smith had that morning been stricken with
apoplexy, and was lying unconscious in the chamber above. That
manly form was waging a desperate battle for life. His attend
ing physician, Dr. Edward Bayard, my brother in law, informed
me that it was quite possible he might live till the next day.
Late in the evening it occurred to me that I would go to the
Sun, office, and prepare an obituary notice of the friend whom I
had kujwn for forty years. I dictated it to a shorthand writer.
It would fill five columns. The hour of midnight arrived, when
it must be decided whether or not it was to go into print.
There was no one to confer with but the night editor. I finally
sent the article to the composing room, where they prefixed to
it the startling heading, " Gerrit Smith's Deathbed." On Mon
day morning the Sun took the town by surprise. General

121
Ooehrane's house was filled with reporters. Mr. Smith died
about noon.
Toward evening I dropped into the Sun office. The night
editor rushed up to me, his eyes all aglow, and seizing my hand,
exclaimed : " Mr. Stanton, that was one of the grandest news
paper beats that ever happened in New Y'"ork ! And how for
tunate it is for us that Mr. Smith died to-day ! It would have
been very embarrassing if he had recovered."
The enthusiastic outburst of the night editor maybe regarded '
as the very effervesence of the esprit de corps of journalism.
HENRY WILSON.
Vice-President Wilson was in early days an editor of a Free
Soil newspaper in Boston. At a later date he wrote an elabo
rate book, in two volumes, entitled " The Rise and Fall of the
Slave Power." Though the style is heavy, it is a valuable
storehouse of facts. Of course, he gathered his materials as
others do. He levied contributions among his friends. He
assessed me to the amount of one hundred and fifty foolscap
pages, which he wrought into the book. In coming years, when
some Macaulay shall compose a history of this great epoch, he
will find Wilson's work a rich mine from which to draw mate
rials.
WILLIAM M. TWEED.
For several years I attended State conventions of both par
ties in New York, and superintended the reports of their doings
for the San, by a stenographer, who minded his business and
let mine alone. It was easy to describe what had transpired
to-day, but it was difficult to foreshadow what was to occur
to-morrow. I was oft-times able to do the latter, because I had
long been personally acquainted with the leaders of factions,
and they would accept my assurance that the information they
imparted would not be disclosed to others, though both sides
understood that the facts were to appear in the Sun.
I was at the Democratic State Convention at Syracuse in
1871. The exposures in the New York Times of the frauds of
the Tweed Ring had startled the country Democrats. Never
theless, the delegates from the city were, as usual, under the
absolute control of Tweed, I am now to speak of the evening
before the convention organized. Ultimate results would

122
depend upon whether the Tweed delegation on the morrow
demanded seats therein. I knew it was the purpose of such
Democrats as Governor Seymour, Mr. Tilden, Chief Judge
Church, and Senator Kernan to exclude them ; and Mr. Tilden
had counted his followers, and feared no failure. Tweed did
not know this.
At midnight I met Mr. Tweed alone, by appointment, in his
private apartment, where he waste explain to me his programme
for the morrow. The scene will long remain in my memory.
The chandelier in the large room was turned low, and the elab
orate furniture cast ghastly shadows on the walls. The fallen
Boss, whom I was wont to see in the fulness of his strength,
was nervous and sad. In a voice slightly tremulous with emo
tion, he said the credentials of the Tammany delegates would
not be presented. He surprised me with the frankness of his
utterances. I will not name those of his persecutors to whom
he said he had previously paid money, for a vein of bitterness
tinged his conversation.
At a later date, Tweed was sacrificed to save others who
were as guilty as himself. While in prison, in the fall of 1877,
he was drawn into detailed disclosures of the robberies of the
Ring by promises which were not kept. Though a public plun
derer, he was as honest as some of his prosecutors.
INSIDE VIEW OF JOURNALISM.
Journalism takes the lead of the other learned professions.
To reach eminence in it requires a higher grade of talent and a
broader acquaintance with literature and more general know
ledge than to ascend to the topmost seats of the Bar.
Newspaper reporters of the thoroughly trained type are usually
superior to lawyers of the middle class. They do a large busi
ness at Washington, and elsewhere, in writing speeches for pub
lic men, as, for example. Senators, Representatives, and mem
bers of State legislatures. They prepare reports for committees
and Cabinet officers, while even the messages of Governors
and Presidents sometimes receive solid contributions and orna
mental touches from their pens.
SPEECH-MAKING AND REPORTING.
In the New England campaign of the spring of 1860, which
foreshadowed the election of Lincoln, I met in Providence,

123
where I was to speak, Mr. Joseph Howard, Jr., representative
of the New York Times. Supposing I had prepared a written
address, he asked me for a copy for the Times. Not a word of
my speech was on paper, but, according to my usual habit, the
pntline was before my eve. We repaired to my room. Mr.
Howard po^ed as the Slave Power. For nearly an hour I
upbraided him for his long-continued aggressions upon the lib
erties ofthe people and the Constitution of his country. Though
evidently a little disturbed in his mind at this vivid portrayal
of his manifold iniquities, he nevertheless rallied sufficiently to
take down the speech and emphasize its sharp points with
" loud applause.'' This was written out, sent to the Times, and
put in type before the meeting was held, for, be it remembered,
the telegraph was far less used for such purposes then than it
is now. The large and turaultuous meeting lasted till near
midnight, and the next morning the speech I had hurled at
the Slave Power in the person of Joseph Howard three days
previously appeared in the Times, and several thousand copies
ofthe paper were purchased for circulation in Rhode Island.
An old-time friend in Congress happened to meet me in
Washington, and asked me to write a speech for him on the
tariff, a subject he said he understood about as well as the
average New Zealander. I did as he requested. He read the
speech in the House, and circulated a large edition. It was
translated into German, his astonished constituents presented
to him a set of silver plate, and he was re-elected.
As pure acts of personal friendship (for I never took a
penny for such services), I did this for Representatives and
Senators whose names " shone afar " in the Federal councils.
I was a little disgusted once when a prominent Senator, by an
awkward fumbling of his manuscript, missed a brilliant passage
over which I had burnt a large amount of midnight gas. I felt
as bad, perhaps, as Mrs. Isaac Hill, of New Hampshire, did in
Van Buren's day. Sh« was leaning over the rail of the Senate
gallery while her husband was reading a speech. She startled
the strange ladies around her by exclaiming : " There ! Mr.
Hill has turned over two leaves at once ! " Mr. Hill was an
accomplished editor, and therefore able to write his own
speeches. So was John W. Niles, of Connecticut. Senator
Hill built up the Concord Patriot ; Senator Niles, the Hart
ford Times.

124
Senators and Representatives that can neither write nor
speak ought to resign in favor of editors who can do one or
both.
PRESS CLUB RECEPTION.
On June 27, 1885, I was eighty years old, and it was then
sixty years since I began to write for newspapers. The New
York Press Club, of which Amos J. Cummings was President,
honored me with a reception and collation in their large rooms
iu' New York city, which were crowded with a distinguished
company from various States. The report of the proceedings
says : " Mr. Stanton sat on the right of the President, and many
of the journalists who were near him looked older than he.
His full beard was not silvery, but iron-gray, hia eyes were keen
and full of fire, and none of his natural force was abated.''
President Cummings, turning toward Mr. Stanton, began his
remarks by an allusion to the gigantic old chestnut tree of Mt
^tna. He said that " it had stood there for many centuries
unscathed by lava and lightning, and firm of root, despite fierce
hurricanes and terrible earthquakes. It told us of ages when
Christianity was unknown. It seemed to have renewed its
youth. Its leaves are still as green as ever. Birds sing in its
branches, and the old tree continues to drop its fruit for the
hungry wayfarer.
"This tree was typical of the guest to-day. Planted in, the
field of literature over sixty years ago, he has come down to us
from an age when newspapers were almost unknown. The
great earthquake that destroyed slavery and the lightnings and
tornadoes that preceded it had beat about his head, but had left
him unscathed. He was with us still — a Nestor of the Press
undimmed in intellect and crowned with the love and esteem of
all who know him. Geniality is enthroned in his eye. The
birds are still singing in his branches.
"Glance over his past," continued Mr. Cummings. "He
was born four years before Abraham Lincoln. When he began
to write for newspapers, Lincoln was employed at six dollars a
month to manage a ferry across the Ohio, at the mouth of
Anderson's Creek. Stephen A. Douglas was a boy twelve years
old, living with his widowed mother on a sterile Vermont farm.
Fred. Douglass was a pickaninny on a Maryland plantation.
Horace Greeley had not yet entered a country printing office.
Thurlow Weed was editing a country newspaper. Charles

125
Dickens was a boy thirteen years old, employed in an attorney's
office. Thackeray was a boy of fourteen, attending school in
London. William CuUen Bryant had just come to this. city.
James Gordon Bennett was trying to establish a commercial
school here. Henry J. Raymond and Charles A. Dana were
wearing check aprons at district schools. Erastus Brooks was
attending a grocery in Boston. James Watson Webb was an
Adjutant in the regular army. Manton Marble, George W.
Childs, 'and William Henry Hurlbert were enwrapped in the
cocoon of futurity. A. K. McClure was just learning to walk.
Joseph R. Hawley had just been born in a country town in
North Carolina. John W. Forney was a boy nine years old,
running around unshod, and scores of other newspaper men
who have won fame and fortune were not even literary larvae."
Mr. Stanton responded in an address of half an hour, which
was loudly applauded. It was reported in full and extensivel.y
published. He read it without spectacles, which, by the bye, he
hae never used. Governor Leon Abbett, of New Jersey, came
in late. He had one minute to stay, he remarked, and he
spoke with hat in hand. The Governor said :
"I have known Mr. Stanton many years, and his piirit.y of
life and surroundings have endeared him to many besides
myself." Erastus Brooks said :
" I have seen one hundred and twenty daily newspapers
established in this city, and of these, but six are now in exist
ence. I have calculated that the amount of money expended
and sunk in that time in newspaper enterprises is $25,000,000,
and that in daily newspapers alone. You have spoken of my
being a clerk in a grocery store, in Boston, Mass., when Mr.
Stanton first began to contribute to the press. That is true ;
and well do I remember the words of advice that grocer spoke
to me when I first entered his service. He said : 'Erastus, I
have work for you. I want you to put water in the rum, to wet
the tobacco, to sand the sugar, and then come to prayers.'
[Laughter.] And with such instructions, how could I fail a
few years afterward to become well grounded in journalism ? "
[Renewed laughter.]
Mr. Brooks described his connection with journalism in his
early days, beginning with his connection with the Haverhill,
Mass., Gazette, in which John G. Whittier was his successor,

126
and ended by complimenting Mr. Stanton on his honorable
career. Then the Rev. Dr. Deems, of the Church of the Strangers,
was introduced. He said that, although he was with the Con
federate cause, and stood by it as long as the Confederacy
held together, yet everything said in praise of Mr. Stanton
was true, and every good word was deserved. He had followed
his honest convictions.
-Ex-Surrogate Delano C. Calvin spoke in praise of Mr.
Stanton as a lawyer and a referee while Mr. Calvin was Sur
rogate in this county.
The elaborate address of Mr. Brooks, a veteran journalist
and an experienced statesman, was instructive and eloquent, and
it is to be regretted that it was not reported in full.
LETTEES FROM DISTINGUISHED MEN.
Many letters from distinguished men were read. The fol
lowing are extracts :
From ex-President Samuel J. Tilden. — I regret that I cannot
have the pleasure of a personal participation in the reception to
that veteran and able journalist, the Hon. Henry B. Stanton, on
his eightieth birthday.
From ex-Governor Horatio Seymour. — I am gratified with
your invitation to attend the reception to be given to the Hon.
Henry B. Stanton en the 27th inst. I regret I am not
able to do so on account of my health. I hold him in high
regard, and I wish I could manifest my respect by attending the
reception to be given by the New York Press Club. He has
gained distinction, not only as a writer and orator, but by the
ability he displayed as a member of the Legislature of the
State of New York.
From the Hon. George William Curtis. — It is as a veteran
ofthe old Anti-Slavery debate that I honor Mr. Stanton. His
was one ofthe earliest ofthe powerful and eloquent voices that
awakened the country and stimulated the great movement that
ended in emancipation and in the national union of free
States. That was a patriotic service which ought never to
be forgotten. From the Hon. Abram S. Hewitt. — I trust that Mr. Stanton
will long be preserved to us in health, usefulness, and happi
ness.

127
From United States Senator Warner Miller. — Mr. Stanton's
life work has been one of great usefulness to his fellow
men, and has brought much honor to himself. Please give
him my regards, and wish him for me many happy returns
of the day you celebrate.
From ex- LieuterMnt-Governor William Dorsheimer. — I have
known Mr. Stanton for many years, and I take this opportunity
to offer him my congratulations.
From United States Senator Joseph R. Hawley. — My recol
lections of Mr. Stanton go back to 1842, when I was a school
boy, and he had achieved a great reputation as a brilliant writer
and orator. My father was one of the early Abolitionists, and
Mr. Stanton's name was a, household word among us. An
Abolitionist, and the son of an Abolitionist, I take off' my hat to
Mr. Stanton. I salute him, a noble figure among the noble
men who had the great felicity of being allowed to register
themselves among the earliest who defeated the great wrong.
May he remain many years among us, respected, honored,
and beloved !
From the Hon. Samuel J. Randall. — I regret that ill health
prevents me from joining you in doing honor to so faithful a
man in literature as Mr. Stanton.
From Judge Noah Davis. — I -have known Mr. Stanton for
many years, running back to the period when he was a distin
guished member of the Senate of this State, and one of the most
accomplished and ablest speakers on the platform in the cause
of equal rights and universal freedom. I am glad to see this
recognition of his merits as a newspaper writer, in which
capacity he has also shown himself to be entitled to rank very
high in that profession.
From Secretary of State Joseph B.- Carr. — Convey to Mr.
Stanton my congratulations upon the advent of his eightieth
birthday, " having promise of the life that now is, and of that
which is to come."
From ex- Attorney- General Hamilton Ward. — Mr. Stanton
has for more than a half a century wielded his pen with singular
ability and fairness, and on the side of justice and right. The
younger members of his profession, upon whom his mantle is
soon to fall, may well imitate his example.

128
From, Horace E. Smith, Dean of the Albany Law School. —
My acquaintance with Mr. Stanton began when he was a student
at law and a successful practitioner in the Court of Cupid. He
then wielded a facile and vigorous pen, and as a platform
speaker had few equals. At a subsequent period it was my
good fortune to be associated with him in the practice of law
in Boston. Had he remained there, he would have shown con
spicuously in the bright constellation of which Daniel Webster
and Rufus Choate were stars of the first magnitude. His life
and rare abilities have been unselfishly devoted to the cause of
freedom and the public weal. Few men have lived through
and been a part of such dramatic scenes and great events.
From Samuel Wilkeson. — May the love and reverence of all
manly and brainy men go with this old rear-guard of the Anti-
Slavery army as he slowly marches to his rest !
From the Hon. T. C. Callicot, of the Albany Times. — I
heartly share in the respect and esteem which you propose to
testify to our venerable confrere.
From L. V. Pinney, of the Winsted Press. — The journalist
steers the world, sometimes by running on ahead of it with a
dish of salt in his hands, and sometimes by running behind it
and twisting' its tail. Probably Mr. Stanton, in his long career
as a newspaper writer, has served humanity by both methods,
and I trust he will live to continue the work. But, if he chooses
neither to lead nor to drive any further, here we are, his younger
brethern, the children and grandchildren of his generation,
ready and able to take the bull by the horns and the tail, and
keep him trudging up the hill of progress. Let this beautiful
parable sink deep into the hearts of all the scribes of your Press
Club and all the Pharisees who think their opinions are better
than your facts.
From ex-Senator Charles L. Mc Arthur, of the Troy Tele
gram. — I have been forty-one years continuously, with the
exception ofthe war period, a newspaper writer and editor, and
know how it is myself. When I celebrate my sixtieth year of
newspaper life, I hope Stanton and you will be there. Mean
time I know both of you will keep if you have your own way,
for age cannot wither nor custom stale the infinite variety of
the genuine newspaper man.
From the Hon. Ellis H. Roberts, of the Utica Herald. — Have

129
hoped to the last to get with you to honor Mr. Stanton. Am
disappointed, but join in all kindly congratulations.
From United States Senator 0. H. Piatt, of Connecticut. —
I should like to have been able to testify my regard for Mr.
Stanton by attending the reception.
From the Hon. Henry L. Clinton. — May Stanton long be
spared to enjoy the respect and affection due such a worthy and
distinguished veteran in the professions of law and journalism!
From ex-Collector Hiram Barney. — Such a compliment is
well deserved by Mr. Stanton, and it would gratify me if I could
assist the Club in bestowing it.
From United States Senator John R. McPherson, of New
Jersey. — Congratulations to Mr. Stanton. Sorry can't be with
you. From E. Prentiss Bailey, of the Utica Observer. — Stanton's
manuscript tortured me nearly forty years ago. Being an
average compositor, I think I tortured it in return.
From John A, Sleicher, Albany Journal. — The Press
Club does itself credit in paying a tribute of respect to its
veterans. From S. M. Shaw, Editor Freeman^ s Journal, Cooperstown,
N. Y. — My acquaintance with Stanton extends back to 1849.
I have been in the editorial business for about thirty-eight
years, and it is forty-four years since I began to write
for newspapers. Give Stanton a " right jolly time," for he
deserves it.
From Henry A. Homes, State Library, Albany. — Mr. Stan
ton is a gentleman whom I have honored from my youth up as
a patriot, a philanthropist, and a publicist.
From the Hon. S. E. Sewall, of Boston. — The eloquence
of my old friend and associate in the Anti-Slavery cause still
lingers in my ears.
From Judge Charles Donohue. — I hope that Mr. Stanton will
live many years to aid in the good work he has always been in,
and enjoy the respect of his fellow men.
From ex-Governor R. E. Fenton. — It is fitting to signify in
this public manner the high estimation of Mr. Stanton's eloquent
championship of the cause of freedom, his early and wise jour
nalistic career, his ability as a lawyer and a legislator, and the

130
regard for him personally which is so widely and earnestly
felt. From Jwdge C. H Van Brant. — I regret exceedingly that
absence from the city will prevent my acceptance of your kind
invitation. Please present my congratulations to Mr. Stanton.
From Hon. W. J. Wallace, United States Circuit Judge. —
Give to Mr. Stanton my hearty congratulations.
From T. Griffith, Esq., Clerk United States Circuit Court. —
I join in greeting Mr. Stanton on his eightieth birthday with
the greatest respect and my very best wishes.
From ex-Judge Henry Hilton. — Mr. Stanton fully deserves
the reception you extend to him.
From ex-Judge Ashbell Green. — Though compelled to be
absent, I cannot refrain from greeting him with assurances of
my high regard for his character, attainments, and lofty pur
poses in life.
From ex-Senator T. B. Carroll. — I served with Mr. Stanton
in the Senate when the salary was $300 a year and no per
quisites. " I know him well, Horatio." I saw him recently,
and rejoice to know that his natural force is not abated.
From ex-Senator John B. Haskin. — I first met Mr. Stanton
at the famous Rome Convention of 1849, where he was a Barn
burner leader. He was always an ardent, sincere, and able
Free Soiler. " His name was not born to die ! "
From ex-Senator Ira Shafer. — As a Senator of this State,
and especially as a resigning Senator, I remember Mr. Stanton
best and most favorably, when I saw him daily in my boyhood
at Albany. From ex-Secretary of State D. Willers, Jr., of Seneca
County.^V very well remember Mr. Stanton when he resided
in this county (though I was then young), and his memorable
contest for re-election to the Senate in 1851. I often thought
afterward, when I looked in the Secretary of State's office at the
famous paper signed by the twelve resigning Senators, and on
file thsre, that a full statement of the unwritten history of that
extraordinary event from the pen of one who bore so conspicuous
a share in it as Mr. Stanton would be very interesting.
From ex-State Assessor James A. Briggs. — I have known
Mr. Stanton some fifty years. He was a bold and eloquent

131
champion of the slave in perilous times, when it cost to be on
that side.
From William Goodell Frost, Greek Professor in Oberlin
College. — I cannot think of Henry B. Stanton as eighty years of
age, although I have just read his fascinating "Random Recol
lections,'' and find them comprehensive enough to cover any
ordinary lifetime. But my impressions of Mr. Stanton, derived
from my grandfather and from quite a number of his letters,
are of a man in the full vigor of enthusiastic youth — still " the
eloquent young Stanton."
From George D. Stanton, M.D., of Stonington, Conn. — As
an advocate, knight of the quill, and philanthropist, your
honored guest has fairly won the laurels he so worthily wears.
From Rev. Dr. T. L. Shipmun, Eighty four Years Old, of
Mr. Stanton! s Native Town. — It would give me great pleasure
to meet Mr. Stanton and the newspaper men whom the occasion
will call together. Perhaps you would count me as one ofthe
latter on the score of my frequent contributions for many years
past to the Norwich Bulletin and other journals.
From Rev. D. McLane Reeves, D.D., of Johnstown, N. Y. —
I wish I could be with you to-day, for no one would more enjoy
the honors of my aged friend. As I think of the many bright
hours passed with him, of the mental vigor that contradicted
the failing frame, and made him seem young to me, I can but
congratulate him on a happy old age. My own belief is, that
we do not grow old. Only these fiesh tents grow old, and try to
delude us into believing we do. Not born to die, how can we
grow old? Eternal youth is the necessary corollary of immor
tality. From D. H. Bruce, of the Syracuse Journal. — Y'our guest
richly merits from the Press the compliment your Club bestows
on him. From George R. Peck, of the Auburn Daily Advertiser. —
Give to Mr. Stanton the good wishes of the Advertiser, and say
to him that a life of so much honor and usefulness as his has
proved thus far deserves another eighty years.
From ex-Canal Commissioner William W. Wright. — Few
among the living have been more thoroughly identified with the
wonderful social, political, and scientific events of the last half
century, and none of my acquaintance are more eminently
deserving of this compliment.

133
From Recorder Fred. Smyth. — May Mr. Stanton be spared
for many years yet to come !
From ex-Attorney-General John Cochrane. — I think that
Stanton's annals of a sixty years' tramp in the editorial column
would eclipse his published reminiscences, and be invested with
attractions similiar to those which erst fixed the public gaze
upon " Waverley, or Sixt.y Years Since."
From the Hon. George H. Watrous,\of New Haven. — I know
of no better way to inspire young men in your calling with high
aims, and of stimulating them to heroic endeavors in the pursuit
of such aims, than by honoring those who have already achieved
such aims by such endeavors.
From Major Ben Perley Poore. — Mr. Stanton is one of the
working journalists in this country who are my seniors in the
service, and I have known him for nearly half a century as a
"gentleman of the press," honest, honorable, free from shams,
discreet, and holding a high place in the affections and the
judgment of those who have known him.
From My r 071 H. Rooker, Albany Press and Knickerbocker. —
I have known Mr. Stanton for about thirty years. Justice and
integrity have been the chief elements of his entire life, and he
has labored to incorporate those principles with the government
of our State and the republic. I congratulate him upon the
success of his life work.
From Col. Fred. A. Conkling. — I have known and admired
Mr. Stanton for many years as one of the ablest and readiest
newspaper writers of our day.
From Col. A. K. McClure, of the Philadelphia .Times. —
Give our venerable brother of the quill a good time. Sorry I
can't be with you.
From the Hon. William H. Seward. — This interesting occa
sion marks an unusual period of long and honorable service in
the wide field of journalism.
From David M. Stone, of the Journal of Commerce. — I join
my voice with the " All hail ! " of your greeting to this distin
guished veteran ofthe profession.
From George W. Childs, of the Philadelphia Ledger. — 1
hope that Mr. Stanton's wonderful vitality may abide with him,
and his life be prolonged many more years, to enable him to
continue his good work.

133
From William M. Singerly, ofthe Philadelphia Record. —
You honor yourselves in honoring this veteran. I meant to be
with you, but cannot be.
From Elizur Wright, one of the oldest editors in the
country. — The world little knows how much of its welfare it
owes to the newspaper press, and still less what the press of this
country owes to my old and tried friend, Henry B. Stanton.
Letters of regret were also received from Secretary Daniel
Manning, Secretaiy William C. Whitney, Governor Hill, ex-
Governor Chauncey F. Cleveland, of Connecticut, eighty-five
years old ; Judge George M. Van Hoesen, ex- Judge Gunning
S. Bedford, E. Jay Edwards, Congressman George West, D.
Kellogg Leitch, of Skaneateles; J. Hammond Trumbull, of
Hartford ; Commissioner H. H. Porter, County Clerk Patrick
Keenan, Senator J. Hampden Robb, Judge Fred. G. Gedney,
H. W. Richardson, of the Portland Advertiser ; Alex. Troup, of
the New Haven Union ; Thomas L. Pittman, Police Justice
Jacob Patterson, and others.
OUR CHILDREN.
Our five sons and two daughters are all living. Daniel was
Supervisor of Registration for one year, and member of the
Legislature for two years, in Louisiana during the turbulent
era of Reconstruction. Henry and Robert have made their
mark in the practice of the law in New York. Gerrit has
devoted himself to business enterprises at the West. Theodore,
educated at Cornell University, which conferred on him the
degree of A.M., and long domiciliated as a student and author
in Berlin and Paris, has won distinction in literature, both in
this country and in Europe. Margaret and Hariot, graduates
of Vassar College, and the latter for a while studying at
Boston, Berlin, and Toulouse, have wielded successful pens in
the literary field.
MY LAST BROTHER.
There were six children in my father's family. All were
born in Pachaug. I am the only survivor. My eldest brother,
Rev. Robert L. Stanton, D.D., was born in March, 1810. He
was living when the first edition of this work was issued. He
was graduated at Lane Seminary ; was pastor in Mississippi,

134
New Orleans, and Ohio ; President of Oakland College, Mis
sissippi, and Miami University, Ohio; Professor of Theology in
Danville Seminary, Kentucky ; Moderator of the General
Assembly of tbe Presbyterian Church in 1866 ; and United
States Government Visitor at West Point. He wrote much for
magazines and newspapers, and was the author of several books
and pamphlets. Princeton College conferred upon him the
degree of D.D. while he was j-et a young man.
In May, 1885, he sailed for Europe, as had been his wont
before, to recuperate energies exhausted by mental toil. But
unmindful ofthe fact that his health was unusually feeble, and
that he was in the seventy-sixth year of his age, he carried
the pitcher once too often to the fountain, and it was broken.
He died at sea on May 28, and was buried in mid-ocean.
When the intelligence of his decease reached America, the
Presbyterian General Assembly was in session at Cincinnati.
That venerable body placed on its journal this memorial : " The
General Assembly records its tribute of respect for the memory
of Rev. Robert L. Stanton, D.D., Moderator of the Assembly of
1866. Its recognizes the faithfulness and efficiency with which
he discharged the duties of the office, and the value to the
Church of his services as pastor, editor, and teacher. Sincerely
sorrowing for the loss it has sustained, the Assembly hereby
expresses its sympathy with the bereaved family, and directs
that a cop_y ofthe foregoing minute, attested by the Moderator,
and Stated and Permanent Clerks, be forwarded to the family
of Dr. Stanton."

YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

3 9002 04086 6973

l^'V^

yr^^?

cJ-f'-'

ir^^.

^¦-^'tfF/' i

'4i?'

»»H':^i"'^jii^

A^