ilDlU ;;;:iilllii,iii:;!^iiiiliii^iiIi.i|ii!il1)Jiiii.iMili!'|i!!l!W^ M■!M;:■:i;i;!^l!iniii^!;iii|l|J!|,ijil,Ji|:^;liI;'|i!^ i m^mHWIiyl THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES V/ILLIAM TELL. BOOK OF BENEFACTORS BOSTON: C.H. PEIRCE AND G.C.EAND LIVES or BENEE ACTORS: 'r^V vPo. rv\t.A t : ^rio...:;. la (croocLv •''^ r\ BY THE AUTHOR OF PETER PARLEY'S TALES. BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY GEO. C. RAND, CORNIIILL. WM. J. REYNOLDS AND COMPANY. 18 5 2. PRESS OF GEORGE C. RAND & CO. PREFACE. Ii is not the purpose of this volume to present the lives of all, or any considerable portion, of those persons who have acquired the most enviable of litlea— that of benefactors op mankind. Nothing more is attempted than to lay before the reader brief sketches of a few of those persons who may lay claim to this designation, either for their deeds, their example, or their influence. There are several reflections suggested by our subject, which are worthy of consideration. In the first place, it is to be remarked, that a book op BENEFACTORS, thougli it be devoted to the memory of those most truly hon- ored of mankind, docs not include mere warriors, wits, geniuses, states- men and millionares — those who arc apt to fancy that they are the master- spirits of mankind. Another reflection is this — that goodness — beneficence — is felt and ac- knowledged by mankind. Though accidental circumstances — fleeting pas- sions or prejudices — may obscure the light of virtue, so that it is unseen for a time — still, that light is ever tending to struggle out from the mists, and always commands the homage of the human heart, when it is perceived. It is clear, therefore, that there is a moral as well as a physical sun in the uni- verse, and that its rays are as truly adapted to a soul within, as the pencils of natural light to the optic nerve. Another reflection, and a grateful one to the American bosom, is, that our country has furnished the finest character — that acknowledged by the civil- ized world to be the finest — in the annals of our race, at least in modern times. The value of Washington's example, aside from his great deeds in our behalf, is beyond calculation, if we use it aright. His character is not only of inestimable worth, as a model upon which to mould our youth ; but o*Jxbi'Uo IV PREFACE. is it not also of great significance, in respect to our institutions, and indeed to the cause of liuman advancement, that it should have been formed in resisting monarchical despotism and in laying the foundations of a republic? The reader will remark that we have not confined our selections of bene- factors to those who stand before the world, professedly, as such. Those who have been eminently useful, though in the pursuit of their own avocations, we have esteemed as doers of good to mankind, and given them a place in our pages. Of this class are Fulton, Whitney, Arkwright and others. For the brief sketches of some of this class, toward the close of the volume, we are largely indebted to the valuable little work, entitled Exemplary Biography, by Chambers, of Edinburgh. C^-.' ■ ■ -■. . '.-.jo CONTENTS. FAGB Washinoton, 7 Jay, 57 Henry, 89 Fkanklin, 113 La Fayette, 160 Kosciusko, 191 William Tell, 202 HOWAKD, ....... . 214 Jenner, 224 Oberliit, 231 gottenbeso, 242 Hakgraves, 249 Akkwright, 283 Whitney, 260 Fulton, 267 Copernicus, 274 Galileo, 277 LiNNJSUS, 2S2 BowDiTCH, 283 Hueer, 305 Herschel, 309 Davy, 317 1* MOUNT VERNON. A BOOK OF BENEFACTORS. GEORGE WASHINGTON. This great man, — "the first in war, the first in peace, the first in the hearts of his countrymen," — was the third son of Augustine Washington,* and was born near the Potomac, in Westmoreland county, Virginia, February 22nd, 1732. He was sent to a common country school, Avhere little was taught beyond the mysteries of reading, writing and arith- metic. But he profited largely by the slender advantages he possessed. He was inquisitive, dili- gent and docile, and readily appropriated to himself all the knowledge possessed by his teacher. It would appear that he had other instruction at a later period ; for, at the age of thirteen, he commenced the study of mathematics. When he finally left school, he had become a proficient in geometry, trigo- nometry and surveying, for which last he had a decided partiality. During the last summer he was at school, * The Washington family appears to have been of some antiquity, and of high respectability in England. John and Lawrence Washington emigrated to Virginia, about the year 1657, and settled at Bridge's Creek, near the Potomac, and became successful planters. John married Anne Pope, by whom he had two sonSj La^vrence and John, and a daughter. 8 GEORGE -WASHINGTON. he surveyed the lands adjoining the school-house, of which the plans, measurements and calculations were found among his papers after his death. Among the interesting remains of this remarkable man, there are manuscript school-books, which afford us the means of ascertaining his early habits and pursuits. "When he was about thirteen years of age, he copied, with much care and in a neat hand, the forms of business papers, such as notes of hand, bills of exchange, receipts, bonds, indentures, bills of sale, land warrants, leases, deeds and wills — all evinc- ing great patience and care. In the same book are selections in rhyme, distinguished for their religious and moral tone, rather than for their poetical merit. A very interesting portion of one of these manuscript books is a Code of Politeness or Rules of Behavior, which appear to have been compiled by himself when he was about thirteen years of age. They are, on the whole, drawn up with much good sense and propriety of feeling, and we are doubtless to ascribe something of that consistency, decorum, dignity, con- descension and mildness, which distinguished Wash- ington through life, to the principles thus early adopted and established. In the year 1746, when he was fourteen years old, he was offered a midshipman's berth in the British navy. This was obtained by his brother Lawrence, who had been an officer in the British army and served at the siege of Carthegena. Young George was pleased with the appointment, and prepared with a buoyant spirit to enter upon its duties; but as the time approached for his departure, the solicitude of GEORGE WASHINGTON. 9 his mother interposed, and the scheme was abandoned. He was her eldest son, and she was now a widow. We may therefore easily conceive the feelings which led her to such a decision. Washington's school education was finished in the autumn preceding his sixteenth birth-day. His acquirements were confined to reading, writing, arith- metic and the simpler portions of mathematics. It does not appear that he had any instruction in gram- mar, and therefore, the excellent style of wiuting, of which he was afterwards the master, must have been the result of subsequent practice and study. Nor did he ever enter upon the study of the ancient classics. After the French ofliccrs had joined the army, during the revolution, he paid some little attention to their language, yet never was able to read, write or trans- late it. From these statements, it appears that the actual amount of knowledge acquired by George Washington at school, was greatly inferior to that which is taught at the present high schools throughout the country. Indeed, most of the children in our New England seminaries, at the age of twelve years, have compassed a wider field of learning , than the hero of our story when he had reached the beginning of his manhood. But if his acquisitions Avere not great, he had established habits which were of even higher utility. He had subjected himself to a judicious code of man- ners ; he had acquired habits of patience and order, even in the dry and irksome details of business ; he had obtained the mastery of his quick and vehement passions ; he had accustomed himself to be g aided by 10 GEORGE WASHINGTON. duty rather than inclination. He had, indeed, habit- uated himself to so complete a system of discipline, that he seems to have taken pleasure in what would have been revolting to others. He could find amuse- ment, even at thirteen, in forming and writing out, with the utmost nicety of arrangement and in a fair hand, elaborate mathematical calculations, diagrams, &c. ! " These particulars," says his biographer, Mr. Sparks, " will not be thought too trivial to be men- tioned, when it is known that he retained similar habits through life. His business papers, day-books, legers and letter-books, in which, before the revolu- tion, no one wrote but himself, exhibit specimens of the same studious care and exactness. Every fact occupies a clear and distinct place ; the hand-writing is round and regular, without interlineations, blots or blemishes ; and if mistakes occurred, the faulty words were so skilfully erased and corrected, as to render the defect invisible except to a scrutinizing eye. " The constructing of tables, diagrams and other figures relating to numbers or classifications was an exercise in which he seems at all times to have taken much delight. If any of his farms were to be divided into new lots, a plan was first drawn on paper ; if he meditated a rotation of crops, or a change in the mode of culture, the various items of expense, labor, products and profits were reduced to tabular forms ; and, in his written instructions to his managers, which were annually repeated, the same method was pursued. " While at the head of the army, this habit was of especial service to him. The names and rank of the GEOKGE "WASIIINGTOX. 11 officers, the returns of the adjutants, commissaries and quarter-masters, were compressed by him into systematic tables, so contrived as to fix strongly in his mind the most essential parts, without being encumbered with details. When the army was to march, or perform any movements, requiring com- bination and concert, a scheme was first delineated ; and at the beginning of an active campaign, or in the preparation for a detached enterprise, the line of battle was projected and sketched on paper, each officer being assigned to his post, with the names of the regiments and strength of the forces he was to command. " During the presidency, it was likewise his custom to subject the treasury reports and accompanying documents to the process of tabular condensation, with a vast expenditure of labor and patience ; but it ena- bled him to grasp and retain in their order a series of isolated facts, and the results of a complicated mass of figures, which could never have been mastered so effectually by any other mode of approaching them." Such were some of the great results of the habits adopted by Washington in his school-boy days, — though these were doubtless dictated in some degree by his natural disposition. The character of Washington during this period of iiis life, is thus drawn by his biographer : " Tradition reports that he was inquisitive, docile and diligent ; but it adds that his military propensities and passion for active sports, displayed themselves in his boyhood ; tliat he formed his schoolmates into companies, who paraded, marched and fought mimic battles, in which 12 GEORGE WASHINGTON. he was always the commander of one of the parties. He had a fondness for the athletic amusements of runnhig, jumping -wrestling, tossing bars, and other feats of agility and bodily exercise. Indeed, it is well known that these practices were continued by him after he had arrived at the age of mature life. It has also been said that, while at school, his probity and demeanor were such as to win the deference of the otlier boys, who were accustomed to make him the arbiter of their disputes and never failed to be satisfied with his judgment." At the time of George "Washington's birth, his father resided near the banks of the Potomac, in Westmore- land county ; but he removed not long afterwards to an estate owned by him in Stafford county, on the cast side of the Rappahannoc river, opposite Freder- icksburg. Here he lived till his death, which hap- pened, after a sudden and short illness, on the 12th of April, 1743, at the age of forty-nine. He was buried at Bridge's Creek, in the tomb of his ancestors.* Washington's mother was now left with the weighty charge of five young children; George, the eldest, being eleven years old. She was, however, a woman * Augiisline Washington was twice married, and had ten children — four by the fi rst, and six by the second vnk. The sub- ject of our memoir was the first-born of the latter, — Mary Bull. Little is known of the character or history of Augustine Wash- ington, but, as he possessed a valuable estate, chiefly acquired by his own industry, it is fair to infer that he was in business methodical, skilful and upright. He was a planter, and each of his sons inherited from him a separate plantation. Mount Vernon was given to Augustine, and afterwards became the property of George. GEORGE WASIIIXGTON. 13 of good sense, and devotee! herself with great energy to the complicated duties of her trust. Her assiduity and fidelity overcame every obstacle, and she lived long to enjoy the best reward of a mother's solicitude, — the success and happiness of her children. George continued with his mother till he left school, soon after which, he went to reside with his brother Law- rence, then proprietor of the country seat which is well known by the title of Mount Vernon. Here he spent the winter, devoting himself to the study of mathematics and the exercise of surveying. He also became acquainted with Lord Fairfax, and other members of the Fairfax family established in that part of Virginia, with whom his brother Lawrence was connected by marriage. Lord Fairfax was the proprietor of an immense tract of wild land in Virginia, extending even into the recesses of the Allegany mountains. Learning- young George's turn for surveying, he employed him to survey a portion of these lands. In pursuit of this appointment, he set out upon his first surveying expedition shortly after he was sixteen years old. The enterprise was arduous and partook not a little of adventure. It was March, but winter still lingered on the summits of the mountains, and the rivers were swollen with freshets. Still, the youthful leader, with his baud of attendants, pressed eagerly forward. They soon plunged into the trackless wilderness, crossed the first ridge of the AUeganies, and entered upon their duties. Here, ip. the solitude of the forest, they remained for several months, often with no shelter but the sky, and far removed from human habitations, VI.— 2 14 GEORGE WASHINGTON. except those of the savages, who dwelt in scattered bands amid these wild regions. At last, having accomplished his task, he returned, and had the satis- faction of receiving the full approbation of his em- ployer. Young Washington's reputation as a surveyor was now established, and he received a commission from the governor of the colony, which gave authority to his surveys. He devoted three years steadily to this pursuit ; and, as there were few surveyors in that quarter, the compensation he received was liberal. At the same time, he was forming a character for probity and correct business habits. During this period his home was with his brother at Mount Vernon, as being nearer the scene of his labors than his mother's residence ; but he made her frequent visits, and assisted her largely in the conduct of her affairs. At the age of nineteen, he received, from the gov- ernment of Virginia, the appointment of military inspector, with the rank of major, and the pay of one hundred and fifty pounds a year. His military pro- pensities appear to have been more rapidly developed by this event. Under the tuition of some British officers who had served in the recent war, he studied tactics, learned the manual exercise, and became expert in the use of the sword. He read the principal books on the military art, and joined practice to theory as far as circumstances would permit. But he had scarcely entered upon the business of his new office, when he was called to other duties. Lawrence Washington had been long suffering under GEORGE WASHINGTON. 15 a pulmonary attack, and his disease was now so threatening that his medical advisers recommended him to try the climate of the West Indies. As it was necessary that some person should attend him, he desired George to be his companion, and the two sot sail for Barbadoes in September, 1751, uhcre they soon arrived. The change of air produced a transient alleviation of the patient's disease, but the unfavorable symptoms soon returned, and he determined to proceed to Bermuda. George set out for Virginia, for the purpose of accompanying the wife of his brother to that island, and, after an absence of somewhat more than four months, he reached his home. During his residence in Barbadoes, he had been seized with the small pox, and though the attack was severe, he recov- ered in about three weeks. The same habits which Washington had adopted at home, attended him during this expedition. He kept a minute journal during his absence, which has been preserved. From this it appears that at sea he daily copied the log-book, noted the course of the winds, the state of the weather, the progress of the ship, and other incidental occurrences. In the island of Barbadoes everything attracted his notice — the soil, agriculture, fruits, commerce, military force, for- tifications, manners of the people, municipal regula- tions and government. Thus everything became an object of observation and study ; ever^' scene was a book, from which he was constantly adding to his stock of knowledge. The accounts from his brother in Bermuda w Washington had but the rank of a captain, and wa> placed beneath officers whom he had before com manded. To such a degradation he could not submit . he therefore resignT.d his commission, left the army, and spent the winter in retirement. In the spring. General Braddock arrived from Grea; Britain Avith two fine regiments, and invited Wash ington to take part in the coming campaign againsf the French at the Avest, holding his former rank, an^ making part of the general's military family. To thi» he acceded, and thus, as a volunteer, he participat'ea in one of the most memorable and disastrous events of our early historA^ Braddock was brave, but self- willed and rash. He marched into the western Avilds with a powerful and well-appointed army, confident himself of victory, and exciting throughout the country the liveliest expectations of success. Early in July he approached Fort Duquesne, now 24 GEORGE WASHINGTON. Pittsburg, the object of his expedition. On the 9th of the month, the troops had crossed the river Monon- gahela, and now moved along its southern margin. It was a brave spectacle. Their arms glittered in the sun, and their prospects were bright as their wea- pons. Washington often said, in after years, that he had never seen so imposing a scene as was exhibited by that gallant army, pouring in their proud array, tJirough the stately forests, upon that lovely summer morning. Alas, how soon was their pride humbled ; their joy turned to sorrow and mourning! The English army now amounted to near fifteen hundred men. About one o'clock, their advanced parties were suddenly startled with musketry, dis- charged from amid the rocks and bushes around. They were filled Avith instant consternation, for no enemy was in sight. They fired in turn, but at random and without effect. They soon gave way, and fell back upon the artillery and other portions of the army, striking into the whole mass a fatal panic. The general behaved with the utmost courage, and the officers strove to rally their men. But all was confusion. They continued for nearly three hours in this fearful condition, the troops huddling together in confused groups, sometimes firing at random, and shooting down their own troops. The Virginians adopted the Indian mode of fighting, taking shelter behind trees and rocks, and did much execution; but Braddock, with strange infatuation, forbade this, and sought to rally his soldiers in platoons, as if they were fighting upon the smooth, level plains of Flanders. The enemy continued their deadly fire, and though GEORGE WASHINGTON. 25 unseen, the English soldiers fell like helpless deer before them. More than half the gallant army that had crossed the river that morning, so high in hope, so full of bright expectation, were either killed or wounded. Braddock himself received a mortal wound, and many of his best oflicers fell by his side. Washington had forewarned the general of the dangers he had to meet and the peculiar m.ode of warfare that would be adopted. But his counsel was rejected with disdain. Still, in the battle, he behav^ed with the greatest courage and resolution. The other aids were killed, and the general's orders devolved on him alone. He rode fearlessly in every direction, and thus became a mark to the sharp-shooters that lay ambushed around him. His companions were swept away, but he moved unhurt amid the shower of death. Two horses were shot under him ; four bullets passed through his coat, and every other officer, on horseback, was either killed or wounded, — but he was saved ! Surely, there was a Providence watching over him that day, preserving and fitting him for the great events over which he was afterwards to preside. Jxi this fatal battle, the English lost nearly seven hun- dred and fifty men in killed and wounded; of whom nearly sixty were officers. On the other hand, the enemy's loss was small. Their force amouated to eight hundred, of whom six hundred were Indians According to their returns, not more than forty were killed. AVashington took command of the remnant of the army, and conducted the retreat with the greates' VI.— 3 26 GEORGE WASHINGTON. ability. The wounded general was borne alont,, but he expired on the fourth day, and was buried near Fort Necessity. The troops at length reached Fort Cumberland, and Washington, no longer connected with the service, retired to Mount Vernon. Though the heaviest denunciations fell upon Brad- dock, Washington's character, as a gallant and able soldier, was established by these events. His wisdom, courage and resources had shone conspicuously, and were applauded by the whole country. His mer- its were acknowledged by the Virginia legislature, and the sum of three hundred pounds was grant- ed for his services. He was strongly pressed to continue in public life, and, August 14, 1755, he was appointed to the command of the Virginia troops. Being now established in a command of high respon- sibility, he applied himself to the discharge of its duties with that union of energ)'' and circumspection which marked his character. For several years he continued to devote himself to the service of his coun- try, and at last, in 1758, he resigned his commission and retired to private life. Though the actions he had performed were not splendid, they were arduous and useful, and extorted, as well from the country as the officers and soldiers, the most decided marks of respect and approbation. On the 6th January, 1759, he was married to Mrs. ]\Iartha Custis, widow of John Parke Custis, and dis- tinguished alike for her beauty, accomplishments and wealth. By this marriage he received a large acces- sion of property, which, added to the estate at Mount Vernon, and the fortune hp had otherwise in posses- GEORGE WASHINGTON. 27 sion, constituted an ample fortune. To the duties and pleasures of private life, Washington now devoted himself. He was happy in his marriage; the union subsisted for forty years. The character of his amia- ble lady has ever been a theme of praise. She was courteous, yet dignified ; remarkable for her deeds of charity and her unaffected piety, and for discharging, in an exemplary manner, alike the duties of every private as well as every public station. Fifteen years now passed, during which Washing- ton was constantly a member of the Virginia House of Burgesses, being returned by a large majority of votes at every election. With his accustomed punc- tuality, and while his own mind was expanding and ripening by means of study and reflection, he was exercising a powerful influence in the legislature by his sound judgment, his quick perception and his straight-forward sincerity. In April, 1764, he took up his residence perma- nently at Mount Vernon, with no higher aim than to cultivate the social virtues, fulfll his duties as a citizen, and sustain the dignity of a country gentleman. For these simple, yet happy pursuits, he was admirably fitted, and, even when his fame was highest, he seems to have yearned for the comfort and content of his country home. It is pleasant to pause a moment and contemplate a great man, while engaged in the common, yet peaceful pursuits of life. Washington was now a planter, and it appears that he was as industrious and systematic here, as in the more responsible stations he had occupied. He was addicted to hospi- 2S GEORGE WASHINGTON. tality, and the most distinguished men in Virginia were his frequent guests. He was fond of amuse- ments, and pursued tlie sports of fishing and the chase, with avidity. He was, at the same time, ready to make himself useful to all around him ; he took upon himself various trusts, acted as an arbitrator in settling disputes, took part in parish affairs, and was a vestryman in the church, — in all which stations he displayed a disinterestedness, candor, and good faith, which secured the affection and respect of his neigh- bors. As the war of the revolution approached, Washing- ton watched public events with a scrutinizing eye. He sympathized with the people of the country in their opposition to British encroachments on our rights, and participated in the various measures of the Virginia legislature, to resist them. He was also a member of the first congress, which assembled at Phil- adelphia September 5, 1774. When Patrick Henry, who was a member of this body, was asked who he thought the greatest man in it, — he replied, " If you speak of eloquence, Mr. Eutledge, of South Carolina, is by far the greatest orator ; but if you speak of solid information and sound judgment. Colonel Washington is unquestionably the greatest man on that floor." The business of congress being over, Washington returned to the occupations of his farm ; but the next year he was a member of the second continental congress, and, in June, he was appointed to the chief command of the army that had assembled at Boston. Washington, who had by no means solicited this elevated, but fearful trust, received it with modest GEORGK WASHINGTON. 29 (liflideiice, at the same time pledging himself to exert his utmost efforts in behalf of his country dunng the impending struggle. His commission was dated June 19th. He made immediate preparations for his departure, and arrived at Cambridge July 2d. He took command of the army on the next day. It is not easy to conceive of a situation more perplexing than that in which he was now placed. The battles of Lexington and Bunker Hill had been fought, and the people had flocked from all quarters to the rescue. They came, bringing such weapons as they possessed. They had collected to the amount of several thousands, but they were without discipline, and almost entirely destitute of efficient arms ; they were poorly provided with mu- nitions of war and the means of support. At the same time, the British forces held possession of Boston, where they were well fed, and amply supplied with military stores and equipments. Unappalled, however, by the difficulties of his situa- tion, Washington applied himself, with sleepless vigi- lance and zeal, to his duties. Under the magic influence of these efforts, order seemed to grow out of confusion, strength spring from weakness, and confi- dence to take the place of distrust. When Washington took the command of the army, it was his expectation that he should be able to visit his home during the winter. But this he found impracticable. Accordingly, he A\Tote to his wife, and she joined him at head quarters in December, where she remained till spring ; and it appears that this was her practice during the war. She passed 3* 30 GEORGE WASHINGTON. the "winters with him in camp, and returned, at the opening of the campaign, to Mount Vernon. For eight years and a half he never visited ]\Iount Vernon but once, and then casually, on his way to YorktoAvn. As he was unable to visit his estates, he gave them in charge to his relative, Lund Washington, who appears to have executed the trust with diligence and fidelity. He was accustomed to write to the general, two or three times a month, giving him an account of everything that happened. In reply, Washington, on one occasion, wrote him as follows : " Let the hos- pitality of the house, with respect to the poor, be kept up. Let no one go hungry away. If any of this kind of people be in want of corn, supply their neces- sities, provided it does not encourage them in idleness ; and I have no objection to your giving my money in charity, to the amount of forty or fifty pounds a year, when you think it well bestowed. What I mean by having no objection, is, that it is my desire that it should be done. You are to consider that neither my wife nor myself, is in the way to do these good offices. In all other respects, I recommend it to you, and have no doubt of your observing the greatest economy and frugality; as I suppose you know, that I do not get a farthing for my services here more than my expenses. It becomes necessary, therefore, for me to be saving at home." We shall not follow Washington through the minuter details of the war. It will be sufficient to state a few of the leading events. In March, 1776 having gained Dorchester heights, and thus obtained a position to annoy the British in Boston, the latter were GEORGE WASHINGTON. 31 compelled to evacuate the place, and the American army entered it in triumph. "Washington now proceeded to New York, which it was apparent was to be the object of attack. Here lie devoted himself to the strengthening of the defences. On the 27th of August, the two armies met upon Long Island, near the city, and the Americans were defeated with great loss. With consummate skill, Washington withdrew his forces, by night, saving his military stores and artillery. For two days and two nights he Avas on horseback superintending the retreat. In September, he was compelled to evacuate New York, and move northward, making a stand at White Plains. Here an engagement took place, and a por- tion of the American forces were driven back. He was now obliged to retreat into New Jersey. His situation was gloomy in the extreme. The militia had proved ineffective in battle, and the army was dwindled to a shadow. But that steadfast firmness which constituted one of the prominent features of his character, never for a moment forsook him. Undis- mayed by the perils which threatened him, — when other hearts wavered, — ^^vhen congress was shaken, — he did not for a moment despair, nor relax his exer- tions, nor omit anything that could obstruct the progi-ess of the enemy or improve his own condition. Conscious of the rectitude of our cause, he never seemed to doubt of final success. Whenever he appeared before his harassed and enfeebled army, his countenance was serene, his demeanor unembarrassed. He be- 32 GEORGE WASHINGTON. trayed no fear himself, and his perfect self-posses- sion inspired confidence in the hosoms of others. In his retreat through New Jersey, Washington was followed by the British army, flushed with victory, highly disciplined, and perfectly equipped, while his own troops were dispirited, destitute, and daily decreasing by the expiration of their terms of service. In December, the British general made an attempt to get possession of a number of boats for the transportation of his forces over the Delaware; but having failed, he went into winter quarters. Feeling the necessity of some eflbrt to revive the drooping spirits of the country, and having received some effective reinforcements, Washington resolved upon the bold attempt to attack the British posts on the Delaware. Being on the western side of that river, he crossed it by night, and, coming suddenly upon Trenton, captured a thousand Hessians, belong- ing to the British army This occurred December 26th. After this success, Washington remained a while at Trenton ; but, on the 3d of January, he attacked three British regiments at Princeton, killed more than an hundred men, and captured three hun- dred prisoners. Throughout the battle, he appeared in the hottest parts of the combat, giving orders and animating his troops. These successful operations broke up the British posts upon the Delaware, revived the flagging hopes of the country, and increased the fame of the American commander. At the moment that his army was thought to be on the verge of annihilation, in the face of a victorious enemy, he GEORGE WASHINGTON. 33 commenced a scries of oflcnsivc operations, which disconcerted the plans of the foe, and seemed sud- denly to convert disaster into triumph. Such results, under such circumstances, afford the most conclusive evidence of the highest order of military talent. The campaign of 1777, imposed the most arduous duties upon Washington. Various battles were fought, and, on the 10th of September, the Americans were defeated in the memorable engagement of the Brandy- wine ; this opened the way of the British to Phila- delphia, and they entered it on the 26th. The following winter, Washington took up his quarters at Valley Forge, twenty miles north of Phil- adelphia. Here the sufferings of the army were excessive, from the intense severity of the season, and want of the comforts of life. Such was the despon- dence of the country at this time, that the incessant labors, the unyielding patriotism, the steadfast fidelity, the consummate abilities of Washington, could not shield him from complaint — from the imputation of want of energy, as indicated by want of success. Consequently, an intrigue was set on foot for super- seding him in the command of the army, and giving it to Gates, the victor of Saratoga. But to weaken his hold upon the confidence and affection of the great body of the people and the army, was found impossi- ble, and even the troops Avho had conquered under Gates, received the idea of the change with indigna- tion. The machinations of his enemies were frus- trated without any efforts on his part, and only did injury to themselves; nor did they make any undue irnpression upon Washington's steady mind, or serve c 34 GEORGE WASHINGTON. in any way to change his measures. His sensibilities were for his country, and not for himself. What real greatness of soul did he evince at this trying period ! The British evacuated Philadelphia, in June, 1778. They retreated upon New York, through New Jersey, followed by Washington, who brought them to action on the 24th of the month, at Monmouth. The day was excessively hot, and the battle was severely con- tested. The Americans did not gain a decided vic- tory, yet the result was favorable, as the British retreated the ensuing night, and the spirits of the country, and especially of the army, received a favor- able impulse. It is said that Washington never appeared to greater advantage than in this battle. His calmness, his courage, his admirable dispositions exercised the most powerful influence, and determined the fortunate results of the day. From this period to the siege of Yorktown no inci- dent, calling for particular mention, occurred in Wash- ington's career. He remained in the neighborhood of New York, watching the enemy and taking every measure for the welfare of the country, without being able to perform any striking exploit. He had to con- tend with difficulties, the mastering of which required higher qualities than are necessary to gain a brilliant victory. His soldiers could scarcely be kept from perishing with cold and hunger, or from dispersing and living on plunder. They were daily leavmg the service ; some regiments mutinied, and others revolted and marched home ; at the same time the most urgent requisitions for recruits proved unavailing. Nothing could be looser and more precarious than the GEORGE WASHINGTON. 35 thread by which the army was kept together, and, in any other hands than those to which it was entrusted, it must inevitably have been broken. In 1781, Washington had planned a grand enter- prise against New York, in conjunction with the French commander, the Count de Rochambeau. But various circumstances concurred to alter his views. Wliile he amused Sir Henry Clinton, the British commander at New York, with the expectation of an assault, he suddenly marched to the south for the pur- pose of cooperating with the French in an attack upon Lord Cornwallis, who was stationed at Yorktown. with an army of seven thousand men. The siege com- menced on the 2Sth of September, and, on the 19th of October, after severe fighting. Lord Cornwallis was compelled to surrender. His entire garrison, together with the ships, boats and munitions of Avar were deliv- ered up to the conquering army. This splendid victory put a finishing stroke to the war. On the 2Dth of November, 1783, a treaty of peace with Britain having been ratified, the English forces evacuated New York, and ^Vashington entered that city, attended by a splendid retinue. On the 4th of December, he took a solemn and affecting farewell of the principal officers of the army, and, proceeding to Annapolis, where congress was then in session, he resigned in form, to that body, the commission he had so long and so gloriously borne. Carrying with him the gratitude of his country and the admiration of the world, he retired to private life. Several years now passed, in which Washington devoted himself to his farm, to the claims of hospi- 36 GEORGE WASHINGTON. tality and charity, and to the sustaining of a large cor- respondence. He sought to restore his lands, exhausted during the war ; he adopted a new plan for a rotation of crops, and he spent much time in setting out trees. His house at Mount Vernon was thronged with vis- itors from all parts of tlie world ; many brought letters of introduction from La Fayette, Rochambeau and de Grasse. Some even crossed the Atlantic to see him ; and he was visited from all parts of the United States. All these persons were received with the utmost kindness and attention. His correspondence Avas very extensive. He had letters from every country in Europe, and from all parts of the United States. Some of these were upon public affairs, and others were letters of friendship. He kept copies of most of his letters, not only at this period, but during his whole life. These furnish a record not only of his thoughts and actions, but of his motives, and constitute in themselves a full record of his life. They are finely written in point of style, and are uniformly marked with justice, wisdom, and humanity. There has perhaps never been a human life more fully laid open to the public, than that of Washington in his correspondence, and not one which is at the same time so spotless and so full of action. His charities were numerous, though usually un- seen. He was particularly interested in the encour- agement of education. During many years, he gave fifty pounds, annually, for the instruction of indigen children in Alexandria ; and, by his will, he left a lega cy of four thousand dollars, the net income of which was to be used for the same benevolent object, forever GEORGE WASniNGTON. 37 Several instances are known in wJiicli he offered to pay the expenses of young men through their col- legiate course. Thus occupied, his hours flowed happily on, and we may look to this period as tlxit which afforded him more gratification than any other. In 17S7, Wasliington was chosen as one of the delegates of Virginia, to the convention to be held at Philadelphia, to revise the federal system. He was unanimously chosen the president of that body, and no member more heartily approved ihe constitution which they formed, and which now, for more than fifty years, has formed the basis of our national govern- ment. When the new constitution was about to go into operation, all eyes were turned upon Yv^ashington to fill the first office in the gift of the people, Avith affectionate confidence, and a desire which could not be resisted. The animosities of parties could not deprive him of a single vote. The day of election came, and George Washington was chosen, by the unanimous voice of the electors, the first president of the United States. In April, 1789, Washington, having received official notice of his election, set out for New York, where con- gress was then in session. His journey from Mount Vernon to the place of his destination had the air of a triumphal procession. Everywhere he was greeted by the citizens, who flocked in crowds to see the saviour of their country, and ofTer him their homage. He delivered his inaugural address on the 30th of April, 1789, and, throughout his administration, he acted up to the principles and promises therein con- tained. As before in his military capacity, so now in VI. — i 38 GEORGE WASIirNGTON. his civil, he declined receiving any compensation Dej^ond his actual expenditures in his official char- acter. Soon after he entered upon the duties of the pres- idency, Washington resolved to make a tour to the eastern states. He set out in October, 1789, and proceeded in his own carriage, by way of New Haven, Hartford, Worcester and Boston, to Portsmouth in New Hampshire. Full of enthusiasm inspired by his virtues and his fame, the people flocked in thou- sands to greet him with acclamations of joy, and testify their respect and veneration. Persons of all ranks and conditions, — men, women and children — the tottering infant, the crutched soldier, the gray-haired patriarch, — assembled from far and near, at the cross- ings of the roads, and other public places, — happy to set their eyes upon the form of Washington. The journey was in all respects satisfactory to the president. He was gratified with the evidences afforded of the strong attachment of the people to himself; of the reviving prosperity of tlie country, and that the government was gaining favor in the public mind. He was happy to see that the ghastly marks of war had almost disappeared — that ample harvests were springing up under the hand of culti- vation ; that manufactures were increasing, commerce becoming more extended, and society, in all its inter- ests, acquiring an aspect of peace and prosperity. After an absence of two months, he returned to New York. John Adams of Massachusetts, an ardent friend and eloquent champion of American liberty, and who GEORGE WASHINGTON. 39 had been a distinguished member of the continental congress, had been chosen vice-president. In organ- izing his cabinet, Washington selected Alexander Hamilton, of New York, as secretary of the treasury, Thomas Jefferson, of Virginia, secretary of state, Henry Knox, secretary of war, and Edmund Ran- dolph, of Virginia, attorney general, John Jay, of New York, was appointed chief justice. Associated with these great men, he commenced his administra- tion. The duties of the new government Avere great indeed. The country was embarrassed with a debt of nearly a hundred millions. The nation had been impoverished and desolated by war. The morals of the people had been corrupted by the vices which are engendered in armies. The bands of society had been loosened or sundered; the conflicting jealousies of thirteen republics were agitating the whole mass of •society. To establish a new government under such circum stances, when the very foundations of society seemed to be yet rocking with the recent earthquake; to bring order out of confusion; to shape the intricate machinery of the new republic, and make all parts work harmoniously; — this required not only the highest efforts of genius, but the utmost sagacity of wisdom ; yet the result has proved that the men brought to the task were competent to the stupendous undertaking. The new government went at once into full opera- tion, and, doubtless, the reverence, the confidence, the affection for "Washington, entertained by the entire 40 GEORGE WASHINGTON. nation, contribvitcd, more than any other circumstance, to this propitious course of events. Under the guid- ance of any other hand, it is probable that the great political engine, fabricated with so much care and skill, had rushed at once into anarchy and confusion. The great name, the fair fame of Washington were doubtless as important to the country in this time of peace, as had been his soldierly qualities in time of war. He was called the father of his country. How potent the spell to subdue fretful and selfish passions, exerted by that magic title ! How great, how benefi- cent the power that lies in a good name ! In discharging one of the most delicate duties of his position — that of appointment or nomination to office — Washington adopted the most wise and patri- otic rules. He determined in no degree to give a preference on account of the ties of family relation- ship, and to have always in view three things — fitness for the proposed station; claims arising from former services ; and local position, so as to distribute the offices equally over the country. In practice, he fol- lowed these principles, and here, as in everything else, set an example worthy of observance by his suc- cessors. In August, 17S9, the mother of Washington died at the age of eighty-two. He had seen her a short time before he entered upon the duties of the presidency. She was sinking under disease, and he foresaw the issue. He took an affecting leave of her, and when he heard the news of her departure, he mourned, yet with gratitude that Providence had given him such a parent, and spared her so long. She was indeed GEORGE WASHINGTON. 41 a superior woman; and we and the world at large are doubtless greatly indebted to her good influences, in shaping the character of her son by favorable im- pressions in his youth — for such a boon as was bestowed in him. Kow great is the power of a mother for good or evil! If Washington was in some essential degree the result of a mother's training — ^was not, also, Aaron Burr, Robespierre, Benedict Arnold? Ye mothers, think of that! Washington's mother had been a v/idow forty-six years. She was remarkable, through life, for good sense, vigor of mind, uprightness of character and simplicity of manners. She lived to see the brilliant career of her son, — yet when he visited her in the height of his fame, he found his home unchanged. His renown caused no alteration in her style of living. Neither pride nor vanity mingled in the feelings excited by his success, or the attention paid her as the Mother of Washington. When his praises were uttered before her, she was silent, or only added that he was a good son, and she believed he had done his duty as a man. Let no one despair of human natui'e, while it produces such models as this ! Soon after the government went into operation, it became apparent that two political parties were rising in the country, whose contests threatened to embarrass its progress, if not to subvert the structure itself. From the beginning, there were some persons un- friendly to the constitution, and Mr. Jefferson, the secretary of state, appears to have been among those who gave it a reluctant assent. In his office he discharged his duties with fidelity, but as the admin- 4* 12 GEORGE WASHINGTON. istration advanced, he Avas understood to disapprove It? leading measures. He looked upon the general government as possessing a degree of power danger- ous to the individual states, and likely to swallow up their independence, unless jealously watched and rigidly kept within the defined limits of its provisions. Hamilton entertained different views. Contemplat- ing the fretful elements at work in society, and looking to the experience of mankind, he helieved that if there was any defect in the constitution, it was that of weak- ness ; and that, instead of restricting its operations by a narrow construction of the powers it granted, the administration ■should rather seek to fortify itself by an opposite course. In pursxzancc of these views, he had recommended the funding system, the assumption of state debts, the bank, and the tax on domestic spirits, which, being approved by Washington, were among the leading features of his administration. To all these Jefferson was opposed, and consequently a feeling of hostility grew up between him and the secretary of the treasury. This division in his cabinet gave the president great anxiety, and he endeavored, though in vain, to heal the breach. As the term for which Washington was chosen president, drew near its close, a general wish was entertained that he should consent to a second election. To this, however, he had strong objections. He yearned for the peace and quiet of private life, and doubtless felt solicitous to set an example to his suc- cessors, of holding the presidential chair for but a single term. But the edifice of government had not yet acquired steadiness ; the waves of party were GEORGE WASHINGTON. 43 beating upon it; the French revohition w.is shaking society, throughout Christendom, to its foundations, and communicating its threatening undulations even to our own shores. It was generally felt that his firm guid- ance was still nccessaiy at the helm. He received many letters to this effect, from every part of the country, and from leading men of all parties. Ham- ilton, Randolph, and even Jefferson, made written communications to him, urging, in strong terms and by weighty arguments, the sacrifice of his inclination to the exigency of the time and the demands of his country. Thus, even those who oppos^ his adminis-' tration, paid him their homage, and a,t once confessed his wisdom and their own inconsistency, c " The con- fidence of the whole country," said Jefferson, " is centred in you. Your being at the helm, v»dll be more than an answer to every argument which can be used to alarm and lead the people, in any quarter, into violence or secession." Such were the words of one who was the head of the opposition to Washing- ton's administration, and who has done more than all other men to unsettle the just, wise and patriotic prin- ciples Avhich he entertained, and sought to diffuse I Yielding to the wish of the nation, unequivocally expressed, Washington was unanimously chosen for a second term, and accepted the appointment. It was no idle trust. France was now at war "wath embattled Europe, and it became a matter of the utmost deli- cacy to steer clear of difficulty between the contend- ing parties. Washington determined upon a course of strict neutrality; yet this brought upon him the most violent attacks from the opposition, who were 44 GEORGE WASHINGTON. friendly to llie French. Party strife now raged with unwonted violence. / The storm was rendered more violent by the shameful audacity of citizen Genet, minister from the French republic. On his arrival, he was received with enthusiasm by the people, who remembered with gratitude the aid which his country had afforded in the struggle of the revolution. Em- boldened by these indications, he gave immediate orders, after his landing at Charleston, in South Carolina, for fitting out vessels to cruise against those of countries at peace with the United States. He was politely received by Washington, but his measures were deemed improper, and a public decla- ration of the government was made, prohibiting such a breach of our neutral relations as he had attempted. The minister protested against this decision, wrote offensive letters to the secretary of state, and seemed alike to forget the dignity of his station and the char- acter of a gentleman. His effrontery was checked by the firmness of the executive, but he still sought to force the country to the support of his views. Under his auspices, democratic societies were formed in various parts of the country, upon the model of the Jacobin clubs of France, Vv'hose purpose and effect were to sow the seeds of jealousy and distrust of the government, to bring the administration into contempt, and sap the foundations of the constitution. In spite of the billows that foamed and fretted around the government, it went steadily on, acquiring stability in the midst of agitation. Unbiassed by the acrimony of parties, the president pursued his calm career. In the spring of 1794, John Jay was sent as GEORGE WASHINGTON. 45 minister to England, to attempt to adjust the difficul- ties with that power, and soon after Mr. Monroe, though of the democratic party, Avas despatched to France, in place of Gouvernor Morris, who was recalled. About the same period, an insurrection in Pennsylvania, called the " whiskey rebellion," was suppressed by a show of military force, and without bloodshed. In 179-5, the treaty negotiated with England, by Mr. Jay, was received, and, after calm and anxious deliberation, Washington gave it his sanction. It was also ratified by the senate. It was seized upon, however, by the opposition, and made the ground of the most bitter invective. This was particularly turned against Washington. Seldom has any indi- vidual been the object of such malignant obloquy. His character was assailed, — his motives impugaed, — his competency denied. The whole country was swept as by a tempest. Yet he turned not from his path. Steadfast in his convictions, he held to his purpose ; the treaty went into effect, and proved to be one of the wisest and happiest events in our history. It saved the country from a war, improved our com- merce, and contributed to lay the foundation of durable prosperity. What a triumph was this ! what a proof of far-sighted sagacity on the part of the president! As time advances, how great does he appear I — how deep his wisdom ! — ^how lofty his calmness ! Yes, — and how contemptible his traducers! — how subdued the frothy tempest they excited ! During the progress of these events, several changes had taken place in the cabinet. Mr. Jeflerson 46 GEORGE WASHINGTON. returned from his mission to France in 1794, and may from this time be considered as the head of the democratic party. And it is proper to add, that he requited the implicit confidence which had been be- stowed upon him, in a manner to excite the indignation of Washington. He was succeeded in the depart- ment of state by Edmund Randolph, the attorney generaL The same year Hamihon was succeeded by Oliver Wolcott, of Connecticut, and General Knox, by Timothy Pickering, of Massachusetts. In 1796, the captivity of La Fayette in the dungeons of Olmutz, became known, and it excited in Wash- ington the keenest anxiety. We had no diplomatic relations with Germany, and had therefore no poAver to use direct efforts in his favor. Yet our ministers abroad were instructed to use their influence to eflect his liberation, and Washington wrote with his own hand to the emperor of Austria, soliciting his release. The effect we do not know; but when the noble captive was set free, he Vv^as delivered to the charge of the American consul at Hamburg. As the end of his second term drew near, Wash- ington determined not to accept another term of office, and set about the preparation of his immortal farewell address. In this he was probably aided by the admirable quill of Hamilton, yet the sentiments and substance were his own. It will endure forever, as a monument of his great wisdom and affectionate patriotism. So long as its advice is heeded by our country, we shall advance in the career of prosperity; if we deviate from its principles, we have cause to '"ear for our liberties. Let us learn to try every pub- GEOROK WASHINGTON. 47 lie man, every public measure, by this admirable document; and, regardless of names, professions and pretences, approve or condemn, as tbey may conform to, or depart from, the standards there proposed. Mr. Adams was chosen president, and Mr. JefTer- son vice-president ; being duly inaugurated, March 4, 1797, Washington prepared to take his leave. At a dinner, when many of his friends were present, he gave as a sentiment, " Ladies and gentlemen, — this is the last time I shall drink your health as a public man, — I do it with sincerity, Avishing you all possible happiness." The hilarity of the party ceased; and tears which could not be suppressed fell from the eyes of those around. Taking leave of his friends, and a final farewell of public life, he left Philadelphia, the seat of government, and was once more restored to the farm of Mount Vernon. He now returned to the simple pursuits, which had before occupied him in private life. But in the midst of these scenes, he was called once more to yield to the calls of his country. The conduct of the French directory had excited fears of an approaching contest, and a provincial army was raised, to stand ready for any emergency. Washington was appointed to its command, in July, 179S, and accepted the trust. From this period to the end of his life, he was much occupied in these military affairs. His official cor- respondence at this period was extensive, and affords the finest models of this kind of Avriting, as well as abundant evidence of the vigor of his intellect and the fertility of his resources. And now the closing scene draws near. On the 48 GEORGE WASHIx\GTOx\. 10th of December, 1799, he was several hours op horseback, and returned in the afternoon, wet and chilled with rain and sleet. In the night he had an ague, and on the morning of the 14th, he had a sore throat, which caused him to breathe with difficulty. His suffering soon became acute, and was unabated through tlie day. Medicine afforded no relief. He was per- suaded that death was at hand. " I die hard," said he to his physician. Dr. Craik, — "but I am. not afraid to die. I believed from my first attack that I should not survive it. My breath cannot last long." No- thing could be done to arrest the disease. It was the will of Providence. Patient, and submissive to the Divine will, he struggled for a brief space, and expired without a groan, between ten and eleven o'clock, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. On the ISth, his rem.ains were deposited in the tomb of Mount Vernon, where they still repose. The character of Washington is the finest in history. It has extorted admiration from every civilized land. Congress paid him their tribute of affection and respect; the whole nation mourned for one, on whom they had bestowed the endearing title of Father of his Country. Bonaparte, the first consul, eulogized his character, and appointed public mourning for his loss. An eulogium was pronounced upon him in the Temple of Mars, at Avhich the civil and military authorities of Paris were present. The British fleets in Torbay hung their flags at half-mast, upon hearing the news of his death ! The person of Washington was commanding, grace- ful ^nd finely proportioned. In youth he was remark- GEORGE WASHINGTON. 49 able for his strength, and his vigor continued, with little abatement, till he was advanced in life. His stature was six feet, his features regular, his hair brown, his eyes blue. His whole aspect was grave, placid and benigiiant. The dignity of his move- ments, the grace of his salutation, the calm sweetness of his smile, were indescribable. An old soldier, speaking of him at the time he was stationed upon the heights of Tappan, recently described him thus: "I saw General Washington almost every day. He was a noble-looking man; his countenance was terribly pleasant. He did not talk much, but even the little children fairly loved him, and they used to gather about the door of his marquee every morning to see him ; and he used to pat tlieir heads and smile on them; it was beautiful to see." Beautiful, indeed! The character of Washington has been drawn by many pens. " Illustrious man ! " — says Cliarles Fox, — "deriving honor less from the splendor of his situation, than from the dignity of his mind ; before whom all borrowed greatness sinks into insignificance, and all the potentates of Europe, excepting the mem- bers of our own royal family, become little and con- temptible." "I have a large acquaintance am.ong the most valuable and exalted classes of men," — says Mr. Erskine, "but Washington is the only human being for whom I ever felt an awful reverence." Such were the deep and powerful feelings excited by his character in the master spirits of another hejni- sphere, — yet the children loved him, and played confi- dently around his tent I In an oration, pronounced on the 17th of June, D VI — 5 50 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 1843, occasioned by the completion of the Bunker Hill Monument, Mr. Webster alludes to "Washington in a strain of eloquence which will connect his name forever with the immortal subject of his eulogy. "America," says he, " has furnished to the world the character of Washington. And if our Ameri- can institutions had done nothing else, that alone would have entitled them to the respect of mankind. " Washington ! ' First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen ! ' Washington is all our own! The enthusiastic veneration and regard in which the people of the United States hold him, prove them to be worthy of such a countryman ; while his reputation abroad reflects the highest honor on his country and its institvUions. I would cheer- fully put the question to-day to the intelligence of Europe, and the world, what character of the cen- tury, upon the whole, stands out in the relief of history most pure, most respectable, most sublime; and I doubt not, that by a suffrage approaching to unanimity the answer would be, Washington ! " This structure, by its uprightness, its solidity, its durability, is no unfit emblem of his character. His public virtues and public principles were as firm as the earth on Avhich it stands ; his personal motives as pure as the serene heaven in which its summit is lost. But, indeed, though a fit, it is an inadequate emblem. Towering high above the column which our hands have builded, — beheld, not by the inhabitants of a single city or a single state, — ascends the colossal grandeur of his character and his life. In all the constituents of the one, — in all the acts of the other, — I GEORGE WASHINGTON. 51 in all its titles to immortal love, admiration and renown — it is an American production. It is the em- bodiment and vindication of our transatlantic liberty. Born upon our soil — of parents also born upon it — never for a moment having had a sight of the old world — instructed, according to the modes of his time, only in the spare, plain, but wholesome elementary knowledge which our institutions provide for the children of the people — growing up beneath, and penetrated by the genuine influences of American society — growing up amidst our expanding, but not luxurious civilization — partaking in our great destiny of labor, our long contest with unreclaimed nature and uncivilized man; our agony of glory, the war of independence — our gTeat victory of peace, the forma- tion of the union, and the establishment of the consti- tution — he is all — all our own ! That crowded and glorious life — 'Where multitudes of virtues passed along, Eacli pressing foremost in the mighty throng, Contending to be seen, then making room For greater multitudes that were to come ;' — that life was the life of an American citizen. " I claim him for America. In all the perils, in every darkened moment of the state, in the midst of the reproaches of enemies and misgiving of friends, I turn to that transcendent name for courage and for consolation. To him who denies or doubts whether our fervid liberty can be combined with law, v/ith order, with the security of property, with the pursuits and advancement of happiness — to him who denie<) 5'2 GEORGE WASHINGTON. that our institutions are capable of producing exalta- tion of soul, and the passion of true glory — to him who denies that we have contributed anything to the stock of great lessons and great examples — to all these, I reply by pointing to Washington." In the admirable Life of Washington, by Mr. Sparks, from which we have chiefly drawn the pre- ceding sketch, we find the following summary : " The character of his mind was unfolded in the public and private acts of his life ; and the proofs of his greatness are seen almost as much in one as the other. The same qualities which raised him to the ascendency he possessed over the will of the nation, as the commander of armies and chief magistrate, caused him to be loved and respected as an individual. Wisdom, judgment, prudence and firmness, were his predominant traits. No man ever saw more clearly the relative importance of things and actions, or divested himself more entirely of the bias of personal interest, partiality and prejudice, in discriminating between the true and the false, the right and the wrong, in all questions and subjects that were presented to him. He deliberated slowly, but decided surely ; and when his decision was once formed, he seldom reversed it ; and never relaxed from the execution of a measure till it was completed. Courage, physical and moral, was a part of his nature ; and whether in battle, or in the midst of popular excitement, he was fearless of danger and regardless of consequences to himself. " His ambition was of that noble kind Avhich aims to excel in whatever it undertakes, and to acquire a power over the hearts of men, by promoting their GEORGE WASHINGTON. 53 happiness and winning their afTcctions, Sensitive to the approbation of others, and solicitous to deserve it, he made no concessions to gain their applause, either by flattering their vanity or yielding to their caprices. Cautious without timidity, bold without rashness, cool in counsel, deliberate but firm in action, clear in fore- sight, patient under reverses, steady, persevering and self-possessed, he met and conquered every obstacle that obstructed his path to honor, renown and success. More confident in the uprightness of his intentions than in his resources, he sought knowledge. He chose his counsellors with unerring sagacity, and his quick perception of the soundness of an opinion, and of the strong points of an argument, enabled him to draw, to his aid the best fruits of their talents, and the light of their collected wisdom. " His moral qualities were in perfect harm.ony with those of his intellect. Duty was the ruling principle of his conduct; and the rare endowments of his under- standing were not more constantly tasked to devise the best methods of effecting an object, than they were to guard the sanctity of conscience. No in- stance can be adduced, in which he was actuated by a sinister motive, or endeavored to attain an end by unworthy means. Truth, integrity and justice were deeply rooted in his mind ; and nothing could rouse his indignation so soon, or so utterly destroy his con- fidence, as the discovery of the want of these virtues in any one whom he had trusted. Weaknesses, follies, indiscretions he could forgive ; but subterfuge and dishonesty he never forgot, and rarely pardoned. He was candid and sincere, true to his friends and faith- 5* 54 GEORGE WASHINGTON. ml to all ; neither practising dissimulation, descending 10 artifice, nor holding out expectations ■which he did not intend should be realized. His passions were strong, and sometimes they broke out with vehe- mence, but he had the power of checking them in an iiistant. Perhaps self-control was the most remarka- ble trait of his character. It was in part the effect of discipline ; yet he seems by nature to have possessed this power to a degree which has been denied to other men. " A Christian in faith and practice, he was habitu- ally devout. His reverence for religion is seen in his example, his public communications, and his private writings. He uniformly ascribed his successes to the beneficent agency of the Supreme Being. Charitable and humane, he was liberal to the poor, and kind to those in distress. As a husband, son and brother, he was tender and affectionate. Without vanity, osten- tation and pride, he never spoke of himself or his actions, unless required by circumstances which con- cerned the public interests. As he v.'as free from envy, so he had the good fortune to escape the envy of others, by standing on an elevation that none could hope to attain. If he had one passion more strong than another, it was the love of his country. The purity and ardor of his patriotism were commensurate with the greatness of its object. Love of country in him was invested with the sacred obligation of a duty ; and from the faithful discharge of this duty, he never swerved for a moment, either in thought or deed, through the whole period of his eventful career. " Such are some of the traits in the character of GEORGE "WASHINGTON. 55 Washington, which have acquired for him the love and veneration of mankind. If they are not marked with the brilliancy, extravagance and eccentricity, which in other men have excited the astonishment of the world, so, neither are they tarnished by the follies nor disgraced by the crimes of those men. It is the happy combination of rare talents and qualities, the harmonious union of the intellectual and moral powers, rather than the dazzling splendor of any one trait, which constitute the grandeur of his charac- ter. If the title of a great man ought to be reserved for him who cannot be charged with an indiscretion or a vice, who spent his life in establishing the independ- ence, the glory and durable prosperity of his country, who succeeded in all that he undertook, and whose suc- cesses were never won at the expense of honor, jus- tice or integrity, or by the sacrifice of a single princi- ple — this title will not be denied to Washington." We cannot better close this brief notice, than by recommending to the youth of our country the careful study of Washington's life and character. He had not endo^\Tnents beyond many others ; he enjoyed no peculiar advantages of education or position ; he was not elevated, therefore, beyond the reach of hopeful emulation. There was no imapproachable superiority in his nature or his early fortunes. His success was his own work ; what he was, others may be. If we consider the benefits he bestowed on our country by his labors, his writings and his example — if Ave reckon up the good he has done, and will still do to mankind for ages to come, by demonstrating the possibility of a virtuous and patriotic public and private career, 56 GEORGE WASHINGTON. and if we consider that this vast scope of usefulness was the result of powers and faculties common to our race, we shall learn to estimate the dignity of human nature and the value of human life — placed in the hands of one who will use it for its highest purposes. ^:^r .::,::: ,:■:::::': ""l O', ~' &; . ' c- c'v '^ c- - .^.-■-; c^ o o,- '] oi.-: 'i^ JOHN JAY. This man, who deSfexves a place by the side of Washington, was born at New York, December 12th, 1745. His father, Peter Jay, was a wealthy mer- chant, descended from a long line of worthy ancestors ; his mother was Mary Van Courtlandt.* These had ten children, of whom John Avas the eighth. * The character of these parents is thus cli-awn in the work entitled " The Life of John Jay," &c. ; by Wm. Jay, his son, and from which we derive our sketch. '•' Both father and mother were actuated by sincere and fervent piety ; both had warm hearts and cheerful tempers ; and both possessed, under varied and severe trials, a remarkable degi'ee of equanimity. But, in other respects, they differed widely. He possessed strong masculine sense, was a shrewd observer, and admirable judge of men ; resolute, persevering and prudent; an affection- ate father ; a kind master, but governing all under his control with mild but absolute sway. She had a cultivated mind and fine imagination ; mild and affectionate in her temper and manners, she took delight in the duties as well as the pleasures of domestic life ; while a cheerful resignation to the will of Providence, during many years of sickness and suffering, bore witness to the strength of her religious faith. So happily did these various dispositions harmonize together, that the subject of this memoir often declared that he had never, in a single instance, heard either of his parents use toward each other an angry or unkind word. Notwithstanding the cares of a large family, the mother devoted much of her time to the instruction of the two blind children, and of the little John. To the former she read the best authors ; to the latter, she taught the rudiments of English, and the Latin grammar." JOHN JAY. JOHN JAY. 59 While he Avas yet an infant, the family remoA ed to Rye, twenty-eight miles northeast of New York, partly that they might devote themselves with more care to two of their children, rendered blind by the small-pox. John's first instruction was from his mother ; at the age of eight he was sent to the neigh- boring village of New Rochelle, and placed under the care of an eccentric Swiss clergyman, who had charge of the French church in that place. This person was a devoted student, and left his worldly aiTairs to his wife, who was as penurious as she was careless. The parsonage and everything about it were suffered to go to decay, and the boys under the pastor's charge were treated with much scolding and little food. John, who had been accustomed to a luxurious mode of life, was now driven to the necessity of taking care of himself. The snow drifted upon his head through the broken panes of his windows, but these he closed with pieces of wood. The food was coarse, but he learned to be content with it. His health was good, and it is probable the privations he suffered, were of advantage to him through life. He was reduced to the simple, homely pursuits of other boys ; he gathered nuts in the woods, and, stripping off a stocking, brought them home in it. In his after greatnesS; he used to speak of these days, as among the happiest of his existence. The inhabitants of New Rochelle were chiefly French refugees, and John soon learned their language, for which he had afterwards abundant use. He remained at the school here three years, and, in 1760, was sent to Columbia college, at New York, a respectable 60 JOHN JAY. seminary, but then in its infancy. Being now intro- durcd into a new scene, and with new companions, he soon remarked certain peculiarities and deficiencies in himself, and the energy with which he set about curing them shows great decision of character. His articulation was indistinct, and his mode of pronounc- ing the letter L exposed him to ridicule. He pur- chased a book written by Sheridan, probably his lectures on elocution, and, shutting himself up daily in his room, studied it till his object was accomplished. He had a habit of reading so rapidly, as to be under- stood with difficulty. For the purpose of correcting this fault, he read aloud to himself, making a full stop after every word, until he acquired a complete control of his voice ; and he thus became an excellent reader. With the same energy, he pursued all his studies. He paid particular attention to English composition, and so intent was he on this, that, when about to write an English exercise, he placed a piece of paper and pencil by his bedside, that if, while meditating on his subject in the night, a valuable idea occurred to him, he might make some note of it, even in the dark, that he might recall it in the morning. His good conduct acquired for him the favor of the president of the seminary ; but an incident occurred in the last year of his college life, which threatened to alter this state of feeling. A number of students being assembled in the college hall, some of them, either through a silly spirit of mischief, or in revenge for some fault imputed to tire steward, began to break the table. The president, attracted by the noise, entered the room, but not so speedily as to find the offenders in JOHN JAY. 6] the act. He immediately ranged the students in a line, and beginning at one end, asked, " Did you break the table?" The answer Avas, "No," " Do you know who did?" "No." Passing along the line, the aame '[uestions and answers were asked and received, till he came to young Jay, who was the last but one m the line. To the first question he replied as the others had done, and to the second he ansAvered, " Yes, sir." "AVlio was it?" "I do not choose to tell you, sir," was the unexpected reply. The young gentleman below him returned the same answers. The contu- macious students Avere called before a board of the professors, where Jay made their defence. Each student, on his admission, had been required to sign his name to a Avritten promise of obedience to all the college statutes. Young Jay contended that he had faithfully kept this promise, and that the pres- ident had no right to exact from him anything not required by the statutes ; that these statutes did not require him to inform against his companions, and that, therefore, his refusal to do so was not an act of disobedience. The defence was overruled, and the delinquents were sentenced to be suspended and rusticated. Jay returned to college at the expiration of his sentence, and Dr. Cooper, the president, by the kindness of his reception, suffered him to perceive that he had not forfeited any part of his good opinion. Left to his own choice of a profession, young Jay chose that of the law, and, immediately after taking his degree, entered the office of Mr. Kissam, a lead- ing lawyer in New York. It is interesting to remark that he found in the same office, Lindley Murray, VI. — 6 62 JOHN JAY. afterwards celebrated for his various works, especially those for education. In one of these he speaks of young Jay, referring to the time of their companionship in the law office, in these words : " His talents and vir- tues gave at that period pleasing indications of future eminence ; he was remarkable for strong reasoning powers, comprehensive views, indefatigable applica- tion, and vincommon firmness of mind. With these qualifications, added to a just taste in literature, and ample stores of learning and knowledge, he was happily prepared to enter on that career of public virtue by which he was afterwards honorably dis- tinguished, and made instrumental in promoting the good of his country." On commencing his clerkship, young Jay asked his father's permission to keep a riding horse. His prudent parent hesitated, and remarked that horses were seldom elegible companions for young men; adding, " John, why do you want a horse ? " " That I may have the means, sir, of visiting you frequently," was the reply; and it removed every objection. The horse was procured ; and during the three years of his clerkship, he made it a rule to pass one day VAth his parents at Rye, every fortnight. In 1768, Jay was admitted to the bar, and, continuing his residence in New York, almost immediately acquired an exten- sive and lucrative practice. It now sometimes hap- pened that he and his teacher, Mr. Kissam were engaged on opposite sides in the same cause ; and on one of these occasions, the latter being embarrassed by some position taken by the other, pleasantly remarked in court, that he had brought up a bird to JOHN JAY. 63 pick oui his own eyes. " Oh no," replied his oppo- nent, " not to pick out, but to open your eyes." Mr. Jay's devotion to his profession, at length began to affect his health, and the physician advised him to take exercise, as indispensable to its recovery. This advice was followed with characteristic energy and perseverance. He took lodgings six miles from his office, and for a whole season came to town every morning on horseback, ai>^ returned in the evening. The experiment was attended with complete success. In 1774, Mr. Jay was married to Sarah, the youngest daughter of William Livingston, Esq., after- wards for many years governor of New Jersey, and a zealous and disting-uished patriot of the revolution. His prospects of domestic happiness and professional eminence were now unusually bright ; but they were soon clouded by the claims of his country, which called him from the bar and the endearments of home, to defend her rights in the national councils and at foreign courts. The passage of the Boston Port Bill, on the 30th of March, 1774, disclosed to the American people the vindictive feelings of the British ministry, and taught them that a prompt and vigorous resistance to oppres- sion could alone preserve their freedom. The news of this act excited universal alarm. A meeting of the citizens of New York was assembled on the 16th of May, " to consult on the measures proper to be pur- sued in consequence of the late extraordinary advices received from England." The meeting nominated a committee of fifty to correspond with our sister colo- nies on all matters of moment. 64 JOHN JAY. IMr. Jay was a member of this body, and the result of their deliberations was the recommendation of a congress of deputies from the several colonies, to take into consideration the proper measures to be taken in the pending crisis. This suggestion was adopted, and l\Ir. Jay was chosen as one of the delegates from New York. He took his seat in that body — the first continental congress — which was to lay the foundation of American independence, September 5th, 1774, this being the first day of the session. He was in his 29th year, and was the youngest member of the house. He survived all his colleagues many years. The first act of the new congress Avas to appoint a committee to state the rights of the colonies in general; the several instances in which those rights had been violated and infringed; and the means most proper to be pursued for obtaining a restoration of them. Mr. Jay was placed on this committee and that for drafting an address to the people of Great Britain and a memorial to the people of British Amxerica. The vriting of the address to the people of Great Britain was assigned by the committee to him. The occa- sion, the subject, his own youth, and this being his first appearance in the national councils, all united in demanding from him the utmost exertion of his powers. To secure himself from interruption, he left his lodgings, and shut himself up in a tavern, and there composed that celebrated state paper, not less distinguished for its lofty sentiments than for the glowing language in which they are expressed. The address was reported by the committee and adopted by congress, and immediately led to much inquiry JOHN JAY. 65 and discussion respecting the author. Mr. Jcficrson, while still ignorant of the author, declared it to be " a production certainly of the finest pen in America." After a session of six weeks, congress adjourned, having, among other measures, provided for another congress to be held at the same place, — Philadelphia. Of this, also, Mr. Jay was a member. It met, May 10th, 1775, and such was now the serious aspect of affairs, that it continued in session a whole year, excepting a recess during the month of August. On the 15th June, Washington was chosen com- mander-in-chief of the army, and, a few days after- wards, the subordinate generals Avere appointed. These officers were selected from difTerent parts of the continent, and it Avas thought expedient to take a brigadier from New Hampshire ; but congress were unacquainted with any military gentleman from that colony fit for the station. In this dilemma, Mr. Jay nominated Mr. John Sullivan, a delegate in congress from NoAV Hampshire, — saying that his good sense was known to the house, and as to his military talents, he would take his chance for them. The nomination was confirmed, and the discernment which prompted it was abundantly justified by General Sullivan's active and useful career. The contest had now begun in earnest, though independence was not yet avowed as its object. Addresses to the people of Canada and of Ireland were resolved upon, and they were drawn up by IMr. Jay with his usual ability. He also moved a petition to the king, to be signed by the members of congress, which he carried acfainst great opposition. The E ^ 6* 66 JOHN JAY. result was auspicous to the cause of liberty ; for, being unheeded, it roused more deeply the indignation of the country. Congress having now taken all the measures which human prudence could dictate, submitted their cause, with prayer and fasting, to Him without whose bless- ing the wisdom of man is folly, and his strength weakness. The 20th of July, agreeably to a previous recommendation of congress, was observed throughout the colonies " as a day of public humiliation, fasting and prayer," and congress, in a body, attended divine service, both in the morning and afternoon, and listened to sermons from preachers, whom they had requested to officiate on that occasion. America had nov/ commenced a struggle for her rights, trusting to the justice of her cause, and proba- bly without the remotest expectation of foreign aid. But a singular incident occurred in November of this year, 1775, which excited a gleam of hope. Congress was informed that a foreigner was then in Philadel- phia, who was desirous of making to them an impor- tant and confidential communication. This intimation having been several times repeated, a committee, con- sisting of Mr. Jay, Doctor Franklin and Mr. Jefferson, was appointed to hear what the foreigner had to say. These gentlemen agreed to meet him in one of the committee rooms in Carpenter's Hall. At the time appointed, they v/ent there, and found already arrived an elderly lame gentleman, having the appearance of an old wounded French officer. They told him they were authorized to receive his communication; upon which he said, that his Most Christian Majesty jojm JAY. 67 had heard with pleasure of the exertions made by the American colonies in defence of their rights and privileges ; that his majesty wished them success, and would, whenever it should be necessary, mani- fest more openly his friendly sentiments towards them. The committee requested to know his authority for giving these assurances. He only answered by drawing his hand across his throat, and saying, •'Gentlemen, I shall take care of my head." They then asked what demonstrations of friendship thev might expect from the king of France. " Gentlemen," answered the foreigner, " if you want arms, you shall have them ; if you want ammunition, you shall have it; if you want money, you shall have it." The committee observed that these assurances were indeed important, but again desired to know by what authority they were made. " Gentlemen," said he, repeating his former gesture, "I shall take care of mj^ head;" and this was the only answer they could obtain from him. He was seen in Philadelphia no more. It was the opinion of the committee that he was a secret agent of the French court, directed to give these indirect assurances, but in such a manner that they might be disavowed if necessary. These commu- nications were not without their effect on the pro- ceedings of congress. On the 29th of November, a secret committee was appointed, including Mr. Jay, for corresponding "with the friends of America in Great Britain, Ireland, and other parts of the world." There is reason, therefore, to believe that the myste- rious stranger, whether acting by authority or not, 68 JOHN JAY. was the immediate occasion of those steps which resulted, at last, in obtaining the assistance of France. In the spring of 1776, though still a member of congress, Mr. Jay was called to New York, to take part in a colonial convention there. This assembled in May. On the 29th of June, Lord Howe and his army arrived off the harbor of New York, and the convention, apprehending an attack upon the city, ordered all the leaden window sashes, which were then common in Dutch houses, to be taken out for the use of the troops ; an order that strikingly shows how ill the colony was prepared for the arduous con- flict that ensued. The next day, the convention adjourned to White Plains, about twenty-seven miles from the city. The neAV convention, clothed with power to estab- lish a form of government for the colony, convened at White Plains, on the 9th of July ; and, on the same day, they received from congress the Declaration of Independence. This important document was immediately referred to a committee, of which Mr. Jay was chairman, and he speedily reported the fol- lowing resolution, which was unanimously adopted : " Resolved, that .the reasons assigned by the conti- nental congress, for declaring these united colonies free and independent states, are cogent and conclusive ; and that while we lament the cruel necessity Avhich has rendered this measure unavoidable, we approve the same, and will, at the risk of our lives and for- tunes, join with the other colonies in supporting it." Thus, although Mr. Jay was, by his recall from JOHN JAY. 69 congress, dcpriA'cd of the honor of affixing- his signa- ture to the Declaration of Independence, he had the satisfaction of drafting the pledge given by his native state to support it. The act has the greater merit, and more clearly shoAVS the decision of his character, from the consideration that New York was less unanimous in the assertion and defence of the prin- ciples of the revolution, than any other of the thirteen colonies. In almost every county there were num- bers who secretly or openly sided with the mother country, and many of them were persons of wealth and consideration. These circumstances had no influence, however, upon the steadfast mind of Jay. We cannot enter into the details of his various services during the fearful crisis that speedily fol- lowed. It must be sufficient to say, that, with cease- less industry and unabating zeal, in various capacities, he devoted himself to the cause of the bleeding country. We must not omit, however, to notice the manner in which he was instrumental in opening negotiations with the French government, which resulted in the cooperation of that power in our struggle for independence. In 1775, Mr. Jay had been placed by congress on a secret committee of correspondence. The proceedings of this committee were enveloped in the most profound secrecy, and they led to important results. Mr. Jay seems to have been its chief organ of correspondence. The com- mittee, having secured the friendship of certain indi- viduals in France and Holland, sent, in the spring of this year, Mr. Silas Deane, a late member of congress, as their agent to France. He was directed to appear 70 JOHN JA\'. in that country as a merchant ; and certain persons were mentioned, to whom he was to confide the object of his mission, and through whose agency he was to obtain an interview with Count Vergennes, the French minister for foreign affairs. It was hoped that he would thus be enabled to procure military supplies for congress. As France was at this time at peace Avith England, it became necessary to resort to expedients to provide for the consequences that might result from the mis- carriage of Mr. Deane's letters. For this purpose he Avas provided with an invisible ink, and Mr. Jay with a chemical preparation for rendering the writing legi- ble. But as letters apparently blank might excite suspicion, and lead to experiments that might expose the contrivance, Mr. Deane's communications were written on large sheets, commencing with a short letter in common ink, relative to some fictitious person or business, and under a feigned name ; and the resi- due of the paper was occupied by his despatch in the invisible ink. The correspondence, thus arranged, was carried on for a considerable time, and Mr. Deane's mission proved successful. The convention of New York had been assembled in 1776, to form a constitution for the state, as well as to exercise the powers of government till that could be accomplished. The stirring events which followed occupied their whole attention for a considerable time ; but in March, 1777, a committee, appointed for the purpose, reported the plan of a constitution, drawn up by Mr. Jay, which, with slight modifications, was JOHN JAY. 71 adopted. Under the new government, now organized, he was appointed chief justice. In the duties of his new station he was actively engaged for a time, but his services being particularly- needed in congress, he took his seat there in Decem- ber, 1778, after an absence of two years. Though this was not legally incompatible with his judicial station, he found that congress had no recess, and that his time was therefore wholly occupied in its duties. In the autumn of 1799, he accordingly resigned the ofRce of chief justice of New York. Eut his services were now required in another sphere. Desirous of strengthening their foreign alliances, congress deemed it advisable to despatch a minister to Spain, and Mr. Jay took his departure on a mission to that government, October 20, 1779. He sailed with his wife, on board the American frigate Confederacy, bound for Spain. Being crippled by a storm, the vessel put into Martinique ; but he here found a vessel bound for Toulon, which took him and his family on board, and they landed at Cadiz, Janu- ary 22, 1780. On the fourth day after he had landed, Mr. Jay despatched his secretary to Madrid, with a letter foi the Spanish minister, acquainting him with the com mission with which he was charged. An answer was returned, inviting him to Madrid, but intimating that it was expected he would not assume a formal character, which must depend on f future acknowl- edgment and treaty. Mr. Jay was thus led to perceive, at the very outset of his negotiation, that the acknowledgment of Ame»» 72 JOHN JAY. ican independence, by Spain, would on her part be a matter of bargain, and that she expected to be paid for admitting an indisputable fact. He, however, lost no time in repairing to Madrid, and in doing so, encountered all the delay and inconveniences incident to Spanish travelling. On his arrival at Madrid, he discovered no dispo- sition in the Spanish government to enter into nego- tiation with him ; and he remarked soon after, in a letter to a friend, " pains were taken to prevent any conduct towards me that might savor of an admission or knowledge of American independence." Shortly after Mr. Jay's departure from America, congress adopted a measure that was prompted rather by the exigencies of the country than by any sound principles of policy. As one expedient for raising money for present necessities, they ordered bills to be drawn on Mr. Jay, for more than half a million of dollars, payable six, months after sight, in the hope that, before that time, he would have obtained a sub- sidy from the Spanish court. With these bills, sup- plies were purchased for the army, and the holders sent them to their European correspondent, who presented them to Mr. Jay, for acceptance. That congress should have ventured on such a measure, not only without knowing that Mr. Jay could procure money in Spain, but even before they had heard of his arrival there, proves the desperate state of their finances at this period of the revolution, and the conviction that the means of continuing the contest were to be pro- vided for at every hazard. Similar bills were drawn upon Mr. Laurens, who had sailed as American min- JOHN JAY. 73 ister for Holland, and unfortunately they arrived before the minister, who, being captured by a British cruiser, was consigned to the Tower of London. The bills thus drawn upon him, Mr. Jay concluded to accept, in the hope of obtaining the means of meet mg them from the Spanish government. A portion of them, to the amount of about one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, was provided for in this way, but at last difTiculties arose, and bills he had accepted to a large amount were protested. Mr. Jay's situation was now very painful ; but he Avas soon relieved by getting a letter from Doctor Franklin, one of our ministers at Paris, authorizing him to draw upon him for the amount of all the bills that had fallen due. Thus he had the satisfaction of seeing the credit of his country restored, and his own apparently rash conduct justified by the event. Mr. Jay's continued residence in Spain now afforded no prospect of usefulness to his country. Although treated with great personal civility, he was not acknowledged in his public character, nor did he see any opportunity of forming any other treaty with Spain, than such as might be extorted from the neces- sities of America. Thus situated, it must have been with no small satisfaction that he received, early in May, a letter from Doctor Frankhn, pressing him to repair to Paris, to assist in the negotiations for peace, which the doctor believed would' soon be opened. With his usual promptitude, he obeyed the summons in a few days, and, abandoning a field in which his labors had produced but little fruit, he entered anoiAer VI. — 7 74 JOHN JAY. in whicli he gathered for his country an abundant harvest. Shortly before his departure from Spain, he re- ceived from Doctor Franklin a copy of a letter written by Mr. Deane to a friend in America, repre- senting the American cause as desperate, and recom- mending an immediate reconciliation with Great Britain. The letter had been intercepted and pub- lished by the English. Mr. Jay, who, as we have already seen, was on friendly terms with Deane, had suspended his portrait in his parlor at Madrid ; but, on receiving this evidence of his apostasy, he took down the picture and threw it into the fire, and ever after showed great reluctance to speak of the origi- nal. On leaving Spain, ]\Ir. Jay was informed that Count Aranda, the Spanish ambassador at Paris, would be authorized to continue the negotiations with him. Although there was no reason to anticipate favorable results from a renewal of the negotiation, Mr. Jay was determined to omit nothing that might promote the interests of his country; and therefore he addressed a letter to the count, expressing his readi- ness to commence the necessary conferences. A meeting accordingly took place, but resulted m no benefit, beyond the mutual esteem and inti- macy of the two ministers. Count Aranda was one of the richest subjects of Spain, and he lived at Paris in great splendor. His assortment of Avines was perhaps the finest in Europe. Instead of pur- chasing, as usual, of the dealers, he employed agents to explore the wine countries, and to select the JOHN JAY. 75 choicest kinds at the vineyards -»vliere they were made. His plate, of which he had a profusion, wtis kept constantly burnished by a silversmith, maintained in the house for that purpose, so that it always appeared new. He had the character of being extremely inflexible, and the following anecdote is told of him. He was one day disputing a point with the king with much earnestness, when the latter, who was also remarkable for a hard head, said to him — "Aranda, you are the most obstinate man of all Arragon." "No, sire," replied the count; "there is one still more obstinate than I am." "And who is that?" said the king. "The king of Arragon ! " answered the count. The king laughed, and took no offence at the freedom. The part taken by France in our revolution was dictated wholly by policy ; it did not proceed from a sense of right, or a love of justice, or a desire to pro- mote the cause of liberty ; but from a desire to cripple England, her enemy. When the war was drawing to a close, and the independence of America was cer- tain, the cabinet at Paris began to consider w"hat ultimate benefits could be derived from the exertions they had made in our behalf. It seemed to them desirable that the new republic should, as far as possi- ble, continue to be dependent upon her old ally, and for this purpose they sought rather to restrain than enlarge her power. They, therefore, desired to narrow her boundaries, to exclude her from the navigation of the Mississippi, and to prevent a liberal treaty with England, which might establish amicable relations with that country. 76 JOHN JAY. To enable him to accomplish these objects, the French minister, Vergennes, by a series of intrigues, induced congress to instruct their ambassadors at Paris, who were about to enter upon negotiations with England, to govern themselves by the advice of the French court. This placed the American ministers virtually under the dictation' of France. Such a posi- tion seemed to Mr. Jay humihating to America and her agents, and he strongly remonstrated against it. It was not till the 25lh of July, that the British ministry took a decided step for commencing negotia- tions with the American commissioners. On that day the king issued an order to the attorney general, to prepare a commission to Richard Oswold, empowering him " to treat, consult of, and conclude with any com- missioner or commissioners named, or to be named by the thirteen colonies or plantations ia North America, and any body, or bodies, corporate or politic, or any assembly or assemblies, or description of men, or any person or persons, whatever, a peace or truce with the said colonies ox plantations, or any part thereof" The French minister thought this commission suf- ficient, and Dr. Franklin approved of it ; but Mr. Jay objected to entering upon negotiations, as colonies, and by the decisive measures he took, independent of his colleague, the king of Great Britain removed the dif- ficulty by authorizing Mr. Oswold to treat with the commissioners of the United States of America. Thus was an acknowledgment of our independence extorted from the mother country. In October, 1782, John Adams, one of our commis- sioners, arrived at Paris. He fully concurred in the JOHN JAY. 77 views of Jay, and sought to enlighten Dr. Franklin as to the sinister views of the French court. In this he succeeded, and consequently the commissioners, disregarding the instructions of congress to submit themselves to the dictation of France, proceeded independently in the negotiations Avith Mr. Oswold. These were soon brought to a successful issue, and a provisional treaty was signed, securing our right to participation in the fisheries of Newfoundland, the navigation of the Mississippi, and a territory of which that river was the western boundary. Thus were the sinister designs of the French minister baffled, through the firmness and sagacity of Jay, seconded by Adams. Mr. Lawrence, the fourth commissioner of the United States, arrived soon after, and his name was attached to the treaty. The character of the French minister may be inferred from an incident that occurred during these negotiations. Mr. Jay was one evening in conference with Mr. Oswold, when the latter, wishing to consult his in- structions, unlocked his escritoire ; when, to his great astonishment and alarm, he discovered that the paper was missing. Mr. Jay smiled, and told him to give himself no concern about the document, as he would certainly find it in its place as soon as the French minister had done with it. In a few days the predic- tion was verified. The minister had caused the document to be stolen, probably by bribing a servant ; and when he had taken a copy of it, it was returned. So v/ell apprized of the artifices of the French government was Mr. 7* 78 JOHN JAY. Jay, that he always carried his confidential papers in his pocket. Mr. Jay continued in England as one of our com- missioners, to settle the definitive treaty with Eng- land. This was accomplished in August, 1783, the provisional treaty, before mentioned, being adopted as its basis. Having visited England for his health, and adjusted his accounts, he set out on his return, and arrived at New York July 24, 17S4. He Avas soon elected a member of congress, and, in 17S5, accepted the ofRce of secretary of foreign afTairs, in which station he continued till the office expired with the termination of the confederation. On the 17th September, 1787, the convention, which had met at Philadelphia for the purpose, submitted a constitu- tion to a convention of each state, for ratification or rejection. Although this constitution did not in all respects equal the wishes of Mr. Jay, its superiority to the articles of confederation was too obvious to i permit him to hesitate to give it his support. The oppo- sition to it, however, became active and virulent, and it was studiously inflamed by gross misrepresentation. At this momentous crisis, Mr. Jay united with Mr. Madison and Colonel Hamilton in an attempt to enlighten and direct the public opinion by a series of newspaper essays, under the title of the Federalist. These papers were not only circulated throughout the Union by means of the periodical press, but were collected and published in two volumes, and have since passed through many editions ; they have been translated into French, and still form a valuable stan- JOHN JAY. 79 dard commentary on the constitution of the United States, Mr. Jay was elected a member of the convention of New York, to consider the proposed constitution, and, seconded by HamiUon and Chancellor Livingston, gave it able support. After a deliberation of three weeks, he moved its acceptance, which was finally carried, July 26, 17S8, by a majority of three votes. Washington being elected president under the new constitution, reached New York, April 23, 17S9, and, on the 30th, took the oath of office. At nine o'clock on that day, all the churches of New York were opened, and the several congregations, with their pastors, assembled for the purpose of solemnly invok- ing the blessing of Heaven upon the new government. After the president's address to congress, he, with both houses, attended divine service at St. Paul's, to render thanks to the Supreme Being for the successful establishment of the government, and to implore the • divine blessing. Thus was our union founded in the piety and prayers of our fathers. Mr, Jay officiated as secretary of state, till Mr. Jef- ferson should arrive from Europe, to take charge of its duties. But having accepted the office of chief justice of the United States, he held the first circuit court, at New York, April 3, 1790. Continuing to discharge the duties of this high office, he was a can- didate for governor of his native state in 1792, and received a majority of votes; but the canvassers set aside a portion of the returns, as being informal, a?ad the democratic candidate, George Clinton, was declarea elected. so JOHN JAY. In the spring of 1794, Mr. Jay was appointed ambassador to England, with a view to adjust the dif- ficnhies which had grown up with that country, and which had for some time threatened the return of war. He embarked May 12th, and reached Fal- mouth in June. With his usual promptitude he immediately announced his arrival to Lord Grenville, the British secretary of foreign affairs. In a few days after, he reached London. Three objects were contemplated by Mr. Jay's instructions. These were compensation for the losses sustained by American merchants, in conse- quence of the orders in council; a settlement of all existing disputes in relation to the treaty of peace, and a commercial treaty. The confidence placed by the president in his envoy, led him to direct him to consider his instructions merely in the light of recom- mendations. Lord Grenville was duly commissioned by the king to treat with Mr. Jay, and the sincerity and candor of the two negotiators soon led to a degree of mutual confidence, that both facilitated and lightened their labors. Instead of adopting the usual wary but tedious mode of reducing every proposition and reply to writing, they conducted the negotiations chiefly by conferences, in which the parties frankly stated their several views, and suggested the way in which the objections to those views might be obviated. It was understood that neither party was to be committed by what passed in these conversations ; but that the propositions made in them might be recalled or modi- fied at pleasure. In this manner the two ministers JOHN JAY. 81 speedily discovered on what points they could agree, where their views were irreconcilable, and on Avhat principles a compromise could be effected. Proceeding in this-manner, the treaty was at length formed, and signed on the 19th of November. In May, he returned to New York, and found that, two days previous to his arrival, he had been elected gov- ernor of his native state, by a large majority. He was received with enthusiasm by the people, and, resigning his office of chief justice, took the oath as governor, on the 1st of July. Mr. Jay had foreseen the opposition which his treaty was likely to meet, in America, from several sources, — a desire to embarrass Washington's admin-' istration, a hatred of England, and a predilection for France. Even before its contents were known, a furious attack upon it was commenced. The follow- ing extract from one of the democratic organs of the period, will show the spirit of the time : " No treaty ought to have been made with Great Britain, for she is famed for perfidy and double deal- ing.; her polar star is interest ; artifice with her is a substitute for nature. To make a treaty with Great Britain is forming a connection with a monarch ; and the introduction of the fashions, forms and precedents of the monarchical governments has ever accelerated the destruction of republics. If foreign connections are to be formed, they ought to be made with nations whose influence would not poison the fountain of liberty, and circulate the deleterious streams to the destruction of the rich harvest of the revolution. Fkance is our natural ally; she has a government F 82 JOHN JAY congenial with our own. There can be no hazard of introducing from her principles and practices repug- nant to freedom." The democratic societies coitimenced by Genet were likewise active in exciting opposition to the treaty, and in preparing the public mind for war with England, and an alliance with France. A society in Virginia thus announced its wishes: "Shall we Americans, who have kindled the spark of liberty, stand aloof and see it extinguished, when burning a bright flame in France, which hath caught it from us? If all tyrants unite against free people, should not all free people unite against tyrants ? Yes, let us unite with France, and stand or fall together." As yet, the contents of the treaty, as propriety required before its ratification, had been kept secret ; but, on the 29th of June, a senator from Virginia, regardless both of the rules of the senate and of offi- cial decorum, sent a copy of it to a democratic printer in Philadelphia, Avho published it on the 2d of July. This act was applying the torch to that vast mass of combustibles, which the party had long been engaged in collecting, and the intended explosion instantly followed. On the 4th, a great mob assembled and paraded the streets, with an effigy of Mr. Jay, bearing a pair of scales ; one labelled, " American Liberty and Independence," and the other, which was in extreme depression, " British Gold ;" while from the mouth of the figure proceeded the words, " Come up to my price, and I will sell you my country." The effigy was afterwards publicly committed to the fiames. No time was lost in getting up meetings JOHN JAY. 83 throughout the country, to denounce the treaty; and, in many instances, inflammatory resolutions, previously prepared, were adopted by acclamation, without examination or discussion. Despite these formidable movements, the senate sanctioned the treaty, and Washington gave it his signature, in the face of threats tliat might have shaken less steady nerves. The last hope of the opposition lay in the house of representatives. Here an attempt Avas made to defeat ilie measure, by refusing to pass the laws necessary to carry it into effect. The democratic party had a large majority in this body, and every efibrt was made, both in and out of the house, to bring them up to an adverse decision. The subject was debated with great power, and it was during this discussion that Fisher Ames, of Massachusetts, pronounced one of the most eloquent speeches that ever fell from human lips. Its effect was deepened by his condi- tion ; he was wasted and pale with consumption. As he rose, it seemed indeed that he had hardly strength to speak. As he proceeded, his countenance gathered brightness, and his tones, force and fervor. The power of his argument, — the solemn earnestness of his manner, — the prophetic wisdom of his views, all spoken while standing on the verge of the grave, — gave his speech almost supernatural force. In point- ing out the evils which must follow the rejection of the treaty, he adverted to the certain renewal of the Indian war at the west, in the following terms : " On this theme my emotions are unutterable. If I could find words for them, — if my powers bore any proportion to my zeal, — I would swell my voice to such 84 JOHN JAY. a note of remonstrance, that it should reach eveiy log- house beyond the mountains. I would say to the in- habitants, — wake from your false security ; your cruel dangers, your more cruel apprehensions, are soon to be renewed ; the wounds yet unhealed are to be torn open again; in the daytime, your path through the woods will be ambushed; the darkness of midnight will glitter with the blaze of -your dwellings. You are a father, — the blood of your sons shall fatten your field. You are a mother, — the war-whoop shall wake the sleep of the cradle ! • " It is vain to ofier as an excuse, that public men are not to be reproached for the evils that may happen to ensue from their measures. This is very true, . where they are unforeseen or inevitable. Those I have depicted are not unforeseen. They are so far from inevitable, that we are going to bring them into being by our vote ; we choose the consequences, and become as justly answerable for them, as for the measure that we know will produce them. " By rejecting the treaty, we light the savage fires, we bind the victims. This day we undertake to render account to the widovv's and orphans whom our decision will make; to the wretches that will be roasted at the stake ; to our country, and, I do not deem it too serious to say, to conscience and to God. We are answerable; and if duty be anything more than a word of imposture, if conscience be not a bug-bear, Ave are preparing to make ourselves as wretched as our country. " There is no mistake in this case — there can be none; experience has already been the prophet of JOHN JAY. 85 events, and the cries of our future victims have already reached us. The western inhabitants are not a silent and uncomplaining sacrifice. The voice of humanity issues from the shade of the wilderness ; it exclaims that while one hand is held up to reject this treaty, the other grasps a tomahawk. It summons our imagination to the scenes that will open. It is 00 great effort of the imagination to conceive that events so near are already begun. I can fancy that 1 listen to the yells of savage vengeance and the jhrieks of torture ; already they seem to sigh in the western wind ; already they mingle with every echo jrom the mountains." At the outset of the discussion, it was supposed that the house would decide against the treaty ; but when the gulf into which party spirit was about to plunge the country was laid open, some of the leaders of the opposition began to shriilk from the responsibility of taking the leap. After a protracted and heated dis- cussion, the question was taken — and, thirteen of the democratic party voting to sustain the treaty, the house was equally divided. The speaker gave his casting vote in its favor, and it went into operation. Its results proved it to be one of the wisest and most beneficent measures in the history of our government. ]\Ir. Jay discharged the duties of governor of New York with great ability, and was a second time elected to that office. He was offered again the post of chief justice of the United States, but this he declined. In 1801, having been in public life twenty- seven years, and now being fifty-six years old, he left Albany, where he had resided since he was governor, VI.— 8 86 JOHN JAY. and settled upon his estate in Bedford, about fifty miles northeast of New York. Here he spent the remainder of his days in the bosom of his family, and in the peaceful and unostentatious discharge of the duties which religion and benevolence demand. About this time the religious associations were formed in our country for the dissemination of the Scriptures. To them he was a sincere friend. In 1821, upon the death of the venerable Elias Bowdi- not, president of the American Bible Society, Mr. Jay was chosen his successor. He discharged the duties of the station till 1828, when his declining health obliged him to resign. He accompanied this act by a liberal donation to the society. In May, 1829, he was seized in the night with the palsy ; medical skill was obtained, but nothing could be done to arrest the disease. His speech was af- fected, but his mind seemed clear. He lingered till the seventeenth, when he died, in the eighty-fourth year of his age. Mr. Jay had survived nearly all who had ever been personally opposed to him in politics. His character had triumphed over the calumnies by which it had been assailed ; his long retirement had exempted him from all participation in the conflicts and animosities of modern parties; and when he left the world, he probably left no one in it who harbored an unkind feeling towards him. Hence, the intelligence of his death called forth from men of all parties willing attestations of his worth. The public journals, how- ever discordant on other topics, united in doing justice to his memory. The judges and members of the bar JOHN JAY. 87 of the county court put on mourning for thirty days, and the supreme court of the state, being in session when the news of his death was received, immedi- ately adjourned, as a mark of respect; and, by order of congress, a bust of the first chief justice has since been executed, and placed in the chamber of the supreme court of the United States. The character of Mr. Jay may be gathered from the acts recorded m the preceding pages. In its sim- plicity, harmony, equanimity, and patriotism, it bears a strong resemblance to that of Washington. It would seem that his affections were strong — his love of country fervent ; yet he appeared to be prompted even by higher motives of action. A sense of future accountability seems to have been ever present to his mind, and to have made him think the judg- ments of men as dust in the balance, compared with the realities of a future reckoning. He was a friend to churches and schools ; an ardent advocate of the abolition of slavery ; a Christian, a patriot, and a phi- lanthropist. In manner, he was modest and simple. Though few men have done so much, in any age or country, he assumed no importance, claimed no deference, boasted no merit. A stranger might have lived with him for months, and never have known, from his lips, the his- tory of his great deeds. As a writer, he was among the first of his time ; his wisdom was deep ; his mind penetrating and far-sighted ; his judgment cool, cir- cumspect, and seldom mistaken. Mr. Jay's religion was fervent, but mild and unos- tentatious. Throuo-h life, he continued a member SS JOHN JAY. of the Episcopal church, and approved the doctrines and policy maintained by that portion of the denomi- nation which is distinguished as the low Church. While his health permitted, he was regular in his attendance on public worship, and was always a scrupulous, but not superstitious observer of the Sab- bath. On the whole, his life exhibits a rare but interesting picture of the Christian patriot and states- man, and justifies the reverence for his character so eloquently described in an address delivered soon after his death: " A halo of veneration seemed to encircle him as one belonging to another world, though lingering among us. When the tidings of his death came to us, they were received through the nation, not with sorrow or mourning, but with solemn awe, like that with which we read the mysterious passage of ancient scripture, 'And Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him.'" PATRICK HENRY. Patrick Henry was born in the county of Hanover, Virginia, May 29th, 1736. His parents,=^ though not * His father, Colonel John Henr)', was a native of Aberdeen, Scotland, and came to Virginia to seek his fortune about 1730. He was a man of liberal education, of sound judgment, great integrity and fervent piety. His mother, the widow of Colonel Syme, at the time of her marriage to Mr. Henry, was a native of Hanover county. She was a woman of excellent character, and marked by fine powers of conversation, said to be heredi- tary in her family. 8* 90 PATRICK HENRY. rich, were in easy circumstances, and, in point of character, were among the most respectable inhabitants of the colony. Until ten years of age, Patrick was sent to school in the neighborhood, where he learned to read and write, and made some small progress in arithmetic. He was then taken home, and, under the direction of his father, who had opened a grammar school in his own house, he acquired a superficial knowledge of the Latin, and learned to read the Greek character, but never to translate the language. At the same time, he made considerable proficiency in mathematics, the only branch of education for which, it seems, he discovered in his youth the slightest pre- dilection. But he was too idle to gain any solid advantage from the opportunities that were thrown in his way. He was passionately addicted to the sports of the field, and could not support the confinement and toil which education required. Hence, instead of system, or any semblance of regularity in his studies, his efforts were always desultory, and they became more and more rare, until, at length, when the hour of his school exercises arrived, Patrick was scarcely ever to be found. He was in the forest with his gun, or over the brook with his angle rod ; and in these frivolous occupations, when not controlled by the authority of his father — which was rarely exerted — he would spend whole days, and even weeks, with an appetite rather whetted that cloyed by enjoyment. His school-fellows, having observed his passion for these amusements, v/atched his movements, to dis- cover, if they could, the cause of that delight which PATRICK HENRY. 91 they seemed to aflbrd him. Their conclusion was, that he loved idleness for its own sake. They often observed him lying under the shade of some tree that overhung the sequestered stream, watching for hours the motionless cork of his fishing line, without one encouraging symptom of success, and without any apparent source of enjoyment, unless he could find it ' in the ease of his posture, or in the illusions of hope, or, which is most probable, in the stillness of the scene, and the silent workings of his own imagination. His love of solitude in his youth, was often observed. Even when in society, his enjoyments were of a peculiar cast ; he did not mix in the wild mirth of his equals in age, but sat quiet and demure, taking no part in the conversation, giving no responsive smile to the circulating jest, but lost to all appearance in silence and abstraction. His absence of mind, however, was only apparent; for, on the dispersion of the company, if interrogated by his parents as to what had been passing, he was able not only to detail the conversa- tion, but to sketch, with strict fidelity, the character of every speaker. It does not appear that he displayed any of that precoc'ty which sometimes distinguishes uncommon genius. His companions recollect no instance of pre- mature wit, no striking sentiment, no flash of fancy, no remarkable beauty or strength of expression ; and no indication, however slight, either of that impas- sioned love of liberty or of that adventurous daring and intrepidity which marked so strongly his subse- quent character. So far was he, indeed, from exhibit- ing any one prognostic of this greatness, that every 92 PATRICK HENRY. omen foretold a life at best of mediocrity, if not of insignificance. His person is represented as having been coarse, his manners uncommonly awk\A-ard, his dress slovenly, his conversation very plain, his aver- sion to study invincible, and his faculties almost entirely benumbed by indolence. No persuasion could bring him either to read or work. On the con- trary, he ran wild in the forest, like one of the abori- gines of the country, and divided his life between the dissipation and uproar of the chase, and the languor of inaction. The propensity to observe and comment upon the human character, was the only trait that distinguished him at this early period. This tendency appears to have been born Avith him, and to have exerted itself instinctively, Avhenever a new subject was presented to his view. Its action was incessant, and became, at length, almost the only intellectual exercise in which he seemed to take delight. To this cause may be traced that consummate knowledge of the human heart which he finally attained, and which enabled him, when he came upon the public stage, to touch the springs of passion with a master hand. When Patrick had reached the age of fifteen, his father, finding it inconvenient to sustain the expenses of his large and increasing family, placed him behind the counter of a country merchant. The next year he purchased a small amount of goods for Patrick and "William his elder brother, and, according to the lan- guage of the country, they set up in trade. Unhap- pily, they were both destitute of those habits of indus- try, energy and attention, which were indispensable to PATRICK HENRY. 93 success in their present pursuit. The business of ihe store soon rushed to its catastrophe, and at the end of the year it was closed. William was thrown loose upon society, and for a time was addicted to dissipa- tion. Patrick was engaged for two or three years in winding up his disastrous experiment in trade. During the confinement of this period, he solaced himself with music, and learned to play well on the violin and on the flute. From music, he passed to books, and, having procured a few light and elegant authors, acquired, for the first time, a relish for reading. Adversity does not seem to have taught him pru- dence. At the age of eighteen, he married Miss Shel- ton, the daughter of a poor, but honest farmer in the neighborhood, and the young couple Avere soon settled upon a small farm. Assisted by one or two slaves, Henry began to delve the earth with his own hands ; but he could not endure systematic labor, and at the end of two years, selling out his possessions, he again turned merchant. But his early habits still continued to haunt him. The same want of method, the same facility of temper, soon became apparent, by their ruinous effects. He resumed his violin, his flute, his books, his curious inspection of human nature ; and not unfrequently ventured to shut up his store, and indulge himself in the favorite sports of his youth. This second mercantile experiment was still more unfortunate than the first. In a few years, it left him a bankrupt, and placed him in a situation than which it is difficult to conceive one more wretched. Every atom of his property was now gone ; his friends were ■inable to assist him any farther ; he had tried ev?ry 94 PATRICK HENRY. means of support, of which he could suppose himself capable, and every one had failed; ruin was behind him ; poverty, debt, want and famine before ; and, as if his cup of misery were not already full, here were a suffering wife and children to make it overflow. But, though Henry possessed acuteness of feeling, he had great firmness of character, as well as an unvarying cheerfulness of temper. His misfortunes, even at this period, could not be traced in his counte- nance or conduct. His passion was still music, danc- ing and pleasantry. He excelled in the last, and thus attached every one to him. As yet, however, no one had suspected the extraordinary powers of his mind. Having failed in all other attempts, he at last determined to make a trial of the law. He studied six weeks, and, being examined, obtained a license, though with difficulty. He was now at the age of twenty-four. Of the science of law, he knew almost nothing; of the practical part, he was so wholly ignorant, that he was not only unable to draw a declaration or a plea, but incapable, it is said, of the most common and simple business of his profession; even of the mode of ordering a suit, giving a notice, or making a motion in court. For several years, he lingered in the back-ground of his profession. During this period his family was reduced to extreme want; and, to obtain the necessaries of life, he was obliged to take up his residence with his wife's father, who now kept the tavern at the Hanover Court-House. In his absence, Patrick Henry was accustomed to receive the guests and provide for their entertainment. PATRICK HENRY. 95 But the clouds, which had thus far ohscurcd his existence, were about to pass away. The Episcopal religion Avas established by law in Virginia, and the clergy had each a right to claim an annual stipend of sixteen thousand pounds of tobacco. Various acts in relation to this were passed, one of which gave the people the right of paying the tobacco at a certain rate per pound. It became, at last, a question whether this right existed or not; and, as the tobacco was worth more than the rate fixed by law, the clergy had an interest to maintain the privilege of talcing the tobacco and not the money. The case that arose, and which was to determine the whole question, was a suit of Rev. James Murray, against the collector of Hanover. Already a partial decision, favorable to the claims of the clergy, had taken place, and hardly a more hope- less case could have been chosen, than that of the defendant, in which Henry was now to commence his career as an advocate. The array before his eyes, as he was about to begin his plea, was indeed formidable. On the bench were more than twenty clergymen. The court-house was crowded to excess, and in the chair of the presiding magistrate sat his own father ! The opposing coun- sel opened the cause, and, after a flourishing speech, concluded with an eulogium upon the clerg}'. And now came on the first trial of Patrick Henry's strength. No one had ever heard him speak, and curiosity was on tiptoe. He rose awkwardly, and faltered at the outset. The people hung their heads ; the cleigy exchanged sly looks, and his father almost sunk with confusion from his seat. 96 PATKICK HENRY. But these feelings were brief. Henry seemed speedily to burst the clownish fetters Avhich embar- rassed his limbs, and the impediments which fettered his speech. His attitude became erect ; his counte- nance glowed ; his tones became mellow and touch- ing, and his words flowed like a torrent. He piled argument upon argument, illustration upon illustra- tion. The whole crowd around seemed fixed with amazemerit and awe, as if some miracle had taken place before their eyes. Every look was riveted upon the wonderful speaker ; every ear stretched to catch his lightest word : the mockery of the clergy was turned to alarm, and, at one burst of his rapid and overwhelming invective, they left the bench, discon- certed and despairing of their cause. As for the father, he was taken completely by surprise, and, unconscious of his position, gave vent to his feelings in a shower of tears. The jury, captivated and bewildered, and forgetting even the obvious right of the plaintiff to reasonable damages, brought in a ver- dict of one penny. This was indeed a triumph — though it was at the expense of law and justice. The event caused a great sensation, and was long remembered. It was the custom of the people in that quarter, 'for many subsequent years, to express their utmost conception of eloquence by referring to Pa/rick's plea against the parsons. Henry found himself suddenly elevated to the sum- mit of his profession, at least in the estimation of the people around him. They had witnessed the display of his talents, and they considered him as having vin- dicated their cause against the clergy. He saw at PATRICK HENRY. 97 once the advantage to be derived from cultivating their good will, and this he did with success. He dressed as plain as the plainest; partook of the homely fare of the country ; mixed with the mass on terms of equality, and even continued to imitate their vicious language. "Naiteral parts is better than all the larnin upon yearth" is given by his biographer as a specimen of his speech in condescension to the cor- rupt standard of those he sought to flatter. His practice Avas now considerable, and his fame was rapidly extended. But he was soon called to another theatre of action, where his highest laurels were won. In January, 1765, the famous Stamp Act was passed in England. A general feeling of alarm, attended however by a prevailing disposition to sub- mit to the heavy hand of tyranny, spread through the country. About this period Henry became a member of the house of burgesses in Virginia, from the county of Louisa, whither he had removed. In this assembly he met a galaxy of great men, but chiefly belonging to the old aristocracy of the colony. It was in this assembly that he moved his famous resolutions, which, Mr. Jefferson said, "gave the first impulse to the ball of the revolution." Henry speaks of them himself, in a paper he left for his executors, in the following words : "They formed the first opposition to the stamp act and the scheme of taxing America by the British parliament. All the colonies, either through fear, or want of opportunity to form an opposition, or from influence of some kind or other, had remained silent. I had been for the first time elected a burgess a few days before, was young, G VI.— 9 98 PATRICK HENRY. inexperienced, unacquainted with the forms of the house and the members that composed it. Finding the men of weight averse to opposition, and the com- mencement of the tax at hand, and that no person was likely to step forth, I determined to venture ; and alone, unadvised and unassisted, on a blank leaf of an old law book, wrote the within." These resolutions created a violent debate, which lasted for several days. The leaders of the house — Pendleton, Wythe, Bland, Randolph — those accus- tomed to exert a despotic sway, resisted them with all their force. Henry supported them Avith equal ability. His talents seemed to rise with the occasion, and his resources to multiply with the force he had to encoun- ter. It was in the midst of this great debate, that he uttered a remarkable passage which has come down to our time. While descanting upon the tyranny of the ohnoxious act, he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder, and with a look of great dignity, — " Caesar had his Brutus — Charles the First his Cromwell — and George the third — (" Treason ! " cried the speaker — " treason, treason ! " echoed from every part of the house. It was one of those trying moments which are decisive of character. Henry faltered not for an instant ; but rising to a loftier attitude, and fixing on the speaker an eye of the most determined fire, he finished his sentence with the fiercest emphasis,) — ^nay profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it." Sustained by such powers, the resolutions were carried by a majority of two, and Mr. Henry left the assembly with the reputation of a statesman added to that of an orator. PATRICK HENRY. 99 He continued to be an active member of the house of burgesses, and was always a leader in measures calculated to arouse the country against the march of British usurpation. In 1774, he was appointed a delegate to the new congress at Philadelphia, and took his seat in that body when it came together in the following September. The most eminent men of the various colonies were now for the first time brought together. They were known to each other by fame ; but they were personally strangers. The meeting was solemn indeed. The object which liad called them together was of incalculable magnitude. The liberties of no loss than three millions of people, with that of all their posterity, were staked on the wisdom and energy of their councils. No wonder then at the long and deep silence which is said to have followed immedi- ately upon their organization ; caused by the anxiety with v'hich the members looked round upon each other, and the reluctance which every individual felt to enter upon a business so momentous. In the midst of this deep and death-like silence, Patrick Henry arose. As if oppressed by the occasion, he began in slow and faltering tones to address the assembly. In a few moments, however, his manner changed. He proceeded to speak of the wrongs sus- tained by the colonies. As he advanced, his counte- nance glowed, his form dilated, and his words fell with the mingled power of the thunder and the light- ning. Even that great assembly was struck with emotions of amazement and awe. When he sat down, there was a murmur of applause, and the great 100 PATRICK HENRY. orator of Virginia was now fell to be the orator of a nation. But here the triumph of Patrick Henry ceased. In the discussion of general grievances, he took the lead, but when called down from the heights of declama- tion to the sober test of practical business, he Avas entirely at fault. He was now made to feel the fatal neglect of early study, and the waste of opportuni- ties which could never return. Several addresses were proposed by congress — and that to the king was assigned to him. When reported, every countenance betrayed disappointment. It was indeed so ill-suited to the occasion, that it was set aside, and a new draught, prepared by Mr. Dickinson, was adopted. Such was the severe penalty paid for youthful follies. After all, this great orator had but a single gift, and though one of the most wonderful, he was doubtless among the least useful members of that great assem- bly, which he had electrified by his magi<; skill in touching the sources of human emotion. Congress rose in October, and Mr. Henry returned to his native county. In March following, another convention of delegates from Virginia met at Rich- mond ; of this, he was also a member. The peti- tion of congress to the king had been received, and the reply was smooth and gracious in its terms. The loyalty of the country, though shaken, was still strong, and the desire to heal the breach Avhich had been threatened, was common. Such feelings prevailed among the leaders of the Virginia convention. Henry had entirely opposite views. He believed a crisis had come which it was vain to attempt to avert, and PATRICK HENRY. 101 for which immediate preparation should Lc made. He therefore introduced a series of resolutions to that effect. These produced a sudden and painful shock. They were resisted, as fraught with danger — as rash, im- politic and unjust. Seldom has any proposition been assailed with such a weight of argument, eloquence, and authority, as were directed against these resolves. But the mover was unabashed. He rose and replied with a power that was irresistible. After proceeding for some time in a strain of lofty eloquence, he closed in these stirring words : " They tell us, sir, that we are weak — unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? Will it be the next week, or the next year ? Will it be when we are totall}' dis- armed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction ? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and indulg- ing the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot ? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force Avhich our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our bat- tles alone. There is a just God, who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, the active, the 9* 102 PATRICK HENRY. brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire It, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery ! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Bos- ton ! The war is inevitable, and let it come ! ! I repeat it, sir ; let it come ! ! ! " It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gen- tlemen may cry peace, peace, but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms ! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish ? What would they have ? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery ? Forbid it, Almighty God ! I know not what course others may take ; but as for me," — cried he, with both his arms extended aloft, his brows knit, and every feature marked with the resolute purpose of his soul, and his voice swelled to its boldest note of exclamation, — " give me liberty, or give me death ! " The effect of these burning sen- tences was overwhelming; the opposition was re- buked, and the resolutions were adopted. In the spring of 1775, Henry took his seat in the second congress, but no opportunity offered for the display of his peculiar talent. He was deficient as a writer, and was disgusted with the dry details of bus iness. His rambling and desultory habits unfitted him for that close attention, careful deliberation, and patient investigation, which were the qualifications then chiefly demanded of the members of congress. PATRICK HENRY. 103 Doubtless, feeling this, he accepted an appointment, tendered by the Virginia convention, as commander of the forces raised for the defence of the colony. He was at his post in September. As he had been pre- viously engaged in a military enterprise against Lord Dunmorc, considerable expectations were entertained from him in his new station. He did nothing, how- ever, to fulfil their hopes, and it was said of him, as John Wilkes said of Lord Chatham, " all his power and efficacy is seated in his tongue." He resigned his office in March, 1777 — a circumstance greatly regretted by the troops, with whom he was a favorite. It is evident that Henry was deficient in military tal- ents, yet it is probable that the entire barrenness of his career as a soldier, is to be attributed to adverse circumstances, which he had not the tact to over- come. Immediately after his resignation, he was chosen a delegate from Hanover to the convention about to assemble for the purpose of forming a state govern- ment. In June, a constitution was adopted^ and Henry was immediately chosen governor of the com- monwealth, by the convention. The fall of the year 1776 was one of the darkest and most dispiriting periods of the revolution. The disaster at Long Island had occurred, by which a con- siderable portion of the American army had been cut off; a garrison of between three and four thousand men had been taken at Fort Washington, and the American general, with the small remainder, dis- heartened and in want of every kind of comfort, was retreating through the Jerseys before an overwhelm- 104 PATRICK HENRY. mg power, wliicli spread terror, desolation, and death on every hand. This was llie period of which Tom Paine, in his Crisis, used that memorahle expression, • — " These are the times which try the souls of men ! " For a short time, the courage of the country quailed. Washington alone remained erect, and surveyed, with sublime composure, the storm that raged around him. Even the heroism of the Virginia legislature gave way, and, .in a season of despair, the mad project of a dictator was seriously meditated. That Mr. Henry was thought of for this station, as has been alleged, is highly probable ; but that the project was suggested by him, or even received his countenance, is without evidence or probability. Mr. Henry was twice elected by the people to the office of governor. His administration was marked with no very signal act, yet he retired from the administration with a confirmed and increased popu- larity. He continued to represent the county of Han- over in the legislature of the state, and took an active part in sustaining the measures connected with the great contest for independence. After the close of the war, a question arose whether the tories who had fled from the country and given their aid to Britain, should be allowed to return. The feeling against them was deep and bitter, and the popular current was strong in opposition to their being tolerated in the country. The subject was waimly discussed in the assembly, and but for the eloquence of Henry in their behalf, it had been de- cided against them. He took abroad and liberal view of the subject; he described the ample resources of PATFtlCK IIENRV. 105 the country, and urged the obvious policy of encour- aging the increase of the population by every proper means. He closed his speech in these words : " Sir, I feel no objection to the return of these deluded people — they, to be sure, have mistaken their own interests most wofully, and most wofully have they suffered the punishment due to their offences. But the relations which we bear to them and to their native country are now changed — their king hath acknowledged our independence — the quarrel is over — peace hath returned and found us a free people. Let us have the magnanimity, sir, to lay aside our antipathies and prejudices, and consider the subject in a political light. These are an enterprising, moneyed people ; they will be serviceable in taking off the sur- plus produce of our lands, and supplying us with necessaries during the infant state of our manufac- tures. Even if they be inimical to us in point of feeling and principle, I can see no objection, in a political view, to making them tributary to our advan- tage — and, as I have no prejudices to prevent my making this use of them, so, sir, I have no fear of any mischief they can do us. Afraid of them ! what, sir," said he, rising to one of his loftiest attitudes, and assuming a look of the most indignant and sovereign contempt, " shall we, who have laid the proud British lion at our feet, now be afraid of his whelps ? " In 17S4, Mr. Henry was again chosen governor of Virginia, but he resigned his seat, in consequence of his inability to sustain the expense in which it in- volved him. He was now encumbered with debt, and such was his situation, that, although appointed a 106 TATRICK IIENKY. delegate to proceed to Philadelphia, and assist in forming a national constitution, he was forced to decline the station. He saw, indeed, no escape from continued embarrassment and poverty, but a return to the bar, and this course he adopted, in 17SS. He, however, refused the details of the profession, and was only engaged in arguing important causes. In June, of this year, the convention, assembled to consider the proposed constitution of the United States, met at Richmond. Henry was a member, and here, among a host of stars, he met Madison, and Marshall, and Monroe. It might have been expected, from the structure of his mind, and his habits of thought, that he would oppose the constitution, — and this course he adopted. Bred up in irregular habits, of a vagrant and excursive fancy — he naturally thought more of liberty than tranquillity, and was more solicitous to ensure freedom than security. He seemed, indeed, to think that liberty involved every earthly blessing. " Give us that precious jewel," said he, " and you may take everything else." It was this constant desire to breathe a free atmosphere which had given him such power when the purpose was to obtain deliverance from British bondage ; but now that this was obtained, and the question came how we might secure and perpetuate the privileges we had won, he became jealous even of a government of our own formation. He therefore opposed the constitution, denouncing it as a consolidated, not a federal government. He especially objected to the terms in which it begins — we the people. This he said implied a compact of the PATRICK HENRY. 107 whole people, and not a compact of states, which he contended it should be. He proceeded to express the utmost apprehensions of the result, if it were adopted. For twenty days he continued to hurl against it and its supporters, not argument only, but wit and ridicule, often attempting to shake the nerves of his antagonists by his unrivalled powers of fancy. But his efforts were vain. There were minds in that convention above his own, whom mere eloquence could not move from the fixed foundations of a calm and deliberate judgment. The constitution was finally approved by a majority of two — and its happy results have served to lessen our respect for the sagacity of its opposdrs, and to increase our admiration of its founders. Mr. Henry continued at the bar, and, in 1791, made a celebrated plea before the United States Court, against the power of a British creditor before the war, to enforce his claim upon an American debtor, in an American court, after the war. In 1794, how- ever, he retired from business, and thenceforward was devoted to retirement. He had now become affluent, and, in the tranquil enjoyment of home, he spent the remainder of his days. In 1799, he was elected a member of the assembly of Virginia, but his health had been long declining, and on the 6th of June, of that year, he died. Patrick Henry was twice married, and had fifteen children, eleven of whom were living at his death. In person, he was nearly six feet high, spare, and stooping. His complexion was dark, his skin sallow, his countenance grave and thoughtful. His eye was 108 PATRICK HENRY. bluish gray, and being deep-set and overhung with dark and full eyebrows, had a remarkable look of penetration. In his disposition, he was social and kind-hearted. His conversation was peculiarly attractive, and his demeanor such as to win the hearts of those around him. Of his wonderful eloquence, we have given several specimens. His humor was as remarkable as those loftier powers of rhetoric by which he sometimes electrified his hearers. The following instance illus- trates his talent for ridicule. During the distresses of the American army, con- sequent on the joint invasion of Cornwallis and Phil- lips, in 17S1, a Mr. Venable, an army commissary, had taken two steers, belonging to one Hook, for the troops. The act had not been strictly legal; and, on the establishment of peace. Hook, under the advice of Mr. Cowan, a gentleman of some distinction in the law, thought proper to bring an action of trespass against Mr. Venable, in the District Court of New London. Mr. Henry appeared for the defendant, and is said to have disported himself in this cause to the infinite enjoyment of his hearers, the unfortunate Hook always excepted. After jNIr. Henry became animated in the cause, he appeared to have complete control over the passions of his audience ; at one time, he excited their indignation against Hook ; vengeance was visible in every countenance ; again, when he chose to relax and ridicule him, the whole audience was in a roar of laughter. He painted the distresses of the American army, exposed, almost naked, to the rigor of a winter's sky, and marking the frozen groun: PATRICK IIEIVRY. 109 over which they marched with the Wood of their unshod feet. "Where was the man," he said, "who had an American heart in his bosom, Avho would not throw open his fields, his barns, his cellars, the door of his house, the portals of his breast, to have received with open arms the meanest soldier in that little band of famished patriots ? Where is the man ? There he stands— but whether the heart of au American beats in his bosom, you, gentlemen, are to judge." He then carried the jury, by the powers of his imagination, to the plains of Yorktown, the surrender of which had followed shortly after the act complained of; he depicted the surrender in the most glowing and noble colors of his eloquence ; the audience saw before their eyes the humiliation ajid dejection of the British as they marched out of their trenches ; they saw the triumph which lighted up every patriot face, and heard the shouts of victory, and the cry of Wash- ington and liberty, as it rung and echoed through the American ranks, and was reverberated from the hills and shores of the neighboring river ; but, " hark ! " — said he — " what tones of discord are these which dis- turb the general joy, and silence the acclamations of victory? — they are the notes oiJohn Hook, hoarsely bawling through the American camp, 'beef! beef! beef!'" The effect was electrical. The court was thrown into a paroxysm of laughter, and the poor plaintiff not only lost his case, but he became a general object of ridicule and contempt. The character of Patrick Henry is by no means to be presented as a model. That he was an orator of wonderful powers, we cannot deny ; that he benefit- VI.— 10 110 PATRICK HENRY. ed the cause of the revolution, we may also gratefully acknowledge. It is due to truth to say, also, that his external morals were strict, and, as a husband and father, he was exemplary. He was, however, miserly in respect to money, sometimes charged excessive fees in his practice, and was engaged in speculations which subjected him to merited censure. He was greedy of fame, and jealous of the reputation of his rivals. In early life, as we have already stated, he affected the dress and manners of the common people, and sought to win their favor by adopting their tastes and habits. We have shown that he even condescended to copy their corrupt speech. The want of dignity, as well as honesty, in this, merits reproach. A man of talent should be the instructor of the people ; he should seek to elevate them by high example, not to confirm them in error or vice by imitation. The people have always reason to distrust the sincerity of the flatterer — and it appears in the case of Henry, as it has often appeared before, that beneath a seeming love of the people, there was a lurking desire to rule them. That his early rusticity Avas but a cover to ulterior views, is sufficiently evinced by the fact, that when he had acquired honors, station, and fortune, he became ostentatious of his Avealth. There was, therefore, in the midst of his intellectual greatness, a humiliating littleness of soul. As his conduct was never subjected to the discipline of fixed habits, so his heart seems not to have been regulated by an ever-present sense of justice. In the exercise PATRICK HENRY. Ill of his talents, he seems to have had but a single object in view — success. His biographer, Mr. Wirt, tells us, that even in the legislative halls he always spoke for victory. He knew all the local iriterests and prejudices of the members, and upon these he played with the utmost skill and effect. This was performed with so much delicacy and adroitness, and concealed under a countenance of such apostolic solemnity, that the persons on whom he was oper- ating, were unconscious of his design. Such is tJie language of his eulogistic biographer. Yet the tri- umphs thus obtained, were rather a disgrace than an honor to the winner ; they displayed a radical defect in morals, and an insensibility to the claims of holy truth and manly honor. The only excuse that can be offered, lies in the fact, that in debate, as well as in war, all the artifices which the combatants can bring to their aid, are deemed admissible. This, however, is but to offer a poor apology for a vile practice ; it is but to admit that the master spirits of mankind — in the exercise of the great gift of oratory, whose guide and goal should be truth alone — are allowed to adopt a code of morals which would be disgraceful at the gambling table. It is probable that the loose practice of the bar, which has done so much to debauch public morals, carried by the great orator of Virginia to the legislative halls, was, in part, the source of the error to which we allude. Let us not be thought to speak rashly of the mighty dead! Patrick Henry was one of the master spirits of the revolution — a patriot and a benefactor. But 112 PATRICK HENRY. lie had great faults ; and while we admit his splendid gifts, we are bound to point out the defects of his character, lest even his vices and his foibles become respectable in our eyes, through their alliance with genius and renown. tfid 60 00 a oo's 6 a'i^ BENJAMIN FRANKLIN Was born at Boston, on the 17th January, 1706, and was the youngest but two of a family of seventeen chil- dren, two daughters being born after him. His ances- tors lived in Northamptonshire, England, and we may conclude they had originally been of some consequence. After the Reformation, the immediate progenitors of Benjamin, continued zealously attached to the church of England, till towards the close of the reign of Charles II., when his father, Josias, along with his uncle Benjamin, became dissenters. These men H 10* 114 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. were both bred to the trade of silk-dyeing. Josias married early in life ; and, about the year 16S2, he emi- grated, with his wife and three children, to America, on account of the persecutions to which he was exposed for his dissenting principles. On arriving at Boston, he embraced the occupation of soap-boiler and tallow-chandler, of which businesses he previously knew nothing, and only from this being at the time the likeliest to provide maintenance for his increasing family. He appears to have been a man of great penetration and solid judgment ; prudent, active, and frugal ; and, although kept in comparative poverty by the expenses of his numerous family, was held in great esteem by his townsmen. Benjamin was at first designed to be a clergjTnan, and at eight years of age was put to the grammar school with that view, having previously been taught to read. His uncle Benjamin, who had likewise emi- grated, encouraged this project. But young Franklin had not been a year at school when his father per- ceived that his circumstances were quite inadequate to the expenses necessary to complete his son's edu- cation for the clerical profession. He accordingly removed him from the more learned seminary, and placed him under a humble teacher of reading and writing for another twelvemonth, preparatory to bind- ing him to some trade. AVhen his term at school had expired, being then ten years of age,' he was taken home to assist his father in his business ; but he soon testified such repug- nance to the cutting of wicks for candles, running errands, waiting in the shop, with other drudgery of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 115 the same nature, that, after a tedious and ill-borne trial of two years, his father became afraid of his run- ning ofT to sea, as an elder brother had done, and resolved to put him to some other occupation. After much deliberation, therefore, he was sent on trial for a few days to his cousin, a son of Benjamin, who Avas a cutler ; but that relative being desirous of a larger apprentice fee than his uncle could spare, he was recalled. His brother James, a short time previ- ous to this period, had returned from England, whither he had been sent to learn the printing business, and set up a press and types on his own account at Boston. To him, therefore, after no little persuasion, Benjamin at last agreed to become apprentice, and he was indentured accordingly for the term of nine years ; that is, until he should reach the age of twenty-one. The choice of this profession, as it turned out, Avas a lucky one, and it was made after much careful and correct observation on the part of the parent. He had watched his son's increasing fondness for books and tliirst for information, and that, too, of a solid and instructive sort ; and he therefore judiciously resolved to place him in a favorable situation for gratifying this propensity in his youthful mind; while he would at the same time be instructed in a profession by which he could always independently maintain himself, wherever fortune might lead him, within the bounds of the civilized world. Franklin, in his own Life, thus speaks of his early and insatiable craving after knowledge : " From my earliest years I had been passionately fond of reading, and I laid out in books all the money IIG BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. I could procure. I was particularly pleased with accounts of voyages. My first acquisition was Bun- yan's collection, in small separate volumes. These I afterwards sold, in order to buy an historical collection by R. Burton, which consisted of small cheap volumes, amounting in all to about forty or fifty. My father s little library was principally made up of books of prac- tical and polemical theology. I read the greatest part of them. There Avas also among my father's books, Plutarch's Lives, in which I read continually, and I still regard as advantageously employed the time devoted to them. I found, besides, a work of De Foe's, entitled An Essay on Projects, from which, perhaps, I derived impressions that have since influenced some of the principal events of my life." It seems to have been lucky for himself and mankind that the last- named author's most celebrated work, Robinson Cru- soe, did not fall into his hands at this period. By his assiduity Franklin soon attained great pro- ficiency in his business, and became very serviceable to his brother. At the same time, he formed acquainr tance with various booksellers' apprentices, by whose furtive assistance he was enabled to extend the sphere of his reading. This gratification, however, was for the most part enjoyed at the expense of his natural rest. "How often," says he, "has it happened to me to pass the greater part of the night in reading by my bedside, when the book had been lent me in the evenmg, and was to be returned the next morning, lest it might be missed or wanted ! " His studious habits and intelligent conversation also attracted the notice of a wealthy merchant, who was in the habit of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 117 coming about the office, and who invited him to his liouse, and gave him the use of an excellent library. It is a singular peculiarity of all minds of an active and aspiring character, that they uniformly endeavor to do vv^hatever others have done, and from which they themselves have derived enjoyment or benefit. Franklin, from the delight he took in the perusal of books, at last bethought himself of trying his own hand at composition ; and, as has happened, we believe, with a great proportion of literary men of all ages, his first efforts were of a poetical nature. His brother, having come to the knowledge of his attempts, encouraged him to proceed, thinking such a talent might prove useful in the establishment. At the suggestion of the latter, therefore, he finished two ballads, which, after being printed, he was sent round the town to sell ; and one of them, the subject of which was a recent affecting shipwreck, had, he says, a prodigious run. But his father, having heard of the circumstance, soon let down the pegs of the young poet's vanity, by analyzing his verses before him in a most unmerciful style, and demonstrating, as Franklin says, what " wretched stuff" they really were." This sharp les- son, which concluded with a warning that versifiers were almost uniformly beggars, effectually weaned him from his rhyming propensities. Franklin immediately afterwards betook himself to the composition of prose, and the first opportunity of exercising his pen and his faculties in this way occur- red in the following manner : — He had a young acquaintance of the name of Collins, who was, like himself, passionately fond of books, and with whom lis BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. he had frequent and long arguments on various sub- jects. In narrating this circumstance, he comments, in passing, on the dangerous consequences of acquir- ing a disputatious habit, as tending to generate acri- mony and discord in society, and often hatred betwixt the best of friends. Franklin and his companion having, as usual, got into an argument one day, which was maintained on both sides with equal per- tinacity, they parted without bringing it to a termina- tion ; and as they were to be separated for some time, an agreement was made that they should carry on tlieir dispute by letter. This was accordingly done ; when, after the interchange of several epistles, the whole correspondence happened to fall into the hands of Franklin's father. After perusing it with much interest, his natural acuteness and good sense enabled him to point out to his son how far inferior he was to his adversary in elegance of expression, arrangement, and perspicuity. Feeling the justice of his parent's remarks, he forthwith studied most anxiously to im- prove his style ; and the plan he adopted for this pur- pose is equally interesting and instructive. " Amidst these resolves," he says, " an odd volume of the Spectator fell into my hands. This was a pub- lication I had never seen. I bought the volume, and read it again and again. I was enchanted with it, thought the style excellent, and wished it Avere in my power to imitate it. With this view, I selected some of the papers, made short summaries of the sense of each period, and put them for a few days aside. I then, without looking at the book, endeavored to restore the essays to their due form, and to express BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 119 each thought at length, as it was in the original, em- ploying the most appropriate words that occurred to my mind. I afterwards compared mij Spectator with the original. I perceived some faults, which I cor- rected ; but I found that I chiefly wanted a fund of words, if I may so express myself, and a facility of recollecting and employing them, which I thought I should by that time have acquired, had I continued to make verses. The continual need of words of the same meaning, but of different lengths for the mea- sure, and of different sounds for the rhyme, would have placed me under the necessity of seeking for a variety of synonymes, and have rendered me master of them. From this belief, I took some of the tales of the Spectator, and turned them into verse ; and after a time, when I had sufficiently forgotten them, I again converted them into prose. Sometimes, also, I mingled my summaries together ; and, a few weeks afterwards, endeavored to arrange them in the best order, before I attempted to form the periods and com- plete the essays. This I did w^th a view of acquir- ing me'thod in the arrangement of my thoughts. On comparing afterwards my performance with the origi- nal, many faults were apparent, which I corrected ; but I had sometimes the satisfaction to think, that, in certain particulars of little importance, I had been for- tunate enough to improve the order of the thought or style ; and this encouraged me to hope that I should succeed in time in Avriting decently in the English language, which was one of the greatest objects of my ambition." But it Avas not by such rigorous self-imposed tasks 120 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. alone, that this extraordinary man, even at so early an age, endeavored to chasten his mind, and make every propensity subservient to his sense of duty. He also began to exercise those acts of personal self-denial, which the heyday of youth, the season for animal enjoyment, feels as the most intolerable of all restric- tions. Having met with a work recommending a vegetable diet, he determined to adopt it. Finding, after some days' trial, that he was ridiculed by his fel- low-boarders for his singularity, he proposed to his brother to take the half of what was now paid by that relative for his board, and therewith to maintain him- self. No objection was of course made to such an arrangement, and he soon found that of what he received he was able to save one half. " This," says he, " was a new fund for the purchase of books, and other advantages resulted to me from the plan. When my brother and his workmen left the printing- house to go to dinner, I remained behind; and dis- patching my frugal meal, which frequently consisted of a biscuit only, or a slice of bread and a bunch of raisins, or a bun from the pastry cook's, with a glass of water, I had the rest of the lime till their return for study ; and my progress therein Avas proportioned to that clearness of ideas and quickness of conception which are the fruits of temperance in eating and drinking." Another remarkable instance of the resolute way in which he set about making himself master of what- ever acquirement he found more immediately neces- sary to him at the moment, is the following : — Having been put to the blush one day for his ignorance in the BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 121 art of calculation, which he had twice failed to learn while at school, he procured a copy of Cocker's Arith- metic, and went through it all, making himself com- pletely master of it, before turning his mind to any- thing else ! He soon after, also, gained some little acquaintance with geometry, by perusing a work on navigation. He mentions, likewise, his reading, about this time, Locke's Essay on the Understand- ing, and the Art^f Thinking, by Messrs. Du Port Royal. Having found, in some essay on rhetoric and logic, a model of disputation after the manner of So- crates, which consists in drawing on your opponent, by insidious questions, into making admissions which militate against himself, he became excessively fond of it, he says, and practised it for some years with great success, but ultimately abandoned it, perceiving that it could be made as available to the cause of wrong as that of right, while the prime end of all argument was to convince or inform. About three years after Franklin went to his ap- prenticeship, that is to say, in 1721, his brother began to print a newspaper, the second that was established in America, which he called the New England Cou- rant ; the one previously established v/as the Boston News Letter. The new publication brought the most of the literati of Boston about the printing-office, m.any of whom were contributors ; and Franklin frequently overheard them conversing about the various articles that appeared in its columns, and the approbation with which particular ones were received. He became ambitious to participate in this sort of fame ; and having written out a paper, in a disguised hand, VI.— 11 122 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. he slipped it under the door of the printing-o^ce, ^vhere it was found next morning, and submitted, as usual, to the critics, when they assembled. "They read it," he says ; " commented on it in my hearing ; and I had the exquisite pleasure to find that it met with their approbation ; and that, in the various con- jectures they made respecting the author, no one was mentioned who did not enjoy a high reputation in the country for talent and genius. ^ " I now supposed myself fortunate in my judges, and began to suspect that they were not such excellent writers as I had hitherto supposed them. Be this as it may, encouraged by this little adventure, I Avrote and sent to press, in the same way, many other pieces, which were equally approved — keeping the secret till my slender stock of information and knowledge for such performances w'as pretty completely exhausted." He then discovered himself, and had the satisfaction of finding he was treated with much more respect by his brother and his friends than heretofore. The two brothers, however, lived together on very disagreeable terrns, in consequence of the hasty and overbearing temper of the elder, and Benjamin longed for an opportunity of separating from him. This at last occurred. His brother was apprehended and imprisoned for some political article which offended the government, and, upon his liberation, was prohib- ited from ever printing his newspaper again. It was therefore determined that it should be published in Benjamin's name, who had managed it during his brother's confinement with great spirit and ability. To avoid havinsr it said that the elder brother was BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 123 only screening himself behind one of his apprentices, Benjamin's indenture was delivered up to him 4is- charged, and private indentures were entered into for the remainder of his time. This underhand arrange- ment was proceeded in for several months, the paper continuing to be printed in Benjamin's name ; but his brother having one day again broke out into one of his violent fits of passion, and struck him, he availed himself of his discharged indentures, well knov/ing that the others would never be produced against him, and gave up his employment. Franklin afterwards regretted his having taken so unfair an advantage of his brother's situation, and regarded it as one of the serious errors of his life. His brother felt so exas- perated on the occasion, that he went to all the print- ing-houses, and represented Benjamin in suA. a light that they refused his services. Finding that he could get no employment at Bos- ton, and that he was regarded with dislike by the gov- ernment, he resolved to proceed to New York, the nearest town in which there was a printing-office. To raise sufficient funds for this purpose, he sold part of his library ; and having eluded the vigilance of his parents, who were opposed to his intention, he secretly got on board of a vessel, and landed at New York on the third day after sailing. Thus, at the age of seventeen, Franklin found him- self two hundred miles from his native place, from which he was in some sort a runaway, without a friend or recommendation to any one, and with very little money in his pocket. To complete his dilemma, he found, on application, that the only printer then in 124 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. town could give him no employment. That person, however, recommended him to go to Philadelphia, wKere he had a son, Avho, he thought, would give him work; and accordingly he set off for that place. His journey was a most disastrous one both by water and land, and he frequently regretted leaving home so rashly. He reached his destination at last, however, and in a plight which certainly did not bode very auspiciously for his future fortunes. His own graphic description of his condition and appearance, on his first entrance into Philadelphia, is at once interesting and amusing : — " I have entered into the particulars of my voyage, and shall in like manner describe my first entrance into this place, that you may be able to compare beginnin"-s so unlikely with the figure I have since made. I was in my working dress, my best clothes being to come by sea. I was covered with dirt ; my pockets were filled with shirts and stockings ; I was unacquainted with a single soul in the place, and knew not where to seek a lodging. Fatigued with walking and rowing, and having passed the night with- out sleep, I was extremely hungry, and all my money consisted of a Dutch dollar, and about a shilling's worth of coppers, which I gave to the boatmen for my passage. At first they refused it, because I had rowed, but I insisted on their taking it. A man is sometimes more generous when he has little than when he has much money, probably because he is, in the first place, desirous of concealing his poverty. " I walked towards the top of the street, looking eagerly on both sides, till I came to Market street, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 125 where I met a child with a loaf of bread. I inquired where he had bought it, and went straight to the baker's shop which he pointed out to me. I asked for some biscuits, expecting to find such as we had at Boston ; but they made, it seems, none of that sort at Philadelphia. I then asked for a threepenny loaf; they made no loaves of that price. I then desired him to let me have threepence worth of bread, of some kind or other. He gave me three large rolls. I was surprised at receiving so much. I took them, how- ever, and having no room in my pockets, I walked on, with a roll under each arm, eating the third. " In this manner I went through Market street to Fourth street, and passed the house of Mr. Read, the father of my future wife. She was standing at the door, observed me, and thought with reason that I made a very singular and grotesque appearance. I then turned the corner, and went through Chestnut street, eating my roll all the way ; and, having made this round, I found myself again on Market street wharf, near the boat in which I arrived. I stepped into it to take a draught of the river water ; and, find- ing myself satisfied with my first roll, I gave the other two to a woman and her child, who had come down the river with us in the boat, and was waiting to con- tinue her journey. Thus refreshed, I regained the street, which was now full of well-dressed people all going the same way. I joined them, and was thus led to a Quakers' meeting-house, near the market place. I sat down with the rest, and, after looking round me for some time, hearing nothing said, and being drowsy from my last night's labor and want of 11* 126 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. rest, I fell into a sound sleep. In this state I con- tinued till the assembly dispersed, when one of the congregation had the goodness to wake me. This was consequently the first house I entered, or ia which I slept, in Philadelphia." Having with some difficulty procured a lodging for the night, he next morning waited on Mr. Bradford, the printer to whom he had been directed. That individual said he had no Avork for him at present, but directed him to a brother in trade, of the name of Keimer, who, upon application, made him the same answer ; but, after considering a little, set him to put an old press to rights, being the only one, indeed, he possessed, and in a few days gave him regular work. Upon this, Franklin took a lodging in the house of Mr. Read, his future father-in-law. Franklin had been some months at Philadelphia, without either writing to or hearing from home, and, as he says, trying to forget Boston as much as possi- ble, when a brother-in-law of his, a master of a vessel, having accidentally heard where he was, wrote to him, pressing his return home in the most urgent terms. Franklin's reply, declining compliance Avith the request, happened to reach his brother-in-law when the latter was in the company of Sir William Keith, governor of the province, and the composition and penmanship struck him as so much superior to the ordinary style of letter-writing, that he showed it to his excellency. The governor was greatly pleased with it, and expressed the utmost surprise when told the age of the writer. He observed that he must be a young man of promising talents, and said that if he BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 127 would set up business on his OAvn account at Phila- delphia, he would procure him the printing of all the public papers, and do hini every other service in his power. Franklin heard nothing of this from his brother-in-law at the time ; but one day, while he and Keimer were at work in the ofRce, they observed, through the window, the governor and another gen- tleman — who proved to be Colonel French, of New- castle, in the province of Delaware — finely dressed, cross the street, and come directly to the office, where tiiey knocked at the door. Keimer ran down, in high expectation of this being a visit to himself; " but the governor," says Franklin, " inquired for me, came up stairs, and, with a polite- ness to Avhich I had not at all been accustomed, paid me many compliments, desired to be acquainted with me, obligingly reproached me for not having made myself known to him on my arrival in town, and wished me to accompany him to a tavern, where he and Colonel French were going to taste some excellent Madeira wine ! I was, I confess, somewhat surprised, and Keimer was thunderstruck. I went, however, with the governor and Colonel French to a tavern at the corner of Third street, where, while we were drinking the Madeira, he proposed to me to establish a printing- house. He set forth the probabilities of success, and himself and Colonel French assured me that I should have their protection and influence in obtaining the printing of the public papers for both governments ; and, as I appeared to doubt whether my father would assist me in this enterprise. Sir William said that he would give me a letter to him, in which he would 12S BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. recommend the advantages of the scheme in a ught which he had no doubt would determine him to agree to do so. It was thus concluded that I should return to Boston by the first vessel, with the letter of recom- mendation from the governor to my father. Mean- while, the project was to be kept secret, and I con- tinued to work for Keimer as before. The governor subsequently sent for me every now and then to dine with him. I considered this as a very great honor ; and I was the more sensible of it, as he conversed with me in the most affable, friendly, and familiar manner imaginable." In pursuance of the above arrangement, Franklin set out on his return homewards, in the end of April, 1724, having been absent seven months, during which time his parents and relations had heard nothing of him whatever, his brother-in-law never having written to inform them where he was. All the family, with tlie exception of his brother James, were delighted to see him ; and not the less so, perhaps, that he was apparelled in a complete new suit of clothes, had an excellent silver watch, and about five pounds sterling in his pocket. His father was exceedingly surprised when informed of the object of his visit, and still more at the contents of Governor Keith's epistle. After long deliberation, he came to the resolution of refus- ing compliance Avith the request, on account of his son being too young to undertake the management of such a speculation ; adding, that he thought the governor a man of little discretion in proposing it. He prom- ised, however, when his son should attain his twenty- first year, that he would supply him with Avhat money BENJABIIN FRANKLIN. 129 he required to set him up in business, praising liim highly, at the same time, for his industry and good conduct. Franklin, accordingly, was obliged to return to Philadelphia with the news of his bad suc- cess, but left Boston on this occasion accompanied by the blessings of his parents. "When he arrived at Philadelphia, he immediately waited upon the gover- nor, and communicated the result of his journey. Sir William observed that his father was " too prudent ;" but added, " since he will not do it, I will do it myself." It was ultimately arranged, therefore, that Franklin should proceed personally to London to purchase everything necessary for the proposed establishment, for the expense of which the governor promised him a letter of credit to the extent of £100, with recom- mendations to various people of influence. It had been arranged that Franklin was to go to England in the regular packet-ship ; and as the time of her sailing drew near, he became importunate for the governor's letters of credit and recommendation, but the latter always put him off under various pre- tences. At last, when the vessel was on the point of departing, he was sent on board, under the assurance that Colonel French would bring the letters to him immediately. That gentleman accordingly came on board with a packet of despatches tied together, which were put into the captain's bag, and Franklin was informed that those intended for him were tied up with the rest, and would ^e delivered to him before landing in England. When they arrived in the Thames, accordingly, the captain allowed him to search the bag, but Franklin could find no letters I loO BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. directed either to himself, or addressed as to his care; but he selected six or seven, which, from the directions on them, he conceived to be those intended for his ser- vice. One of these was to the king's printer, and Franklin accordingly Avaited upon that gentleman with it ; but the latter had no sooner opened it, than he exclaimed, " Oh, this is from Riddlesden ! — a well- known rascally attorney at Philadelphia; I have lately discovered him to be an arrant knave, and wish to have nothing to do either with him or his letters." So saying, he turned on his heel, and resumed his occupation. In short, it turned out that none of the letters were from the governor ; and he soon learned from a gentleman, of the name of Denham, who had been a fellow-passenger with him, and to whom he explained his awkward situation, that the governor was a complete cheat, deceiving people from vanity and a love of self-consequence, with promises which he neither intended nor was able to fulfil — and laughed at the idea of a man giving a letter of credit for £100, who had no credit for himself. Franklin's situation was now even more desolate than when set ashore, ragged, hungry, and almost penniless, at Philadelphia, little more than a twelve- month before. But the heart, at eighteen, is not naturally inclined to despond, and never was one less so than that of Franklin. He immediately applied for and obtained employment in the office of the cele- brated Mr. Palmer. Amongst other works on Avhich he was set to work here, was a second edition of Wollaston's Religion of Nature. Conceiving some of the positions assumed in it to be weak or erroneous, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 131 he composed and published a small metaphysical trea- tise in refutation of them. This pamphlet acquired him considerable credit with his master, as a man of talent ; but that gentleman reprobated, Avith the utmost abhorrence, the doctrines maintained in his publica- tion, which, truth compels us to say, were completely irreligious, so far as regarded the Christian faith, or any other acknowledged system of belief. Free- thinking, however, was then in fashion among the higher and more learned classes, and his pamphlet procured him the countenance of various eminent individuals ; amongst the rest, of Dr. Mandeville, author of the Fable of the Bees, and Dr. Pemberton, Sir Isaac Newton's friend. He was likewise Avaited upon by Sir Hans Sloane, who had been informed of his bringing some curiosities with him from America ; amongst others, a purse of asbestos — a natural sub- stance which resists the action of fire, and then very little knoAATi — for which he paid Franklin a high price. From Mr. Palmer's office he removed to Mr. Watts', in consideration of higher wages. Here he gave a striking proof of that resolute adherence to temperance, industry, and frugality, which were among the leading features of his character. Whilst Mr. Watts' other workmen spent generally five or six shillings a week on beer, Avhich was brought into the office to them during the day, he drank nothing but water ; and they were surprised to see that he was much stronger than any of them, while he himself had the additional comfort and satisfaction of being always clear-headed. At first, they ridiculed his abstinence, and conferred on him the soubriquet of the 132 BEXJAT.IIN FRANKLIN. American Aquatic; but as his character rose amongst them, his example, he says, "prevailed with several of them to renounce their abominable breakfast of bread and cheese, with beer ; and they procured, like me, from a neighboring house, a good basin of warm gruel, in which was a small slice of butter ; with toasted bread and nutmeg. This was a much better breakfast, which did not cost more than a pint of beer, namely, three halfpence, and at the same time pre- served the head clearer." His assiduous application to business, at the same time, together with remarka- ble quickness in composi?ig, (setting up the types,) recommended him to his employer, and procured him all the most urgent and best-paid work ; so that, with his frugal mode of living, he quickly laid up money. After having been about eighteen months in Lon- don, much to his advantage in every respect, he was about to set out on a tour through Europe, with a young, intelligent fellow-workman — designing to maintain themselves during their pilgrimage by means of their calling — when he accidentally met with Mr. Denham, before noticed as being his fellow-passenger from America. That gentleman was on the eve of returning to Philadelphia, to open a merchant's store, and offered Franklin the situation of his clerk, with a salary of £50 per annum. This sum was less than he was making as a compositor; but an anxious desire to revisit his native country induced him to accept it. They set sail accordingly — Franklin now supposing he had relinquished the composing-stick forever — and arrived at Philadelphia on the 11th of October, 1726. Franklin had just entered his twenty- BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 133 first year at this time ; and he mentions having drawn up for himself in writing, during the voyage, a plan for the regulation of his future conduct. This inter- esting document was afterwards unfortunately lost; but he tells us himself that he pretty faithfully adhered to the rules thus early laid down, even into old age. Upon his arrival, he found his old acquaintance, the governor, had been supplanted in his office, and was held in general contempt. They met several times, but no allusion was ever made by Franklin to the disgraceful imposture the other had practised on him. Franklin's new employer had only been in business for a few months, when both were seized at the same time with a violent disorder, Avhich carried ofT the master in a few days, and brought the clerk to the brink of the grave. On his recovery, being thus once more left destitute, he was fain to accept employment as a printer from his old master, Keimer, who Avas now somewhat better off in the world, but still utterly ignorant of his profession. The whole charge of the office, with that of instructing four or five ignorant apprentices, devolved on Franklin. Keimer, having engaged him solely Avith the view of having his apprentices so far initiated in the art as that he could dispense with their instructor's services, took the first occasion to quarrel with him when he thought he had sufficiently attained his object. Upon their separation, one of Keimer's apprentices, named Meredith, who, like all the others, had conceived a great veneration for Franklin, proposed that they should enter into partnership together— JMeredith's friends undertaking to furnish the capital necessary for pur- VI.— 12 134 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. chasing llie materials, &c. This offer was too advan- tageous to be refused ; and types, press, &c., were forthwith ordered from London ; but while preparing to put their plan into execution, Franklin was in- duced, during the interval, to return again to Keimer, at the urgent solicitation of the latter. The motive for this humble entreaty was that individual's having taken a contract for the printing of some paper m.oney for the state of New Jersey, requiring a variety of new cuts and types, which he knew well nobody in that place but Franklin could supply. This presents • us with a very striking instance of Franklin's remarkable gift of invention. " To execute the order," says he, " I constructed a copper-plate printing-press — the first that had been seen in the country. I engraved various ornaments and vignettes for the bills, and we repaired to Bur- lington together, where I executed the whole to the general satisfaction, and Keimer received a sum of money for this work, which enabled him to keep his head above water for a considerable time longer." At Burlington, Franklin formed acquaintance with all the principal personages of the province, who were attracted by his superior abilities and intelligence. Scarcely had he returned to Philadelphia, when the types ordered for himself and Meredith, from London, arrived; and having settled rhatters with Keimer, the partners immediately took a house, and commenced business. They were in the act of opening their packages, when a countryman came in to have a job done; and as all their cash had been expended in their various purchases, " this countryman's five shil- BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 135 lings," says Franklin, "being our first fruits, and coming so seasonably, gave me more pleasure than any crown I have since earned." A number of young men having, during the preceding year, formed them- selves, at Franklin's suggestion, into a weekly club for the purpose of mutual improvement, they were so well pleased with the beneficial results they experi- enced from their meetings, that, when the originator of their society set up in business, every one exerted himself to procure him employment. One of them obtained from the Quakers the printing of forty sheets of a history of that sect, then preparing at the expense of the body. "Upon these," says Franklin, "we worked exceeding hard, for the price was very low. It was in folio, upon pro jyatria paper, and in the pica letter, with heavy notes in the smallest type. I com- posed a sheet a day, and Meredith put it to press. It was frequently eleven o'clock at night, sometimes later, before I had finished my distribution for the next day's task, — for the other little jobs that came in kept us back in this work ; but I was so determined to compose a sheet a day, that, one evening, when my form was imposed, and my day's work, as I thought, at an end, an accident broke the form, and deranged two com- plete folio pages. I immediately distributed and composed them anew before I went to bed." This unwearied industry, Avhich soon became known, acquired Franklin great reputation and credit amongst his townsmen, and business began rapidly to flow in upon them. The establishment and management of a newspaper seems to have always been a favorite project with 136 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, Franklin ; probably because, from, his former experi- ence in it, and the consciousness of his powers of writing, he felt himself so well adapted for the task. The partners soon found themselves in circumstances to enable them to make the trial ; but Franklin having incautiously divulged their intention to a third person, that individual informed their old master, Keimer, of the fact, who immediately took steps to anticipate them, and issued a prospectus of a paper of his own. The manner in which Franklin met and defeated this treachery is exceedingly characteristic. There was another paper published in Philadelphia by Mr. Brad- ford, which had been in existence for some years, but was such a miserable affair that it only preserved its vitality because no other arose to knock it on the head. In order to keep down Keimer's publication, however, Franklin saw the policy of supporting the old one, until prepared to start his own. He thereupon set about writing a series of amusing articles for it, which the pviblisher, Bradford, was of course very glad to insert. " By this means," says Franklin, "the atten- tion of the public was kept fixed on that paper, and Keimer's proposals, which we burlesqued and ridicu- led, were disregarded. He began his paper, however, and after continuing it for nine months, having at most not more than ninety subscribers, he offered it to me for a mere trifle. I had for some time been pre- pared for it. I therefore instantly took it upon myself, and in a few years it proved very profitable to me." In fact, it obtained notoriety and applause from the very first number, in consequence of some observations therein by Franklin, on an important colonial question ; liENJAMlN FKANKLIN. 137 and various members of the assembly exerted them- selves so well in his behalf, that the printing of the house was speedily transferred from Bradford to his two young rivals. In the management of his news- paper, Franklin pursued a system of unflinching integ- rity. He steadfastly refused to give admission into his columns of any article containing personal abuse. Whenever he was requested to publish anything of this sort, his answer was, that he would print the piece by itself, and give the author as many copies for his own distribution as he wished. He very wisely considered that his subscribers expected him to furnish them with useful and entertaining information, and not with personal slander or private discussions with which they had no concern. Luckily for Franklin, almost at the commencement of the newspaper, an opportunity occurred of getting rid of his partner, Meredith, who had become an idle, drunken fellow, and had all along been of compara- tively little use in the concern. Meredith's father failed to complete the bargain for advancing the neces- sary capital to pay the demands of the paper merchant, and other expenses necessarily attending their specu- lation, when they became due. A suit was accordingly instituted against the partners, and, as Meredith's father declared his inability to pay the amount of the claims upon them, the son ofTered to relinquish the whole concern into Franklin's hands, on condition that the latter would take upon him the debts of the company, repay his father what he had already advanced, settle his own little personal debts, and give him thirty pounds — and a neio saddle .' By the 12* 138 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. kindness of two friends, who, unknown to each other, came forward, simuhaneously and unasked, to his assistance, Franklin was enabled to accept the ofTer. The agreement was carried into effect; and thus do we find this extraordinary man, at the age of twenty- four, and in the place where he had arrived penniless only seven years before, settled down in business, with a thriving trade; proprietor of an extensively circu- lated newspaper, and a firmly established reputation of no ordinary kind. All this success, however, the result of his own good conduct, perseverance, and frugality, had no undue effect on his well-regulated mind, nor could it induce him to assume those airs of arrogant superiority and pretension, which have but too frequently blemished the character of those who have worthily achieved their own elevation in society. On the contrary, he dressed more plainly, and deported himself more humbly, than ever ; and to show that he was not above his business, he sometimes wheeled home on a barrow, with his own hands, the paper which he purchased at the stores. Although we are, in a manner, only arrived at the commencement of that long career of usefulness as a citizen, a statesman, and a philosopher, which has rendered his name so illustrious, we have undoubtedly passed through the most interesting part of his biog- raphy. We have noted by what means — by what patient exertion, self-control, industry, frugality, tem- perance, and integrity, he overcame all obstacles, and attained the station at which we have seen him arrive — fitted himself for the discharge of those important duties to which the voice of his country called him — BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 139 and acquired those fixed habits of study, observation, and inquisitive research, by which he afterwards pene- trated so deep into the arcanuin'of nature's mysteries. It will be needless for us, therefore, to trace his private history so minutely as we have hitherto done, through the remainder of his eminently successful career. Soon after getting the whole printing and news- paper concern into his hands, there was an outcry among the people for a new emission of paper money. Franklin took up the cause, and by his arguments, in a pamphlet which he published on the subject, contrib- uted so greatly to the success of the proposal, and, obtained himself so much popularity, that, upon its being resolved to issue the notes, Franklin was selected to print them. He then opened a stationer's shop, and, from his success in business, began gradually to pay ofT his debts. He took care, he says, not only to be really industrious and frugal, but also to avoid every appearance to the contrary — was plainly dressed, and was never seen in any place of public amusement ; never went a fishing or hunting. A book, indeed, enticed him sometimes from his work, but even that indulgence was seldom, and by stealth. Meanwhile, his old master, Keimer, went fast to ruin, and, with the exception of old Mr. Bradford, who was rich and did not care for business, he was the only printer in the place. He shortly afterwards married Miss Read, the lady named in a former part of this memoir, Frank- lin s behavior to this young lady had not been altogether blameless. Previous to his sailing for England, he had exchanged pledges of affection with her ; yet, all the while he was away, he only sent her 140 BENJAMIN FKANKLIN. one letter. She as Avell as her friends concluded that, he either never meant to return, or that he wished to drop his connection 'with her; she was therefore induced to accept the hand of another suitor ; and, on his return to America, Franklin found her married — an event that seems to have given him extremely lit- tle uneasiness. The lady's husband proved a great rogue, and deserted her, and it was subsequently ascertained that he had still a former wife living. After being established in business, and rising in the world, the intimacy between Franklin and her family was renewed, and it was not long, despite her dubious situation, that they hazarded a fulfilment of their early vows. The lady was about Franklin's own age, and proved, according to his own testimony, " an honor and a blessing" to him. In 1731, Franklin drew up proposals for a public subscription library at Philadelphia, being the first project of the sort that had been started in America. Fifty persons at first subscribed forty shillings each, and agreed to pay ten shillings annually ; and the establishment was put under such judicious rules of management, that in the course of ten years it became so valuable and important as to induce the proprietors to get themselves incorporated by royal charter. This library afforded its founder facilities of improvement of which he did not fail to avail himself, setting apart, as he tells us, an hour or two every day for study, which was the only amusement he allowed himself. In 1732, Franklin began to publish his Poor Eich- ard's Almanac, so called from his giving it forth under the name of Richard Saunders. It was chiefly BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 141 remarkable for the numerous and pithy maxims it contained, all tending to inculcate industry and fru- gality. It was continued annually for twenty-five years, and the proverbs and trite moral observations scattered throughout were afterwards thrown to- gether into a connected discourse, under the title of the "Way to Wealth." So highly esteemed was this production amongst his countrymen, that copies of it were long to be found, framed and glazed, in the houses of the p'fcople in Philadelphia, and indeed in every part of the country. As Franklin advanced in worldly prosperity, he endeavored to make his personal acquirements keep pace with his upward progress in society ; and, amongst other accomplishments, he applied himself sedulously to the study of the dead and modern lan- guages, of which, besides his native tongue, he as yet scarcely knew anything. The following is his own account of his progress : — " I had begun, in 1733, to study languages. I soon made myself so much a master of the French, as to be able to read the books in that language -with ease. I then undertook the Italian. An acquaintance, who was also learning it, used often to tempt me to play chess with him. Finding this took up too much of the time I had to spare for study, I at length refused to play any more, unless on this condition ; that the victor in every game should have a right to impose a task, cither of parts of the grammar to be got by heart, or in translations, &c., which tasks the van- quished was to perform upon honor before our next meeting. As we played pretty equally, we thus beat 142 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. one another into that language. I afterwards, with a little pains-taking, acquired as much of the Spanish as to read their books also. I have already men- tioned that I had only one year's instruction in a Latin school, and that when very young, after which I neglected that language entirely ; but when I had attained an acquaintance with the French, Italian, and Spanish, I was surprised to find, on looking over a Latin Testament, that I understood more of that language than I had imagined, which' encouraged me to apply myself again to the study of it ; and I met with the more success, as those preceding languages had greatly smoothed my way." It was not to be supposed that a man of Franklin's comprehensive mind and useful practical talents, would be allowed to remain long in the ranks of pri- vate life. Accordingly, in the year 1736, he was appointed clerk to the General Assembly of Pennsyl- vania. No opposition was made to his appointment the first year ; but, on the next election, a new mem- ber of the house opposed his return in a long speech. Franklin was, however, again elected, much to his satisfaction ; for, although the place was one of very little direct emolument, it gave him an opportunity of making friends amongst the members, and ultimately to secure to himself the printing of most of the public papers, which was previously shared with his rivals. The new member who had resisted his reelection, was a man of talents and character ; and Franklin, although too independent to pay any cringing servility to him, perceived the propriety of gaining his good opinion ; and the expedient he hit upon for this purpose affords BEXJAMIN FRANKLIN. 143 another instance of his shrewdness and knowledge of human nature. Having learned that the gentleman possessed a very rare and curious book, he wrote him a polite note, requesting that he would do him the favor of lending it for a few days. The book was immediately sent ; and in about a week was returned by the borrower, with a short epistle, expressive of his gratitude for the favor. The member was so much conciliated by the circumstance, that, the next time he met him in the house, he addressed him with great civility, manifested ever afterwards a great desire to serve him, and they became, in short, inti- mate friends. " This is another instance," observes Franklin, " of the truth of an old maxim I had learned, which says, ' He that has done you a kind- ness, will be more ready to do you another, than he whom you yourself have obliged.' And it shows how much more profitable it is prudently to remove, than to resent, return, and continue, inim.ical proceed- ings." He was thereafter reelected to the same post, without opposition, for several years successively. In the following year, 1737, he supplanted his rival in trade, Bradford, in the office of deputy-postmaster for the state of Pennsylvania. These honorable pre- ferments induced him to incline his thoughts to, and take a more active part in, public affairs than he had hitherto done. He first turned his attention to the state of the city police, which was then in a shameful condition, and he soon effected a thorough reformation in the whole system. He suggested and promoted the establish- ment of a fire insurance company, the first that was 144 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. projected in America. He afterwards successively exerted himself in organizing a philosophical society, an academy for the education of youth, and a militia for the defence of the province. In short, every department of the civil government, as he tells us, and almost at the same time, imposed some duty upon him. " The governor," says he, " put me into the commission of the peace ; the corporations of the city chose me one of the common council ; and the citizens at large elected me, 1747, a hurgess to represent them in assembly. This latter station was the more agree- able to me, as I grew at length tired with sitting there to hear the debates, in which, as clerk, I could take no part, and which were often so uninteresting, that I was induced to amuse myself with making magic squares, or circles, or anything, to avoid weariness ; and I conceived my becoming a member would enlarge my power of doing good. I would not, however, in- sinuate that my ambition was not flattered by all these promotions ; it certainly was — for, considering my low beginning, they were great things to me ; and they were still more pleasing, as being so many spontane- ous testimonies of the public good opinion, and by me entirely unsolicited." At this time there was no military defensive force in Pennsylvania. The inhabitants were mostly Qua- kers, and neglected to take any measures of precau- tion against the dangers to which, from ihe French possessions in Canada, they were continually exposed. All the exertions of the governor of the province, to induce the Quaker Assembly to pass a militia law, proved ineffectual. Franklin thought something BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 145 might be done by a subscription among the people ; and to pave the way for this, he wrote and published a pamphlet called " Plain Truth." In this he clearly exposed their helpless and perilous situation, and demonstrated the necessity of cooperating for their mutual defence. The pamphlet had a sudden and surprising effect. A meeting of the citizens was held, at which proposals of the intended union, pre- viously drawn up and printed by Franklin, were dis- tributed about the room, to be signed by those who approved of them; and when the company separated, it was found that above twelve hundred signatures had been appended to the papers. Other copies were distributed through the province, and the subscribers at length amounted to upwards of ten thousand ! All these individuals furnished themselves, as soon as they could, with arms ; formed themselves into com- panies and regiments ; chose their officers, and had themselves regularly instructed in military exercises. The women made subscriptions amongst themselves, and provided silk colors, which they presented to the companies, embellished with devices and mottoes fur- nished by Franklin. Such influence has one mnstpr- mind amongst his fellows in a time of emergency* Franklin's modesty, however, was more than com- mensurate with his patriotism. The officers of the companies composing the Philadelphia regiment unan- imously chose him for their colonel, but he declined the office in favor of a man of greater wealth and influence, who, on his recommendation, was immedi- ately elected. It would, perhaps, have been desirable to have fol- j VI.— 13 146 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. lowed Fmnklin through the remainder of liis public and political career, without pausing to advert to other pursuits, entirely unconnected therewith, to which he devoted himself. We find, however, that the chrono- logical violence of which we should in that case be guilty, would only serve to confuse our narrative. We will, therefore, proceed to introduce him to our readers in an entirely new character from any in which they have yet seen him. Down to the close of the sixteenth century, all that was known of the principle of electricity was that amber and a few other substances, when rubbed, had the power of attracting to them light bodies, such as small bits of paper, straw, &c. In 1728, it was dis- covered that electricity might be communicated from one body to another without their being in contact. In 1746, it was accidentally discovered that large quantities of the electric fluid might be collected by means of what is called the Leyden jar, and that shocks of electricity, giving a sensation like that of a sharp blow, might be imparted from it to the human body. The first announcement of these Avonders excited great sensation throughout Europe, and the accounts given of the effects of the electric shock upon those who first experienced it are exceedingly ludicrous, and show how strangely the imagination is acted upon by surprise, mingled with a certain degree of terror. Franklin's mind was capable of being directed with good effect to philosophical speculations, as well as to practical business, and notwithstanding his devotion to the latter, he still found time for scientific studies. BENJAMIN FRANKMN. 147 The extraordinary phenomena of the Leyden jar attracted his attention, and he set himself to find out the reason of such strange effects. ■ Out of his specu- lations arose the ingenious and beautiful theory of the negative and positive condition of bodies in rela- tion to electricity, and which has ever been received as the best, because the simplest and most complete, explanation of the phenomena that has yet been proposed. We have not space to detail his curious and ingenious experiments, and can only notice those which resulted in proving the identity of lightning and electricity. While directing his attention to this subject, he began to suspect that this identity might be demon- strated by artificial means. As he was meditating upon the subject, his attention was one day drawn by a kite which a boy was flying, when it suddenly occurred to him that here was a method of reaching the clouds preferable to any other. Accordingly, he immediately took a large silk handkerchief, and, stretching it over two cross sticks, formed in this man- ner his simple apparatus for drawing down the light- ning from its cloud. Soon after, seeing a thunder- storm approaching, he took a walk into a field in the neighborhood of the city, in which there was a shed, communicating his intentions, however, to no one but his son, whom he took with him to assist him in raising the kite. This was in June, 1752. The kite being raised, he fastened a key to the lower extremity of the hempen string, and then insu- lating it by attaching it to a post by means of silk, he placed himself under the shed, and waited the result. 14S BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. For some time no signs of electricity appeared. A cloud, apparently charged with lightning, had even passed over them without producing any effect. At length, however, just as Franklin was beginning to despair, he observed some loose threads of the hempen string rise and stand erect, exactly as if they had been repelled from each other by being charged with elec- tricity. He immediately presented his knuckle to the key, and, to his inexpressible delight, drew from it the well-known electrical spark. He said after- wards that his emotion was so great at this comple- tion of a discovery which was to make his name immortal, that he heaved a deep sigh, and felt that he could that moment have willingly died. As the rain increased, the cord became a better conductor, and the key gave out its electricity copiously. Had the hemp been thoroughly wet, the bold experimenter might have paid for his discovery with his life. He afterwards brought down the lightning into his house, by means of an insulated iron rod, and performed with it, at his leisvire, all the experiments that could be performed with electricity. But he did not stop here. His active and practical mind Avas not satisfied even with this splendid discovery, until he had turned it to a useful end. It suggested to him, as is well known, the idea of a method of preserving buildings from lightning by what is called the lightning-rod. There was always a strong tendency in his philoso- phy to these practical applications. Franklin's discoveries did not at first attract much attention in England ; and, in fact, he had the morti- fication to hear that his paper, on the similarity BENJAMIN FKANKLIN. 149 between lightning and electricity, had been ridiculed when read in the Royal Society. Having fallen, however, into the hands of the naturalist, BufTon, that celebrated man translated and published it at Paris, when it speedily excited the astonishment of all Europe. What gave his book the more sudden and general celebrity was the success of one of its proposed experiments for drawing lightning from the clouds, made at Marly, This engaged the public attention everywhere. The " Philadelphia experi- ments," as they were called, were performed before the king and court, and all the curious of Paris flocked to see them. Dr. Wright, an English physi- cian, being at Paris at the time, wrote to a member of the Royal Society of London an account of these wonders, and stating the astonishment of all the learned men abroad that Franklin's writings had been so little noticed in England. The society were thus in a manner compelled to pay more attention to what they had previously considered as chimerical speculation, " and soon," says Franklin, " made me more than amends for the slight with which they had before treated me. Without my having made any application for that honor, they chose me a mem- ber, and voted that I should be excused the usual payments, which would have amounted to twenty-five guineas, and ever since have given me their Trans- actions gratis. They also presented me Avith the gold medal of Sir Godfrey Copley, for the year 1753, the delivery of which was accompanied with a very handsome speech of the president, Lord Macclesfield, wnerein I was highly honored." 13* 150 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. Although the numerous important public duties which Franklin was called upon latterly to discharge, chiefly engrossed his time, he still returned to his philosophical studies on every occasion that offered, and made several curious and interesting discoveries. Amongst others, was that of producing so intense a degree of cold, by the evaporation of ether in the exhausted receiver of an air-pum.p, as to convert water into ice. This discovery he applied to the solution of a number of phenomena, particularly a singular fact, which philosophers had previously labored in vain to account for, namely, that the tem- perature of the human body, when in health, never exceeds ninety-six degrees of Fahrenheit's thermom- eter, though the atmosphere which surrounds it may be heated to a much greater degree. This he attrib- uted to the increased perspiration, and consequent evaporation, produced by the heat. The tone produced by rubbing the brim of a drink- ing glass with a wet finger, had been generally known. This subsequently gave rise to the art of playing tunes on a variety of glasses of different sizes, now called " musical glasses," The sweetness of the tones induced Franklin to make a variety of experiments ; and he at length formed that elegan* instrument which he called the Armonica. Perhaps no philosopher ever stood upon a prouder eminence in the world's ej^e, than did Franklin during the latter half of his life. The obscurity of his origin served but to make his elevation the more conspicu- ous, and honors were showered upon him from all parts of the civilized world. When he afterwards BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 151 visited Europe, he was received with the strongest testimonies of respect from men of science and dis- tinction. At Paris, Louis XV. honored him with especial marks of favor. He received the degree of Doctor of Laws from the universities of St. Andrews, Edinburgh and Oxford, and he was elected a member of almost every learned society throughout Europe. Such was the homage rendered for his philosophical discoveries, yet we suspect that the simple maxims of Poor Richard have done infinitely more to benefit mankind than have these brilliant exploits in sci- ence. We must now return to Franklin's political career. We have before mentioned that he was elected a member of the general assembly of Pennsylvania, in 1747. Warm disputes at this time subsisted between the assembly and the proprietaries, each contending for what they esteemed their just rights. Frank- lin, a friend to the interests of the many from his infancy, speedily distinguished himself as a steady opponent of the claims of the proprietaries, and he was soon looked up to as the head of the opposition. His influence with the assembly was said to be very great. This arose not from any superior powers of elocution ; he spoke but seldom, and he never was known to make anything like an elaborate harangue. " His speeches," says his intimate friend, the late Dr. Stuber, of Philadelphia, " frequently consisted of but a single sentence, or of a well-told story, the moral of which was always obviously to the point. He never attempted the flowery fields of oratory. His manner was plain and mild ; his style of speak- 152 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. ing was like that of his writings, simple, unadorned, and remarkably concise. With this plain manner, and his penetrating, solid judgment, he was able to confound the most eloquent and subtle of his adver- saries, to confirm the opinion of his friends, and to make converts of the unprejudiced Avho had opposed him. With a single observation, he often rendered of no avail an elegant and lengthy discourse, and determined the fate of a question of importance." In 1751, Franklin was appointed deputy postmas- ter-general. In 1757, he went to England as agent of the proprietaries of Pennsylvania. He soon after received the additional appointment of agent of the provinces of Massachusetts, Maryland and Georgia. He returned to America in 1762, and would have gladly rested in the bosom of domestic life, but, in 1764, he was again sent to England, not as a colo- nial agent, but as the representative of America. Thirty-nine years had now elapsed since his first landing on the British shore as a destitute and for- lorn mechanic. Great Britain had already announced the project of taxing her colonies here, and Dr. Franklin Avas the bearer of a remonstrance from the province of Penn- sylvania against it. This he presented before the passage of the odious stamp act. During the contin- uance of that measvire, he opposed it with consum- mate ability and great success. When the repeal was about to be attempted in the house of commons, he was summo^ied to appear before that body. On the 3d February, 1776, he was accordingly examined. The readiness with which he replied to the inriuiries, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 153 the vast information he displayed, together with the firmness, point and simplicity of his manner, extorted admiration even from his enemies. The effect of his evidence was irresistible, and the repeal soon fol- lowed. Dr. Franklin continued to resist the various acts of Great Britain, which were calculated to excite the indignation and resistance of the colonies. This, however, was unavailing, and he clearly foresaw the tempest that was speedily to follow. In 1772, by some means which he would never explain, he ob- tained possession of certain letters Avritten by the royal governor, Hutchinson, and other public func- tionaries, to the home government, recommending the adoption of the most rigorous measures, and inveigh- ing in the severest terms against the leading charac- ters of the colony. He instantly transmitted them back to the assembly at Massachusetts, who, enraged at the conduct of the governor, sent a petition to the king, praying for his dismissal, and Franklin was appointed to present it. As might have been expected, the petition was dismissed as " frivolous and vexa- tious," and Franklin incurred so much obloquy for his interception of the governor's despatches, that he was dismissed from his office of deputy postmaster- general. Franklin still continued in England, devoting him- self with the greatest vigor and perseverance to the reconciliation of the mother country alid the colonies. Though he was denounced by the enemies of Amer- ica, in no measured terms, yet he was treated with great respect and consideration by men of science 154 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. and some of the leading statesmen of the day. On one occasion, when he was standing behind the bar in the house of lords, Lord Chatham spoke of him as " one whom Europe held in high estimation for his knowledge and Avisdom ; who was an honor, not to the English nation alone, but to human nature." Finding his efforts, in behalf of his country, una- vailing, and being informed that it was the intention of the ministers to arrest him, he took his departure, and reached America in 1775. He Avas enthusiastically received, and the day after his arrival was elected a member of congress by the legislature of Pennsylvania. He served on many of the most arduous of the committees of that body, par- ticularly as a member of the committee of safety and that of foreign correspondence, where he exerted all his influence in favor of the Declaration of Inde- pendence, of which instrument he was one of the signers. It being of the utmost importance to obtain assist- ance from abroad in behalf of the infant republic, Franklin was sent to France in 1776, as commis- sioner plenipotentiary to that court. He soon obtained the confidence of the minister, Count de Vergennes, but the government, seeming to have little confidence in the success of the colonies, hesitated to espouse their cause. The news of the capture of Burgoyne, in 1777, brightened the prospects of our country, and France decided to give us her cooperation. Frank- lin had the happiness to sign the first treaty between the United States and a foreign power, on the 6th February, 1778. BENJAJIIN FRANKLIN. 155 Franklin was now in high favor at court, and his society was sought not only by statesmen and men of science, but in the fashionable circles. Under the influence of the queen, Maria Antoinette, the tone of society, in Paris, had become frivolous in the extreme. To dress, to act, to sing, to dance, seemed the sole business of life among the higher classes. To make complimentary speeches and extemporary verses was the highest and most desired stretch of intellect among the wits of the day. The appearance of Franklin among these gay cir- cles — the observed of all observers, smiled upon by the king and queen, favored by the minister, honored by the learned, courted by the flush and the fair — produced the most extraordinary revolution. He appeared in society in a plain dress, resembling that of the Quakers. The contrast between this and the gorgeous attire of all around him, struck the imagination of the giddy Parisians. The change which followed in costume was hardly less remarkable than the political convul- sions which took place some twenty years after. The enormous head-dresses and cumbrous hoops of the ladies gave way at once, and they appeared in the most simple attire. The gold lace, embroidery, and powdered curls, which had been the pride of the Parisian beaux, were discarded, and the fine gentle- men appeared with their hair cut straight, and in plain brown coats, like that of the sober American. There are numerous anecdotes which illustrate the high consideration in which Franklin was held at Paris. At an evening party, a fashionable lady ex- claimed to si gentleman near, " Pray, who is that extra- 156 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. ordinary brown-coated man ? " " Softly, madam," was the reply ; " that 's the famous American, who bottles up thunder and lightning!" At a splendid entertainment given to the American deputies, the Countess de Polignac, one of the most distinguished of the court belles, advanced to Dr. Franklin, and placed a crown of laurel on his head. In compliment to his maxims, published under the title of " Poor Richard," a vessel fitted out in France — that in which Paul Jones achieved his most wonderful exploits — was named Bon Homme Richard. When the British ministry, at length, saw the neces- sity of recognising the independence of the states, the definitive treaty to that effect was signed at Paris, on the 3d September, 17S3, by Dr. Franklin, Mr. Adams, and Mr. Jay, for the states, on the one hand ; and by Mr. David Hartley, for Great Britain, on the other. Franklin continued at Paris for the two following years ; but, at last, by his own urgent request, he was recalled. Shortly after his return, he was elected president of the supreme executive council in Penn- sylvania, and lent all his energies to the consoli- dation of the infant government. Age and infirmities, however, claimed their usual ascendancy, and, in 17SS, he retired wholly from public life. Franklin's last public act — and it was one in beau- tiful accordance with the whole tenor of his life — was putting his signature, as president of the Anti-Slavery Society, to a memorial presented to the House of Rep- resentatives, praying them to exert the full powers entrusted to them to discourage the revolting traffic in the human species. This was on the 12th of Febru- BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 157 ary, 1789. From this day forward, he was confined ahnost constantly to his bed with the stone, from which he suffered the most excruciating- agony. Yet when his paroxysms of pain drew forth, as they did occa- sionally, an irrepressible groan, he would observe, that he was afraid he did not bear his sufierings as he ought — acknowledged his grateful sense of the many blessings he had received from the Supreme Being, who had raised him from small and low beginnings to such high rank and consideration among men; and made no doubt but his present afflictions Avere kindly intended to wean him from a world in which he was no longer fit to act the part assigned him. He afterwards sank into a calm lethargic state ; and, on the 17th of April, 1790, about eleven o'clock at night, he expired, in his eighty-fifth year. He left two children — a son and daughter. In looking back on Franklin's career, of which we have given a very imperfect sketch, it is evident that the principal feature in his character was ivorldly pru- dence — not in a narrow and selfish acceptation of the term, but that prudence, founded on true wisdom, which dictates the practice of honesty, industry, fru- gality, temperance — in short, all those qualities which may be classed under the name of "moral virtues," as being the only certain means of obtaining distinc- tion, respect, independence, and mental cheerfulness. There is no other writer who inculcates lessons of practical wisdom in a more agreeable and popuAr manner, and we much regret that our limits will not permit us to give extracts illustrative of this quality. His whole conduct and writings, indeed, present the VI.— 14 15S BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. somewhat singular union of considerable genius with practical good sense, and of great shrewdness with the strictest integrity of principle. The greatest worldly honors — and few have attained higher — could not for a moment make him forget or deviate from the prin- ciples with which he started in life. We must not deny that a careful examination of Franklin's history will display some unworthy acts, and certain defects of character ; yet his life, on the whole, has proved to be one of the most useful and effective among the annals of our race. His scien- tific discoveries, his useful inventions, his political services — vakiable as they were — we do not reckon as his highest benefactions to his country or man- kind. He has contributed more than any other individual in modern times, to teach the working classes to feel their power, and to assert their rights. He has taught them, as well by precept as example, the certain steps by which they can ascend in the scale of society ; and hundreds of thousands have been thus led from stations of poverty and ignorance, to the most elevated positions in society. He has done much to level down the distinctions in society; to remove the artificial barriers which pride and vanity set up to provoke envy and strife. He has made the humble to feel their strength, and taught the mighty to respect the rights which that strength can vindicate. His spirit has breathed over the civilized world, everywhere tending to inculcate the principle of equal rights. Nor is this all. He has put in cir- culation a thousand homespun truths — stamped and ~eady for change at the turnpike gates of life's every- BENJAMIN FKANICLIN. 159 day journey — all teaching economy, and industry, and thrift. If the wealth, comfort, happiness, and prosperity, created by Franklin's maxims and Frank- lin's example, — not in these states only, but in Euro- pean countries, — could be told, it would furnish a splendid monument to attest his benefactions to his country and his kind. LA FAYETTE.^ Gilbert Mottier de La Fayette was born at the castle of Chavaniac, in Auvergne, on the Gth of September, 1757. His family was one of the most ancient in the country, and of the highest rank in the French nobility. As far back as the fifteenth cen- tury, one of his ancestors, a marshal of France, was *"\Ve have taken the. greater part of this article from the splendid Eulogy of La Fayette, delivered by Edward Everett, at Fnneuil Hall, at the request of the young men of Boston, September 6, 1831 To the original we refer the reader for the best sketch of the life and character of La Fayette that has ever appeared. LA FAYETTE. 161 distinguished for his military achievements ; his uncle fell in the wars of Italy, in the middle of the last cen- tury ; and his father lost his life in the seven years' war at the battle of Minden. His mother died soon after, and he was thus left an orphan at an early age, the heir of an immense estate, and exposed to all the dangers incident to youth, rank, and fortune, in the gayest and most luxurious city in the world, at the period of its greatest cor- ruption. Yet he escaped unhurt. Having completed the usual academical course at the college of Du Pies- sis, in Paris, he married, at the age of sixteen, the daughter of the Duke D'A^en, of the family of Noail- les, somewhat younger than himself, and at all times the noble encourager of his virtues, the heroic partner of his sufferings, the worthy sharer of his great name and of his honorable grave. The family to which he thus became allied was then, and for fifty years had been, in the highest favor at the French court. Himself the youthful heir of one of the oldest and richest houses in France, the path of advancement was open before him. He was offered a brilliant place in the royal household. At an age and in a situation most likely to be caught by the attraction, he declined the proffered distinction, impatient of the attendance at court which it required. He felt, from his earliest years, that he was not born to loiter in an ante-chamber. The sentiment of lib- erty was already awakened in his bosom. Having, while yet at college, been required, as an exercise in composition, to describe the well-trained charger, obedient even to the shadow of the whip — he repre- K 14* 162 LA FAYETTE. sented the noble animal, on the contrary, as rearing at the sight of it, and throwing his rider. With this feeling, the profession of arms was, of course, the most congenial to him ; and was, in fact, Avith the exception of that of courtier, the only one open to a young French nobleman before the revolution. In the summer of 1776, and just after the Ameri- can declaration of independence, La Fayette, not then nineteen years old, was stationed at Metz, a garri- soned town on the road from Paris to the German frontier, with the regiment to which he was attached, as a captain of dragoons. The Duke of Gloucester, the brother of the king of England, happened to be on a visit to Metz, and a dinner was given to him by the commandant of the garrison. La Fayette was invited, with other officers, to the entertainment. Despatches had just been received by the duke, from England, relating to American affairs — the resistance of the colonists, and the strong measures adopted by the ministers to crush the rebellion. Among the details stated by the Duke of Gloucester, was the extraordi- nary fact, that these remote, scattered, and unpro- tected settlers of the wilderness had solemnly declared themselves an Independent People. These words decided the fortunes of the enthusiastic listener ; and not more distinctly was the great declaration a char- ter of political liberty to the rising states, than it was a commission to their youthful champion to devote his life to the sacred cause. The details which he heard were new to him. The American contest was knoAvn to him before, but only as a rebellion in a remote transatlantic colony. LA FAYETTE. 163 He now, with a promptness of perception, which, oven at this distance of time, strikes us as very remarkable, addressed a muUitude of inquiries to the Duke of Gloucester, on the subject of the contest. His imagi- nation was kindled at the idea of an oppressed people struggling for political liberty. His heart was warmed with the possibility of drawing his sword in a good cause. Before he left the table, his course was men- tally resolved upon ; and the brother of the king of England, unconsciously no doubt, had the singular fortune to enlist, from the French court and the French army, this gallant and fortunate champion in the then unpromising cause of the colonial congress. He immediately repaired to Paris to make further inquiries and arrangements, towards the execution of his great plan. He confided it to two young friends — officers like himself — the Count Segur and Viscount Noailles, and proposed to them to join him. They shared his enthusiasm, and determined to accompany him, but, on consulting their families, they were refused permission. But they faithfully kept La Fayette's secret. Happily for his purpose, he was an orphan, independent of control, and was master of his o^vn fortune, amounting to nearly forty thousand dollars per annum. He next opened his heart to the Count de Broglie, a marshal in the French army. To the experienced warrior, accustomed to the regular campaigns of Euro- pean service, the project seemed rash and quixotic, and one that he could not countenance. La Fayette begged the count at least not to betray him, as he was resolved, notwithstanding his disapproval, to go to 164 LA FAV'ETTE. America. This the count promised, adding, " I saw your uncle fall in Italy; Avitnessed your father's death at the battle of Minden ; and I will not be accessory to the ruin of the only remaining branch of the fam- ily." He then used all the powers of argument which his age and experience suggested to dissuade La Fay- ette from the enterprise ; but in vain. Finding his determination unalterable, he made him acquainted with the Baron de Kalb, who, the count knew, was about to embark for America, — an officer of experi- ence and merit, who, as is well known, fell at the battle of Camden. The Baron de Kalb introduced La Fayette to Silas Deane, then agent of the United States in France, Avho explained to him the state of affairs in America, and encouraged him in his project. Deane was but imperfectly acquainted with the French language, and was of manners rather repulsive. A less enthusi- astic temper than that of La Fayette might have been somewhat chilled by the style of his intercourse. Deane had not, as yet, been acknowledged in any pub- lic capacity, and was beset by the spies of the British ambassador. For these reasons, it was judged expe- dient that the visits of La Fayette should not be repeated, and their further negotiations were con- ducted through the intervention of Mr. Carmichael, an American gentleman, at that time in Paris. The arrangement was at length concluded, in virtue of which Deane took upon himself, without authority, but by a happy exercise of discretion, to engage La Fayette to enter the American service, with the rank of major-general. A vessel was about to be de- LA FAYETTE. 165 spatclied with arms and other supplies for the Ameri- can ariTiy, and in this vessel it was settled that he should take passage. At this juncture, the news reached France of the evacuation of New York, the loss of Fort "Washing- ton, the calamitous retreat through New Jersey, and the other disasters of the campaign of 1776. The friends of America, in France, were in despair. The tidings, bad in themselves, were greatly exaggerated in the British gazettes. The plan of sending an armed vessel with munitions was abandoned. The cause, always doubtful, was now pronounced despe- rate ; and La Fayette was urged by all who were privy to his project, to give up an enterprise so wild and hopeless. Even our commissioners, — Deane, Franklin, and Arthur Lee, — told him they could not in conscience urge him to proceed. His answer was, " My zeal and love of liberty have perhaps hitherto been the prevailing motive with me, but I now see a chance of usefulness which I had not anticipated. These supplies, I know, are greatly wanted by con- gress. I have money ; I will purchase a vessel to convey them to America, and in this vessel my com- panions and myself will take passage." In pursuance of the generous purpose thus con- ceived, the secretary of the Count de Broglie was employed by La Fayette to purchase and fit out a vessel at Bordeaux ; and while these preparations were in train, with a view of diverting suspicion from his movements, and passing the tedious interval of delay, he made a visit, with a relative, to his kinsman, the Marquis of Noailles, then the French ambassador 166 LA FAYETTE. ill London. During their stay in Great Britain they were treated with kindness by the king- and per- sons of rank ; but having, after a lapse of three weeks, learned that his vessel was ready at Bordeaux, La Fayette suddenly returned to France. His visit was of service to the youthful adventurer, in furnishing him an opportunity to improve himself in the English language ; but, beyond this, a nice sense of honor for- bade him from making use of the opportunity which it afforded, for obtaining military information that could be of utility to the American army. So far did he carry this scruple, that he declined visiting the naval establishments at Portsmouth. On his return to France, he did not even visit Paris ; but after three days spent at Passy, the resi- dence of Dr. Franklin, he hastened to Bordeaux. Arriving at this place, he found that his vessel was not yet ready ; and had the still greater mortification to learn that the spies of the British ambassador had penetrated his designs, and made them known to the family of La Fayette, and to the king, from whom an order for his arrest was daily expected. Unprepared as his ship was, he instantly sailed in her to Passage, the nearest port in Spain, where he proposed to wait for the vessel's papers. Scarcely had he arrived in that harbor, when he was encourjtered by two officers, with letters from his family, and from the ministry, and a royal order, directing him to join his father-in- law at Marseilles. The letter from the ministers reprimanded him for violating his oath of allegiance, and failing in his duty to his king. La Fayette, in some of his letters to his friends about court, replied LA FAYETTE. 167 to this remark that the ministry might chide him with failing in his duty to the king when they learned to discharge theirs to the people. His family censured him for his desertion of his domestic duties ; but his heroic wife, instead of joining in the reproach, shared his enthusiasm and encouraged his enterprise. He was obliged to return with the officers to Bor- deaux, and report himself to the commandant. While there, and engaged in communication with his family and the court, in explanation and defence of his con- duct, he learned from a friend at Paris that a positive prohibition of his departure might be expected from the king. No farther time was to be lost, and no middle course pursued. He feigned a willingness to yield to the wishes of his family, and started as for Marseilles, with one of the officers who was to accompany him to America. Scarcely had they left the city of Bor- deaux, when he assumed the dress of a courier, mounted a horse and rode forward to procure relays. They soon quitted the road to Marseilles, and struck into that which leads to Spain. On reaching Ba- yonne, they were detained two or three hours. While the companion of La Fayette was employed in some important commission in the city, he himself lay on the straw in the stable. At St. Jean de Luz, he was recognised by the daughter of the person who kept the post house ; she had observed him a few days before, as he passed from Spain to Bordeaux. Perceiving that he was discovered, and not daring to speak to her, he made her a signal to keep silence. She complied with the intimation ; and when, shortly after he had passed on, his pursuers came up, she 16S LA FAYETTE. gave thorn an answer -which baffled their penetration, and enabled La Fayette to escape into Spain. He was instantly on board his ship and at sea, with eleven officers in his train, and accompanied also by the Baron De Kalb. We cannot here detail the various casualties and exposures of his passage, which lasted sixty days. His vessel had cleared out for the West Indies, but La Fayette directed the captain to steer for the United States. As the latter had a large pecuniary adven- ture of his own on board, he declined complying with this direction. By threats to remove him from his command, and promises to indemnify him for the loss of his property, should they be captured, La Fayette prevailed upon the captain to steer his course for the American coast, where at last they happily arrived, having narrowly escaped two vessels of war, which were cruising in that quarter. They made the coast near Georgetown, South Carolina. It was late in the day before they could approach so near land as to leave the vessel. Anxious to tread the American soil. La Fayette, with some of his fellow-officers, entered the ship's boat and was rowed at night-fall to shore. A distant light guided them in their landing and advance into the country. Arriving near the house from which the light proceeded, an alarm was given by the watch- dogs, and they were mistaken by those within for a marauding party from the enemy's vessels, hovering on the coast. The Baron De Kalb, however, had a good knowledge of the English language, acquired on a previous visit to America, and was soon able to LA FAYETTE. 169 make known who they were, and what was their errand. They were of course readily admitted, and cordially welcomed. The house in which they found themselves, was that of Major Hugcr, a citizen of worth, hospitality and patriotism, by whom every good office was performed to the adventurous stran- gers. He provided the next day the means of convey- ing La Fayette and his companions to Charleston, where they were received with enthusiasm by the magistrates and people. As soon as possible, they proceeded by land to Philadelphia, On his arrival there, with the eager- ness of a youth anxious to be employed upon his errand, he sent his letters to Mr. Lowell, who was then chairman of the committee of foreign relations. He called the next day at the hall of congress ; the letters made known his high connections and his large means of usefulness, and, without an hour's delay, he received from them a commission of major- general in the American army, a month before he was twenty years of age. Thus, at this early and inex- perienced age, he was thought worthy, by that august body, the revolutionary congress, to be placed in the highest rank of those to whom the conduct of their army was entrusted in this hour of extremest peril ! Washington Avas at head quarters when La Fayette reached Philadelphia, but he was daily expected in the city. The introduction of the youthful stranger to the man on whom his career depended, was there- fore delayed a few days. It took place, in a manner peculiarly marked with the circumspection of Wash- VL— 15 170 LA FAYETTE. ington, at a dinner party, where La Fayette wa^ among several guests of consideration. Washington was not uninformed of^the circumstances connected with his arrival in the country. He knew what benefits it promised the cause, if his character and talents were adapted to the course he had so boldly struck out; and he knew also how much it was to be feared that the very qualities which had prompted him to embark in it, woiild make him a useless and even a danger- ous auxiliary. We may Avell suppose that the pierc- mg eye of the father of his country was not idle during the repast. But that searching glance, before which pretence or fraud never stood undetected, was completely satisfied. When they were about to separate, Washington took La Fayette aside — :Spoke to him with kindness — paid a just tribute to the noble spirit which he had shown, and the sacrifices he had made in the American cause; invited him to make the head quarters of the army his home, and to regard himself, at all times, as one of the family of the com- mander-in-chief. It was on the 31st July, 1777, that La Fayette received, by a resolution of congress, his commission as a major-general in the American army. Not hav- ing at first a separate command, he attached himself to the army of the commander-in-chief, as a volunteer. On the 11th of the following September, he was pres- ent at the unfortunate battle of the Brandywine. He there plunged, Avith a rashness pardonable in a very youthful commander, into the hottest of the battle, exposed himself to all its dangers, and exhibited a conspicuous example of coolness and courage. When LA FAYETTE. 171 the troops began to retreat in disorder, he threw him- self from his horse, entered the ranks, and endeavored to rally them. While thus employed, he was shot by a musket ball through the leg. The wound was not perceived by himself till he was told by his aid that the blood was running from his boot. He fell in with a surgeon, who placed a slight bandage on his limb, with which he rode to Chester. Regardless of his situ- ation, he thought only of rallying the troops, who were retreating in disorder through the village ; and it was not till this duty Avas performed, that the wound was dressed. It was two months before it was sufficiently healed to enable him to rejoin the army. This was the first battle in which he was ever engaged, and such was his entrance into the active service of America. It is impossible in this sketch to do more than glance at the military services of La Fayette, in our revolution. He was in the battle of Monmouth, where he displayed the utmost courage and skill. On the arrival of the French, under D'Estaing, at Rhode Island, he was detached to join them with the army under General Sullivan. He was here exceedingly useful in securing harmony between the French and American forces. In 1779, he embarked for France, that country being now in a state of declared war with England. He was received in his own country with enthusiasm by the people, and with favor by the court. He turned to the advantage of America the influence he had acquired. It is not easy to over- estimate the service he thus performed in our behalf , 172 LA FAYETTE. for it was chiefly through liis influsnce tliat the effec- tive aid of France was secured. He returned to America in 1780, and was at Wesi Point when the treachery of Arnold was discovered. The following winter he was at the head of his division in Virginia. During the summer of 1781, he conducted the campaign in that state Avith a vigor and success which showed that he possessed the highest qualities of a general. In the confidence inspired by his powerful army, his great experience, •and superior abilities. Lord Cornwallis declared that "the boy should not escape." He did escape, how- ever; and it w^as in a great degree owing to the admirable conduct of the youthful general, that the British commander was soon after obliged to lay down his arms, and surrender his whole force of seven thousand men to the combined armies. In the memo- rable siege of Yorktown, which resulted so gloriously, La Fayette took an active and efficient part, and obtained a due share of renown. Spain had now shaken off her indifference, and concluded to join with France in the attempt to hum- ble Great Britain. A powerful fleet was assembled at Cadiz, which, with twenty-four thousand troops, was to proceed to made a descent on the island of Jamaica, and then strike upon the British army at New York. La Fayette proceeded to Europe to aid the expedition, and, at the head of eight thousand men, went from Brest to Cadiz. But these mighty preparations were seen by Great Britain, and, guided by a wise prudence, she consented to peace. The following year, 1784, La Fayette made a visit LA FAYETTE. 173 to America, where he was received with every demonstration of joy. After his return to France, he visited Germany, whither his fame had preceded him. He was entertained with distinction hy the emperor of Austria, and Frederick the Great of Prussia. Orx his return to Paris, he united Avith M. de Malsherbes, in endeavoring to ameliorate the political condition of the protestants. In concert with the minister of the marine, the Marshal de Castries, he expended a large' sum, from his private fortune, in an experiment towards the education and eventual emancipation of slaves. To this end, he purchased a plantation in Cayenne, intending to give freedom to the laborers as soon as they should be in a condition to enjoy it with- out abuse. In the progress of the revolution, this plantation, with the other estates of La Fayette, was confiscated, and the slaves sold back to perpetuax bondage, by the faction which was drenching France in blood, under the motto of liberty and equality. At length, a mighty crisis was at hand ; the French revolution began. The first step in this fearfu' drama was the assembly of notables, February 22, 1787. Its last convocation had been in 1626, under the cardinal, Richelieu. It was now convoked by the minister, Colonne, the comptroller-general of the finances, on account of the utter impossibility, with- out some unusual resources, of providing for the deficit in the finances, Avhich had for the preceding year amounted to thirty-six millions of dollars, and was estimnted at the annual average of twenty-eight millions of dollars. This assembly consisted of one hundred and thirty-seven persons, of whom scarcely 15* 174 LA FAYETTE. ten were in any sense the representatives of the people. La Fayette was of course a distinguished member, then just completing his thirtieth year. In an assembly, called by direction of the king, and con- sisting almost exclusively of the high aristocracy, he stepped forth at once, the champion of the people. It was the intention of the government to confine the action of the assembly to the discussion of the state of the finances, and the contrivance of means to repair their disorder. It was not so that La Fayette under- stood his commission. He rose to denounce the abuses of the government. The Count d'Artois, since Charles X., the brother of the king, attempted to call him to order, as acting on a subject not before the assembly. " We are summoned," said La Fayette, " to make the truth known to his majesty; I must dis- charge my duty." Accordingly, after an animated harangue on the abuses of the government, he proposed the abolition of private arrests, and of the state prisons, in which any one might be confined on the warrant of the minister ; the restoration of protestants to the equal privileges of citizenship, and the convocation of the States General, or representatives of the people. "What," said the Count d'Artois, "do you demand the States General?" "Yes," replied La Fayette, " and something better than that!" The assembly of notables was convoked a second time, in 178S, and La Fayette was again found in his place pleading for the representation of tljp people. As a member of the provincial assemblies of Auvergne and Brittany, he also took the lead in all the measures LA FAYETTE. 175 of reform that were proposed by those patriotic bodies. But palliatives were vain ; it became impossible to resist the impulse of public opinion, and the States General Avere convened. This body assembled at Versailles on the third of May, 17S9. Its initiatory movements were concerted by La Fayette and a small circle of friends, at the hotel of Mr. Jefferson, who calls La Fayette, at this momentous period of its pro- gress, the Atlas of the revolution. He proposed, and carried through the assembly, of which he was vice- president, a declaration of rights, analogous to those contained in the American constitutions. He repeated the demand which he had made in the assembly of notables, for the suppression of lettres de cachet, and the admission of protestants to all the privileges of citizens. For the three years that he sustained the command of the National Guard, he kept the peace of the capital, rent as it was by the intrigues of parties, the fury of a debased populace, and the agitations set on foot by foreign powers ; and so long as he remained at the head of the revolution, with much to condemn, and more to lament, and which no one resisted more strenuously than La Fayette, it was a work of just reform, after ages of frightful corruption and abuse. When matters had arrived at a critical point. La Fayette proposed the organization of the National Guard of France. The ancient colors of the city of Paris were blue and red : to indicate the union which he wished to promote between a king governing by a constitution, and a people protected by the laws, he proposed to add the white, the royal color of France; 176 LA FAYETTE. and to form of the three, the new ensign of the natum "I bring you, gentlemen," said he, "a badge, which will go round the world, an institution at once civil and military, which will change the system of European tactics, and reduce the absolute govern- ments to the alternative of being conquered if they do not imitate them, and overturned if they do!" The example of Paris was followed in the provinces, and the National Guard, three millions seven hundred thousand strong, was organized throughout France, with La Fayette at its head. On the 5th of November, 17S9, occurred a scene of the most fearful character. It was rumored at Paris that the king and his family, at Versailles, had denounced the revolution. At this moment, the populace were suffering from famine, and being told that the scarcity was caused by the monarch, the cry arose, " To Versailles for bread ! " Like a flood of boiling lava, the tide of people rolled toward Versailles The king and the royal family had been sacrificed to the fury of the mob, but for the aid of La Fayette. Placing himself at the head of a detachment of troops, he rushed to the scene of action, and conducted them in safety to Paris. From the commencement of the revolution, La Fayette refused all pecuniary compensation and every unusual appointment or trust. Not a dignity known to the ancient monarchy, or suggested by the disorder of the times, but was tendered to him and refused. More than once it was proposed to create him Field Marshal, Grand Constable, Lieulenant-General of the Vinjrdom. The titles of dictator and commander-in- LA FAYETTE. 177 chief of the armies of France were successively pro- posed to him, but in vain. Knowing that the repre- sentatives of the great federation of the National Guards, who repaired to Paris in 1790, designed to invest him with the formal command of this immense military force, he hastened a passage of the decree of the Assembly, forbidding any person to exercise the right of more than one district ; and having, at the close of a review, been conducted to the national assembly by an immense and enthusiastic throng, he took that occasion to mount the tribune and announce the intention of returning to private life as soon as the preparation of the constitution should be completed. On the recurrence of the anniversary of the destruc- tion of the Bastile, on the 14ih of July, 1790, the labors of the assembly, in the formation of the consti- tution, were so far advanced, that it was deemed expedient, by a grand act of popular ratification, to give the sanction of France to the principles on which it was founded. The place assigned for the ceremony Avas the Champs de Mars, and the act itself was regarded as a grand act of federation, by which the entire population of France, through the medium of an immense representation, engaged themselves to each other, by solemn oaths and imposing rites, to preserve the constitution, the monarchy, and the law. In front of the military school at Paris, and near the river Seine, a vast plain was marked out for the imposing pageant. Innumerable laborers were em- ployed, and still greater multitudes of volunteers cooperated with them, in preparing a vast embank- ment, disposed on terraces, and covered with turf. L LA FAYETTr,, 179 The entire population of the capital and its environs, from the highest to the lowest condition of life, of both sexes, and of every profession, was engaged, from day to day, and from week to week, in carrying on the excavation. The academies and schools, the official bodies of every description, the trades and the profes- sions, and every class and division of the people, repaired, from morning to night, to take part in the work, cheered by the instruments of a hundred full orchestras, and animated Avith every sport and game in which an excited and cheerful populace gives vent to its delight. It was the perfect saturnalia of liberty ; the meri- dian of the revolution, when its great and unquestioned benefits seemed established on a secure basis, with as little violence and bloodshed as could be reasonably expected in the tumultuous action of a needy, exas- perated and triumphant populace. The work was at length completed, the terraces were raised, and 300,000 spectators were seated in the vast amphitheatre. A gallery was elevated in front of the military school, and in its centre was a pavilion above the throne. In the rear of the pavilion was prepared a stage, on which the queen, the dauphin, and the royal family were seated. The deputed members of the federation, eleven thousand for the army and navy, and eighteen thousand for the national guard of France, were arranged in front, within a circle formed by eighty- three lances planted in the earth, adorned with the standards of the eighty-three departments. In the midst of the Champs de Mars, the centre of all eyes, with nothing above it but the canopy of heaven, arose 180 LA FAYETTE. a magnificent altar — the loftiest ever raised on earth. Two hundred priests, in Avhite surplices, with the tri- color as a girdle, were disposed on the steps of the altar, on whose spacious summit, mass Avas performed by the bishop of Autun. On the conclusion of the religious ceremony, the members of the federation and the deputies of the assembly advanced to the altar, and took the oath of fidelity to the nation, the constitution, and the king. The king himself assumed the name and rank of chief of the federation, and bestowed the title of its major-general on La Fayette. The king took the oath on his throne, but La Fayette, as the first citizen of France, advancing to the altar, at the head of 30,000 deputies, and in the name of the mighty mass of the national guard, amidst the plau- dits of nearly half a million of his fellow-citizens, in the presence of all that was most illustrious and excel- lent in the kingdom, whose organized military power he represented as their chief, took the oath of fidelity to the nation, the constitution, and the king. Of all the oaths that day taken by the master-spirits of the time, his was, perhaps, the only one kept inviolate. The powers of Europe at length roused themselves to action, and began to draw their threatening armies around France. Armies were raised by the latter country to meet them. La Fayette was charged v/ilh the command of one of them. At his head quarters at Sedan, he heard of the bloody tragedy of the 10th August, and the imprisonment of the royal family. Agents were sent to the departments ; the bloody scenes of Paris were enacted there. The reign of terror was now established, and commissioners were LA FAYETTE. 181 sent to the army to arrest the generals, and La Fayotte among the rest. He had no choice but to deluge the country with blood by resistance, or to save himself by flight. He adopted the latter course, but was taken by a military force at Liege, and being dragged from fortress to fortress, was at last lodged in the dungeons of Magdeburg. From this place, he was transferred to the emperor of Germany, and immured in the gloomy castle of Olmutz, in Moravia. Cut off from all the world, and closely confined, the health of the noble captain gave way, and it was not till several unsuccessful efforts had been made, that a mitigation of his sufferings was allowed. He was now permitted to take the air, and this afforded an opportunity to effect his liberation. Dr. Eric Bollman, a young German physician, and Mr. Huger, of South Carolina, engaged in this chivalrous enterprise ; and, through their exertions, he made his escape. But a series of unfortunate accidents occurred, and he was retaken and carried back to Olmutz. Bollman and Huger were also taken, and confined in close prisons for six months, when they were set at liberty. La Fayette was now treated with double severity ; he was stripped of every comfort; denied decent clothing; kept in a dark room ; fed on bread and water ; and told that he was soon to be executed on the scaffold. Nor were these personal sufferings his only source of anxiety. No tidings were permitted to reach him from his wife and children ; and the last intelligence he had received from her was, that she was confined in prison at Paris. There she had been thrown during the reign of terror. Her grandmother, the VI.— 16 182 LA FAYETTE. Dutchess de Noailles, her mother, the Dutchess de Argen, and her sister, the Countess de Noailles, had perished in one ('ay on the scaffold. She was her- self reserved for the like fate ; but the downfall of Robespierre preserved her. During her imprison- ment, her great anxiety was for her son, George Washington La Fayette, then just attaining the age at which he was liable to be forced by the conscription into the ranks of the army. The friendly assistance of two Americans saved him. Relieved from anxiety on account of her son, the wife of La Fayette was resolved, with her daughters, if possible, to share his captivity. Just escaped from the dungeons of Robespierre, she hastened to plunge into those of the German emperor. This admirable lady, who, in the morning of life, had sent her youth- ful hero from her side, to fight the battles of constitu- tional freedom, beneath the guidance of Washington, now went to immure herself with him in the gloomy cells of Olmutz. Born, brought up, accustomed to all that was refined, luxurious and elegant, she went to shut herself up in the poisonous wards of his dungeon ; to partake his wretched fare ; to share his daily repeated insults ; to breathe an atmosphere so noxious and intolerable, that the gaolers, who brought them their daily food, were compelled to cover their faces as they entered their cells. Landing at Altona, on the 9th September, 1795, she proceeded, with an American passport, under the family name of her husband, (Metier,) to Vienna. Having arrived in that city, she obtained, through the compassionate offices of Count Rosernberg, an inter- LA FAYETTE. 183 view with the emperor. Francis II. was not a cruel man. At the age of twenty-five, he had not been hardened by long training in the school of state policy. He was a husband and a father. The heroic wife of La Fayette, with her daughters, was admitted to his presence. She demanded only to share her husband's prison, but she implored the emperor to restore to liberty the father of her children. " He was, indeed, sire, a general in the armies of republican America ; but it was at a time when the daughter of Maria Theresa was foremost in his praise. He was, indeed, a leader of the French revolution, but not in its ex- cesses, not in its crimes ; and it is owing to him alone that, on the dreadful 5th October, Maria Antoinette and her son had not been torn in pieces by the blood- thirsty populace of Paris. He is not the prisoner of your justice, nor your arms, but was thrown by mis- fortune into your power, when he fled before the same monsters of bloody crime who brought the king and queen to the scaffold. Three of my family have per- ished on the same scafTold, my aged grandparent, my mother, and my sister. Will the emperor of Germany close the dark catalogue, and doom my husband to a dungeon worse than death ? Restore him, sire — not to his army, to his power, to his influence — but restore his shattered health, his ruined fortunes — to the afTec- tions of his fellow-citizens in America, where he is content to live and close his career — to his wife and children." The emperor was a humane man. He heard, rea- soned, hesitated; told her "his hands were tied" by reasons of state, and permitted her to shut herself up 184 LA FAYETTE. with lier daughters in the cells of Ohnutz ! There her health failed ; she asked to be permitted to pass a month at Vienna, to recruit it, and was answered that she might leave the prison whenever she pleased, but that if she left it, she could never return there. On this condition, she rejects the indulgence with disdain; and prepares to sink, under the slow poison of an infected atmosphere, by her husband's side. But her brave heart — fit partner for a hero's — bore her through the trial, though the hand of death Avas upon her. She prolonged a feeble existence for ten years after their release from captivity, but never recovered the effects of this merciless imprisonment. The interposition of the friends of La Fayette, in Europe and America, to obtain his release, was unsuc- cessful. On the floor of the house of commons, General Fitzpatrick, on the 16th December, 1796, made a motion in his behalf. It was supported by Colonel Tarleton, who had fought against La Fayette in America, by Wilberforce and Fox. The speech of the latter is one of the most admirable specimens of eloquence ever heard in a deliberative assembly. But justice remonstated, humanity pleaded in vain. General Washington, then president of the United States, wrote a letter to the emperor of Germany. What would not the emperor afterwards have given to have had the wisdom to grant the liberty of La Fayette to the entreaty of Washington ? But an advocate was at hand who would not be refused. The " Man of Destiny " was in the field. The Archduke Charles was matched against him during the campaign of 1797. LA FAYETTE. 185 The eagles of Bonaparte flew from victory to vic- tory. The archduke displayed against him all the resources of the old school. But the days of strategy were over. Bonaparte stormed upon his front, threw his army across deep rivers, burst upon his rear, and annihilated the astonished duke in the midst of his manosuvres. He fought ten pitched battles in twenty days, drove the Austrians across the Julian Alps, approached within eleven days' march of Vienna, and then granted the emperor, just preparing for flight into the recesses of Germany, the treaty of Campio Formio, having demanded, in the preliminary confer- ences of Leoben, the release of La Fayette. Napoleon was often afterwards heard to say, that, in all his negotiations with foreign powers, he had never expe- rienced so pertinacious a resistance as that which was made to this demand. The Austrian envoys at the French head quarters, asserted that he was in confine- ment in the imperial territories. But Bonaparte distrusted this assertion, and sent a former aid-de- camp of La Fayette, to communicate directly with the Austrian minister on the subject. He was finally released, on the 23d September, 1797. But while his liberation was effected by the interference of the army of the republic abroad, the confiscation and sale of the residue of his property went on at home. Included in the general decree of outlaAvry, as an emigrant. La Fayette did not go back to France till the directory was overturned. On the establishment of the consular government, being restored to his civil rights, though with the loss of nearly all his estates, he returned to his native country, and sought the 16* 186 LA FAYETTE. retirement of Lagrange. He was indebted to Napo- leon for release from captivity, probably for the lives of himself and family. He could not but see that all hope of restoring the constitution of 1791, to which he had pledged his faith, was over, and he had every reason of interest and gratitude to compound with the state of things as it existed. But he never wavered for a moment. Bonaparte endeavored, in a personal interview, to persuade him to enter the senate ; but in vain. From the tranquillity of private life, nothing could now draw him. Mr. Jefi'erson oflcred him the place of governor of Louisiana, then just become a territory of the United States ; but he was unwilling, by leav- ing France, to take a step that would look like a final abandonment of the cause of constitutional liberty on the continent of Europe. Napoleon ceased to impor- tune him, and he lived at Lagrange, retired and unmo- lested, the only man who had gone through the terrible revolution with a character free from every just impeachment. He entered it with a princely fortune ; in the various high offices he had filled, he had declined all compensation ; and he came out poor. He entered it in the meridian of early manhood, with a frame of iron. He came out of it, fifty years of age, his strength impaired by the cruelties of his long im- prisonment. But the time at length arrived, which was to call La Fayette from his retirement, and place him again — the veteran pilot — at the helm. The colossal edifice of the empire, which had been reared by Napoleon, crumbled by its own weight. The pride, the interests, LA FAYETTE. 187 the vanity, the patriotism of the nations were too deeply insulted and wounded by his domination. The armies of Europe poured down like an inun- dation on France ; twice the conqueror is conquered ; the dynasty of the Bourbons is restored; and La Fayette is now found at the tribune. Tranquillity being estab- lished in France, and being invited to visit the United States by a vote of congress, he comes to our shores on the 25th August, 1824, and is received with the most enthusiastic welcome. His tour through the country will never be forgotten. Every^vhere he was met by crowds of people, anxious to see the benefactoi of their country, and to testify their heartfelt homage and gratitude. There is perhaps nothing in La Fayette's life more remarkable than the admirable tact, sense and propriety displayed in his answers to the various addresses made as he passed 'through the country. Having spent several months in the United States, he returns to France, and we soon see him at the head of a new revolution. In July, 1S30, Charles X. and his family are seen flying from Paris, and La Fayette is commander of the National Guards in the Hotel de Ville. The dynasty is changed. Louis Philippe is established upon the basis of a constitu- tional monarchy, and La Fayette once more resigns his commission. Insensible to the love of power, of money, and of place, he is again a private citizen, exercising only the office of a representative in the chamber of deputies. Thus he continued till May, 1834. In attending the funeral of a colleague he con- tracted a cold, which settled on his lungs. After a 188 LA FAYETTE. Struggle with the remains of a once powerful consti- tution, the disease triumphed, and, on the 20th of the mouth the patriot of liberty expired at Paris, aged seventy-seven. He Avas buried, by his own direction, not within the walls of the Pantheon — not among the great and illustrious, that people the silent alleys of Pere la Chaise — but in a rural cemetery near Paris, by the side of her who had shared his pure love of liberty, his triumphs, his dungeon, and his undying renown. In a secluded garden, in this humble retreat, beneath the shade of a row of linden trees, by the side of his wife and his daughter, the friend of Washing- ton and America lies in his last repose. In whatever aspect we may regard the life of La Fayette, it must strike us as one of the most wonder- ful in history. It is crowded with events of an extra- ordinary character, and displays an union of qualities, rarely found in one individual. In early life he is superior to the seductions of wealth and flattery ; he is not enervated by luxury, nor corrupted by vice. While all around him is bent inhom^age to royalty, his lofty spirit sympathizes with a remote people, struggling for liberty, and with an elevation of soul rarely paralleled, he crosses the Atlantic, expends his fortune, and risks his life in the cause of freedom. In his own country, he becomes the leader of mighty movements in behalf of oppressed humanity. He acquires an ascendancy over millions, and is at the head of the mightiest army of citizen soldiers that was ever organized. He became the shield of royalty and the Atlas of the revolution. The scene changes ; *he reign of terror is established, and he is obliged to LA FAYETTE. 189 fly before the tempest. He is firs/ m exile — tlien a captive — and, finally, a prisoner, cut off from light and air, and the knowledge of mankind. He lingers in dungeons for years ; he escapes, is recaptured, and immured in still deeper dungeons. Again he is at liberty — he returns to private life, and here he remains, a witness of the most stupendous events, till a new convulsion shakes the earth, and he is summoned from his retirement. The storm is tranquillized, and, after an absence of forty years, he revisits the far land whose freedom he had helped to achieve. Here he finds a nation of three millions increased to twelve, and a generation born since his departure, now ready to welcome him, and shower honors and blessings on his name. He returns to Europe, and still another revolution is at han^. In the midst of the tempest, he seizes upon the helm, and while the Bourbon monarch flies, he holds the reigns of power in the capital. A new dynasty is founded, and a new king is set upon the throne ; order is restored, and the patriot, laying down his mighty power, retires again to the tranquil pursuits of country life. What a chequered history is here ! What vicissi- tudes of fortune, yet what consistency of action! There is an equanimity, a dignity, a steadfastness about the character of La Fayette, which elevates him as far above the common heroes of history, as the top of the mountain, catching the very hues of heaven, is above the; vulgar mounds and knolls that lie scat- tered at its base ; and the secret of this elevation lies in the motive Avhich inspired his actions. He was a patriot — a philanthropist. He lived for his country— 190 LA FAYETTE. for mankind. He was indeed a man of rare faculties — he possessed a skill of adaptation, and a quickness of perception, amounting to genius ; yet his fame, his power, his greatness, arose less from his intellectual gifts, than his moral elevation. How great a boon has he conferred on mankind — not only by his deeds, but by his fame, and his example ! He has taught the world the path to truer glory than that which is won upon the battle-field; he has shown the elevating and ennobling power of a virtuous principle, and he has set before mankind the strong argument of example in favor of a disinterested philanthropic career. mnffm KOSCIUSKO. Thaddexjs Kosciusko, the last generalissimo of the republic of Poland, and one of the noblest characters of his age, was descended from an ancient and noble, though not rich family, in Lithuania. He was born at the chateau of Sienniewicze, in 1756, and was educated in the military school at Warsaw. The prince, Adam Czartoriski, perceiving his talents and industry, made him second lieutenant in the corps of cadets, and sent him, at his own expense, to France, where he studied drawing and the military art. After his return, he was made captain. He had become attached to the daughter of Sosnowski, a marshal of Lithuania; but he saw her married to Prince Lubo- mirski. He now left Poland, and sought to bury the memory of his unhappy passion in solitary studies. He devoted himself particularly to history and math- ematics, and, possessing great elevation of character, he was prepared to join in the contest for freedom, in which he engaged. Hearing of the struggle of the American colonies for liberty, he came hither, and gained the confidence of Washington, who made him his aid. He distinguished himself particularly at the siege of Ninety-Six, and was very highly esteemed by the army and commander-in-chief. He and La Fayette were the only foreigners admitted into the society of Cincinnatus. In our service, Kosciusko received the rank of TIIADDEUS KOSCIUSKO. 193 general, and in 17S6 he returned to Poland. In 1789, the Polish army was formed, and the diet appointed him major-general. In 1791, he served under Prince Joseph Poniatowski, and in the cam- paign of the next year, he distinguished himself against the Russians. At Dubienka, under cover of some works which he had thrown up, he, with four thousand men, repulsed three attacks of the Russians, ivho amounted to thirteen thousand men. Kosciusko was obliged to retire, but he retreated without severe toss, while the Russians lost four thousand men. When King Stanislaus submitted to Catherine, Kosciusko left the army, and retired from Poland. He went to Leipsic, and the legislative assembly of France at this time gave him the rights of a French citizen. The Poles becoming impatient under the oppression of Russia, some of Kosciusko's friends in "Warsaw determined to make an effort for the libera- tion of the country. They chose him for their gen- eral, and made him acquainted with their plans. He imparted them to the counts Ignatius Potocki and Kolontai, in Dresden, who thought the enterprise inju- dicious. He, however, went to the frontier, and sent General Zayonczeck and Dzialynski into the Russian provinces of Poland to prepare everytbAng- i« Si7ence. But when the Polish army was merged, in part, in the Russian, and the remainder reduced to fifteen thousand men, the insurrection broke out before the time fixed upon. The people flew to arms, and Kos- ciusko was everywhere proclaimed as generalissimo. The troops took an oath of allegiance to him, and by deed appointed him dictator, in imitation of the Ro- M VI.— 17 194 TIIADDEUS KOSCIUSKO. man custom, on occasions of emergency. His power was absolute. He had the command of all the armies, and the regulation of all affairs, political and civil. Never was confidence so fully and unscrupulously reposed by a nation in a single individual — never were expectations better grounded. On the 1st of April he left Cracow at the head of four thousand men, armed mostly with scythes, and, on the 4th of the same month, encountered a body of Russians, more than thrice his own number, near the village of Rac- lawice. The battle lasted for five hours, and victory declared for the brave Poles ; three thousand Russians being killed upon the spot. This success confirmed the wavering patriots, and accelerated the develop- ment of the insurrection throughout the kingdom. Wilna and other cities threw off the yoke. The patriots, however, suffered a defeat near Chelm, and Cracow soon after fell into the hands of the enemy. By this time the Russians and their allies began to approach Warsaw. Three leagues from that city, at Praca-Wola, Kosciusko was encamped. It was here that one of his brothers in arms found him sleeping on straw. The picture he draws of this extraordinary individual in his camp, is an interest- ing view of the hero who upheld the fate of Poland. " We passed," says Count Oginski, " from Koscius- ko's tent, to a table under some trees. The frugal repast made here, with a dozen guests, will never be effaced from my memory. The presence of this great man, who had excited the admiration of all Europe ; who was the terror of his enemies, and the idol of the nation ; who, raised to the rank of generalissimo, had TIIADDEUS KOSCIUSKO. 195 no ambition but to serve his country and to fight for it ; who always observed an unassuming, affable and mild demeanor; who never wore any distinguishing mark of the supreme authority Avith which he was invested; who was contented" with a suit of coarse, gray cloth, and whose table was as plainly furnished as that of a subaltern officer ; could not fail to awaken in me every sentiment of esteem, admiration and ven- eration, which I have sincerely felt for him at every period of my life." The enemy continued to advance towards Warsaw, but the city resisted all their attacks. At length "Wilna yielded to the soldiers of Catherine, and the rest of the province soon shared the same fate. On the 10th of October, Kosciusko fell upon Fersen. The battle was bloody, and fatal to the patriots. Victory was wavering, and, the expected reinforce- ments not appearing, Kosciusko, at the head of his principal officers, made a furious charge, and plunged into the midst of the Russians. He fell, covered with wounds, and all his companions were killed or taken captive. The general lay senseless among the slain. At length he was recognised, notwithstanding the plainness of his uniform, and was found still breath- ing. His name now commanded respect, even from the barbarous Cossacks — some of whon were about to plunder him. They instantly formed a litter with their lances, and conveyed him to the commander-in- chief, who ordered his wounds to be dressed, and treated him with the consideration he deserved. As soon as he was able to travel, he was conducted to Petersburg, where Catherine condemned this high- 196 TIIADDKUS KOSCIUSKO. minded patriot to end his days in prison. The news of his captivity spread like lightning to Warsaw. Every one received it as the announcement of the country's fall. " It may appear incredible," says Ogin- ski, " but I can attest what I have beheld, and what a number of witnesses can certify with me, that many invalids were seized with burning fevers ; some fell into fits of madness, which never left them ; and men and women were seen in the streets, wringing their hands, beating their heads against the walls, and exclaiming in despair, ' Kosciusko is no more ; the country is lost ! ' " In fact, the Poles seemed para- lyzed by this blow. Warsaw capitulated in a short time after ; and the soldiers and generals of the revo- lution were either killed or dispersed, immured in the prisons of Petersburg, or sent to Siberia. The death of Catherine, on the 17th of November, 1796, delivered the Poles from a detestable tyrant. Her successor, the Emperor Paul, commenced a new era in Russian history, that of clemency. His beha- vior to Kosciusko was almost heroic. He visited him in prison, embraced him warmly, and told him he was free. He even presented him with his own sword, but the Polish hero declined it, saymg, " I no longer need a sword, since I have no longer a coun- try." To the day of his death, he never again wore a sword. Paul also proposed to present him with a high military post : but this was declined. He then gave him fifteen hundred serfs and twelve thousand roubles, as a testimony of regard. But Kosciusko determined to go to America, and returned these presents. He then proceeded, by way of England, to the New TIIADDEUS KOSCIUSKO. 197 "World. He was received ■with marks of the greatest kindness in the United States ; and, as his fortune was small, he had been allowed a pension from our government. On his arrival in France, in 1798, his countrymen, in the Italian army, presented him with the sword of John Sobieski, which had been found at Lorctto. He now settled near Fontainbleau, where he resided several years. It was in 1797, that he touched at England, on his passage to America. Dr. Warner, who saw him at the house of the consul at Bristol, says : " I never contemplated a more interesting human figure than Kosciusko, stretched on his couch. His wounds were still unhealed, and he was unable to sit upright. He appeared to be a small man, spare and delicate. A black silk bandage crossed his fair and high, but somewhat wrinkled forehead. Beneath it, his dark, eagle eye sent forth a flame of light, that indicated the steady flame of patriotism which still burned within his soul, unquenched by disaster and wounds weakness, poverty and exile. Contrasted with its brightness was the paleness of his countenance, and the wan cast of every feature. He spoke tolerable English, though in a low and feeble tone ; but his conversation, replete with fine sense, lively remark, and sagacious answers, evinced a noble understand- ing and a cultivated mind. On rising to depart, I oflTered him my hand : he took it. My eyes filled with tears ; and he gave it a warm grasp. I mut- tered something about ' brighter prospects and hap- pier days ! ' He faintly smiled and said, ' Ah ! sir, 17* 198 THAUDEUS KOSCIUSKO. he who devotes hunself for his country must not look for his reward on this side of the grave.'" When, in 1806, Napoleon felt what powerful allies the Poles, fighting for liberty, would be against Rus- sia and Prussia, he used many arts to engage them in his cause. There was one man then living, near Fontainbleau, whose name alone would have raised the whole population of Poland — Kosciusko. Bona- parte made him the most pressing invitations to share in the campaign, and urged him, again and again, to address his fellow-countrymen, and call upon the Polish nation to embrace the present opportunity of regaining their liberty. But Kosciusko was not dazzled by the splendor of Napoleon's career ; and he divined that a military despot might be as treacherous as hereditary tyrants. He seemed, too, to share, in a degree, the feelings of those who, being set free and mildly treated by Paul, imagined it would be an act of ingratitude to appear in arms against him. He never ceased, however, to hold the Avelfare of his native land most dear to his heart. On the 9th of April, 1814, after the allies had entered Paris, he sent a letter to Alexander, in behalf of the Poles. The emperor returned an autograph answer, promising that his wishes should be accomplished. He again wrote to Alexander, on the 10th of June, 1815, at Vienna, calling upon him to fulfil the promises he had made to him. To this no answer was given, and Kosciusko, certain that his apprehensions were well founded, on the 13th of June announced his intention to retire to Switzerland. This design he soon put into execution, arid went to reside at Soleure, where THADDEUS KOSCIUSKO. 199 he ended his illustrious life, on the 16th of October, 1817. His body is deposited in the cathedral of Cracow, in the same chapel where Sobieski and Joseph Ponia towski had been laid before him ; and on the summit of the artificial mountain, Bronislawa, national grati- tude has erected a monument to his immortal mem- ory. The materials for preparing the memoirs of Kosci- usko are scanty, but enough is preserved to show that his character was one of the finest in history. As a general, his rank is among the first, and his achieve- ments altogether wonderful. During the war of 1794, with a regular force of twenty thousand men and four thousand peasants, he maintained himself for a long period against four hostile armies, amounting to- gether to one hundred and fifty thousand men, and led by the greatest generals of the time. In the dis- charge of the dictatorship conferred upon him, he displayed the integrity of Washington and the activity "of CoBsar. He attended to procuring supplies, super- intended the raising and payment of money, pre- vented plundering and fraud, and was equally active in the council and the field. His days and nights, and all his powers were devoted to his country. He secured the administration of justice, abolished bond- age, and finally restored to the nation, in the supreme national council which he established, the great power which had been delegated to him. The amiableness of Kosciusko's private life has given a beautiful finish to his fame, so exalted as a general and a patriot. A single anecdote will illus- 200 TIIADDEUS KOSCIUSKO. trate his character. He once wished to send some wine to a clergyman at Solothurn ; and, as he hesi- tated to trust it by his servant, lest he should take some of it, he gave the commission to a young man of the name of Zeltner, and desired him to use the horse which he himself usually rode. On his return, young Zeltner said that he would never ride his horse again, unless he gave him his purse at the same time. Kosciusko inquiring what he meant, he an- swered, — " As soon as a poor man on the road takes off his hat and asks charity, the horse immediately stands still, and will not stir till something is given to the petitioner ; and as I had no- money about me, I was obliged to feign giving something, to satisfy the beast." The sympathy which was excited by the struggle of the Poles in 1794, and the heroic character of Kosciusko, are well commemorated in the following lines of Campbell, from the " Pleasures of Hope." Oh ! sacred truth ! thy triumph ceased awhile ! And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile, When leagued oppression poured to northern wars Her whiskered pandoors and her fierce hussars, Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn. Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn ; Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van. Presaging wrath to Poland, — and to man ! Warsaw's last champion from her height surveyed Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid, — Oh ! Heaven ! he cried, my bleeding country save ! Is there no hand on high to shield the brave ? Yet though destruction sweeps those lovely plains, Rise, fellow-men ! our country yet remains ' THABUEUS KOSCIUSKO. 201 By that dread name, \ve wave the sword on high ! And swear for her to live, — with her to die ! He said, and on the rampart heights arrayed His trusty warriors, lew, but undismayed ; Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form, Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ; Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly, Revenge or death,— the watch-word and reply; Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm, And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm! In vain, alas ! in vain, ye gallant few. From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew ; Ob, bloodiest picture in the book of Time, Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime ; Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe. Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her wo ! Dropped from her nerveless grasp, the shattered spear, Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career; Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell, And Freedom shrieked, as Kosciusko fell ! ^(JPQOogiJQonoC'"^ WILLIAM TELL. Those who have perused the charming' romance of Florian, under the title of "William Tell, or Switzerland Delivered," may be reluctant to come down to the somewhat meagre details which consti- tute all we know of his veritable history. Yet, as, on the one hand, the " Deliverer of Switzerland " demands a place in our list of patriots — so sober truth compels us to say that in the dearth of well authenticated facts respecting his life, the real existence of such a man has been seriously denied. It is not our purpose, however, to dwell upon these doubts — William Tell unquestionably lived and performed the great actions attributed to him ; and these we shall present to the reader. We must travel back more than five hundred years, and take our stand in the centre of Europe, at the period when the dark ages are nearly passed, and the light of civilization is beginning to dawn along the horizon. At this epoch, Kodolph, Count of Hapsburgh, in Switzerland, appeared upon the stag-e of history. His possessions were small, but he had fine talents, a good address and boundless ambition ; and in the course of events, he became the emperor of Germany. This occurred in 1273. From him the present house of Austria is descended. For a series of generations the daughters of this family have been remarkable for their WILLIAM TELL. 203 beauty, and it is by marriage with the principal reigning families of Europe, that its aggrandizement has been chiefly effected. From this circumstance, it has been said that the house of Hapsburgh is more indebted to Venus than to Mars, for its exahation. It was the son of this Rodolph, Albert I., who suc- ceeded his father as emperor, that gave rise io the events connectgd with the history of Tell. He was a grasping prince, and, wishing to increase his territo- rial dominions, undertook to unite the forest cantons of Switzerland, as they were called, to his personal estates of Hapsburgh, which he had inherited. These cantons belonged to the German empire, and as they had been mildly governed, they wished to continue so. They therefore rejected the overtures of Albert, at which he was greatly incensed. Accordingly, in his capacity of emperor, he sent governors to harass, oppress, and punish them. These were two detesta- table characters, named Gesler and Landenberg. The people were now exposed to all the vexatious persecutions of little tyrants, who were anxious to re- commend themselves, by abuse of power, to the favor of an angry master. Offences became arbitrary, and punishments capricious. The governors never ap- peared in public, unless they were surrounded by a numerous guard. Nor did they omit other precau- tions, designed alike to secure themselves against sudden ebullitions of popular fury, and to rivet more firmly the chains which it was the sole object of their mission to impose. Fortresses were erected in the disaffected places, into which persons of every description were thrown, upon the slightest 204 WILLIAM TELL. grounds of suspicion. At the same time, all commer- cial intercourse with their neighbors was entirely denied to the people by the exorbitant duties imposed upon merchandise of every kind, in its passage to and from the forest cantons. We may more clearly infer the general character of the- administration of the German governors, by a few instances of their conduct. Gesler, passing one day by a neat and commodious house, which had been lately built by a person of the name of Staufacher, and which was externally decorated with more than common elegance, inquired for the owner, and ad- dressed him thus, with a contemptuous smile : " Do you think such a habitation suited to the condition of a peasant ? You complain of the emperor's exactions, but while he leaves you wherewithal to erect such buildings as these, you have too much reason to be thankful." And immediately he ordered his satellites to pull it down. Staufacher, from that moment, be- came an ardent champion in the cause of liberty. Landenberg was no less active in sowing the seeds of discontent. Having seized the oxen belonging to a respectable farmer for some slight offence, the pro- prietor implored him to inflict some other punishment, if he should in reality be found guilty of the crime of which he was accused ; for that, otherwise, he must inevitably be ruined, having no other means of culti- vating his farm. " Let the miscreant draw his own plough ! " was the reply ; and immediately another hero was enlisted under the standard of freedom. Henry, of Melchthal, a strenuous advocate for the independence of his country, and who, by the integ- WILLIAM TELL. 205 rity of his character, had become an object of general respect, was selected as another victim. Landenberg, whose punishments were in general quickened by the cupidity of his disposition, sent, upon some trifling provocation, to seize his oxen, while they were em- ployed in the labors of husbandry. His son, a gallant youth, opposed the execution of the decree, and drove away the officers of justice with the same whip with which he had before been driving the plough. Young Melchthal fled. The governor, who was irritated beyond description at the insult which had been offered to his authority, and still more so to find that his prey had escaped, commanded the aged father to be dragged into his presence, and, after reviling him in the most opprobrious language, caused his eyes to be put out, while he himself stood by to see the savage sentence executed. Gesler was the slave of vanity, and sought, by every means, to gratify his prevailing passion. Among other expedients he caused a pole to be erected in the market place, at Altorf, and a hat to be suspended upon it ; to which he enjoined all the passengers to pay the same respect that was due to his own person. So wanton a display of tyranny could not fail to inflame the public, who wanted no accession of out- rage to make them feel the misery of their dejected state. Yet so completely were they kept in awe by the numerous fortresses which the new government had erected in all parts of their territory, that they sunk into sullen despondency. Staufacher appears to have been the first to con- ceive the idea of deliverance from this cruel tyranny. VL— 18 '* 206 WILLIAM TELL. In silence he contemplated tlie degraded state to which his country was reduced. He brooded over her wrongs in secret. He meditated upon the energies of the human mind, and felt, from inward conviction, that man was destined by nature to he something more than the passive slave of despotism. Having reduced his ideas to a regular plan, he hastened to communicate them to his friend Walter Furst. At his house, he met young Arnold of Melchthal, who had taken refuge under his hospitable roof, from the pursuit of Landenberg. Misfortune is the parent of confidence. They had suffered in the same cause, and flew to each other's arms with all the attachment of men Avho were connected by the strongest of ties — the love of freedom. Having deliberately weighed the dangers to which they were exposed, and imparted to each other the hopes with which they were ani- mated, they bound themselves by the most solemn promise to break the fetters of their country, or to perish in the attempt. Having finally engaged to observe the profoundest secrecy, and agreed that no partial attempts should be made till the mine was ready to be sprung ; and, having fixed upon a place where they might meet with a few chosen friends, to consult upon the neces- sary preparations for a general insurrection, they took leave of each other. To propagate the electric flame among a people, whose wishes were in perfect unison with their own, required not the arts of persuasion. The founders of Helvetic liberty met with a sure and ardent friend in every person to whom they entrusted the important WILLIAM TELL. 207 secret. But they were cautious in their measures and discreet in the selection they made. On the 17th of November, 1307, the day fixed for their meeting, each of them appeared at the appointed spot, attended by ten chosen companions. This noc- turnal assembly was held in the field of Kutli ; a retired meadow, on the shores of the lake of Lu- cerne, exactly on the confines between Schweitz and Uri. Its solitary situation and surrounding rocks seemed to preclude the possibility of a surprise. Conscious, however, that a secret Avhich was known to so many persons, was at best precarious, the greater part of the conspirators were for an immediate rising, alleging that, in situations like theirs, delay was ruin. Melchthal, on the contrary, employed every argument he was master of, to combat such precipitate resolu- tions. The energy with which he spoke, brought over the whole assembly to his opinion. All ideas of an im- mediate aggression were laid aside, and the first day of the new year was appointed for fhe execution of the momentous project. This weighty business being thus decided, every man returned to his accustomed occupations, with as much apparent tranquillity as if his only hope in the approaching year had been a fertile season and an abundant crop. An event, however, took place in the interval, which, without the most unexampled prudence on the part of the conspirators, would have destroyed their hopes forever. We have alreadj' seen to what a degree of insolence Gesler had carried his capiicious pride. Presumption proved his ruin. William Tell, a name 208 WILLIAM TELL. which will be ever celebrated in the annals of Helvetia, had married the daughter of Walter Furst, and upon that account, as well as from his enthusiastic attach- ment to the cause of liberty, had been admitted a member of the patriotic band. Happening one day to pass through Altorf, thfc sight of the hat influenced his indignation to such a pitch against the governor, that he not only refused obedience to his fantastic mandate, but treated the magisterial ensign with contempt. Gesler was no sooner informed of what had passed, than he com- manded the bold plebeian to be dragged before him, and, giving way to the suggestions of unbridled fury, decreed that, as a punishment for his audacity, he should, at the approaching festival, either pierce, with an arrow, an apple placed upon the head of his son, a boy of five or six years old, or should suffer imme- diate death. So strange and inhuman a sentence was little calculated either to soothe the minds of the discontented populace, or to calm the resentment of the offended palr%)t. For some moments he hesitated; but, confident in his own unerring aim, after a little reflection, he accepted the trial. To this, too, he was doubtless, in part, prompted by the consideration that a scene of such wanton cruelty must operate upon the feelings of the spectators in a manner conformable to his secret views. On the appointed day, Gesler appeared in the market place at Altorf, seated in his chair of state, and encircled by his body-guard. His countenance be- spoke the insolence of triumph. With a savage smile, he ordered the culprit to be brought forward. Tell WILLIAM TELL, 209 came with a resolute step. The attenth'e crowd, who had been attracted from the remotest valleys to the spot, trembled as he passed. He took his post. The boy was stationed, by the governor's direction, at a distance which appeared to him the most unfavorable to the archer's skill. Tell grasped his bow. Mute attention prevailed. Every heart beat Avith interest and anxiety. He drew the string ; the arrow flew ; the divided apple fell. Repeated peals announced the joy of the spectators, and rebounded through the adjacent rocks. The hero ran to his child, caught him in his arms, and clasped him to his bosom. He gave way to the eflusions of nature. Unable any longer to suppress the violence of his emotions, he turned to the governor, and, producing another arrow, exclaimed, "Had viy boy fallen, this loas destined for thee ! " At once a prey to disappointment, rage, and shame, Gesler commanded his soldiers again to seize the bold offender. The populace interposed in vain. In vain they resisted the guard. After a short conflict, Tell was mastered, and, in order to secure him against any attempts which might be made for his rescue, Gesler commanded him to be conveyed to Kusnach, a fortress on the opposite side of the lake. Fearing, however> that the vmmerited rigor of his fate might excito a sentiment of compassion in the bosoms of those on whom he had imposed the execution of this harsh decree, the governor resolved to accompany him in person, and embarked with his attendants in the same boat. But scarcely were they out of the reach of the shore, when the clouds, which had been gathering N 18* 210 WILLIAM TELL, round the summit of St. Gothard, and to which Ges- ler, blinded by excessive passion, had paid little attention, burst in a furious tempest. The violence of the storm precluded all possibility of returning, and the surrounding rocks, which rise almost perpendicu- larly from the level of the water, rendered all attempts to land impracticable. The watermen sunk under the labor of the oar, and, unable longer to contend affainst the fury of the winds, gave in, and commended themselves to Providence for protection. In this fearful crisis, some one of the passengers, recollecting that Tell had the reputation of being a skilful pilot, suggested to the governor, as the only expedient that was left, to prevail upon him to take charge of the vessel, and to exert his power for their mutual salvation. Gesler caught with eagerness at the proposal. The prisoner was unbound and placed at the helm. For some time he struggled manfully against the storm, and took advantage of his local knowledge, to weather its fury ; till, by degrees, he approached the bank, at a spot where the receding mountains leave a small promontory for man to save himself from the fury of the waves. The courage of the passengers now revived. They already thought themselves secure. But, as Tell approached the shore, having conducted the bark to the spot he wished, he boldly plunged into the flood. With one hand he seized the rock ; with the other he pushed back the vessel, and left the affrighted tyrant, Avith his dis- mayed companions, in a situation little short of despair. The tempest, however, at length abated — with difficulty they gained the shore. But the gov- WILLIAM TELL. 211 ernor had escaped the waves, only to meet another fate. Tell, who had escaped, met him on the road, a little beyond Brunnen, and, in an instant, an arrow laid him dead at his feet ! The news of this event ran like an electric spark among the friends of liberty, and threatened to pre- cipitate the movement contemplated by Furst and his associates. But such was their prudence, that the ferment subsided, and stratagem was adopted rather than force. It was an important object to get posses- sion of the strong castle of Rotzberg. Here dwelt a maiden beloved by a Swiss youth named Wolfgang. She was persuaded by her lover to admit him into her room at night, by means of a ladder let down from her window. He ascended, several of his com- panions followed, and the castle was taken without bloodshed. Early on the following morning, a select party of the brave inhabitants of Unterwalden met Landenberg, as he was going from the castle of Sarnen to the parish church, to be present at the celebration of mass on new-year's day. They were loaded with presents, which, according to the usages of those times, were offered at this season to men in power. A troop of thirty more lay in ambush near the walls, ready to appear upon the first alarm. Delighted with the liberality of the offering, which had been purposely made more abundant than usual, the governor invited them into the castle, and ordered them to be welcomed with a hospitable glass. But no sooner had they gained admittance into the court, than the expected signal was given by a blast upon a horn. The men 212 WILLIAM TELL. without flew to the assistance of their friends. They seized upon the 'bridge and the magazine of arms before the little garrison was prepared to resist. Ter- rified by the suddenness of the attack, and ignorant of the numbers by whom they were assailed, they threw down their swords, and surrendered, upon the promise of their lives. The insurgents, who had now risen on all sides, were everywhere equally fortunate. In the course of one day, the castles of Sarnen and Rotzberg, in Unterwalden, those of Schwanan and Kusnach, in Schweitz, and the newly-erected fortress near Altorf, in Uri, were taken and given up to the flames ; and with them Avas every vestige of despotism effaced. History exhibits few events more extraordinary than this. Whether we consider the advantages which were obtained, the means by which the conquest was effected, or the humanity with which it was used, we shall find equal cause for admiration and wonder; at a moment when, flushed with victory and irritated by the most wanton acts of oppression, much might have been urged in defence of the insurgents, had they overstept the bounds of moderation, and given way to those excesses which are the common attend- ants of recovered liberty. But all former animosities were buried in oblivion. The prisoners were treated with generosity, and, being conducted to the frontiers, were released, upon a solemn promise that they would never more pollute the land of freedom with their venal step. Indeed, except in the single instance of Gesler, who fell the victim of his own imprudence, not one drop of blood was shed ! WILLIAM TELL. 213 The welcome intelligence flew with rapidity from mountain to mountain. Every goatiierd immediately threw aside his pipe and crook, and armed in the common cause. Staufacher, Melchlhal, Tell, and Walter Furst were received by their exulting coun- trymen with every demonstration of gratitude which the simplicity of rustic manners would allow. The joy was universal. The opulent farmer set wide his hospitable door to his poorer neighbor, and, amid the festivity that prevailed, the names of their deliverers resounded with blessings from every tongue. The world, perhaps, never exhibited a spectacle more con- genial to humanity. It was the triumph of innocence over the unjust attempts of despotism. Of the subsequent events of Toll's life we know but little. He is said to have taken part in the war which was afterwards waged with the Austrian gov- ernment, and to have lost his life in an inundation, about the year 1350. We may lament this barrenness of detail, yet enough has been rescued from the obliv- ion of the past, to excite our sympathy, to furnish a lasting lesson to tyrants, and to show us that liberty may find a champion even in the unlettered peasant, in a dark age, and amid the wildest and most rugged recesses of nature. JOHN HOWARD, Who has justly obtained a celebrity over the whole civilized world for his extraordinary and unceasing ■>fforts in the cause of suffering humanity, and for which he has been generally and justly entitled " the' Benevolent Howard," was born about the year 1727, at Clapton, in the parish of Hackney, a large village immediately adjoining London. To this place his father seems to have removed from the pursuit of his business as an upholsterer, in Long Lane, Smithfield, where he had acquired a considerable fortune. The education of young Howard was extremely superficial ; and when he left school, he was put as an apprentic*? JOHN HOYv^ARD. 215 to a wholesale grocer in the city ; but this situation not being at all to his taste, he embraced the opportunity, on coming of age, of purchasing from his master the remainder of his time. By his father's will, he was not to be the possessor of his inheritance until he reached his twenty-fourth year, and then he became entitled to the sum of seven thousand pounds, in addi- tion to the whole of his father's landed property, his plate, furniture, pictures, &c. Coming thus into the possession of a respectable patrimony, he was now at liberty to follow out the bent of his inclinations, which he did by setting out on his travels through France and Italy. On his return, being of delicate health and inclined to con- sumption, he was put upon a rigorous regimen, Avhich is said to have laid the foundation of that extraordi- nary abstemiousness and indifference to the gratifica- tion of his palate, which ever after so much distin- guished him. In 1752, when twenty-five years of age, he married a lady in her fifty-second year; a step he took in consequence of having received from her many marks of kind attention during a sickness Avith which he was overtaken. The death of his wife in a few years put an end to this somewhat imprudent connexion. Soon after this event, he resolved upon leaving England on another tour, with a view to divert his mind from the melancholy reflections which that lispensation of Providence had occasioned. The country which Howard first intended to visit was Portugal, then rendered particularly interesting by the situation of its capital, still smoking in ruins from the effects of a tremendous earthquake. A 216 JOHN HOWARD. great part of its capital, Lisbon, and thousands of its inhabitants, had been embowelled in the earth. It was to this sublime spectacle that Mr. Howard's attention Avas principally directed ; and he accordingly took his passage in a vessel, which, unfortunately, was captured by a French privateer. This event," unlucky in itself, gave a turn to the fate of the young philanthropist, and proved ultimately beneficial to mankind. His captors used him with great cruelty; for, after having been kept forty hours without food or water, he was carried into Brest, and confined, with the other prisoners, in the castle of that place. Here, after being cast, with the crew and the rest of the passengers, into a filthy dungeon, and there kept a considerable time without nourishment, a joint of mut- ton was at length thrown into the midst of them, and, for want of a knife, they were obliged to tear it in pieces, and gnaw it like dogs. In this dungeon he and his companions lay for six nights upon the floor, with nothing but straw. He was afterwards removed to Morlaix, and thence to Carpaix, Avhere he was two months upon parole. He had no sooner obtained his own freedom, than he exerted all his influence to procure the liberation of some of his fellow-countrymen. Whilst at Carpaix, he obtained abundant evidence cf the English prison- ers of war in France being treated with inhuman bar- barity, and he did not rest till he influenced the gov- ernment in their behalf. It is to this event that we may refer the first excitement of his attention to those who Avere sick, and in prison, which afterwards occupied the greater part of sixteen years. Soon JOHN HOWARD. 217 ifter his return to England, he formed a connection with an amiable young lady, whom he married, and with her assistance he carried into effect various schemes of benevolence, for meliorating the condi- tion of his tenantry and the poor in his neighborhood. Of this valuable assistance he was, however, deprived, by the death of his wife, soon after she had given birth to a son. In 1769-70, Mr. Howard paid a third and fourth visit to the continent, and of which he has left various memoranda, written in a strain of unaffected Chris- tian piety. In 1773, while in his retirement in England, he was created high sheriff of the county of Bedford. In this office he had numberless opportuni- ties of inspecting the condition of the jails and bride- wells under his jurisdiction, of remedying grievances, and alleviating the distresses of poor prisoners. The more he saw of the condition of the English prisons, the more he became anxious to pursue his investiga- tions all over the countrj'. He proceeded upon tours into several counties, and the scenes of misery which came under his notice were truly deplorable. At Salisbury, just without the prison gate, was a chain passed through a round staple fixed in the wall, at each end of which a debtor, padlocked by the leg, stood offering to those who passed by, nets, laces, purses, kc, made in the prison. At Winchester, Mr. Howard saw a destructive dungeon for felons, eleven steps under ground, dark, damp, and close. The surgeon of the jail informed him that in this, twenty prisoners had died of the jail fever in one year. One of the places which Mr. Howard inspected in the VI.— 19 218 JOHN HOWARD. course of his journey, was the bridewell of Surry, at Guilford, in which he found neither bedding, straw, nor work. Soon after his return from making inves- tigations into the condition of these abodes of vice and misery, he was examined before a committee of the house of commons, touching the knowledge he had thus acquired ; and, being called to the bar, the speaker acquainted him that the house was very sen- sible of the humanity and zeal which had led him to visit the several jails of this kingdom, and conveyed to him the grateful thanks of the house and the country for his benevolent exertions in behalf of the most de.'ititute and outcast members of this community. Mr. Howard continued, throughout the year 1773-74, to inspect the prisons and bridewells of England, and, on one occasion, 3xtended his tour of philanthropy into Scotland and Ireland. In 1775, he proceeded to the continent, for the purpose of examining the jails in France, Holland, and part of Flanders, Germany, and Switzerland, most of which he found under better management than those in Great Britain. He was particularly pleased with the prisons of Holland, whjch presented a model, that, except in a few points, he wished to have seen adopted in England, and every nation on the globe. He found a good deal to interest him in Germany. ' In the towns in that country, he frequently saw the doors of sundry rooms in the prisons marked, Ethiopia, India, Italy, France, England, &c. On inquiring what such words meant, he was informed that in these rooms, parents, by the authority of the magistrates, confined their disso- lute children, answering, in the mean while, to the JOHN HOWARD. 219 inquiries which might be made after them, that they were gone to whatever country might be written upon the place of their confinement. In travelling, Howard lived in the plainest manner; generally carrying along with his luggage a tea-kcllle and other utensils, as well as the materials for mak- ing tea, of which he was fond, for its simple exhilar- ating qualities. At the inns, however, he generally ordered the best victuals and wines, so that there might be no complaint as to his stinginess ; but these luxuries he seldom tasted. When he considered himself ill-treated by postilions, he punished them by withholding extra fees ; but, to show that he did not do so for the purpose of saving money, he sent his servant to gather the poor of the place, and, in the presence of the postilion, distributed among them the sum he would have paid. These traits of character becoming Avidely known, he was generally carefully attended to wherever he travelled. On one occasion, he happened to visit a monastery at Prague, where he found the inmates feasting on a day which ought to have been devoted to abstinence. He was so much displeased with this breach of disci- pline, that he threatened to proceed to Rome to inform the Pope ; and it was only after tho monks had made the most humiliating apology, and expressed their contrition, that he promised to be silent on the subject to the head of their church. In 1781, he again departed from England on a tour of philanthropy, in order to proceed through Denmark, Sweden, Russia, and Poland, and some other countries in the north of Europe, with the view of inspecting the prisons 220 JOHN IIOV/ARD. and hospitals on his route. Copenhagen, Stockhohn, Petersburg, and Moscow were respectively visited, and in each he collected valuable information on the state of the common jails, and modes of punishment. Having thus visited every state of Europe, whence he could hope to derive assistance for the completion of the great design which animated him, except the two southern kingdoms of Spain and Portugal, he next directed his course thither, and on this journey visited the prisons of Madrid, Lisbon, and other populous towns. This tour being completed, he returned to England, and finished his fourth general inspection of the English jails, preparatory to the publication of a second edition of his Appendix to the State of Prisons, a work he had sometime before given to the public. When these journeys were finished, he summed up the number of miles Avhich, in less than ten years, he had travelled in his OAvn country and abroad, on the reform of prisons, bride- wells, and hospitals, and found that they formed a total of forty-two thousand and thirty-three. When, in the spring of 1784, Howard had laid before the public the result of his minute inspection of the prisons, and many of the hospitals of his own country, and of the principal states of Europe, he retired to his estate at Cardington, in whose calm seclusion he purposed to spend the remaining years of his existence. He had now nothing to embitter his peace but the conduct of his son, who, having been sent to the University of Edinburgh, and placed under the care of the venerable Dr. Blacklock, unhappily contracted habits of dissipation and extravagance, JOHN HOWARD. 221 which were his own ruin, and well-nigh broke his father's heart. After having devoted more than eleven years of his valuable existence to the reformation of the jails, and the improvement of the hospitals of his own country, as well as those of foreign states, he determined again to quit his home on a journey of benevolence, more important to the interests of the human race, though fraught with greater danger to himself, than any he had yet undertaken. His plan was indeed the most humane and beneficent that ever entered into the mind of man, for it was to check the progress of devouring pestilence, be inspecting the condition of the principal lazarettos in Europe, and, if possible, to throw light on the origin of that dreadful scourge of mankind — the plague. On this tour of mercy, he visited the Italian states, and from thence passed by sea to Turkey, in which country he examined the hospitals and prisons of Constantinople, Smyrna, and other places. While on this expedition, being at sea, the vessel was attacked by a Moorish privateer. In the engagement which took place, he fought with great bravery, and aided in repelling the attack of the barbarians. When he arrived in Venice, he sub- mitted, with the crew of the vessel, to the most shocking privations in a loathsome lazaretto, in order to acquire knowledge of the management of those supposed to be laboring under plague. In all these trials his cheerfulness never forsook him. Being liberated in due course of time, he returned to Eng- land, and resumed his inspection of the town and county jails and bridewells. It is mentioned that he 19* 222 JOHN HO^VARD. frequently exercised his liberality in relieving poor debtors from confinement, by paying- their debts. " I have often seen him come to his lodgings," says the journal of his attendant in most of his tours, " in such spirits and joy, Avhen he Avould say to me, ' I have made a poor woman happy ; I have sent her husband home to her and her children.' " He was exceedingly methodical in spending his time. He generally declined every invitation to dinner or to supper whilst on his tours ; abstained from visiting every object of curiosity, however attractive, and even from looking mto a newspaper, lest his attention should be diverted from the grand purpose in which he was engaged. In 1789-90, Howard again proceeded on a journey — which was the seventh and last — to the continent, to reexamine the prisons and hospitals of Holland, part of Germany, Prussia, and Russia. His plan was to have spent three years abroad. One object of his pursuit, and perhaps the principal one, was to obtain further information respecting the plague, by extend ing his visits to those parts of the world in which it rages with the greatest virulence', and on some of whose infectious coasts it is supposed to take its rise. As soon as he had resolved to undertake this hazard- ous journey, he became impressed with the belief that it would be his last ; and when he to.ok leave of one and another of his friends, he did it as one whose face they would see no more on this side of the grave. These feelings were sadly verified. The benevolent Howard penetrated, in his journey, into the deserts of Tartary, to the confines of the Euxine Sea, every- where examining the prisons and hospitals, and doing JOHN HOWARD. 223 all in his power to alleviate the sufferings of the inmates. At Cherson, in the distant region of Rus- sian Tartary, his visits to the infectious hospitals brought upon him the attacks of a severe fever — a species of plague — under which his constitution gave way. Every attention Avas paid to him by the authorities, but nothing could save his life, which he gave up, with pious resignation and hope, on the morning of the 20th of January, 1790. Thus died one of the brightest ornaments of Eng- lish biography; a person whose name is associated with all that is virtuous and benevolent, and who will be remembered, with feelings of admiration and respect, for numberless ages, in every part of the civilized Avorld. -J-J- Slfe I.CSf^C'-o •Q JENNER. Edwakd Jenner was bom in 1749, at Berkeley, in (rloucestershire, England, of which his father was vicar. He was educated at Cirencester, and appren- ticed to Mr. Ludlow, a surgeon at Sudbury. At the conclusion of his apprenticeship, he went to London and became a pupil of John Hunter, with whom he resided for two years, while studying medicine at St. George's hospital, and with whom his philosophical habits of mind and his love of natural history pro- cured him an intimate and lasting friendship. In 1773, he returned to his native village, and practised as a surgeon and apothecary till 1792, when he JENNEll. 225 determined to confine himself to medicine, and obtained the degree of M. D., at St. Andrew's Uni- versity. The history of Dr. Jenner's professional life is embodied in that of vaccination. While at Sudbury, he was surprised one day at hearing a country woman say she could not take the small-pox, because she had had the cow-pox ; and, upon inquiry, he learned that it was a popular notion in that district, that milkers who had been infected with a peculiar eruption, which sometimes occurred on the udder of the cow, were com- pletely secure against the small-pox. The medical men of the district told him that the security which it gave was not perfect ; they had long known the opinion, and it had been communicated to Sir George Baker, but he neglected it as a popular error. Jenner, during his pupilage, repeatedly mentioned the facts, which had from the first made a deep impression vipon him, to John Hunter; but even he disregarded them, and all to whom the subject was broached, either slighted or ridiculed it. Jenner, however, still pursued it. He found, when in practice at Berkeley, that there were some persons to whom it was impossible to give small-pox by inoculation, and that all these had had cow-pox; but that there were others who had experienced it, and who yet received small-pox. This, after much labor, led him to the discovery that the cow was subject to a variety of eruptions, of which one only had the power of guard- ing from small-pox, and that this, which he called the true cow-pox, could be eflfectually communicated to the milkers at only one period of its course. ''26 JENNEH. It was about the year 17S0, that the idea first struck him that it might be possible to propagate the cow-pox, first from the cow to the human body, and thence from one person to another. In 1788, he carried a drawing of the casual disease, as seen on the hands of milkers, to London, and showed it to Hunter, Cline and others ; but still, none would either assist or encourage him ; scepticism or ridicule met him every- where, and it was not till 1796, that he made the decisive experiment. On the 14lh of May, a day still commemorated by an annual festival at Berlin, a boy, aged eight years, was vaccinated with matter takgn from the hands of a milkmaid ; he passed through the disorder in a satisfactory manner, and was inoculated for small-pox on the 1st July following, without the least effect. Jenner then entered upon an extensiv^e series of experiments of the same kind, and, in 1798, published his first memoir, " An Inquiry into the Causes and Effects of the Variolse Vaccinae." It excited the greatest interest, for the evidence in it seemed conclusive ; yet the practice met with opposition as severe as it was tinfair, and its success seemed uncertain till a year had passed, when upwards of seventy of the principal physicians and surgeons in London signed a declara- tion of their entire confidence in it. An attempt was then made to deprive Jenner of the merit of his dis covery, but it signally failed, and scientific honors were bestowed upon him from all quarters. Nothing, however, could induce him to leave his native village, and all his correspondence shows that th.e pures* benevolence, rather than imbition, had been the JENNEE. 227 motive which actuated his labors. " Shall I," said he ill a letter to a friend, "who, even in the morn-ing of my life, sought the lowly and sequestered paths of lif», the valley and not the mountain, — shall I, now my evening is fast approaching, hold myself up as an object for fortune and for fame ? My fortune, with what flows in from my profession, is amply sufficient to gratify my wishes." Till the last day of his life, which terminated sud- denly in 1S23, he was occupied in the most anxious labors to diffuse the advantages of his discovery both at home and abroad ; and he had the satisfaction of knowing that vaccination had even then shed its blessings over every civilized nation of the world, prolonging life, and preventing the ravages of the most terrible scourge to which the human race was subject. Jenner's other works all evince the same patient and philosophic spirit which led him to his great dis- covery. The chief of them was a paper, "On the Natural History of the Cuckoo," in which he first described that bird's habit of laying its eggs singly in the nests of smaller species, to whom it leaves the office of incubation and of rearing the young one, which, Avhen a few days old, acquires the sole pos- session of the nest by the expulsion of its rightful occupants. The life of Jenner is not without its moral. The history of his great discovery affords a striking instance of the difficulties Avhich often attend the pro- mulgation of truth, even though it may be of the greatest consequence to mankind ; and it also shows 22S JENNER. how much good one individual may accomplish. The small-pox had been for ages the great dread of man- kind. It is a matter of dispute whether it Avas known to the ancients ; the earliest writer who expressly treated of it, was Rhazes, an Arabian physician, who died A. D. 932. He, however, con- founded it with measles, and the two diseases were considered as identical, till the time of Sydenham, 1660. But whatever obscurity may rest on the origin and the early history of small-pox, prior to Jenner's discovery it had become one of the most formidable diseases which had ever afflicted mankind. It spread itself to all quarters of the globe, and has often been known to depopulate whole districts. It was espe- cially fatal to the poor. The Europeans brought it to America, and its ravages among the ignorant natives were almost as fatal as the sword. The terrors of the disease had been in some degree mitigated, by the discovery that it could be had but once, and that it was of a milder nature if taken by artificial inoculation. This practice had prevailed in Turkey, especially among females, for the preser- vation of the beauty of young girls. The celebrated lady Montague, who accompanied her husband to Constantinople, where he was the ambassador of England in 1716, observed the custom, and on her return, first introduced it into the western part of Europe. The practice met with the greatest opposi- tion, especially among the ignorant, but it finally overspread the enlightened classes of Christendom. The fatality of this disease may be ascertained by JENNER. 229 the returns of the hospitals. Here thirty per cent, of those attacked without inoculation, have been found to die, and this under every favorable circum- stance, and with the best medical treatment. It was much more destructive in ordinary cases. Even with the mitigation aflbrded by inoculation, it continued to be one of the scourges of mankind. The impor- tance of Dr. Jenner's discovery may be estimated, when it is stated, that very few persons, after being vaccinated, can take the small-pox, and of those who do, not more than one case in four hundred and fifty, proves mortal ! Yet, this discovery, which has done more to pro- long life than all other medical improvements for a hundred years preceding, met with ridicule at the outset, and the most determined opposition in later times. As there is a class of persons — even among the intelligent — w'ho are unduly credulous, so there is another class who are as unreasonably skeptical ; and the latter are commonly those who pretend to unusual wisdom. These are found, by a sort of instinct, to resist what is new, and to condemn it without examination, only because of its novelty. Among the ignorant, there are multitudes who are ready to swallow the most egregious impositions if offered by a quack, who yet resist the greatest benefits if they come from the hands of science. In its early stages, vaccination had to contend with these sources of opposition. For several years it was rejected by the mass, and, even in Boston, several eminent physicians lost their standing with a large VI.— 20 230 JENNER. share of the community, in their attempts to intro- duce it. Happily, these prejudices have subsided, and the great plague of the world has quailed before the magic wand of science, wielded by the hand of benevolence. |t;^};,y, ,?, -0, .0, 5?, ,% .y, -9,5 tv^. '.♦. ,». .♦. .» »■ .»_ .*-:^ JOHN FREDERICK OBERLIN Was a native of Strasbourg, and, after being edu- cated as a Lutheran clergyman, was appointed, in 1767, when twenty-seven years of age, to the cure of Waldbach, in the Ban de la Roche, a high and sterile valley in Alsace. His mind was animated with the most ardent desire of usefulness, not only in his pro- fession, but in many other respects ; and greatly did his parish need the attentions of such a philanthropist. The whole valley afforded subsistence, and that of the most Avretched kind, for only about a hundred families, who were a race of rude and ignorant rustics, 232 OBERLIN. cut off by their peculiar dialect, as well as by the inaccessibility of their situation, from all the rest of mankind. The husbandmen were destitute of the commonest implements, and had no means of procur- ing' them; they had no knowledge of agriculture, beyond the routine practices of their forefathers ; they were ground down and irritated by a hateful feudal service. He devoted himself to the correction of these evils, at the same time that he labored in his spiritual , vocation. The people, at first, did not comprehend his plans, or appreciate his motives. Ignorance is always sus- picious. They resolved, with the dogged pertinacity with which the uneducated of all ranks cling to the rubbish of old customs, not to submit to innovation. The peasants agreed, on one occasion, to waylay and beat him, and on another, to duck him in a cistern. He boldly confronted them, and subdued their hearts by his courageous mildness. But he did more ; he gave up exhorting the people to pursue their real interests ; he practically showed them the vast benefits which competent knowledge and well-directed indus- try would procure for them. These mountaineers in many respects Avere barbarians ; and he resolved to civilize them, as all savages are civilized, by bringing them into contact with more enlightened communities. The Ban de la Roche had no roads. The few passes in the mountains were constantly broken up by the torrents, or obstructed by the loosened earth which fell from the overhanging rocks. The river Bruche, which flows through the canton, had no bridge but one of stepping-stones. Within a feAV miles of this 03ERLIN. 233 isolated district was Strasbourg, abounding in wealth and knowledge, and all the refinements of civilization. He determined to open a regular communication between the Ban de la Roche and that city ; to find there a market for the produce of his own district, and to bring thence in exchange new comforts and new means of improvement. He assembled the people, explained his objects, and proposed that they should blast the rocks to make a Avail, a mile and a half in length, to support a road by the side of the river, over which a bridge must also be made. The peasants, one and all, declared the thing was impossible ; and every one excused himself from engaging in such an unreasonable scheme. Oberlin exhorted them, rea- soned with them, appealed to them as husbands and fathers — ^but in vain. He at last threw a pickaxe upon his shoulder, and went to work himself, assisted by a trusty servant. He had soon the support of fellow-laborers. He regarded not the thorns by which his hands were torn, nor the loose stones which fell from the rocks and bruised them. His heart was in the work, and no difficulty could stop him. He devoted his own little property to the undertaking ; he raised subscrip- tions amongst his old friends ; tools Avere bought for ail who were willing to use them. On the Sunday the good pastor labored in his calling as a teacher of sacred truths ; but on the Monday, he rose with the sun to his work of practical benevolence, and, march- ing at the head of two hundred of his flock, went with renewed vigor to his conquest over the natural obsta- cles to the civilization of the district. In three years 20* 234 OBERLIN. the road was finished, the bridge was built, and the communication with Strasbourg was established. The ordinary results of intercourse between a poor and a wealthy, a rude and an intelligent community, were soon felt. The people of the Ban de la Roche obtained tools, and Oberlin taught their young men the necessity of learning other trades besides that of cultivating the earth. He apprenticed the boys to carpenters, masons, glaziers, blacksmiths, and cart- wrights, at Strasbourg. In a few years, these arts, which were wholly unknown to the district, began to flourish. The tools were kept in good order, wheel- carriages became common, the wretched cabins were converted into snug cottages ; the people felt the value of these great changes, and they began to regard their pastor with unbounded reverence. Oberlin, however, had still some prejudices to en- counter in carrying forward the education of this rude population. He desired to teach them better modes of cultivating their sterile soil ; but they would not listen to him. " What," said they, Avith the common prejudice of all agricultural people in secluded dis- tricts, — " what could he know of crops, who had been bred in a town?" It was useless to reason with them ; he instructed them by example. He had two large gardens near his parsonage, crossed by footpaths. The soil was exceedingly poor ; but he trenched and manured the ground, with a thorough knowledge of what he was about, and planted it with fruit trees. The trees flourished, to the great astonishment of the peasants ; and they at length entreated their pastor to tell them his secret. He explained his system, and OBERLIN. 235 gave them slips out of his nursery. Planting and grafting soon became the taste of the district, and in a few years the bare and desolate cottages were sur- rounded by smiling orchards. The potatoes of the canton, the chief food of the people, had so degene- rated, that the fields yielded the most scanty produce. The peasants maintained that the ground was in fault ; Oberlin, on the contrary, procured new seed. The soil of the mountains was really peculiarly favorable to the cultivation of this root, and the good minister's crop of course succeeded. The force of example was again felt, and abundance of potatoes soon returned to the canton. In like manner, Oberlin introduced the culture of Dutch clover and flax, and at length overcame the most obstinate prejudice, in converting unprofitable pastures into arable land. Like all agricultural im- provers, he taught the people the value of manure, and the best modes of reducing every substance into useful compost. The maxim which he incessantly repeated was, "let nothing be lost." He established an agri- cultural society, and founded prizes for the most skil- ful fanners. In ten years from his acceptance of the pastoral office in the Ban de la Roche, he had opened communications between each of the five parishes of the canton, and with Strasbourg, introduced some of the most useful arts into a district where they had been utterly neglected, and raised the agriculture of these poor mountaineers from a barbarous tradition into a practical science. Such were some of the effects of education in the most comprehensive sense of the word. 286 OBERLIN. The instruction which Oberlin afforded to the adults of his canton was only just as much as was necessary to remove the most pressing evils of their outward condition, and to impress them with a deep sense of religious obligation. But his education of the young had a wider range. When he entered on his minis- try, the hut which his predecessor had built, was the only schoolhouse of the five villages composmg the canton. It had been constructed of unseasoned logs, and was soon in a ruinous condition. The people, however, would not hear of a new building ; the log- house had answered very well, and was good enough for their time. Oberlin was not to be so deterred from the pursuit of his benevolent wishes. He applied to his friends at Strasbourg, and took upon himself a heavy pecuniary responsibility. A new building was soon completed at Waldbach, and in a few years the inhabitants in the other four parishes came voluntarily forward, to build a schoolhouse in each of the villages. Oberlin engaged zealously in the preparation of mas- ters for these establishments, which were to receive all the children of the district when of a proper age. But he also carried the principle of education far- ther than it had ever before gone in any country. He was the founder of infant schools. He saw that, almost from the cradle, children were capable of instruction ; that evil habits began much earlier than the world had been accustomed to believe ; and that the facility with which mature education might be conducted, greatly depended upon the impressions which the reason and the imagination of infants might receive. He appointed conductrices in each commune. OBERLIN. 237 paid at his own expense ; and established rooms, vvhere children from two to six years old might be instructed and amused ; and he thus gave the model of those beautiful institutions which have first shown us how the happiness of a child may be associated with its improvement, and how knowledge, and the discipline which leads to knowledge, are not necessa- rily "Harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose." The children in these little establishments were not kept " from morn till noon, from noon till dewy eve," over the horn-book and primer. They learnt to knit, and sew, and spin ; and when they were weary, they had pictures to look at, and maps, engraved on wood, for their special use, of their own canton, of Alsace, of France, and of Europe. They sang songs and hymns ; and they were never suffered to speak a word of patois. When the children of the Ban de la Eoche — the cnil- dren of peasants, be it remembered, who, a few years before the blessing of such a pastor as Oberlin was bestowed upon them, were not only steeped to the lips in poverty, but were groping in that darkness of the understanding which too often accompanies extreme indigence — when these children were re- moved to the higher schools, which possessed the most limited funds, they Avere taught reading, writing, arithmetic, geography, astronomy, sacred and profane history, agriculture, natural history, especially botany, natural philosophy, music, and drawing. Oberlin reserved for himself, almost exclusively, the religious U,2S OBERLIN. instruction of this large family ; and he established a weekly meeting of all the scholars at Waldbach. The inhabitants of Strasbourg and of the neighboring towns from which the Ban de la Roche had been recently cut off, came to look upon the wonders which one man had effected. Subscriptions poured in upon the disinterested pastor ; endowments were added. Well did he use this assistance. He founded a valu- able library for the use of the children ; he printed a number of the best school-books for their particular instruction; he made a collection of philosophical and mathematical instruments ; and established prizes for masters and scholars. Thus did this extraordinary man strive to raise the intellectual standard of his parishioners, whilst he labored to preserve the purity of their morals and the strength of their piety. Never did religion present more attractive features than in the secluded districts of the Ban de la Roche. The love of God was con- stantly inculcated as a rule of life ; but the principle was enforced with no ascetic desire to separate it from the usefulness and the enjoyment of existence. The studies in which these poor children were trained, contributed as much to their happiness as to their knowledge. They were not confined for years to copying large text and small hand, to learning by rote the spelling-book, to hammering at the four rules of arithmetic without understanding their principles or their more practical applications. While they paid due attention to these, they were taught whatever could be useful to them in their pastoral and agricultural life, and whatever could enable them to extract hap- OBEELIN. 239 piness out of their ordinary pursuits. They were incited to compose short essays on the management of the farm and the orchard ; they were led into the woods to search for indigenous plants, to acquire their names, and to cultivate them in their own little gar- dens ; they were instructed in the delightful art of copying these flowers from nature ; it was impressed upon their minds, that, as they lived in a district sep- arated by mountains from the rest of mankind, and moreover a district naturally sterile, it was their peculiar duty to contribute something towards the general prosperity ; and thus, previously to receiving religious confirmation, Oberlin required a certificate that the young person had planted two trees. Trees were to be planted, roads were to be put into good condition, and ornamented, to please Him " who rejoices when we labor for the public good." Surely, a community thus trained to acquire sub- stantial knowledge, equally conducive to individual happiness and general utility, were likely to become virtuous and orderly members of society, contented in their stations, respectful to their superiors, kind to each other, hospitable to the stranger, tolerant to those who differed from them in opinion. Oberlin lived long enough to see that such conduct was the real result of his wise and benevolent system. in 1784, Oberlin lost his excellent wife. There was a servant in his family, an orphan, named Louisa Schepler, who had been brought up in his schools, and was afterwards one of the conductrices of the infant establishments. After being the nurse of Ober lin's children for nine years following the death of ii40 OBERLIN. their mother, this poor girl Avrote to her master, to beg that she might be allowed to serve him Avithout wages. " Do not, I entreat you," she says, "give me any- more wages ; for, as you treat me like your child in every other respect, I earnestly wish you to do so in this particular also. Little is needful for the support of my body. My shoes and stockings, and sabots, will cost something ; but when I want them, I can ask you for them, as a child applies to its father." In the course of twenty years, the population of the Ban de la Roche had increased to six times the number that Oberlin found there when he entered upon his charge. The knowledge which their pastor imparted to the people, gave them also the means of living, and the increase of their means increased their numbers. The good minister found employment for all. In addition to their agricultural pursuits, he taught the people straw-plaiting, and dyeing with the plants of the country. In the course of years, Mr. Legrand, of Basle, a wealthy and philanthropic manu- facturer, who had been a director of the Helvetic republic, introduced the weaving of silk ribands into the district. The people of the Ban de la Roche for eighty years had been in dispute with the seigneurs about the rights of the forest, to which each party laid claim. This dispute was carried on sometimes with furious violence, but habitually with expensive litigation. In 1813, Oberlin persuaded his flock to come to an accommodation, which should at the same time have respect to the claims of the owners, and secure a due OBERLIN. 241 portion of their own proper privileges. He convinced them that this ruinous contest was the scourge of the country, and that it was the duty of all men to live in peace. The parties agreed to an accommodation advantageous to both sides ; and the pen Avith which the deed of pacification was signed, was solemnly presented to him by the mayors of the canton. It was for that pen to record, as clearly as facts can speak, that an educated people are the truest respect- ers of the rights of property ! Oberlin died in the year 1827, when he had attained a very great age. The difficulties which he surmounted, and the actual good which he did, should be a lesson of encouragement to all. He doubtless made great personal sacrifices ; but he had a reward amply compensating his self-denial. In the fulness of his heart, the venerable man, looking round upon the valleys which he had filled with the peacefulness of contented industry, and upon the people Avhom he had trained to knoAvledge, and to virtue — the best fruit of knowledge — exclaimed, " Yes ! I am happy ! " And when he died, he was followed to the grave by an entire population, upon whom he, a poor but industri- ous and benevolent clergyman, had showered innu- merable blessings. VI.— 21 JOHN GUTTENBERG. John Guttenberg, to whom the honor is due of having invented the art of printing, Avas born at May- ence, or Mentz, in Germany, in the year 1400. Of the early part of his life nothing is now known. There is reason to suppose, however, that he possessed a genius for mechanical pursuits, and was not defi- cient in the elements of literature, as his professional avocations sufficiently testify. Up till the period in which he appeared, printing was unknoAvn. All books were written and circulated on a limited scale in manuscript, and were sold at immensely high JOHN GTJTTENBERG. 243 prices. The Chinese, from early times, had used carved stamps to impress upon paper instead of writing ; the Romans likewise used stamps and seals in order to produce impressions ; but the idea of form- ing individual letters or characters, capable of being arranged in every kind of combination, does not appear to have occurred to any of the ancient nations, and was left to be first thought of by the ingenious Guttenberg, in the early part of the fifteenth century. Having struck out the grand idea of forming letters or types, wherewith to produce any given number of impressions, and upon any subject, he kept the dis- covery a profound secret, and removed to Strasburg about the year 1424. Unfortunately for Guttenberg, he was poor, and unable, by his own efforts, to render his discovery practically beneficial. By this means he was led into many difficulties, and in some measure robbed of the merit of his invention. In 1435, he entered into partnership with Andrew Drozhennis, or Dritzehen, John Riff, and Andrew Heelman, citizens of Strasburg, binding himself thereby to disclose cer- tain important secrets connected with the art of print- ing, by which they should attain opulence. The workshop was in the house of Dritzehen, who dying shortly after the work was commenced, Gutten- berg immediately sent his servant, Lawrence Beildich, to Nicholas, the brother of the deceased, and requested that no person might be admitted into the workshop, lest the secret should be discovered, and the forms, or fastened-together types, stolen. But they had already disappeared ; and this fraud, as well as the claims of Nicholas Dritzehen to succeed to his brother's share. 244 JOHN GUTTENBERG. produced a lawsuit among the surviving partners. Five witnesses were examined ; and from the evidence of Beildich, Guttenberg's servant, it was incontro- vertibly proved that Guttenberg was the first who practised the art of printing with movable types, and that, on the death of Andrew Dritzehen, he had ex- pressly ordered the forms to be broken up, and the characters dispersed, lest any one should discover his secret. The result of this lawsuit, which occurred in 1439, was a dissolution of partnership ; and Gutten- berg, after having exhausted his means in the effort, proceeded, in 1445-6, to his native city of Mentz, where he resumed his typographic labors. Being ambitious of making his extraordinary inven- tion known, and of value to himself, but being at the same time deficient in the means, he opened his mind to a wealthy goldsmith and worker in precious metals, named John Fust, or Faust, and prevailed on him to advance large sums of money, in order to make fur- ther and more complete trials of the art. Guttenberg being thus associated with Fust, the first regular printing establishment was begun, and the business of printing carried on in a style corresponding to the infancy of the art. After many smaller essays in trying the capabilities of his press and movable types, Guttenberg had the hardihood to attempt an edition of the Bible, which he succeeded in printing complete, between the years 1450 and 1455. This celebrated Bible, which was the first important speci- men of the art of printing, and which, judging from what it has led to, we should certainly esteem as the most extraordinary and praiseworthy of human pro- JOHN GUTTENBERG. 245 ductions, was executed with cut metal types, on six hundred and thirty-seven leaves ; and, from a copy still in existence in the Royal Library of Berlin, some of these appear to have been on vellum. The work was printed in the Latin language. The execution of this, the first printed Bible, which has justly conferred undying honors on the illustrious Guttenberg, was, most unfortunately, the immediate cause of his ruin. The expenses incident to carrying on a fatiguing and elaborate process of workmanship, for a period of five years, being much more considera- ble than what were originally contemplated by Fust, he instituted a suit against poor Guttenberg, who, in consequence of the decision against him, was obliged to pay interest, and also a part of the capital that had been advanced. This suit was followed by a dissolu- tion of partnership ; and the whole of Guttenberg's apparatus fell into the hands of John Fust, who, from being the ostensible agent in the business of printing, and from the wonder expressed by the vulgar in see- ing printed sheets, soon acquired the name of a magi- cian, or one in compact with the devil; and under this character, with the appellation of Dr. Faustus, he has for ages enjoyed an evil notoriety. Besides the above-mentioned Bible, some other specimens of the work of Guttenberg have been dis- covered to be in existence. One in particular, v^rhich is worthy of notice, was found some years ago among a bundle of old papers in the archives of Mayence. It is an almanac for the year 1457, which served as wrapper for a register of accounts that year. This, says Hansard, would most likely be printed towards 21* 246 JOHN GUTTENEERG. the close of 1456, and may consequently be deemed the most ancient specimen of typographic printing extant, with a certain date. That Guttenberg was a person of refined taste in the execution of his works, is sufficiently obvious. Adopting a very ancient cus- tom, common in the written copies of the Scriptures and the missals of the church, he used a large orna- mental letter at the commencement of books and chapters, finely embellished, and surrounded with a variety of figures as in a frame. The initial letter of the first psalm thus forms a beautiful specimen of the art of printing in its early progress. It is richly ornamented with foliage, flowers, a bird, and a grey- hound, and is still more beautiful from being printed in a pale blue color, while the embellishments are red, and of a transparent appearance. What became of Guttenberg immediately after the unsuccessful termi- nation of his lawsuit with Fust, is not well known. Like the discoverer of the great Western Continent, he seems to have retired almost broken-hearted from the world, and to have spent most of the remainder of his days in obscurity. It is ascertained, however, that in the year 1465, he received an annual pension from the Elector Adolphus, but that he only enjoyed this small compensation for his extraordinary inven- tion during three years, and died in the month of February, 1468. It long formed a subject of contention amongst antiquaries and bibliomaniacs, by what means Gutten- berg formed his tj'pes, but it is now pretty clearly ascertained that they Avere at first all individually cut by the hand. The mode of castiiig types in moulds JOHN GUTTENBERG. 247 has been very generally, and witli apparent truth, assigned to Guttenberg's successor, Schocffer. This individual was an industrious young man of inventive genius, an apprentice with Fust, who took him into partnership immediately after his rupture with Gutten- berg, and who is supposed to have been initiated into the mysteries of the art by the latter. The first joint publication of Fust and SchoefTer was a beautiful edi- tion of the Psalms, which came out only about eigh- teen months after their going into partnership. Along with it appeared a declaration by them, claiming the merit of inventing the cut-metal types with which it was printed ; but this pretension was evidently false ; and, in fact, it afterwards appeared that the book had been four years in the press, and must consequently have been chiefly executed by Guttenberg. It is worthy of notice, that the above publication was the very first to Avhich the date, printer's name, and place of publication, were affixed. To Schocffer, however, as said before, must be awarded the honor of completmg Guttenberg's inven- tion, by discovering the method of casting the charac- ters in a matrix. In an account of SchoefTer, given by Jo. Frid. Faustus, of Aschaffenburg, from papers preserved in his family, Ave are informed that the artist privately prepared matrices for the whole alpha- bet ; and when he showed his master. Fust, the letters cast from them, he was so well pleased that he gave his daughter Christina to him in marriage. Fust and Schoeffer concealed the new improvement, by admin- istering an oath of secrecy to all whom they entrusted, 248 JOHN GUTTEN-BERG. till the year 1462, when, by the dispersion of their servants into different countries at the sacking of Mentz, by the Archbishop Adolphus, the invention was publicly divulged, and the art was spread through- out Europe. JAMES HARGRAVES. The period at which the cotton manufacture was first introduced into Great Britain is conjectured to have been in the early part of the seventeenth cen- tury, and there is reason to believe that Manchester was the first seat of the art. As a source of commer- cial profit, however, this species of trade remained long very insignificant — the only mechanical power employed in the fabrication of the yarn being the common one-thread spinning wheel. Moreover, for the period of a century at least, the weft or transverse threads of the web, only, were cotton, it having been found difficult, if not reckoned impossible, owing to the want of proper machinery, to manufacture cotton warp — that is, the longitudinal threads of the web — of sufficient strength ; and in place of which, linen yarn, principally from Germany and Ireland, was substi- tuted. The cotton manufacture was then wholly conducted on the system of cottage industry. Every weaver was a master manufacturer ; his cottage was his factory, and himself the sole artisan. He pro- vided himself with the weft and warp as he best could, wove them into a web, and disposed of it at market to the highest bidder. About 1760, merchants in England began to employ weavers to work up the prepared material, and the business of exporting cottons, both to the continent of Europe and to America, began to be carried on on a 250 JAMES HAKGRAVES. larger scale than formerly. As the demand for the manufactured article continued to increase, a greater and greater scarcity of weft was experienced, till, at last, although there were fifty thousand spindles con- stantly at work in Lancashire alone, each occupying an individual spinner, they were found quite inade- quate to supply the quantity of thread required. It may here be -mentioned, that already the art of weav- ing had been considerably improved. The old plan, of throwing the shuttle containing the weft, from side to side of the web, by the hand, was superseded, in 1738, by a person of the name of John Kay, a native of Bury in Lancashire, who invented a new method of casting the shuttle, by an extremely simple and effectual mechanical contrivance, Avherein one hand of the weaver did the work of both. In 1760, Robert Kay of Bury, a son of John, invented the drop-box, a contrivance by means of Avhich a weaver can at pleasure use any one of the three shuttles without stopping, and can thereby produce a fabric of various colors, almost with the same facility that he can weave a common calico. While the art of weaving was thus considerably improved, the process of carding the cotton avooI was yet clumsy and expensive. At length, this also was remedied. The first improvement on carding was made, as almost every improvement in the cotton manufacture has been, by a person in humble life — James Hargraves, a carpenter at Blackburn in Lan- cashire. This illiterate, but most ingenious and inventive person, adapted the stock-cards used in the woollen manufacture to the carding of cotton, and JAMES IIARGRAVES. 251 greatly improved them. In consequence, a workman Avas enabled to execute about double the work, and with greater ease, than by means of hand cards — the only instrument previously in use. Hargraves' inven- tions were soon succeeded by the cylindrical cards, or carding machine. But the tedious and expensive method of spinning by the hand, was the grand obstacle in the way of the extension and improvement of the manufacture. Insurmountable, however, as this obstacle must, at first sight, have appeared, it was completely overcome by the unparalleled ingenuity, talent, and persever- ance of a few self-taught individuals. Hargraves seems to have led the way in this career of discovery. In 1767, he had constructed a machine called a spin- ning-jenny, which enabled a spinner to spin eight threads with the same facility that one had been pre- viously spun; and the machine was subsequently brought to such perfection as to enable a little girl to work no fewer than from eighty to one hundred and tioenty spindles ! There are few individuals to whom the manufacture of cotton is so largely indebted as Hargraves. It is true that his machine was of very inferior powers to those by which it was immediately followed. But it is not, perhaps, too much to say, that it was one great cause of their being introduced. No sooner had it been seen what a simple mechanical contrivance could effect, than the attention of the most ingenious individuals was immediately drawn to the subject ; and the path was opened, by following which so many splendid inven- tions and discoveries have been made. 252 JAMES HARGRAVES. However much Hargraves' inventions may have tended to enrich others, to himself they were produc- tive only of bankruptcy and ruin. The moment the intelligence transpired that he had invented a ma- chine by which the spinning of cotton was greatly facilitated, an ignorant and infuriated mob, composed chiefly of persons engaged in that employment, broke into his house, and destroyed his machine; and some time after, when experience had completely demonstrated the superiority of the jenny, the mob again resorted to violence, and not only broke into Hargraves' house, but into the houses of most of those who had adopted his machines, Avhich were everywhere proscribed. In consequence of this persecution, Hargraves removed to Nottingham, where he took out a patent for his invention. But he was not, even there, allowed to continue in the peaceable enjoyment of his rights. His patent was invaded, and he found it necessary to apply to the courts for redress. A numerous association Avas in consequence formed to defeat his efforts ; and being, owing to a want of suc- cess in an attempt to establish himself in business, unable to contend against the wealth and influence of the powerful combination arrayed against him, he was obliged to give up the unequal contest, and to submit to see himself robbed of the fruits of his inge- nuity. He soon after fell into a state of extreme poverty, and, to the indelible disgrace of his age and country, was permitted to end his days in the work- house at Nottingham, even after the merit of his invention had been universally acknowledged. RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. The spinning'-jenny of the unfortunate Hargraves was applicable only to the spinning of cotton for weft, being unable to give to yarn that degree of firmness and hardness which is required in the longitudinal threads or warp. But this deficiency was soon after supplied by the invention of the spinning-frame, by Eichard Arkwright, an individual whose biography is full of interest. Richard Arkwright was born on the 23d of Decem- ber, 1732, at Preston, in Lancashire. His parents were very poor, and he was the youngest of a family of thirteen children ; so that we may suppose the school education he received, if he ever was at school at all, was extremely limited. Indeed, but little learn- ing would probably be deemed necessary for the pro- fession to which he was bred — that of a barber. This business he continued to follow till he was nearly thirty years of age ; and this first period of his history is of course obscure enough. About the year 1760, however, or soon after, he gave up shaving, and com- menced business as an itinerant dealer in hair, col- lecting the commodity by travelling up and down the country, and then, after he had dressed it, selling it again to the wig-makers, with whom he very soon acquired the character of keeping a better article than any of his rivals in the same trade. He had obtained possession, too, we are told, of the secret method of VI.— 22 254 ARKWRIGHT. dyeing hair, by which he doubtless contrived to aug- ment his profits. It is unfortunate that very little is known of the steps by Avhich he was led to those inventions that raised him to affluence, and have immortalized his name. Residing in a district where a considerable manu- facture of linen goods, and of linen and cotton mixed, was carried on, he had ample opportunities of becom- ing acquainted with the various processes that were then in use ; and being endowed with a most original and inventive genius, and having sagacity to perceive what was likely to prove the most advantageous pur- suit in which he could embark, his attention was naturally drawn to the improvement of the method of spinning practised in his neighborhood. He stated that he accidentally derived the first hint of his great invention from seeing a red-hot iron bar elongated, by being made to pass between rollers ; and though there is no mechanical analogy between that operation and his process of spinning, it is not difficult to imagine, that, by reflecting upon it, and placing the subject in different points of view, it might lead him to his invention. The precise era of the discovery is not known ; but it is most probable that the felicitous idea of spinning by rollers had occurred to his mind as early as the period when Hargraves was engaged in the invention of the jenny, or almost immediately after. Not being himself a practical mechanic, Ark- wright employed a person by the name of John Kay, a watchmaker at Warrington, to assist him in the pre- paration of the parts of his machine. Having made some progress towards the completion of hi«> inven- ARKWRIGHT. 255 lions, he applied, in 1767, to Mr. Atherton, of Liver- pool, for pecuniary assistance, to enable him to carry them into effect; but this gentleman declined embark- ing his property in what appeared so hazardous