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POK.MED BY
James Abraham Hillhouse, B.A. 1749
James Hillhouse, B.A. 1773
James Abraham Hillhouse, B.A. 1808
James Hillhouse, B.A. 1875
Removed 1942 from the
Manor House in Sachem's Wood
GIFT OF
GEORGE DUDLEY SEYMOUR

,«M''":^^

-m::eii^ox:r

DANIEL APPLETON WHITE,

BY GEOEGE W. BRIGGS.

PREPARED BT REQUEST OP THE ESSEX INSTITUTE, AND READ AT THE MEETING OF JANUARY
11, 1864.

(From tJie Historieal Oolhctions of the Essex Institute.)

8s0 L EM:
FEINTED EOE THE INSTITUTE, BT C. W. SWASET,

^yCEIMIOII?.

DANIEL APPLETON WHITE,

BY GEORGE W. BRIGGS.

PREPARED BY BEQUEST OP THE ESSEX INSTITUTE, AND READ AT THE MBETINS OP JANUARY
41, 1864.

(From the Historical Collections of the Essex Institute.)

SjS L EM:
FEINTED EOE THE INSTITUTE, BT C. W. SWASET.
IS64.

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MEMOIR.*

BOYHOOD AND YOUTH.
Daniel Appleton White was bora in that part of the old town of Methu-
en which is now included in the City of Lawrence, June 7th, 1776. His an
cestor, William White, came to this country from Haverhill, Norfolk Co., Eng
land, in 1635, in company with Rev. Mr. Ward, the first minister of Haverhill,
Mass. Mr. White first went to Ipswich, thence to Newbury; but finally set
tled at Haverhill. The place on which he built his house is still occupied by
a lineal descendant, who bears the name of White, and has been in the pos
session of the family since the settlement of the town in 1640. William
White died Sept. 28th, 1690, when about eighty years of age. John White,
his descendant in the fifth generation, the father of the subject of this memoir,
was born Feb. 7th, 1719-20. He removed to Methuen about the year 1772,
and died July 11th, 1800. He was twice married; first to Mrs. Miriam Ha-
zen, in 1753, by whom he had six children; and again to Elizabeth Haynes,thp
mother of Daniel, Feb. 18th, 1767. She had eleven children, of whom Daniel
was the fifth.t Thirteen of this family of seventeen, had families of their
own. * The writer desires to refer to the admirable memoir of Judge White, by Rev. Dr. Walker, pub
lished in the proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, which contains many things of
which he would have been glad to avail himself in this brief sketch, if they had not been already
used by a far more skilful hand.
t The genealogy is as follows : John White, the only son of William and Mary White, married
Hannah French, at Salem, Nov. 25th, 1662, and died Jan. lat, 1668, at the age of 29 years. His
only son, Capt. John White, was born March 8th, 1663-4. , He married Lydia Gilman, of Exeter,
Oct. 24th, 1687, and died Nov. 20th, 1727. He had a large family of fourteen children, one of whom,
Timothy White, graduated at Harvard College in 1720. His fourth child, Deacon William White,
the grandfather of Daniel, was born Jan. 18th, 1693-4, and died Dec. Uth, 1737. He was man'ied in
Boston, June 12th, 1716, to Sarah Phillips^ sister of Rev. Samuel Phillips, of Andover.

Daniel's childhood and youth were passed upon his father's farm until he
went to Atkinson Academy, in June 1792, when he was just sixteen years old.
In a charming autobiographical sketch written for his children, -during a long
illness, in the winter of 1836-7, and which he says he might never have found
"time and opportunity to write in a state of health," he has drawn a delight
ful picture of his early life. It unveils the beauty of a genuine New England
home. Everything conspired to make his boyhood and youth bright and hap
py. His father's farm was charmingly situated, stretching from the Spicket
to the Merrimac, when both of those streams flowed on through level mead
ows, or rushed over falls and rocks, in their native grace and wildness. In
the Salem Gazette of June 17th, 1796, Rev. Dr. Bentley gave a very enthusi
astic account of a visit which he had then lately made to this part of Methu
en, and of the beauty of the cascades and falls upon the rivers. The farm it
self abounded in wood, as well as in finely cultivated fields ; thus presenting
a variety of beautiful scenery, with picturesque and delightful prospects. Birds
flocked among the trees, and berries abounded in the pastures. A combination
of circumstances was presented, so far as external nature was concerned, of
which the subject of our memoir always spoke with delight and gratitude.
Other influences seemed equally propitious. These bright surroundings
were a fit symbol of the home itself. His father's house was filled with young
and loving hearts, and graced by the frequent presence of the most cultivated
people in the neighborhood, of many of whom he gives attractive sketches,
and of relatives from other places, and visitors to the town, who were wel
comed with an abounding hospitality. It was presided over with a happy
blending of wisdom and affection. He gives a picture of his parents in the
follovring words :
"My father was a tall, erect and finely formed man; and with his hand
some suit of snufi-colored cloth, which my mother caused to be annually man
ufactured for him, and his beaver hat, he always appeared in the character
of a gentleman farmer. Well skilled in overlooking and directing the manage
ment of his farm, he did little more himself than sow the grain, which he could
do better than any one else, and occasionally to follow the plough, and in Sum
mer to stir up the hay. I speak of the time when I was a boy at home, and
he was from sixty to seventy years of age. My mother, burdened with the care
of a numerous and increasing family, manifested a devotion to her duties in the
relation of wife and mother, above all praise. Though so much younger than
my father, she seemed to me to be exactly suited to him in all respects, and he
to her. I have no recollection of an unkind look or word that ever passed be
tween them, though my father was not unfrequently roused to an indignant and
somewhat harsh expression of his feelings in respect to others."

The features of his father's character, and its excellence, are still more dis
tinctly stated in an Obituary Notice in the Mass. Mercury, in Boston, July 18th,
1800. After speaking of his peculiar fondness for rural occupations and do
mestic life, the writer says : —
"Born in afiluence, he lived easy. Economy and industry were inherent
virtues ; but possessing a generous heart, he added not to his possessions.
Riches were not his God, and money he esteemed only for its necessary uses.
He possessed a strong mind, and a firm understanding. Cheerfulness was his
constant companion. His heart overflowed at the reception of a friend. The
poor have called him blessed. Courteous in his deportment; resolute in enter
prise ; just and quick in apprehension, but compassionate in temper ; open and
explicit in all his views, he lived respected and died happy."
With such parents, the spirit of the household must have been one of wis
dom as well as love. There was a perfect toleration of all innocent youthful
sports. The parents were strictly religious, connected with the Baptist de
nomination. But they were very careful to make no requisition upon the Sab
bath, which would give their children gloomy associations with that day. The
family were required to attend meeting, and read some chapters in the Bible.
Still, both before and after Public Worship, they were permitted to walk over
the farm and enjoy the influences of nature, and the loving intercourse of inno
cent and youthful hearts. The liberty of the household is thus described :
" Our freedom in aU respects was greater and more delightful, than that of any
boys I ever knew, situated as we were." But there was a quiet authority, an
omnipresent influence which drewthose young hearts towards generous afiections
and Christian purposes. It was a power all the more effective, perhaps, be
cause so seldom exerted in any direct, outward pressure. The theory of ear
ly education which the son states as his own ideal in later years, grew out of
the life of that Methuen home. It was a theory which recognized the fact, that
"the spontaneous life, in its own time and place, is as sacred as the reflective
and moral life;" a theory that aimed to avoid "the excess of regulation and
discipline, as much as the opposite extreme of indulgence," and which, while it
insisted upon "implicit obedience as the indispensable foundation of character,
endeavoured to allow nature free scope in unfolding and maturing all her gen
erous feelings and principles." It was the power of character, the beauty of
holiness, rather than direct authority, which moulded the lives in his early home.
These spiritual forces certainly did their work upon himself In his case, "the
boy was father of the man." The features of his manhood distinctly unfold
themselves in the picture which he draws of his youth ; and we feel that he not
only speaks the simplest truth when he says, "Innocence and simplicity had not

deserted me, certainly, when, at the age of sixteen, I left home for the Academy
and the College," but that these graces became so inwrought into his character
amid the benign influences of his early home that they never deserted him, and
accompanied him as angels on either hand tiU he passed on to a new and still
higher youth.
Only two troubles clouded his youthful days. The first and greatest of
these came from his questionings upon the subject of religion. Those ques
tionings began at a very early date. From his childhood he had been accus
tomed to read the Bible ; and he had read it through before he was eight years
old. Many of its narratives made a deep impression upon his imagination.
He associated the characters in the Bible with persons of the same name whom
he knew. Joseph was the image of his own brother Joseph. "Stephen, the
first martyr, looked like Stephen Sargent, the older son of a neighbor." The
father of the Prodigal Son bore the image of his own father, and the elder
brother that of his brother John. "And so," he says, " they have since appeared."
He gave "a local habitation," also, to the scenes of sacred history, by fixing up
on some spot upon the farm, which seemed suited to the transaction represent
ed. Thus both his mind and his imagination were early filled with religious
thoughts and associations. Though eminently social and cheerful in tempera
ment, both in early and later life, he possessed a thoughtful nature, and had a
peculiar interest in religious exercises, even in his boyhood. The following ex
tract from his Journal gives a striking proof of this :
"I remember that the day I was eleven years old, June 7, 1787, there was
the raising of a parsonage house, for Mr. Williams, a great occasion for boys,
and the funeral of a Mrs. Frye, three or four miles off, and that while others
went to the raising, I walked to the funeral in preference, and back to the
graveyard, nearly as far."
He mentions also the funeral of a young married friend not long after
wards, — a great favorite of his on account of her beauty, and kindness to him,
which affected him deeply. With characteristic candor, he says, " The excite
ment and sympathy felt on these solemn occasions afforded me, I suppose, some
thing of the sort of pleasure derived from witnessing the pathetic scenes of a
tragedy ; and this may in part account for my desire to attend them." But he
truly adds, "It was doubtless owing in part to their being in accordance with
my religious feelings."
A nature so predisposed to thoughtfiilness, to which the''scenes and char
acters of Sacred History became real by constant reading of the Bible ; a na
ture unfolded in the atmosphere of a religious home, where he heard the con-

versation of the ministers who were such frequent guests at his father's house,
must have been open to intense religious impressions. But they came in a
form that profoundly tried him. His parents belonged to the "New Lights,"
as they were then termed, and fully sympathized with the doctrines of White-
field ; and the idea became impressed upon the boy's mind that the true reli
gion could only be gained by a miraculous change of heart, without which the
soul must be forever lost. He says :
"Everything conspired to deepen these awfiil impressions, and to produce
in my mind a full conviction that such, and such only, were the true doctrines
of Christianity. I well remember that it seemed astonishiag that we should
be unable to do anything to save our souls from perdition, when we were so
constantly commanded in the Bible to exert ourselves for the purpose ; to strive
to enter in at the strait gate, and were promised a reward for our endeavors.
But these expressions were explained away in a manner which I did not think
of questioning. We could not strive, or knock, or even ask aright, without the
suggestions and aid of the Holy Spirit. Hence, at about the age of twelve or
fifteen, I was reduced to a state of most distressing perplexity, almost despair,
as to my future condition."
Many persons trained in these New England homes have known an expe
rience similar tb his. Happily the profound impressions already made upon
his heart became an anchor amid the agitations of his thought, and held him
in true loyalty to religion itself, in the struggles of his youth and early man
hood, until after a number of years he dared fully to trust the convictions
which had then begun to form themselves in his mind. At one time he says,
that "he does not know what might have been the fate of his christian faith, if
he had not found some satisfactory substitute for these first convictions. Per-
¦ haps it might have been whoUy wrecked." But a mind like his was sure to
find a satisfactory substitute. When the heart is penetrated by a reverence
and awe for religious truth, faith cannot suffer wreck. If Priestly's writings,
which he read with so much interest when an under graduate, or the writings
of other men, had not helped to a solution of his difficulties, the workings of
truth, the teachings of experience, and the leadings of the divine spirit, must
have brought him to a settled faith. In religious things, indeed, as in other
respects, his manhood was the natural development of his early character.
He says, " It is remarkable how little have changed my impressions as then re
ceived of Jesus, and his disciples, by subsequent reading and reflection. The
divine superiority of Jesus to his disciples, and all other men, was then clear
to me, as it has been ever since." His character and training pre-determined
the faith in which he finally rested; the faith "which permitted, and taught

him to behold in his Creator a kind and beneficent father ; in his Savior, an in
fallible guide, teacher and friend ; and in the Holy Spirit a sure and never fail
ing reward for every sincere endeavor to do the will of God, to improve his
gifts, and fulfil the law of love to his creatures." God graciously led him out
of all his doubts to a religion whose final expression was, « My reliance is up
on the mercy of God in Jesus Christ, and my own repentance for sin, which I
know I have felt for years; and therefore I have perfect trust and peace."
The only other trouble of his youthful days grew out of his great desire
to obtain a public education. This seemed very doubtful for a long time. Al
though his father was in easy circumstances, with his family of seventeen
children, it was difficult to meet the expense of sending one of his sons to the
University. But this difficulty was happily solved. In his earlier school-days
Daniel was behind the other boys ; and he describes the mortification which he
felt upon one occasion, on that account. But he soon outstripped them by dil
igent application, and therefore became a favorite with his various instructors.
One of them, a somewhat eccentric man, when he had taken the foot of the
spelling-class in consequence of detention at home by sickness, but was so for
tunate as to regain his usual place at the head on the first evening, ordered a
general clapping of hands of the whole school. It was a compliment which
seems to have been repeatedly awarded him. His first severe illness was occa
sioned by his devotion to study. After having been hard at work with the men
in the woods in Winter, he came home and got into the bedroom window to
perform sums in Arithmetic, which, as he expresses it, was then ,his hobby. He
thus became, unconsciously, so thoroughly chilled, that the consequence was a
dangerous fever. But such diligence had its reward, and on thes 1 1th of June,
1792, he was sent to Atkinson Academy, then under the charge of Mr. Silas
Dinsmoor, a graduate of the previous year, and an excellent instructor. He
had a permit to enter from Rev. Stephen Peabody, one of the Trustees, whose
eminent character and services were both so gratefully, and so gracefully de
picted by the late Rev. Dr. Gilman in the Christian Examiner for May, 1 847,
and whose constant friendship he always enjoyed. Here, too, he secured the
marked favor of his teachers. His efforts were unwearied, and his progress
very rapid. When he studied fourteen, fifteen, and sometimes sixteen hours a
day, we scarcely wonder that he could recite four hundred lines in the Georgics,
and sometimes seven hundred at a lesson, or, on a review, one thousand to
thirteen hundred in the ^Eneid. By this diligence he read the whole Greek
Testament in five and a half weeks, and prepared for College in seven and a
half months. On account of such conscientious devotion, his teachers allowed

him to study in his own room, and to recite with others, or by himself, as might
be best for his progress.
Such severe application was beyond his strength. But his mind and char
acter developed rapidly amidst the excitements of the Academy, and the influ
ences of the society of Atkinson. He was naturally very diffident, and he en
tirely broke down in his first attempt at declamation. But this failure, of
which he gives an amusing description, roused him to such resolute efforts,
that three or four months later, at the public exhibition, he was able to speak
in a crowded Church, with complete self-possession. That resolute struggle
was a true type of his character. The same diffidence was conquered in so
ciety, in his intercourse with young ladies, both in and Out of the school, with
whom he formed some friendships that ended only with life. When speaking
of this year in Atkinson, forty years afterwards, he says, "Never, I believe,
have I been able to look back upon a year with a more grateful and satisfied
feeling." He left Atkinson with many regrets, taking an affectionate leave of
the many friends from whom he had received such marked and uniform kind
ness, and entered Cambridge after an honorable examination, with "a heart
fuU of gratitude to his parents for their efforts and sacrifices " to gratify his
darling wish, and with a determination "to exert every power to prevent any
waste of money upon his education ; and to secure to them an ultimate reward
and satisfaction." His father sent him away with his benediction, and with
his earnest instructions to avoid all bad company ; closing his advice with these
words of wisdom, words then and always faithfully heeded, and beautifully
verified: "Keep none but good company, and you will always have good com
pany to keep."
COLLEGE LIFE.
He entered College in July, 1793. His autobiographical sketch gives a mi
nute account of his four years at Cambridge, often presenting details of his
daily studies and occupations, together with incidental descriptions of the, state
of society, the manners and morals of the time, both in the University and the
community. In some respects life in College was then especially perilous. He
tells us there was literally no society for the students in the town of Cambridge,
and that he has no recollection of having entered a single house as a visitor,
while an under graduate, and but very few when a tutor, excepting those of
the College Officers. Neither the people of the town, nor the instructors, who
had families, encouraged any social intercourse with the students, excepting in
cases of family connection, or particular acquaintance. There was nothing to
refine the tastes and manners, and thus indirectly, yet powerfully, to improve

the moral tone of the students. Meanwhile, positively unfavorable influences
were not wanting. The power of the licentious principles of the period of
the French Revolution was at its height. Those principles had a great and in-
siduous attraction for the minds of ardent young men. The custom of using
ardent spirits, also, was fearfully prevalent. The punch bowl was held to be
indispensable in the social circle, especially among young men. Under such
circumstances it was natural that disorderly actions, and disgraceful tumults,
should frequently occur among the students. Neither is it strange, though so
sad, that, as he states in his Journal, nearly one fourth of every class should
have "become sots," "lost to themselves and to the world, in consequence of
indulging in the use of intoxicating drinks early in life, and principally in the
College itself,"^" a terrible sacrifice," to use his own striking words, "of the
intellect, the genius, the literature, the moral and religious principle and feel
ing of the country."
In all respects he bore the ordeal nobly. Though his religious opinions
remained for a long time unsettled, his religious convictions seem to have be
come clear and fixed during his college days. He clung to the Christian faith ;
and already, though perhaps unconsciously, a vow of fidelity and consecration
had been recorded in his heart. His political views, too, became distinct and
settled. He was always loyal to the idea of liberty ; but the tendencies and
character of his mind were such, that he was utterly disgusted by the excesses
and madness of the French people. His whole nature fitted him to be pro
foundly influenced by the character of Washington ; to appreciate his calm wis
dom ; to recognize the great qualities that made him the model of public and
private virtue ; and it is scarcely too much to say, that he himself became an
embodiment of the spirit of that great administration of liberty combined
with order, of genuine patriotism and public virtue, amidst all the political
changes which occurred during his long life. His moral integrity was un
touched. He took no part in the carousals in which the students frequently
indulged. In respect to one in which his class was engaged, he modestly says :
"I recollect feeling glad that I was excusable in the opinion of all for
not joining in the scene,"(on account of the death of a near relative not long
before,) "for otherwise it might have required more of the spirit of indepen^
dence than the occasion would have called forth in me to refuse joining, how
ever I might have wished to refuse."
That spirit of independence was not wanting when it was demanded. Up
on one occasion, when the class were inclined to adopt some high handed mea
sures in respect to an Bxammation, he sturdily opposed them, although he

incurred hisses and insults for his independence ; and finally succeeded in de
feating their mad and foolish scheme. He was desirous of the approbation of
those around him ; but if his action involved a principle, his resolution was in
vincible, and it was impossible to make him consciously untrue.
His whole course in College was highly honorable. He was thoroughly
conscientious in his devotion to study. He seems to have excelled in compo
sition. We take the following extract from his diary ;
" Carried up new themes, and received corrected those on "Multa petenti-
bus, multa desunt," or Avarice, which brought us sixteen double marks. A
double mark, by the way, was two strokes of the pen, under the name of the
writer of the theme, indicative of excellence. One line was always drawn un
der the name, and sometimes no one in the class had more than one. It so
happened that whenever there was a double mark on any theme, mine did not
escape it. It was a small affair, but of some interest to me at the time."
It was this persistent fidelity alike in little and greater duties, which gave
him such a distinguished rank in his class. The requisitions of College stud
ies did not content him. He read extensively in History, and in general Lit
erature, during the regular terms. Vacations also, although partly devoted to
social visiting, which he greatly enjoyed, gave constant proof of his love of
reading, and his desire for knowledge. We give a memorandum of the gener
al reading of one term, and a part of one vacation :
" Putnam's Life ; Franklin's Life and Essays ; Haley's Poetical Essay on His
tory ; Longinus on the Sublime ; Minot's History of the Insurrection ; Philosoph
ical Survey of the Animal Creation ; Priestley's Lectures on History and Gene
ral Policy ; several of Lady Montagu's Letters ; Fitz Osborne's Letters ; Mon
tesquieu's Persian Letters, and Pope's Essay on Man."
Lock^, Shakespeare, Robertson's Histories, the Spectator, together with
other books of the highest order, are frequently named in his notes of his va
cation readings.
The only thing to be regretted in his CoUege Course, was his excessive
application. Both at Atkinson and at Cambridge, he neglected necessary ex
ercise in the open air, in his devotion to books. This was his besetting sin.
At one time, a classmate, Hon. James Richardson of Dedham, sent him a poet
ical epistle to dissuade him from such excessive study, — a few lines of which
are given in his diary. The vigor of his constitution enabled him to bear this
severe trial of its strength without entirely breaking down; and he went
through the University with only two or three brief periods of sickness, in
one of which Chatming watched with him, and of whom he speaks as showing
all the softness and delicacy of manners that would become a woman in at-
(2)

10
tending upon the sick. But his health became impaired for years, and was al
most sacrificed ; and it is very interesting to see how careful he always was in
letters to his son in later years, and in his advice to others, both young and
old, to warn them against a similiar mistake.
But a life so nobly faithful in all other respects, could not fail to be de
lightful. Passages in his Journal, written at the close of a term, or the be
ginning of a new College year, give ample proof of his thorough enjoyment of
the University. His relations with his classmates were intimate and cordial.
They repeatedly honored him by selecting him as their Orator on various occa
sions. He .was chosen to give a eulogy on his classmate, Wellington, who was
drowned in Fresh Pond, in the early part of the Senior year. It was given,
he says, "in the College Chapel, early in December, before the government and
students, and with more heart-feeling than any other College exercise I was
ever called to perform." He gave the Valedictory of his class to the Speak
ing Club — an association for mutual improvement, in which he took a great
interest. At the close of his Junior year, he was appointed to give an oration
on the Birth-day of Washington, Feb. 22nd, 179.6, at the first celebration of
the Hasty Pudding Club, of which he was one of the founders, but was pre
vented from giving it, in consequence of his being at Andover at that time,
engaged in teaching school. He was therefore reappointed to give an Anni
versary oration before the Club, in the following September. He was the first
of his class elected a member of the Phi Beta Kappa Society. He was also
chosen to prepare an English oration for the Class Day. Previously to that time,
the usual performances had been a Latin Oration and a Poem. He declined
this honor, partly, perhaps, because it was an innovation ; and as the class were
unable to unite upon any one else, that part was omitted. In speaking of his
College life, and his relations with his classmates, he says, " The various associ
ations formed among ourselves added to the interest of our individual pur
suits," And again, about the time of the formation of the Hasty Pudding
Club, he says, " The still increasing intimacy with favorite and beloved class
mates, and the new associations formed with them, afforded me the truest en
joyment." He graduated in 1797, with the highest honors of his class. The assign
ment of the parts for Commencement called forth feelings which were as hon
orable to him as his fidelity to College duties. The Class had long awarded
the two English Orations to Horace Binney and himself He believed that
Binney had the highest claims ; and when the first part was assigned to him,

11
he did not for some time enjoy the honor, because he felt that it belonged to
another. He bears the most generous testimony respecting his rival and
friend. "Binney," he says, "could not but have thought himself entitled to the
first honors of the Class, yet he conducted with perfect magnanimity on the
occasion, and with great delicacy as respected me, and thereby, in no small
measure, enhanced my esteem and affection for him. If he felt that injustice
had been done to his claims, he did not impute the fault in any degree to me ;
for he well knew what my feelings and expectations were, both in respect to
him and myself, before the assignment of the parts."
The same generous feeling pervaded all the correspondence of these dis
tinguished men in later years. After Judge White's death, Mr. Binney gave
this striking tribute to his beloved classmate. " He never seemed to desire to
excel others, like so many young men in College, but only to keep himself up
to his own high standard. He had no rivalry. He envied no one, for such a
feeling would have marred his victory." Beautiful magnanimity, where each
strives to show the other to be worthier than himself, and both alike uncon
sciously reveal their own nobility.
Mr. Binney's Oration was upon "Enthusiam," and his own upon "The
Reign of Prejudice." Exhausted in health, he was scarcely equal to the exer
tions of Commencement Day ; but the excitement of the occasion enabled him
to perform his part with his usual felicity and success.
FROM HIS GRADUATION TO HIS ADMISSION TO
THE BAR.
The decision in respect to his future profession was difficult. Many
things attracted him towards the study of Theology ; the prevailing serious
ness of his mind, all his tastes, and his deep religious convictions. He seems
to have anxiously weighed the question ; but he was too conscientious to adopt
that profession while his views of religious doctrines remained unsettled.
Then, too, many things repelled him from the study of the Law. The drudg
ery of that profession was positively revolting to him. The same delicacy of
conscience which made him scrupulous in respect to Theology, on account of
the unsettled state of his opinions, made him fearful lest the duties of the ad
vocate might be sometimes inconsistent with his ideal of integrity, and the
chicaneries of practice sully his high sense of honor. The question of right
and character held the highest place in all his views of life. But though sev
eral years passed before he devoted himself to the study of Law, except at in
tervals, in the midst of other duties, the actual choice seems to have been early
made.

12
The first two years after leaving College were spent in Medford, where
he took charge of the Grammar School, partly for the purpose of obtaining
means to discharge his obligations for a portion of the expenses of his educa
tion. Glimpses of his inner life, and the tendencies of his feeling and thought
at this period, are given m letters to his classmates, and in incidental accounts
of his daily occupations. On one occasion, at least, his independence was test
ed, when he repelled, with the utmost decision, an attempt to interfere with
the management of the school, and with his own efforts to secure obedience.
He declared himself ready to leave at a moment's notice ; but while he remained
the instructor of the school, he claimed the unrestricted right to judge of its dis-
ciplme. His Medford life was very happy. His strong love for society was
gratified by constant intercourse with intelligent and appreciating friends.
Here, too, he formed a friendship with Rev. Dr. Osgood, which then, and ever
afterward, gave him great delight ; a friendship which continued with his family,
to the latest hour of his own life. But these were also very busy years. He
was the same faithful scholar at Medford as at Cambridge. His name had al
ready been entered as a student of Law, and he devoted many hours to direct
preparation for that profession. In a letter to his chum and class-mate, Kim
ball, he gives a picture of his life. The date is Feb. 12th, 1799.
" At five, this morning, your humble servant rose. After devouring about
thirty pages of Smith's Wealth of Nations, he took breakfast. Then he wait
ed upon his charming geographical pupil, and also attended to three classes in
English Grammar. Then he betook himself to his despotic drudgery over
fifty or sixty trembling pupils. At noon he travelled over ten or twelve pa
ges of TuUy, with a future son of Harvard ; half as many in that entertaining
work, the Greek Grammar : and attended to another class in parsing English.
Since the afternoon school, he has passed the evening with a number of ladies,
with the exception of one hour devoted to a French gentleman resident here,
and desirous of my aid in getting a little hold of our language. Prom this
one day's history, you may form an idea of his daily work. Seldom does it
now materially differ from this course."
In August, 1799, he returned to Cambridge for the purpose of studying
his profession. But he soon after accepted the office of Latin tutor in the
University, and continued in that position for almost four years. The duties
of this office were most congenial to his tastes. He loved the Classics, espe
cially the Latin writers. In early and later letters, he often speaks with enthu
siasm, and critical discrimination, of the peculiar characteristics of different
Latin authors. He says of Livy, that " the more he studied, the more he ad
mired him." In another place he writes as follows :

13
"I have sometimes thought Cicero and Virgil superior to all others, in
the grace, the elegance, the beautiful simplicity, as well as grandeur of their
style and language, and also in the variety, dignity, and excellence of their
sentiments. But Horace and Sallust, too, have their peculiar attractions, and
attractions which never cloy."
This acquaintance with, and love for Classical Literature, prompted him,
soon after he left Cambridge, to join with Mr. John Pickering, in preparing a
new edition of Sallust, with notes. The work was performed with the utmost
care, and the highest scholarship, and the book was published by Cushing and
Appleton, of Salem, in 1805. Unfortunately, almost the whole of the first edi
tion was destroyed by fire, and a second was never published. This love for
Classical Literature continued to the end of Judge White's life, and his li
brary contained a valuable collection of both Greek and Latin authors.
During his connection with the College, his best powers were constantly
exerted for the reformation of abuses in its general management and instruc
tion. His high rank as a scholar, the purity and force of his character, his
continuance in office during a longer period than was customary for the tutors
at that time, which enabled him to act more efficiently as a member of the
Government, together with his hearty affection for the University, and his un
tiring interest in its welfare, all combined to make his influence equally strong
and beneficent. Indeed, his attachment to the College was so sincere, that he was reluc
tant to leave Cambridge, and did not resign his tutorship until he had been
strongly solicited to do so on the part of his friends. On the 26th of Aug.,
1803, he met the Freshmen, his own "particular class, for the last time, after
passing a year of uninterrupted harmony and affection with them." On Sept.
13th, he took "a final farewell of Cambridge, and went in the stage to Salem,"
where he immediately entered the Law Office of Samuel Putnam, afterwards
Judge of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts. Mr. Putnam at once opened
his house and his heart to his new pupil. Nothing could exceed the affection
ate hospitality and the abounding kindness which he always received from the
family of his honored instructor, as well as from himself; and it was his delight
to recall their unwearied attentions in after years. He was a fellow student
with John Pickering. These two young men immediately found themselves con
genial spirits, not only in their love of study, in scholarly attainments and
tastes, but in their general opinions upon questions out of the realm of lit
erature. The result was a mutual respect, and an ardent friendship, which
bound them very closely to each other during the remainder of their lives.

14
His residence in Salem was very agreeable. He was welcomed into the best
society of the town as an additional ornament to circles already so intelli
gent and attractive. He mentions, in letters to his classmates, the names of
many whom he especially enjoyed, and with whom he formed lasting friendships.
Amidst such pleasant auspices he remained until the completion of his profes
sional studies, in 1804.
These seven years of preparation since he graduated from College, had
been industrious and happy years. His reading was extensive. His study of
the Law had been thorough. In addition to old College friendships, which he
still kept warm and fresh, he formed many new ones which were valuable and
true. In describing his happiness, he says :
"In the constitution of our minds, our hearts, our bodies, what inlet to
pleasure is denied us ! How pure is the satisfaction which attends the pursuit
of truth, and the acquisition of knowledge and science ! How sweet is the
intercourse with those who have long been dear to us I How pleasant and
valuable are those large associations in which we feel a common interest, and
by which we are mutually affected, and mutually benefitted !"
Again, in 1803, when speaking of the pleasant circumstances around him,
he says, "I have always found it easy to obey the Apostolic injunction, and in
whatsoever state I am, to be content, and generally to be satisfied and happy."
We find abundant indications at this period, both of his own high princi
ples of action, and of the confidence which his character had then inspired.
Nothing can more conclusively show the impression which he made upon those
who knew him, than the unconscious tributes which they paid to his integrity
in the most confidential correspondence. No man suggested an unworthy aim,
or seemed to suppose him capable of being actuated by any other than the
highest motives. One classmate speaks of "the honorable and lofty success,"
which he predicted for him, and which he was sure would alone " satisfy him or
his friends," and says, "You are not materially altered since you left College.
You still do what you do with the zeal of passion, and look as loftily as any
around you. You despise the first fruits of the Law, which are the only fruits
that are within the reach of the grovelling barrister. You are stretching
yourself to gather the fruit that hangs on the topmost bough, and you will
gather it, unless I have mistaken you." This life-long friend did not mistake
him. His cardinal principle was thus expressed by himself, at this very peri
od. "Better to fail in a good cause, than to succeed in bad one" — a princi
ple which he applied to private and public action, to the affairs of individuals
and nations, with unwavering loyalty ; and which, though it may sometimes lead
to apparent failure, will always secure the grandest success.

15
FROM HIS ADMISSION TO THE BAR, TO HIS
APPOINTMENT AS JUDGE.
He was admitted an Attorney of the Court of Common Pleas in Salem,
June 26th, 1804. He only remained ui Salem a few days to enjoy the cele
bration of the 4th of July, at which his friend John Pickering gave an oration,
and to make immediate preparation for his removal to Newburyport. July 16th,
he opened a Law office in that place. On the 5th of August, we find him an
attendant upon Mr. Popkins' preaching at the old church in Newbury, which
he characterizes as excellent, and under whose ministry he continued with
constant satisfaction and delight. He was now twenty eight years old, with
a high reputation as a man of unusual talents and attainments, as well as a
man of established character. His success at the Bar was very decided, and
the receipts of his second year of practice amounted to what would then have
been considered an ample income. On the 24th of May, 1 807, he was married
at Concord, to Mrs. Mary Van Schalkwyck, daughter of Dr. Josiah Wilder, of
Lancaster, Mass. She was a lady of remarkable attractions and excellence, and
his correspondence at that period gives ample proof of the happiness which
he found in the home which she adorned for a little more than four years.
But her health soon failed; and she died on the 29th of June, 1811, leaving
two daughters to be his care, and his consolation, amid his heavy grief.
Mr. White was not only early successful as a lawyer, but he at once at
tracted the notice and commanded the confidence of the people of the town
in other respects. The next year after he went to Newburyport, he gave an
address before the Merrimack Humane Society, which was published, and
passed through several editions. Its favorable reception was not strange. It
was an earnest plea for a life of Christian philanthropy, which struck the key
note of his own life, and was written and spoken out of a full heart. He was
engaged in every humane and benevolent enterprise. He helped to form the
Merrimack Bible Society. He was a trustee of the Dummer Academy. He
served as a member of the School Committee. Nothing which promised ei
ther to promote the health, to advance the education, or to improve the morals
of the town, failed to secure his influence and cooperation. He was careful,
meanwhile, not to forego his studious habits. Nov. 1, 1804, we find the follow
ing entry in his diary : "Entered on a more extended course of study than of
late ; Greek after Breakfast ; Latin after dinner ; some of the Scriptures every
day." In one respect, certainly, it was not an unfitting description of his
course of study in all periods of his life : for however wide its range might be

16
in the domains of Literature, the Scriptures claimed and received their daily
homage ; and in all his love for Greece or Rome, he turned with deeper rever
ence to Palestine and the words that consecrated it forever.
In 1810, he was elected to the Senate of the State, and continued a mem
ber till 1815. His earnest and fearless devotion to the principles of the Fed
eralists, his dignity and ability as a debater, his attainments as a lawyer, and his
high character as a man, made him very prominent in the Senate. He command
ed the confidence of his own party to such a degree, that he was selected as
their candidate for Congress, at the election in Nov. 1814, and was chosen by
an almost unanimous vote of the people of his District. But before he took
his seat, the office of Judge of Probate for the County of Essex was tendered
to him ; and having finally decided to accept it, he resigned Iiis commission as
Representative in the Spring of 1815.
This was the turning point in his life. It was singular, certainly, that a
man at the age of thirty-nine, who had already attained marked professional
and political distinction, and stood so high in the public favor and confidence,
should retire both from the Bar, and from public life, when so wide a sphere
of service and influence was open to him. He was known beyond the limits
of his own State, and was appointed chairman of a Commission to investigate
the difficulties which had arisen in the administration of the affairs of Dart
mouth College, by the Legislature of New Hampshire, in June, 1815. The
"fruit upon the topmost bough" seemed within his grasp. Many of his friends,
then, and in later years, greatly regretted the loss of the eminent public ser
vices which he was so admirably qualified to render, and which would have
brought so much honor to himself, and advantage to the State. His decision
was doubtless a mistake in the opinion of men of the world ; but it was pre
determined by his character and previous life. He was not a man of the
world. He recognized the duty of laboring for its highest welfare, and cher
ished an undying interest in everything which promised to improve or bless it.
But he was singularly free from its self-seeking and ambition. In later life, as
in College, "he never seemed to desire to excel others, but only to be true to
his own high standard." Then, too, the practice of the Law had never been agree
able to him ; and a political career must have been still more unattractive. All
his tendencies and tastes combined, with his love of literature and of study,
to lead him to choose a more retired life.
Events had occurred during his residence in Newburyport, which must
have had a great, though perhaps unconscious influence upon his decision. The
first was the death of his classmate and chum, Jabez Kimball, in 1805. His

17
friendships were always true and deep, and his relations with Kimball were
singularly cordial and affectionate. By frequent interchange of letters, they
kept up the same free and unreserved communication of each other's plans,
wishes, hopes, which they had enjoyed when they shared the same room at Col
lege. They clung to each other in mutual respect, and trust, and love ; and Kim
ball, who had begun the practice of law in New Hampshire, earlier than Mr.
White, was extremely desirous to have his friend located in his own immediate
neighborhood, that they might be together in the work of life, as they had
been in their preparation for it. Very soon after Mr. White went to New
buryport, the disease which had long threatened his friend developed itself in
a fatal form, and he returned to Haverhill, his former home, to die among his
friends and kindred. Nothing could exceed Mr. White's devotion to him dur
ing the last few months of his life. Though it must have been a great detri
ment to his own prospects so greatly to neglect the office which he had just
opened, he divided his time between Haverhill and Newburyport, and watched
over his friend till the last beat of his pulse, with an affection as tender as the
love of woman. His letters show how deeply he was affected by this parting
scene, and how sincerely he mourned his friend's too early loss. Life assumed
a new seriousness and sacredness to his mind ; and religion not only seemed to
give the solution of its mystery, but to present new claims upon his personal
reverence and love. And the following brief entry in his Journal, under the
date of April 5th, 1807, gains a new and more beautiful significance in this
connection: "Full dedication of myself to God. May He preserve my heart
in his law and love !"
But the event which touched him still more deeply, was the early death
of his wife. If the loss of a classmate so greatly affected him, we cap only
imagine, rather than describe, the profound impression made upon him by the
death of a companion whom he seems to have cherished with an equal respect
and love, and the breaking up of that domestic felicity which he was so emi
nently fitted to heighten and to enjoy. Though he always spoke of her loss
with the truest resignation, he could only name it with the deepest grief. Chast
ened by such deep experiences, so devoted to the children left to his care, it was
not strange, with such natural tastes as he possessed, that, after a brief service
in public Ufe, he should have turned away from it entirely ; and so far as we
can learn from letters or diaries, he never had a moment of questioning or
regret in respect to his decision.
But if public life had no charm, on the other hand the position which had
(3)

18
been offered him possessed positive attractions. While it gave him leisure for
literary pursuits, it opened a sphere of practical usefulness whose importance
is very seldom appreciated.
At that time there was a peculiar opportunity for a man of eminent abil
ity, and of ample legal attainments, to render a service which was not only very
valuable, but indispensable in respect to the modes of conducting Probate bus
iness. Loose methods of procedure had crept into the Probate Courts, first
adopted, doubtless, for the purpose of facilitating business, but open to serious
objections, and liable to great abuse. Judges would sometimes confer with
parties out of Court in respect to matters that were to be brought before
them for decision, or, when it seemed unimportant, fail to order due notice to
persons adversely interested, in respect to the proceedings of the Court. In
pure hands, such irregularities might lead to no aictual injustice ; but they were
entirely incompatible with the views of a man like Mr. White, and he accepted
the office of Judge with the positive understanding that he should undertake
their reformation.
PROBATE SERVICES.
The reformation of abuses, even when generally acknowledged, is seldom
effected without discontent and censure. As was to have been expected, the
new proceedings produced a temporary dissatisfaction, which neither his emi
nent ability as a lawyer, nor his unquestioned character as a man, could imme
diately silence. They involved occasional expenses and delays, which were
magnified into grave causes of complaint. Fortunately for Judge White him
self, and for the future character of the Probate Courts of the Commonwealth,
these complaints fina'ly took a specific form in a memorial presented to the
Legislature at its Summer Session in 1821, when a special committee was ap
pointed to institute an inquiry, and present a report.
Judge White bore himself with characteristic dignity during these vexa
tious proceedings. They were supposed to have been instituted partly on ac
count of former political enmities ; but they were made doubly aggravating be
cause they were undertaken immediately after a severe domestic affliction.
But he was perfectly assured of the entire propriety of his course. In a let
ter to his brother-in-law, Samuel Orne, Esq., of Springfield, dated June 6th,
1824, he says:
"You must have seen in the papers notice of a complaint as to the Pro
bate affairs of this County. I hope it did not alarm you. Mr. Merrill pro
cured me a copy of the complaint, of which I had previously no intimation. On

19
the face of the complaint, there is not a shadow of reason for the solemn pro
ceedings of the House."
The Committee discharged the duty assigned them, but after examining
only such witnesses as were presented by the complainants themselves, they
reported that all farther proceedings should be suspended ; and this triumphant
vindication of his course was made complete by the unanimous adoption of
their report by the Legislature. After the close of the proceedings, he writes
to Mr. Orne in the following terms :
" The Committee on my Probate affairs have at length reported ; and con
sidering that the inquiry was wholly ex parte, and the County ransacked for
those who thought themselves aggrieved to pour out their complaints, the re
port is as favorable as could be expected. This method of investigating the
official conduct of a man, by examining witnesses not only prejudiced against
him, but incapable of understanding the grounds and motives of his proceed
ing, and all behind his back, and making up judgment without affording him
opportunity even to explain, is as arbitrary as anything of the old English
Star Chamber proceedings. To subject one to this ordeal without justifiable
cause, and to torture the feelings of his distant friends who cannot have his
consciousness of innocence about them, is unjust and cruel. I was urged to
go to Boston, and see the Committee ; but I could not bring my mind down to
it. I saw no one of the Legislature on the subject, and resolved to leave the
thing to its own course. Now it is over, I do not regret the investigation.
The sanction of the Committee to the utility of the change I adopted in the
mode of doing Probate business, will close the mouths of murmurers."
We have said that the formal complaint was fortunate for the future char
acter of the Probate Courts, as well as for Judge White himself He was
never content to leave anything partially accomplished. In another letter to
Mr. Orne, dated July 5th, 1821, he says : "As to my Judgeship, if I had never
meddled with it I might rejoice ; but I feel like seeing it well through now.
When everything becomes as it should be, I shall have no objection to quitting
it." In accordance with this purpose he immediately began a little work en
titled "A view of the Jurisdiction and Proceedings of the Courts of Probate
in Massachusetts, with Particular Reference to the County of Essex." As he
intended that this book should contain not only a history of former pro
bate proceedings, with a vindication of the reforms which he had introduced,
but also be an authoritative treatise . in respect to Probate Courts, he be
stowed great care upon its preparation, and consulted with his friend, Hon.
John Pickering, at every step of his progress. It was printed in a pamphlet
of one hundred and forty eight pages, in the early part of the year 1822.
Writing to Mr. Orne at the time of its publication, he speaks of it as a work

20
which he "-thought necessary," and adds, " If any one will read it, and^ no
acknowledge the course I pursued was a proper one, I shall at least be indifler-
ent to his opinion upon the subject. Next time I am to be author, I hope to
have a more agreeable theme." The public soon acknowledged the propriety
of his course without a dissenting voice. His book at once took its place as
an authority ; and the reforms introduced into the County of Essex by Judge
White and Mr. Lord, the faithful Register of Probate, were extensively adopt
ed in other parts of the Commonwealth.
Fortunately also for the Court and County, Judge White did not relin
quish his office after everything had " become as it should be," but continued to
adorn it until July, 1853, when he resigned, after having held it thirty eight
years. We take the following passage from his diary for April 25, 1853 :
" This afternoon, I sent my letter of resignation of the office of Judge of
Probate, to take effect on the first of July. I sent it sooner than I intended,
because I saw mention made of a movement to get recommendations to the of
fice, and I wished that those who might feel some delicacy about doing so be
fore I had actually resigned, might be on an equal footing with others. I be
lieve that no predecessor has held the office longer than I have. My kinsman,
John Appleton, held it thirty seven years. Many things I might now do bet
ter, but I have always aimed to do right at the time, without fear, favor, or pri
vate interest."His modest claim did no justice to the feeling of the public, and of the
profession. It may be justly said that he not only commanded confidence, but
admiration in the discharge of his official duties. He had an incorruptible in
tegrity ; and he possessed a sterling good sense, a practical wisdom, an admira
ble balance of mind, together with a thorough knowledge of his own depart
ment of Law, so that his decisions seemed to be stamped in the mint of Justice.
In his long term of service, he must have been called to adjudicate upon almost
every estate in the County ; and a great number of orphans and widows felt
"the paternal influence of his judicial course." Equally dignified in the fulfil
ment of, and his retirement from his official functions, he closed his career as
a Judge with a degree of approbation for his labors, and veneration for his
character, which it is the fortune of only the very few to receive.
REMOVAL TO SALEM. DOMESTIC LIFE.
We resume the order of our narrative. Jan. 3d, 1817, he removed from
Newburyport to Salem, a little less than two years after his appointment as

21
Judge. Perhaps he was drawn to this place by its social attractions. He
had felt their charms when he was a student at law in the office of Judge Put
nam, and spoke enthusiastically respecting them in letters to friends and class
mates. At the time of his removal from Newburyport, and for many years after
wards, the society of this town comprised a very large number of persons who
were eminent for high culture and accomplishments ; and in his later diaries he
makes allusion to the peculiar richness of Salem in great men, of s6me of whom,
he says, any country might be proud. Delighting in society, as truly as in his
books, able to make such large contributions himself to the pleasure of social
intercourse, he was welcomed by all persons of genius and learning in the
town. In 1819, on the first of August, he was married a second time to Mrs.
Eliza Wetmore, only daughter of William Orne, Esq., of Salem, and removed
to the house in Court, now Washington St., formerly occupied by Mr. Orne,
and in which he resided during the remainder of his life. Possessed now of
ample means, blessed with the companionship of a wife whose uncommon in
telligence and loveliness of character commanded universal respect, with leisure
for the gratification of literary tastes in society and among his books, every
thing seemed to contribute to enhance his happiness. We have a glimpse of
his home life at that time, in a letter to Mr. Orne, a brother of his wife.
"We three," — referring also to an Aunt of Mrs. White, whom he calls
" a great comforter," whose " presence alone gives a deeper consciousness of
a protecting Providence," — "we three enjoy much of true domestic comfort, of
genuine fireside enjoyment. The pleasures of reading fill up most of the eve
ning, the day being generally broken up by calls of one sort or another. In
the way of reading, we have gone back to Goldsmith, and been delighted with
his novels and plays, and are now with the Citizen of the World. We have
also taken up Hall's Loo Choo Islands — a late work and very interesting."
It was an intelligent, cultivated, and Christian -home, which presented many
such bright pictures of fireside joy ; a home which, though often graced by the
honored guests who were welcomed to it with most generous hospitality, still
derived its peculiar charm from the loving presence which gave it constant
attraction, and filled it with delight.
But Judge White's domestic life was destined to be agam quickly shroud
ed. His wife's health, which had never been strong, soon failed ; and she died
March 27th, 1821, soon after the birth of a son. Her early death, at the age

22
of thirty six, in the language of one of the notices of her character, ca
forth such general and spontaneous expressions of respect and condolence, as
are rarely produced by the death of any individual in the private walks ot
life;" and the many tributes offered to her memory, give ample proof that she
had indeed endeared herself to many, " as a faithful friend, a judicious adviser,
and affectionate counsellor, retired and unobtrusive, yet unwearied in render
ing the kindest offices of friendship, and in performing the holiest deeds oi
charity." Thus only one year and eight months after his marriage, he was left
a second time, stricken with the deepest grief, with the care of an infant child.
This became his chief solace under his heavy sorrow, and he often speaks m
his letters of the joy of his constant watchfulness over this beloved boy and
his other children, and of witnessing the promise of their health and life.
For nearly three years after his wife's death, a favorite niece presided over
his house, who was afterwards married to Rev. Dr. Peabody of Springfield.
On the 22nd of January, 1824, he was again married to Mrs. Ruth Rogers, a
daughter of Joseph Hurd, Esq., of Charlestown. By this union, which contin
ued more than thirty seven years, and was only broken by his own death, he
had three sons. Two of them died in infancy ; and one, the eldest, Henry Orne
White, a graduate of Harvard, in the class of 1843, is now established as a phy
sician at Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin. In his new domestic relations, so ad
mirably fitted to secure his happiness, the time which was not absorbed by his
Probate duties was chiefly given to reading and study, and to attempts in
various ways to promote the intelligence and welfare of the community. He
began to accumulate books at a very early period. Two of the classes to
whom he had been tutor in College, gave him very valuable works. Soon
after he went to Newburyport, he mentions repeated purchases which he had
made at book auctions there. He continued to collect not only the old stand
ard works in every department of Literature, but also new books of merit, as
they came from the Press, until at length, although he had given many
thousands of volumes to individuals and associations, his library became very
large. It was rich in various departments. His fondness for the Clas
sics led him to collect the best editions of the Greek and Latin authors. Val
uable works of History, of Poetry, of Theology, found their place upon his
shelves. He was seldom absent from home, except for brief journeys, in one
of which he had the good fortune to pass two or three days with his friend
Rev. Dr. Channing, at Niagara Falls. While there he visited the battle-field

23
of Lundy's Lane, in company with him and Gen. Scott, and had all the interest
ing localities pointed out by one who took so distinguished a part in the bril
liant military operations in that immediate neighborhood. With ample lei
sure to gratify his literary tastes, he was able to keep himself, in a remarkable
degree, abreast of the world's intellectual life. He had his favorite branches
of study. He was a lover of History. He was especially interested in Eccle
siastical affairs. Theology had great attractions for him as a Science. He
was not only a faithful reader, but a careful student of the Scriptures. A trans
lation of the Epistle to the Romans was found among his papers. His jour
nal, in which he makes constant mention of the books which he was reading
from time to time, and gives brief commendations or criticisms respecting
them, affords abundant proof of the purity of his tastes, and of the wide range
and great fidelity of his studies and inquiries.
Of other aspects of Judge White's domestic life, it is difficult to speak in
fitting terms. No man could have held more sacred the relations to his home
and children, or more faithfully endeavored to fulfil them. Perhaps the fact
that he had been twice left with the care of children in their infancy, and thus
felt himself called by Providence itself to undertake a mother's as well as a
father's office, made him unusually thoughtful and careful respecting their
training and education. Still this was in his nature, and would have manifest
ed itself under any circumstances. But his theories upon the subject were most
judicious. He believed in obedience ; but though this was indispensable, he
aimed to secure it by gaining the implicit confidence, and the affections of his
children, rather than by positive constraint. He was careful not to interfere
with nature. He desired to be to them as an invigorating atmosphere, or as
the life-giving light, to call forth every nobler and generous trait of character,
while unworthy traits and feelings were silently, but persistently repressed
and eradicated, rather than to attempt to mould their lives by an excess of
discipline ; so that they might become what God intended to make them, in
stead of what he might try to make them himself according to his sincere, but
possibly mistaken fancy. Then, too, the deepest thing in his nature was his
affection ; and though none of those who loved him most, knew, or could imag
ine the depth of his love, still it made itself continually felt in the nearer rela
tionships of his life, and was refreshing as the dews in his intercourse with
his children. His letters to his eldest son, Rev. William 0. White, of Keene, beginning
with his first absence from home, and continued to his own latest days, num-

24
beringmore than six hundred, are most charming specimens of the correspondence
of a father with a child. During his son's College days and preparation for
professional life, they are filled with admirable hints respecting the true meth
ods of study, and the true aims of life, with out-pourings of the wealth of
his learning and affection. Occasionally maxims of wisdom drop unconscious
ly from his loving pen. Once, for example, in a letter that seems to have been
called forth by some pecuniary loss, he says, "If we have competency we
should not only be thankful, but cheerfully enjoy it, and never suffer the loss
of any portion of property to annoy us, and diminish our enjoyment of the
residue. We should never forget that property is good for nothing if not en
joyed in some way, and worse than nothing, if allowed to annoy us by its flight."
It would be difficult to find a correspondence that is more unaffected and sim
ple, and yet more truly instructive in its comments upon books and literary
questions, as well as upon public affairs, and more entirely instinct with the
highest principles, and the most profoundly religious spirit. Happy the son
upon whom has been showered such treasures of memory and love.
We forbear to tread farther upon ground so sacred. But Judge White's
love of study, though a life-long passion, and his affectionate fidelity to his chil
dren, only present particular phases of his character. He had the warmest so
cial sympathies, and he delighted in the interchange of thought and sentiment
with living minds. It was his fortune to enjoy an extensive acquaintance
with many of the leading men of Massachusetts, and of New England. He
esteemed this as one of the great privileges of his life, and it gave him the
highest pleasure to welcome them under his own roof Every man distin
guished in any department of study, who visited the city, was drawn towards
him as by a magnet. His hospitality was entirely unostentatious, but absolutely
generous and free. If his house continually presented fireside pictures of the
family circle, engaged in reading new or standard books, it almost as frequent
ly witnessed the gathering of intellectual friends, and of strangers whom he
wished to greet and honor, around his cheerful table. Almost every clergy
man, who transiently supplied the pulpit of the church in which he worshipped,
received his hospitalities. To its stated minister, his house was another home.
No man's hospitality could have been more constant or attractive ; and cer
tainly very few private dwellings, in the same period, welcomed a greater num
ber of intellectual and professional guests than his, during the last forty years
of his life.

25
Oui' picture of this aspect of his life is incomplete without a distinct
notice of his conversational gifts. With rich and wide intellectual acquisitions,
with a memory that faithfully kept its gathered treasures, with singular clear
ness of thought, he had a facility of expressing his ideas in language at once
apt, vigorous, transparent as his own life and character. It is easy to be
lieve the tradition of his eminence as a debater in the Senate of the Common
wealth. Fearless, earnest, prompt to rebuke arrogance, meanness, political
scheming, in most pungent, yet decorous speech, clear and comprehensive in
argument, he must have been a formidable antagonist, or a most effective ally
in debate. In conversation at his own fireside, where his quick affections had
fuU play, his varied powers manifested themselves with charming unconscious
ness and freedom. A companion of scholars, like Bowditch, Pickering and
Story, prepared to discuss the gravest questions of Law, Politics, Theology,
Literature, he was also at home even with children, ready to meet all minds
and hearts with an equal simplicity, with the same benignant courtesy and
grace.
CONNECTION WITH PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS.
Though Judge White lived for many years in comparative retirement,
neither the charm of books, nor of social intercourse, absorbed his thought.
He retired from aU strife for the prizes of the world, but he never remitted
his labors for its welfare. No man was more alive to the tighest interests of
the Community, the Commonwealth, and the Country ; and he exerted an act
ive public influence even to his last days, by his connection with Literary and
Charitable Institutions, and his services iti their behalf The University lay
very near his heart. The love which he acquired for it when an undergradu
ate, was greatly increased during his four years residence at Cambridge as a
Tutor. His correspondence with Prof Hedge for a number of years after he
resigned his tutorship, is largely devoted to the affairs of the College, and
shows the intensity of his interest in everything that related to its administra
tion, or wliich could promote its prosperity. These words are in his Journal,
Sept. 27th, 1804:
"Heard of the death of that excellent and beloved man. President Wil-
lard, and I wept most of all that I should see his face no more." The ques
tion of a successor at that time, and in every vacancy in the Presidency of the
Institution during his long life, held a foremost place in his mind ; and no man
a)

26

labored with greater zeal, or perhaps with greater efficiency, to secure e
appointment of men to that high office, who should not only confer honor upon
the College, but help to make the oldest, also the best and noblest seat of
learning in the country. He was jealous of its reputation in all respects, ana
prompt to enter the lists as its defender or advocate, when charges were made
against it amid the changes in Ecclesiastical, or Political affairs. He was a
member of the Board of Overseers for eleven years. He mentions in his dia
ry other ways in which he was ready to help it, and speaks of a contribution
which he could not withhold, "when a movement was made for the increase ot
the library in 1842, although he felt himself little able to make it on account
of recent losses ; " and then adds the words which were always in his heart,
if not upon his lips, "God bless the College." As might have been expected
from his character, he regarded the moral tone of the Institution as of supreme
importance. In his diary, Jan. 12th, 1842, he says :
"What pleased me at the Examination public dinner, yesterday, was the
total absence of all beverage but cold water, it being the first time I ever wit
nessed such a spectacle on any occasion of the kind at Cambridge. Hope it
will be so at Commencement. Told the President yesterday, at dinner time,
that I thought it more important at College than any where else, that absti
nence from intoxicating drinks should be sacredly observed." At a later date
he expresses his great joy at the stand which President Everett had taken
upon that subject, and adds, "All this should be sacredly adhered to." It was
this deep interest in the moral welfare of the College which induced him to
make the suggestion in his Address to the Alumni in 1 8-44, in respect to a
Professorship of the Philosophy of the Moral Life, wliich led to the bequest
from Miss Plummer of this city, for the foundation of the Plummer Professor
ship of Christian Morals. While he delighted in every advance in the schol
arship of the College, it was his cardinal principle that moral training should
hold the sovereign place in all educational plans ; and he never permitted an
opportunity to be lost, when he could press its paramount claims. It is proper
to say that the College did not forget the claim of so loyal and distinguished a
son to her honors, and conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of Laws, in
1837. The Divinity School at Cambridge was another object of his peculiar re
gard. He was one of the directors of the Society for the promotion of The
ological Education in Cambridge, which was formed in 1816, and reorganized
in 1824. This Society collected funds for the erection of Divinity Hall, and

27
laid the foundation of the present Theological School. The Institution inter
ested him most deeply, because it was based upon the following broad princi
ple, which entirely commended itself alike to his judgment and his heart. "It
being understood, that every encouragement be given to the serious, impar
tial and unbiassed investigation of Christian truth; and that no assent to
the peculiarities of any denomination of Christians be requiijed of the stu
dents, or professors, or instructors." He retained the same paternal interest
in the School to the end of life ; and his last visit to Cambridge, the last pub
lic occasion of any kind which he attended, was at the Annual Meeting of the
Visiting Committee of the Divinity School, of which he had long been a mem
ber, on the 2nd of January, 1861.
He was an active member of many prominent philanthropic and literary
associations, such as the Charitable Congregational Society ; the Society for
Propagating the Gospel among the Indians, and others in North America;
the Mass. Historical Society ; the Academy of Arts and Sciences — and a faith
ful attendant upon their meetings, so long as his strength permitted him to be
present. Remembering the high place which these Associations held in his re
gard, both on account of his conviction of the importance of the objects which
they were designed to promote, and of his warm friendship for the distin
guished men with whom he was then connected, the following brief entry
in his diary, only a few weeks before his death, gains a touching interest :
"Received notice of Mass. Historical Meeting, on Thursday, which is, and prob
ably must ever be an empty ceremony while I live." No similar summons ever
was an empty ceremony to him, till his last illness rendered it impossible for him
longer to mingle with those to whom his heart clung even to the end.
This habitual and untiring interest in the improvement and welfare of
society made him prompt to give his approbation and his exertions to every
wise project which promised to promote it. When Lyceums were first estab
lished in the State, and a public meeting for consultation respecting them was
held in Boston, in 1829, he heartily entered into the movement. He was cho
sen President of the Essex County Lyceum, and gave an Address at its first
Annual Meeting in Ipswich, May 5th, 1830. The Address was printed.
It explained the design of the Institution, and its uses, with an answer to
some objections which had been made against it. He was the first President of
the Salem Lyceum, and continued to be one of its three trustees, always inter
ested in its prosperity, until his death. The following extract from a letter
to his classmate, Hon. Horace Binney, to whom he had sent a copy of his Ly-

28
ceum Address, gives a glimpse of his idea of the purpose of such institutions,
and of one of the incidental benefits which he hoped might result from their
establishment :
"I was led to concern myself with the institution of a Lyceum, from a de
sire to give it a different character, in some respects, from what I feared it might
assume. It appeared to me important that it should be so conducted as to
afford miscellaneous instruction and entertainment, on moral and literary top
ics, adapted to an audience of both sexes, instead of being confined to scien
tific lectures, and thus be made to serve for the purposes of popular recrea
tion." His hope was that it might thus to some extent, at least, preclude the de
mand for questionable forms of public amusement ; and he names in the same
letter encouraging indications of such a desirable result. To show how truly
his mind was alive to this great idea of popular education and improvement,
we quote another passage from a letter written in 1835, to an old College
friend, whose honored name had just before been given in support of an As
sociation for the supply of teachers :
" It reminded me of what I have often contemplated as worthy to be sup
ported by such influence, and, if so supported, as calculated to do an immense
good to the next generation, and the present too — that is, an association ex
tending over the country, by uniting some of the wise and good from every
part, for the purpose of improving and elevating the morals of young men, es
pecially the educated, and those belonging to our cities and populous towns, by
circulating or recommending the best books for readuig, providing lectures
from eminent men, and other impressive means of moral influence. Might not
an Association be formed on some such plan which would promote this great
object, and advance the moral well-being of our country ? I only trouble you
with a hint on this subject, a full discussion of which might fill a volume."
No such hint, whether originated by another's mind, or by his own, was
lost upon himself It was in beautiful accordance with such words as these,
that, near the close of his life, in 1852, he made a gift of six acres of land,
which then remained of his father's farm, situated in the central part of the
City of Lawrence, to promote the object which he had so much at heart. By
negotiations with the Essex Company, which were honorable to all parties
concerned, all restrictions in respect to the erection of buildings upon the land
were removed, and it was conveyed to trustees to be sold, and the proceeds to
be used as a fund, eventually to establish a public library, and provide for pub
lic lectures, because he had "at heart the welfare of his native place, and ear
nestly desired to do something to promote the prosperity and improvement of

29
its now numerous population." His desire was " to have special reference to
the wants of the young, and of the industrial classes ;" for his great object
was, "the education and training up of the young, in habits of industry, mo
rality, and piety, and in the exercise of true Christian principles, both in
thought and action." It was a free gift, which he regarded as the payment of
a sacred debt, and for which he claimed no honor. When complimented re
specting it, at a public occasion in Lawrence, not long after, he felt himself
obliged to disclaim the extent of credit attributed to him, and spoke of the
noble old farm as it was in his boyhood, closing his remarks with the following
sentiment : " The prosperity of the City of Lawrence ; May its beauties of
Art, rival its former beauties of Nature, and may its moral dignity equal its
material splendor." This fund already amounts to about ten thousand dollars,
while one half of the original gift of land remains unsold.
Judge White was a sincere and practical philanthropist. He took great
interest in the Temperance reformation, and gave a consistent support to the
principle of total abstinence from intoxicating drinks, both in precept and in
practice. He discountenanced the use of tobacco also, as in his judgment
equally unnecessary and offensive. He was moderate in his views, and could
not assent to many opinions and measures which he considered extreme and
violent. But he was ready and anxious, irrespective of other men's opinion,
or popular favor, to give his support to everything which might help forward
these reformatory movements, so far as it commended itself to his judgment
and his conscience. If the case could be made clear to his eminently balanced
and judicial mind, his heart and his hand were never wanting.
INTEREST IN POLITICAL AND ECCLESIASTICAL
AFFAIRS.
In other aspects of his life, Judge White was the same earnest man. Tru
ly devoted to everything which touched the public welfare, he became, by the
necessity of his nature, an ardent patriot. Loyalty with him was both a prin
ciple and a passion, and his love of country took hold of the depths of his
heart. He was born on the day on which the motion was made in the Ameri
can Congress, by Richard Henry Lee, to declare the colonies independent.
He came forward into manhood under the administration of Washington, and
acquired the profoundest reverence for him, and for those associated with him
in the highest offices of the government. He detested Aaron Burr, and
mourned the disastrous death of Hamilton as a profound personal grief. That

30
grief was never forgotten. He says in 1841, after he had been reading the
short life of Hamilton in the Family Library : " The closing part very touching,
renewing the tears which flowed so freely thirty seven years ago, and the sad
and deep feeling for such a public loss, and wanton sacrifice of life, under cir
cumstances so tragic and deplorable." His life-long feeluig about Washington
and his administration found expression in the following terms in a letter to
his son, after he had been reading the first volume of Sparks' Life :
"It is refreshing and delightful to look back upon such a character, and
such patriotism and public spirit as we find in him and his associates in the
government. Wisdom, integrity, public virtue and pure patriotism, then ani
mated the administration, from Washington through every subordinate depart
ment. When you have leisure for miscellaneous reading, you can find nothing
better than this life of Washington, which is sure to repay you in entertainment,
besides affording you the noblest lessons of wisdom and virtue. From him you
may learn, though you should never hold a public office, much that is applica
ble to every condition of life ; self-control, self-denial, self-respect, views eleva
ted above transient pleasure to high purposes, and a steadfast adherence in all
your conduct to your own principles, and the resolutions you have formed.
The influence of such an example can scarcely fail to find its way to the heart
and into the life of every ingenuous young man, who contemplates it with any
thing of a kindred spirit. And where is the ingenuous young man who would
not wish to cherish such a spirit ?"
Judge White was an ardent Federalist while that party continued in ex
istence, and undeviatingly defended its purity and patriotism. He was one of
the Electors for President in 1816, when the Massachusetts Electoral College
unanimously cast their votes for John Marshall, of Virginia. After the disso
lution of the Federal party he became a Whig. During the last years of his
life he was a Republican, and voted for Fremont in 1856, and for Lincoln in
1860. This last change in his party relations he always maintained to be no
change of principle, even in the slightest degree. Upon being asked where he
should go at the time of the organization of the Republican party upon the
basis of the exclusion of Slavery from the Territories, his answer was, "I shall
not go anywhere, but stay where I have always been. This was the principle
of the days of Washington." After reading Gov. Seward's speech, which was
made at that time concerning the aggressions of the slave power, he said, "I
cannot but feel sympathy with such men as he in opposing the further encroach
ments of this dread power upon free territories. The question in my mind is
of awful consequence whether these future States shall be blessed with true
freedom, or cursed with slavery ; whether the Olive tree or the Upas shall be
planted, to bless, or to blast."

31
He was conservative in opinion and feeling. He was not an Abolitionist
in the technical sense in which that word has been generally used since the ag
itation of the slave question during the last twenty or thirty years. He re
garded the position which many abolitionists assumed in respect to the disso
lution of the Union as radically wrong, and condemned their denunciations as
unwise and indefensible. But he was utterly hostile to Slavery itself After
reading the life of Thomas Fowell Buxton, he noticed it with "great interest
and delight," as "almost persuading him to be an abolitionist, altogether in
deed such an one as he was." He detested the cruel prejudice against the col
ored race. This entry occurs in his diary, for 1841. "Read account of the
Monument Cemetery of  . Struck with one of the by-laws which pro
vides that "no person of color shall ever be interred there." Pitiful ! won
drous pitiful." When the question of the admission of colored children into
the Public Schools was agitated in 1844, he speaks in the following forcible
terms :
"Had some warm conversation on the subject of admitting colored chil
dren to our Public Schools, for which I contended. I should have no fears my
children would be contaminated by black skins, but by moral blackness, often
found beneath the most aristocratic white skins. I said the committee should
follow out the rule of right, and of Christian morality, and all would ultimate
ly acquiesce." His position was, conscientiously to sustain the compromises of the Con
stitution ; but he jealously watched the persistent aggressions of the Slave pow
er, and his indignation in regard to them was aroused many years before his
death. Dec. 12th, 1844, he says in his Journal, "The papers this morning tell
us that my friend, Mr. Hoar, sent to South Carolina to protect citizens of Mass-
(colored) in their rights against unlawful imprisonment, has been expelled from
Charleston by legislative resolve of that State, — an outrage worthy of their
nullifying character, and mad devotion to Slavery, and of the abominable
course taken by their political idol, Calhoun ; but we trust it is a madness which
precedes their own defeat."
This indignation never abated, but steadily increased, and it is interest
ing to trace its growth. At the time of the debates on the Fugitive Slave Bill
in 1851, he writes thus:
"Read Mr. Mann's able speech, and cannot but agree with hun in his
main views of the Fugitive Slave Law, — a law least of all others entitled to
privileges of any sort, and which must hang as a millstone upon any Ad
ministration, or party, identifying itself with it, bound at all events to sustain
it in all its odious features.'"

32
After the Burns case in 1854, he writes :
"People and papers full of agitation about the slave (Burns) being sent
back, and the great excitement in Boston. All under God's good Providence
may eventuate well, and serve to overthrow the evil law which ought never t^
have existed."
In respect to the Dred Scott decision, after saying, "It ought to rouse all
in opposition to Slavery extension more resolutely than ever," he writes, in
1857, as follows:
"I cannot believe that its judicial effect will be durable; for so far as I
have had an opportunity to judge, it appears to want the essential requisites
of permanent law — foundation in truth. From the abstract of Judge Ta
ney's opinion that I have seen, it seems to assume what is false, and to pro
ceed, upon false premises. Justice Curtis's opinion is, I think, as able and sat
isfactory a document of the kind as I have ever read. He is clear, close, and
conclusive on every point, proving unanswerably every position he takes, and
overthrowing all objections raised against it. The permanent law of the case
must be in accordance with truth and reason, not with fallible opinions of falli
ble men. These will pass away together, while the basis of law remains the
same forever."
It was his constant motto, "Never to despair of the Republic;" yet his
anxiety respecting public affairs greatly increased during these later years.
The assault upon Mr. Sumner, roused his indignation to the highest degree.
He characterizes it in his diary, as "most cowardly, mean, ferocious, and bru
tal," and adds, "If the House do not expel the ruffian, and the Senate protect
its dignity, then ruffianism is tranferred from the borders of Kansas to the
walls of the Capitol."
But although made greatly anxious by the threatening aspect of affairs
at the South, he was slow to believe in the possibility of a wide-spread rebel
lion, without " a single grievance, or pretence of grievance," to justify or palliate
it. Such an unnatural crime against the sacredness of Law, and the spirit of
liberty, seemed too monstrous to be believed. But when the crisis drew near,
he was not intimidated. His courage rose as the clouds grew dark. He had
no patience with reasoning about the Union. He remembered Washington, who
denounced those who started a doubt upon the subject. He believed in decided
measures, and commended Andrew Johnson's speech in Dec. 1860, as present
ing the true point of distinction between "coercing a State, and executing the
Laws against individuals in a seceding State" — the latter of which he says,
"Mr. Johnson is ready to do in the most effective manner, for the preservation
of the Union at all hazards," On Mr. Floyd's resignation as Secretary of war,
he dismissed him with the foUowmg sentence — "One traitor the less in the

33
Cabinet ; would that all were gone." As his strength failed in the last weeks
of his life, just before the bursting of the storm of Civil War, his patriotism
burned with deepest fervor. When he was only able to pen a few brief sen
tences in his diary from day to day, he speaks of "the insane follies of the
maddened South," and adds, "I shall not be here to suffer long from them."
Still later, he says, "Read some in evening papers; enough to make my
blood boil." Only a week before his death, referring to the visit of a friend,
he says, "Speaks as I feel about Secession, Treason." Those who saw him in
his very latest days will never forget how his love of country would make him
insensible for the moment to weakness aind disease, until his voice regained its
vigor, and he would pour out inspiring words of devotion and heroism, with his
former manly strength. And thus loyal to his country, as he was faithful to
society, the aged patriot went to his rest. But his spirit was transmitted to
his descendants. Four of his grandchildren, sons of William Dwight, Esq.,
hurried to the field at the first call to arms, where they rendered heroic ser
vice to the country. Two of them have fallen, both young men of the fairest
promise. One, Lt. Col. Wilder Dwight, of the 2nd Mass. Volunteers, fell at
Antietam. The other, Capt. Howard Dwight, Assistant Adjutant General to
Brig. Gen. Andrews, in Louisiana. When riding alone, on turning a bend of
the road, he suddenly found himself covered by the rifles of three guerrillas, on
the opposite side of a bayou, and called upon to surrender. Though he ac
knowledged himself their prisoner, he was barbarously shot. It was a fero
cious and brutal deed, fitly symbolizing the spirit that prompted the outrage
upon Senator Sumner, which his grandfather so indignantly denounced.
Any sketch of Judge White's life would be incomplete, which did not
make distinct, though brief mention of his religious opinions, and his special
views in respect to Ecclesiastical affairs. After his removal from Newbury
port, he connected himself with the First Church in this city, and continued
to worship there during the rest of his life. He had many other warm and
life-long interests, but Christian truth held the sovereign place, and religion
lay at the bottom of his heart. His diary and letters show how constantly it
occupied his thoughts. Each New Year, and the recurrence of each birth-day,
called forth a new dedication of himself to its service, increasing in earnest
ness as age drew on, but always penned in a childlike simplicity of faith and
trust. Very often he notices the Theological books which had occupied his stud
ies. March 28th, 1841, he writes thus :
(5)

34
"Locke, Coleridge and the Bible. Read Coleridge's Confessions of an In
quiring Spirit — good, but partakes of his common faults — should like it bet
ter if it had more of the clearness and simplicity of Locke, whom elsewhere
this same Coleridge undervalues." "It is the spirit of the Bible, and not
the detached words and sentences, that is infallible and absolute. I find little
to dissent from in this book, which contains many fine passages. I have al
ways felt the truth of the following sentiment : "' The truth revealed through
Chrst has its evidence in itself, and the proof of its divine authority is in its
fitness to our nature and needs ; the clearness and cogency of the proof being
proportionate to the degree of self-knowledge in each individual hearer. '
Christianity has likewise its historical evidences, and these are as strong as is
compatible with the nature of history, and with the aims and objects of a re
ligious dispensation. Take in addition Christianity itself as an exis|.ing power
in the world, and Christendom as an existing fact, with the no less evident fact
of a progressive expansion, and the whole gives a force of moral demonstration
that almost supersedes particular testimony."
He had made the Scriptures a study through his life-time. Perhaps no
man ever studied them more conscientiously or carefully. But though he be
came thoroughly settled in Unitarian views, he was as catholic in respect to
others' opinions as he was decided in his own. He believed that others were
as conscientious as himself, and was impatient of every thing that did not rec
ognize the truest freedom of religious thought. His faith was more of the
heart than of the head, and he recognized true sincerity among men of every
creed, and hailed the manifestations of the Christian life in every church with
the utmost alacrity and joy. Sectarianism was his perpetual aversion, and he
would have contended against it in himself as earnestly as he warred against
it in others. Indeed he chiefly valued Unitarianism, not on account of its doc
trines, but of its distinct and unqualified recognition of the right of every man
to interpret the Scriptures for himself, and adopt his own religious views, un-
censured by fallible men, unfettered by human creeds.
This was an opinion which Judge White most sacredly cherished, and most
consistently followed out. He could never recognize any form of opinions as
the basis of Christian fellowship. "The Bible and the Bible only," he deemed
the proper creed, and he desired to leave all men wholly to that, perfectly aware
that men of different temperaments and different mental tendencies, would
read it with different eyes, and be led to different conclusions. He believed
that every church should rest upon this broad basis, and considered every form
of test-creed as an invasion of the mind's most sacred rights, and a breach of
Christian liberty. His consistent fidelity to this position led him into contro
versy at different periods of his life. He engaged in a correspondence be-

35
tween the First and the Tabernacle Church in this city, in 1832, which involved
this principle ; and which we only refer to now in order to mention one letter
in the course of the controversy from his pen, extending to one hundred and
twenty seven pages, in defence of Protestant and Congregational liberty. It
was marked by his thorough learning and vigor of thought, and deserves to
hold a prominent place in the record of his literary labors.
Indeed, he believed that this principle of Christian liberty for which he so
zealously contended was the doctrine of the original New England Churches
themselves. He never questioned that their opinions were Calvinistic, or that
they strenuously insisted upon the doctrines of Calvinism. His position Was,
that at the settlement of the country, they were so mindful of the spirit of
John Robinson's oft quoted words respecting the greater light yet to break
forth from God's word, as to associate themselves together in churches under
a simple covenant, such as is found on the earliest records of the First Church
in Salem, and in Plymouth, interweaving no special statements of doctrine in the
original basis of their organization. A controversy arose between Rev. Dr.
Worcester and himself in respect to this point of history in 1854. In his
earnestness to maintain his own position, to use his own language, "First in
defence of the truly Protestant foundation of the First Church" (of Salem,)
and "secondly, in defence of historical truths," he was induced to prepare an
elaborate work, entitled "New England Congregationalism, in its Origin and
Purity," which occupied the last months, and almost the last weeks of his life.
It was printed in a volume of more than 300 pages, and had scarcely left the
press at the time of his death. The truth of history, whatever it may be, will
be finally vindicated. Whether Judge White's positions were right or not, be
yond all question, the merit must be awarded to him of undeviating consistency
in his opinions, and of untiring labor in their defence. And it is a striking
and affecting circumstance, that this principle of Christian liberty, which he
deemed so precious, should have occupied his latest thought, and commanded
the last labors of his pen.
CHARACTER AS A CITIZEN.
The position which Judge White held in Salem during the last twenty or
thirty years of his life was so universally acknowledged, and the influence
which he exerted was so beneficent, that we' have reserved a distinct place for
this aspect of his character. The brilliant circle into which he was welcomed
on his removal from Newburyport was soon broken. Dr. Bowditch took up
his residence in Boston in 1823. Hon. John Pickering followed him in 1827.

36
Judge Story removed to Cambridge in 1829. Dr. Holyoke died in the same
year. Dr. Prince died in 1836, and Hon. Leverett Saltonstall in 1843. Oth
ers also passed away. Judge White was thus left for many years as almost
the only survivor of that remarkable company of men, who was still a resident
of the city. It was natural, therefore, that all eyes should spontaneously turn
to him on occasions of great public interest. On the death of Dr. Bowditch
in March 1838, when the City desired to offer public honors to the memory of
one of her most distinguished sons, it was instantly felt that Judge White must
be the person to express her reverence. He was peculiarly fitted to fulfil that
sacred service by his full appreciation of Dr. Bowditch's eminent qualities as a
scholar and a man. He speaks of a brief interview with Dr. Bowditch a few
days before his death, and of his character, in the following words :
"I had a very precious conversation with him which I shall never forget,
and for which I feel very thankful. He conversed in the most affectionate and
interesting manner to me upon the relation we sustain to Divine Providence,
and the duty of entire submission in all things. I have always held his char
acter in the highest admiration as a combination of the richest qualities of hu
man nature — of head and heart — theory and practice 7— public spirit and so
cial benevolence. Rarely has there lived a man, especially a self-educated man,
who accomplished so much for Science, for society, and for friends — who at
tained such eminence in the learned world, and was so useful and so beloved in
the walks of business and of private life."
The Eulogy was delivered on the 24th of May 1838, and printed in a
pamphlet of 72 pages. Of its character it is enough to say, that it did equal
credit to its subject and its author.
In 1 846 he was called to perform a similar service before the American
Academy of Arts anii Sciences, on the death of his friend, Hon. John Picker
ing. In this case also he was preeminently the man to pay such a tribute.
He had known and honored Mr. Pickering since the day when they first met
as fellow students in the Law Office of Judge Putnam. He writes as follows
in his Journal, May 6th, 1 846 :
"Heard this morning of the afflicting intelligence for which I was pre
pared on Monday, of the death of Hon. John Pickering, LL. D., my good friend^,;
and a most excellent man ; distinguished for purity of mind, heart, character,
taste, feeling and principle ; at the head of American Philologists ; accomplished

37
as a Classical scholar, and as a Christian gentleman. His death makes a
chasm not easily, or soon to be filled — one which will be long felt and de
plored — his, merits being personal, intrinsic, rare."
On May 8th, two days later, he writes again :
"I feel Mr. Pickering's loss with no little sadness, following as it does in
quick succession that of Saltonstall and Story, all luminaries of Salem. How
rich must Salem have been with all these, and Dr. Bowditch and Dr. Prince
added to them."
When engaged in the preparation of his Eulogy he says, " I find a fullness
of materials, and a difficulty in selection and arrangement. But I must do as
well as I can. I shall not fail from want of Jieart in the subject." And again,
a few months afterwards, in speaking of the five Eulogies which he had deliv
ered, — the first upon his class-mate Wellington, when an under-graduate ; the
second upon the death of Washington, delivered in the Meeting House, in Me
thuen, Jan. 13th, 1800, at the request of the people of his native town, pre
pared at a few days notice, without books to refer to, when at home on a short
vacation; and which was his first printed discourse ; the third upon Mr. Shap-
leigh, the Librarian at Harvard, in April of the same year ; the fourth upon
Dr. Bowditch; and the fifth upon Mr. Pickering, — two of which had necessa
rily been prepared in haste — he says, "The first was wi'itten with some pains,
the fourth with more, and the fifth with most. None afforded me more inter
est and pleasure than the last, which I am very sure will always be my last, as
I think it is my best."
He could not fail from "want of heart" in these sacred tributes to friends,
for no man's friendships were deeper, or more sincere. The Eulogy upon Mr.
Pickering, whom he depicts as a "model scholar," was delivered Oct. 20th,
1846, and printed in a pamphlet of 106 pages, at Cambridge.
When it was proposed to open a new Cemetery in the City in 1840, he
was selected as the most fitting person to give the Consecrating Address.
On account of indisposition, he felt himself obliged at first to decline that ser
vice. The following extract from a letter written at the time, shows how ear
nestly he entered into this, as into every project, alike for the adornment and
improvement of the City.
"I feel some desire to comply with the request, as I feel a great interest
in the design ; but I feared my health might be too much interrupted to allow

38
me sufficient time, at such short notice, to perform the duty required of me in
a proper manner. The more I have thought of the plan of establishing such
a Cemetery in our immediate vicinity, the more important it appears. The
place selected is the very one of all others best adapted by nature for such a
purpose, and admits of all desirable improvements from Art, with all possible
embellishments of taste. When completed it will be a most attractive spot
for SL rural walk, as well as for a rural burying place, combining a thousand
interesting associations, continually increasing in number and character to ren
der it delightful, and in a moral view, highly useful. An indissoluble associa
tion exists with the departed friend or relative in the survivor's heart, leading
his thoughts and feelings constantly to the spot where their remains are de
posited. When this is a disagreeable or dreary place, it is shocking to the
mourner's sensibility; when like Mt. Auburn, or the expected Harmony Grove,
it is, on the contrary, soothing to his feelings, connecting with the object of his
grief pleasing associations, which serve to diffuse cheerfulness over his spirits,
and to strip death of its gloomy terrors."
The desire that he should give the Address was so strong that the invita
tion was renewed. It was delivered June 14th, 1840, and was afterwards
printed. Judge White became connected, either by liberal contributions, or official
service, sometimes by both, with every prominent literary or philanthropic as
sociation in Salem. His interest in the Lyceum has been already mentioned.
He was President of the old Essex Historical Society, and the Salem Athenae
um, the Salem Dispensary, and the Salem Savings Bank. But the service which
he rendered in founding and endowing the Essex Institute demands especial
notice. When the Essex Historical, and the Essex County Natural History
Societies were merged in the Institute, in 1 848, he was chosen its President,
and continued to hold that office until his death. Since that union was accom
plished, by the constant devotion of persons interested in its various depart
ments of Science, or History, and by the tireless labors of its Secretary, the
Institute has become a living and active association. At first its library was
very small, comprising only twelve or thirteen hundred volumes. Judge White
soon determined to transfer a large number of his own books to its shelves.
In 1851, he made his first large contribution, in addition to volumes previously
given to the Historical and Natural History Societies, of which he thus speaks.
May 12th:
" Selected more books for the Essex Institute, chiefly French, Latin and
Greek, with many small volumes, literary, biographical, historical &c., and some
very valuable; as Barton's Flora, in three quarto volumes, superb plates,
which I bought in Providence, when attending Commencement in 1 827 ; Har-

39
rington's Oceana, and other works which I imported twenty years ago or more,
Athenae, Oxonienses, &c., all amounting, perhaps, to about 400 volumes ; and
I have enough more to send, doubtless, to make the number exceed 3000."
In 1857 he made another contribution at the time of the removal of the
Institute to its present rooms in Plummer Hall, of which he thus speaks, July
14th: " I have been very busy in closing my remittance of books to the Essex
Institute, making in all over a thousand volumes of valuable books, amounting
at a moderate estimate to between 1,300 and 1,400 dollars. With those sent
before, of whose value I make no particular estimate, the number exceeds four
thousand volumes."
In addition to these, by his will, he directed that over 3,000 more should
be given, so that his entire contributions amount to more than eight thousand
volumes, and about ten thousand pamphlets.
One small donation of thirty or forty volumes of choice books, comprising
among them some rare editions of the classics, and which were sent only two
days before his death, has a special interest. They were selected from the li
brary of Dr. Vergnies, formerly of Newburyport, and he desired them to be
placed in the Institute for consultation instead of general circulation ; and his
last signature, on the last evening of his Ufe, was affixed to the paper in which
he stated his wishes respecting their future use.
These contributions are of great value. Among them are nearly a thous
and volumes of English and American History, and nearly as many more of
English Literature, some of them rare and fine editions, making the library
rich in those departments. A great number of all these 8,000 volumes have
annotations in Judge White's own hand, giving facts respecting their authors,
or criticisms of his own, with reference to notices of them elsewhere, which
greatly add to their worth, and would be of great help to the student. These
gifts, with donations from other patrons of the Institute, make a library
which is already, in many respects, very complete, and which only needs one or
two thousand volumes of modern works, judiciously selected, to supply its pres
ent deficiencies, to become what its friends desire it to be. Though dead, its
generous benefactor still speaks to those who can complete the endowment
which he so munificently began.
The gifts of Judge White to the Institute were not confined to contribu
tions of books. When a thousand or fifteen hundred dollars were needed in
money, he cheerfully assumed a fifteenth or twentieth part of the sum as his
own proportion. It is probably just also to say, that to his good offices in

40
removmg questionings which had previously existed in Miss Plummer's mind
in respect to the possibility of any future misappropriation of her bequests, the
Athenaeum is indebted for her legacy of thirty thousand dollars for the erec
tion of Plummer Hall, which affords such ample accommodations for the li
brary and cabinets of the Institute, and which is such an ornament and honor
to the city itself
Of Judge White's other contributions in multiplied forms of charity, it-
would be impossible fitly to speak. If a subscription were desirable for any
benevolent purpose, he would often be the first to suggest it, and always be ready
to aid it with generous gifts. Sometimes he would personally solicit donations
from others ; and he occasionally gives amusing descriptions of his experien
ces in that form of service, and of the knowledge of human nature which was
thus obtained. He had the training of a New England home, in which econo
my is often diligently studied in order to provide liberally for the choicest ed
ucation of a child, or to lavish its gifts upon some great Christian enterprise ;
a training which seems beautifully to blend the teaching of the multiplying of
the loaves with the gathering up of the fragments. Thus he became simple in
his own tastes, but prompt to meet every demand or opportunity of charity.
He remembered every tie of kindred ; he sent help to the poor ; he stretched
out his hand to society and to the world. The surplus of income beyond the
necessary expenses of his household, during the later years of life, was gener
ally consecrated to offices of benevolence. He was not undiscriminating in his
gifts. Applications for aid which did not commend themselves to his judgment
he unhesitatingly refused. But he suffered no temporary diminution of income,
or pecuniary loss, to lessen his contributions to habitual dependants upon his
bounty, or stint his offerings to these more sacred objects of beneficence. He
cultivated the acquaintance of young men who were earnestly struggling to
gain a liberal education ; not only in order to aid them by pecuniary assistance,
but by his sympathy and encouragement, which from one so honored was an
additional inspiration.
It was his frequent custom to note down upon the checks which he drew
for any special purpose, the object to which that siim of money was to be de
voted ; and thus his bank account, though it might furnish no record of some
munificent gifts, and of numberless smaller ones which have no record upon
earth, would present an unusual and a beautiful history of charity. Truly such
men "make to themselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness, that,
when they fail, receive them into everlasting habitations."

41
It is scarcely necessary to say, that a man so distinguished as Judge
White for intellectual power, and literary acquisitions, so steadfast in integrity,
so large-minded and catholic in spirit, so prompt to recognize every claim of
citizenship or charity, so steadfastly devoted to the best interests of society,
must have become a beneficent power in the community, whose influence it is
equally impossible to describe, and difficult to overestimate. His cooperation,
or his benediction, was the first thing to be sought in every important move
ment for the public good. In later years, at least, "his name led all the rest."
His presence was a silent rebuke to injustice, to narrowness and selfishness in
their every form. He was a living embodiment of what a true public spirit
can do to call forth the same generous feeling in other men, not only by his
multiplied acts of benevolence, but by the perpetual influence of his character.
The City was indeed bereaved when his manly form was no longer seen mov
ing on its accustomed rounds, and his face no longer looked benignantly upon
the young in their innocent sports, or gave its benediction to friends as he
passed them by. Such men as he are the crown of the community in which
they dwell, and when they are seen no more, we ask for it no greater blessing,
than that the living who have witnessed their virtues, should study their exam
ple, and tread in their faithful steps.
LATEST DAYS, AND CHARACTER.
There is a picture which represents a child and an aged man going down
together to the river of death. The child presses forward in eager haste, with
no sensation, because he has had no experience of fear. The man moves on
with steady step, and serene face, bearing a lamp and a cross. There is a
true serenity, a ripened beauty, in a genial, thoughtful. Christian age, which
surpasses the charm of youth. It rested upon the last years of Judge White
to a remarkable degree. He moved cahnly on into the vale of years, amid
honor and respect, encircled by the love and reverence of children and of
friends. His own feeling in respect to advancing age is indicated in a letter
written a number of years before his death, when his children, after a vacation,
had returned to College.
"We have few hearty laughs in your absence, but these become less and
less the constituents of true enjoyment as we advance in life, yet never unwel
come, unless unseasonable. — B. may miss your exciting merriment more than I
do • yet I often enjoy it, without seeming to partake of it, and all the more for
its reviving a recollection of early life when I entered into the spirit of social
merriment as heartily as either of you can now. DiEferent persons feel very
(6)

42_
differently as they grow old in respect to scenes of mirth and gay amusements,
according as their spirits have been more or less exposed to the chilling blasts
of adversity and affliction. Some continue almost to the end of a long life
with little experience of these — the circle of their early friends and intimate
connections remaining to them nearly unbroken ; and they may well continue
to enjoy the gayeties which have seldom been interrupted by sorrow and suffer
ing. Others are so frequently and severely bereaved as to lose all taste and
relish for the amusements of life, and almost to acquire a habit of sober
thought and feeling, which, to superficial observers, bears the appearance of
opposition to all hilarity of soul. There are very few, I believe, however
smoothly the current of life may run, whose spirits are not chastened by their
experience and reflection into some degree of sobriety of manner and feeling
as they advance in life, beyond what they before manifested. This at least is
becoming in all, and the surest prognostic of a green old age, which is far dif
ferent from a froliclcsorm one, and which naturally results from reflection and
wisdom in the earlier periods of life."
He had himself secured the reflection, and gained the wisdom, to make
his own old age green. The tree was planted by the living springs, and the
freshness of its leaf did not fade. By a steadfast observance of the laws of
health he regained the vigor which had been almost sacrificed by excessive
study in youth, and his step was elastic and firm almost to the end. A
young man who was with him on his last visit to Cambridge could scarcely
keep pace with his rapid walk. His youthfulness of face was long retained.
His hair was slightly silvered. When a member of one of his old Cambridge
Classes said to him on his reaching his seventieth year, "you look about as
you did when I recited Latin to you in College" — he writes in his diary —
"A compliment indeed to my early looks." He looked genially upon youthful
sports, and thankfully upon Nature's beauty, during the last months of his
life, making such entries as these in his journal : "Had pleasant walks A. M. and
P. M. The Common alive with Cricket players." " Took a little walk with
wife in the street to and fro, to enjoy the delightful moon playing hide and
seek with the passing clouds." His mind retained its noonday strength, and
his pen was as active in age as in youth. On account of the intimate associa
tions which he had held with many distinguished men, and the accuracy of his
memory, he was constantly called upon during his later years to contribute his
reminiscences respecting them. He was as a treasure-house from which the
richest gifts could be drawn to illustrate their character, or adorn their memory.
He freely met such calls as these, sometimes answering them at length, espec
ially in respect to Professors Frisbie and Popkin, Dr. Channing, Judge Parsons,
and Dr. Pearson of Andover. Many briefer Obituary notices came from his

43
pen. One of these, published in the Salem Gazette of July 21, 1846, was upon
Miss Mehitable Higginson, the sixth m descent from Rev. Francis Higginson,
the first minister of the First Church, and the last person of that name in the
City. In his diary, July 20th, 1846, he writes :
"Passed forenoon mostly in completing my obituary Notice of Miss Hig
ginson, whose worth and excellence as a teacher I endeavored to set forth as
an example to others, as well as to make them better known and appreciated,
having ever regarded her as one of the choicest blessings Salem ever had."
He then speaks of her great service in the moral training of the children under
her charge, and adds, "I feel her loss, and am grateful for her lessons and ef
forts for my own children. Her whole history, as well as ancestry, is interest-
ing." At a later period, he prepared his "Notices of the First Church in Salem
and its Ministers from 1629 to 1853," appended to a Sermon preached at the
Installation of its present minister; and his "Brief Memoir of the Plummer
Family." Later still, when he was in his eighty second year, he wrote a letter
in reference to the will of his friend and brother Joseph Hurd, and the final
result of the trial of the case respecting it before Judge Thomas of Lowell,
which was published in the Boston Daily Advertiser, May 20th, 1858, and pro
nounced a wonderfully condensed piece of logic. He revived his youthful
friendships with beloved classmates ; for it was a remarkable fact in respect to
his Class, that the five who stood highest in scholarship lived to a very ad
vanced age. They responded to his greeting with equal love ; one of them,
most honored, perhaps, of all, writing, "I walk in the 'flower garden of my
twenty-one grandchildren, and two great grandchildren, and my wife leans on
my arm. We study to be content, and ought to be thankful." He remem
bered Atkinson Academy, where he fitted for College, and sent a gift of
books to it on April 1, 1860, as a token of his love. Many days in the year
became anniversaries, reviving beautiful memories of pleasant events in his
own history, or sacred memories of friends, earlier or later dead, which were
noted in his Journal in such words as these: "Fifty-five years ago this day
since my College classmate and chum, Jabez Kimball, died. A noble hearted
man." "Recollections of the best hours of life " came in multiplying throngs,
bringing their lamps to cheer his later days. Grandchildren already unfolding
high powers in life's work, or amidst College studies, occasionally came to his
home to receive his benediction, and to find new inspiration in his counsels.
But the end drew near. Only a short time after he left College, in a let
ter to a classmate who had met a very sad bereavement, he said, "I have often

44
thought it an mstance of the great goodness of God that we are, for the most
part, brought to the grave by such mild and gentle gradations as to lose in our
selves all horror of death, and to render less poignant the sorrow of surviv
ing friends. In the glow of health the thought of dying can scarcely be en
dured ; but by a gradually wasting sickness the mind becomes familiarized to
it ; the love of life is kindly weakened, and death is only the last link of a
long series of changes. 'Resignation gently slopes the way.' " His words
were prophetic of his own experience. The way had been gradually prepared
for hunself by the departure of classmates, cotemporaries and friends. But
the death of his daughter, Mrs. Foote, Dec. 24th, 1857, had a deeper influence
than all. His other daughter, always an equally bright and welcome presence,
resided in another town, and could not be constantly near him. Mrs. Foote
was his daily sunshine. They interchanged visits almost every day. Equally
remarkable for conversational powers, they were inspirations to each others'
mind in the affectionate intercourse of father and child. But he bowed with
out a murmur to the will of God. On the day of her death he writes in his
Journal, "So the day has passed; may the deep emotions and the tears, and
profound reflections, and religious impressions, all be blessed to our own high
est good." She was with him still in memory and love. He felt the truth of
the following words from a classmate when speaking of his own departed
daughter : "Here is a tie of the purest kind, unbroken, and to be unbroken for
ever, to which the heart can turn for solace, from every jar within and without.
It is really treasure I5,id up in Heaven ; a treasure of good thoughts and affec
tions, free from all the dross of our nature, and never recurred to without grati
tude to God. From the constant presence of my daughter in my heart, I feel
as if she must be ever with me, whether in life or death, and a part of me al
ways." Still life had no longer the same charm for him. Months afterward he
said to a friend, "Much of the sunniness of Salem has been taken away by Ma
ry's death;" and he felt, in the language of the classmate to whom reference-,
has just been made, that the event had "more than half averted his eyes from
the pre-accustomed sources of happiness."
During a sickness a year or two later, from which he slowly rallied, he ex
pressed a wish that his time might then come, rather than that life should be
lengthened with the probable diminution of strength. When a friend said,
"There are many things which you will enjoy if you get well," he quickly an
swered, " 0 yes, I should like to see old friends again on Commencement Day,"
which was then close at hand. And he did see them again. He clung to them till

45
the pulse beat no longer. But the heavens had been more distinctly revealed
by his daughter's death, and it was the unconscious influence of this event, per
haps, rather than the dread of increasing weakness, that made him more ready
to unloose the clasp of earthly hands.
When the last weeks and days came, "Resignation gently sloped the way."
He made every disposition of his worldly affairs with perfect calmness and
clearness of mind. He recalled all his dear ones and friends, and set apart
tokens of love for each and all. He was fully alive to the best interests of the
world, and the welfare of country. He cordially welcomed friends to his cham
ber. His messages of love were more tender than ever. He listened to fa
vorite passages of Scripture, read by son or daughter, with deep emotion.
As the fatal disease went on he would write in his diary, "Feel no better; yet
thankful for the many mercies I enjoy." Many men have been equally serene.
More serene no man could be. He rested upon no theory or hope of his own,
not relying even upon the thought that he should meet his beloved ones again.
He lay like a little child in his father's hand, repeating oft, or listening to the
words of his favorite hymn :
"My God, I thank thee; may no thought
E'er deem thy chastisements severe."
That hymn embodied his own religious life. In youth, as he walked
around his father's farm, amid the beauty of Nature which then sank into his
heart, he learned to feel the truth of the words :
" Thy mercy bids all nature bloom ;
The sun shines bright, and man is gay."
Amidst the chastenings of many a deep experience he learned equally to feel
the truth of those other lines :
"Thine equal mercy spreads the gloom
VVhich darkens o'er my little day,"
until those words "Thine equal mercy," were always hymning themselves in
his heart, or ready to drop from his lips.
Except a request for water, these were his last words. He had been able
to sit in his chair till the last day. On that morning, yielding to his physician's
advice, he remained in bed, with wife and children and grandchildren about
him to accompany him to the river's side. He heard the tidings of the death
of Judge Shaw, less than an hour before his own departure, and said, "It is a
good time." He had learned long ago to bear the cross. The lamp was in
his hand as he stepped into the river's brink. And so he fell asleep, with a
smile upon his countenance, "and soon," in the words of filial piety watching

46
his ascension, "his face shone as if it had been the face of an angel." He died
March 30th, 1861, aged 84 years, 9 months, and 23 days. His funeral was at
the First Church, April i'.nd, and his body was laid in the Cemetery of Har
mony Grove.
In attempting to delineate the features of his character, it is difficult fully
to picture the impressions which they made. There were strong elements in
his nature which it may have required a struggle to discipline in earlier days.
He was capable of intense moral indignation at injustice, or narrowness, or
meanness, in their every form. He had the power of denouncing them in words
that pierced like swords. Perhaps if he had remained in public life, he would
have been too honest and outspoken to retain uninterrupted favor, though he
might have always commanded the most absolute respect and confidence. But
if there were struggles in earlier life, his last days only exhibited the victory.
There seemed to be a rare mental and moral balance in his character. No
man left the impression of a more absolute integrity. No injustice had a place
in his heart. Sinister purposes and aims would have shrunk before his upright
ness. Indeed, he was one of those whose "sphere" called out the best
thoughts from other minds, and the noblest traits in their character, and un
consciously constrained other souls to put on their best robes in his presence.
He was a man of childlike simplicity. With characteristic modesty he never
displayed his wealth of literary acquisitions until called upon to impart of his
ample store ; and then he opened all his treasures as freely as he opened his
hand to bestow his gifts of charity. The record of his life is a record of good
deeds. Perhaps he may have seemed reserved to those who knew him but
slightly. He never seemed so to the children whom he would stop to greet in
his walks, and to cheer with kindly words, or to the children who were visitors
at his home. He never seemed so to friends. The sunshine of his look fell
upon them with no eclipse. No other word than benignity can express the as
pect which his countenance wore for them. The tree "bore twelve manner of
fruits," because its roots were fed from the river of life. A devout attendant
at church, when both his theological attainments and his christian experience
made it far more fitting for him to preach than to listen ; an habitual student
of the Scriptures from his youth ; thoughtful, reverent always ; sitting daily at
his Master's feet, asking the guidance of his Father's hand, he lived in trust and
faith, till faith was changed to sight.
Few men have had more honorable tributes of respect and love than were
spontaneously offered to his memory. One friend writes, "His presence al-

47
ways seemed to me like a benediction, and it is no exaggeration to say, that an
atmosphere of goodness ever surrounded him, which I always felt whenever I
was fortunate enough to be near him." Another says, "I remember well the
veneration with which I looked upon him more than twenty years ago, and
from that day to the last time I met him, I have looked upon him as an exam
ple to his race." These were men many years younger than himself. Those
who more nearly approached his own age offered similar tributes. One speaks
of his "gratitude for the indulgence exhibited by his tutor more than sixty
years before, and his admiration for the faithfulness of the Judge." Another
quotes the opinion which he had heard expressed by a friend before his own
personal acquaintance, " That Judge White was one of the most perfect speci
mens of humanity he had known," and then adds, "When I came to know
him myself, I could easily understand the grounds of such an opinion. When
I was with him I always felt myself under an attractive influence which I had
neither the disposition, nor the ability to resist. His excellent sense and va
ried information, and fine colloquial powers, and genial, generous spirit, always
acted as a charm upon me." And a most beloved classmate writes, "I have
now lost my warm-hearted and affectionate correspondent, whose purity and
intelligence were a constant refreshment to think of, and whose tastes and
opinions were more in sympathy with my own than those of any other man of
my time. In many respects I have seen no person like him, no person so un
varying for so long a life, the delicacy and susceptibility of his affections con
tinuing the same from my first acquaiatance with him. The remembrance of
him must be a store of sacred thoughts, as well as of honorable and wise prin
ciples to his descendants. It will be to me while I live. Let those who were
nearest to him know how deeply I respected and loved him, and how truly
through our long lives, the intercourse between us, which began in these senti
ments, was without jar, or shadow to the end."
There were very many kindred voices, but all spoke in the same tone,
and between their testimonies, there was no "jar."
A more faithful or kinder parishioner no minister ever had. A truer or
more honored friend we have never known. It is a blessing to recall his mem
ory though it renews the grief for his loss, and compels those who loved him,
m his own chosen words respecting President Willard, "to weep most of all
that they shall see his face no more."

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