Full text of "In memoriam. George William Curtis. Papers read before Starr King Fraternity, Oakland, September 16, 1892; annual meeting of Unitarian Club, San Francisco, September 26, 1892"

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[TRANSACTIONS OF THE AMERICAN INSTITUTE OF MINING ENGINEERS.]

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF CHARLES A. ASHBURNER.

BY J-. P; LESLEY, PHILADELPHIA, PA.

(Washington Meeting, February, 1890.)

THE old do not love to see the young pass away from the light of
the sun before them. Fathers would fain keep their sons by their
side to the end of life ; but the old Greeks, who loved the old gods,
were wont to moderate their grief with the sweet superstition that
only those whom their gods especially loved died early. The Chris
tian church found consolation in that superstition applied in a new
form to its new sorrows, and paid its most enthusiastic devotion to
the memories of its young and beautiful martyrs. The natural
science of our century is robbing us fast of this and all other super
stitions, s\veet as well as bitter, and leaving us for consolation to the
teaching — colder, yet kinder — of personal fortitude and that optimism
which intelligently translates the Cosmos of Humboldt back into its
old name of the Harmonia of Pythagoras. The Homeric Kata-
clothgs, the three fates, are dead and gone for us, with that old world
which comprehended none of the laws of cause and effect, and sor
rowed for those who were cut off from the land of the living without
hope of more than a shadowy existence beyond the river of death.
All the more the ancients cherished the memory of their dead and
lavished their choicest art upon their monuments. We moderns have
lost the monumental arts, but we better keep the monuments which
our dead leave behind them. No one of us who has done good work
can fail to be remembered ; and in an Institute like this, which keeps
the press at work, an immortality in the memory of men is more
possible, more certain, for every one of its members than the greatest
heroes of antiquity could anticipate for themselves. In old apoca
lyptic times the works of men followed them through death to the
throne of God to be their advocates in judgment, but in these modern
times our works remain this side the grave, to follow the name of
the departed one as it takes its course along the history of his pecu
liar art or science advancing slowly to perfection. We write the
epitaph, not upon the mouldering stone of a tomb, but on the pages

2 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF CHARLES A. ASHBURNER.

of a book which shall stand in all the libraries of Christendom. Let
it be written lovingly.

What, then, are the monuments which our Charles A. Ashburner
has left behind him ? He was your fellow-member, and you grieve
for his sudden loss; he was one of my children, and I grieve still
more. To me his death is one of the irreparable losses. He was
one of my college boys. I taught him the elements and principles
of geology in the Towne School of the University of Pennsylvania
from 1872 to 1875. He was one of the quickest of learners, and
took to physical science like a duck to water. He had a genuine
genius for appreciating form and structure, and was one of the few
who, at the outset of a scientific career, comprehend the uses of
accuracy. Many never learn them ; he was accurate by nature.
Everything of the nature of true proportion appealed to him with
the certainty of a response in the shape of some additional striving
after absolute precision of statement or presentment. He was a born
artist, seeing what he drew and drawing what he saw. The love of
exact scientific truthfulness, however, in his case never hardened, as
it does in so many other cases, into a pedantic formalism. He was
full of inventiveness. His imagination was fertile in new inven
tions for discovering and portraying the exact proportions and rela
tions of things — the objects of inquiry. He was a zealot in science.
He might have said to any one, or to his own soul, with safety, " The
zeal for exact truth has eaten me up." In fact, we owe this zeal the
heavy grudge that in the end — nay, not half-way to the proper end —
it killed him. He never spared himself, or any price, to become
perfectly sure of facts. For many of his facts he had to pay a high
price; but the actual facts he would have. No half-facts for him.
I have not encountered a more real and typical man of science — born
for true science. Consequently he was a discoverer, a natural leader
of men in exploration.

His first work was topographical. I commissioned him and his
classmate, Charles E. Billin, in 1885, to aid Mr. John H. Dewees,
Assistant Geologist in charge of the survey of the fossil ore-belt
of the Juniata Valley. They soon learned to carry on their geo
logical as well as their topographical work independently of Mr.
Dewees. A very perfect contour-line map of the south flank of Jack's
Mountain, and of the small valleys and ridges in front of it, was
made by them in common, and is one of the most satisfactory
products of the State survey.

Mr. Ashburner wrote the report on the Aughwick Valley and

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF CHARLES A. ASHBURNER. 3

East Broad Top Coal-basin, published, with Mr. Dewees's report on
the fossil-ore mines, as " Report F," in 1878. His discussion of
the Three Springs fault showed his extraordinary geological ability,
and was a plain prediction of his future eminence. But the many
precisely- constructed sections across that belt of the State, published
in Report F, proved that he combined the qualities of geologist and
artist in the highest degree.

In 1876 I commissioned Mr. Ash burner to survey one of the most
important districts of the State, and one of the most difficult — the
counties of McKean, Elk, Cameron and Forest, containing the
Bradford oil-district, then becoming famous for its productiveness.
His survey of McKean was commenced in July of that year, and
lasted two years; but his report on it (R) was not published until
1880. The district being traversed by gentle anticlinal waves, which
but slightly modify the essential horizontally of the Lower Car
boniferous and Devonian measures, and being occupied largely at the
surface by the Conglomerate No. XII., which had not then been sub
divided properly in northern Pennsylvania, although its subdivisions
had been made out by I. C. White in the western counties, Ash-
burner instinctively felt that his success would depend on a good topo
graphical map as the first step of the survey; and he made one of
the best, contouring it with the eye of an artist who knew the geo
logical significance of every feature of every curve. When a model
ill relief, on an equal vertical and horizontal scale, was made from
this map, and the colored belts of the outcrops were laid upon it, no
more perfect exhibition of the geology of an extensive area could be
imagined. But hisstudy of the underground by surface-sections and
well-borings was quite as excellent, and quite as well expressed to
view. The generalizations which he deduced from it bore the most
important fruit, fixed the limits of the oil, and placed the calcula
tion of boring-depth in that district on a sure scientific basis, one of
his most striking discoveries being the rapid increase in thickness
southeastward of formation No. X., from 250 feet to 750 feet, which
explained the failure of many borings to reach the deeper oil-horizon
in Elk and Cameron counties. In 1878 Mr. Arthur W. Sheafer
was commissioned to assist him in completing the survey of the four
counties ; and the second volume (R R), relating to Elk, Cameron and
Forest, was published in 1885, having been long delayed by his
work in eastern Pennsylvania.

When, in 1880, the time came for organizing the survey of the
anthracite-region as a special and most important part of the survey

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF CHARLES A. ASHBURNER.

of the State, I selected, without hesitation, Mr. Ashburner to plan,
organize and execute it. I have no intention of describing this
chef d'ceuvre of geology as an applied science, now famous at home
and abroad ; for its numerous sheets of mine-maps, columnar-sec
tions and cross-sections are probably in the hands of most of the
members of the Institute. I wish only to lay the fame of this
splendid achievement as a green wreath on the tomb of our fellow-
member. He knew exactly what was to be done and did it. He
selected his assistants, taught them and worked with them, inspired
them with his own zeal, and lifted their work to the standard level
of his own, and kept it there. He encountered indescribable ob
stacles of social, mercantile and professional kinds, and overcame
them with admirable tact and good judgment. He entirely con
quered the rooted prejudice of practical miners and local engineers
against scientific geologists, until it became evident to all that the
State survey knew what it was about, was doing a special and spe
cific business, and not only could teach the oldest and most intelli
gent operators something they did not know, and unaided could not
know, but would place upon their office-tables what they would
soon come to consulting every day, and would not part with at any
price. Above all, he was wise enough to inspire everybody in the
anthracite region with entire confidence in his honesty, in his truth
fulness, in the exact meaning of what he promised to do and not to
do, and in his certain performance of such promises. His sense of
private and professional honor was so keen and so subtle that it led
him triumphantly through a perfect labyrinth of suspicion, fear and
dislike, engendered against him and his survey by contending col
liery-interests and competing official interests. He insured accuracy
for his own work, and confidence in it at the same time, by the
original device of a submission of every proof received from the
artists of every sheet in its stages of publication, to the superin
tendents and engineers of the colliery companies, to be criticized and
corrected as they pleased. But these returned proofs were then sub
jected to re-examination by him and his assistants, to test the value
of such corrections, over which conferences were held, and debates,
until they were accepted or rejected. In many cases the companies
themselves saw the necessity for new and, at first, strange work, and
ordered it done by their own engineers. In a word, not to be tedi
ous, the survey produced a change of professional sentiment in the
whole region, of a nature which the members of this Institute can
well understand without my describing it. This was Ash burner's

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF CHARLES A. ASHBURNER. 5

doing. Of course his whole corps of assistants ably supported and
seconded him ; fell into his ways ; helped to make his system success
ful ; became themselves able geologists ; and are now among the most
trustworthy and reputable. His will was strong, but his heart was
warm ; and, while he permitted no disobedience of orders, I never
knew a man more generous and faithful to those above and those
below him. Such a man will make enemies ; but he never showed
the least rancor towards them. I have said he was a typical man
of science ; I can safely add that he was a true Christian gentle
man, with a heart overflowing with affection to his fellow-men.
Ambitious? yes, very ambitious, but only of power which he never
abused; wealth which was not for himself; fame, but of the noblest
kind.

Mr. Ashburner conducted the anthracite survey from 1880 to
1887, and was succeeded by his accomplished assistant, Mr Frank
Hill, who completed the survey June 1, 1889 ; when by Act of As
sembly the work of the Geological Survey of Pennsylvania ceased
and the whole corps was disbanded. Mr. Ashburner's first work
was a thorough survey of the Panther Creek, or eastern division of
the southern anthracite field, between Mauch Chunk and Tamaqua,
his report on which (A A) was published in 1883. In subsequent
years he had separate field parties, working simultaneously, in the
Eastern middle, Western middle, and Northern fields, with offices at
Pottsville, Hazleton, and Wilkesbarre, his headquarters being at
Philadelphia.

In the fall of 1886 he resigned his commission (with the under
standing, however, that he would give half his time still until the
following summer) to accept business relations, as a scientific expert,
with Mr. Westinghouse at Pittsburgh. Since then, and up to the
time of his death, he travelled widely in the United States and
Canada to examine especially new oil- and gas-fields, and latterly
proposed plants for mining the precious metals. It was on his second
return from Arizona in December last, worn out with exertion, ex
posure and the responsibilities of his office, that he fell ill and died
at Pittsburgh, leaving an amiable wife and two young children and
innumerable friends to mourn his loss.

He was a member of the American Philosophical Society from
1880, in the Proceedings of which will be found the following
papers, which he read at the meetings of the Society between 1881
and 1889:

On Kintz's Fire-Damp Indicator, xxi., p. 283.

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF CHARLES A. ASHBURNER.

Notes on the Natural Bridge of Virginia, xxi., p. 699.

Remarks on the Recent Publications of the Second Geological
Survey of Pennsylvania, xxii., p. 80.

Mr. Ash burner joined the American Institute of Mining Engi
neers in 1875, served as Manager in 1885, 1886 and 1887, and con
tributed to the Transactions the following papers :

Transactions.

1. The Bradford Oil-District of Pennsylvania, ..... vii., 316

2. The Brazos Coal-Field, Texas, ix., 495

3. New Method of Mapping the Anthracite Coal-Fields of Pennsyl

vania, ............ ix., 506

4. The Flannery Boiler-Setting for the Prevention of Smoke, . . x., 212

5. The Anthracite Coal-Beds of Pennsylvania, xi., 20

6. The Product and Exhaustion of the Oil-Regions of Pennsylvania

and New York, xiv., 419

7. The Geology of Natural Gas, xiv., 428

8. The Classification and Constitution of Pennsylvania Anthracites, . xiv., 706

9. The Geological Distribution of Natural Gas in the United States, . xv., 505

10. The Geologic Relations of the Nanticoke Disaster, . . . xv., 629

11. Coal- Production in Utah, xvi., 356

12. Petroleum and Natural Gas in New York State, .... xvi., 906

13. The Development and Statistics of the Alabama Coal-Fields for

1887, xvii., 206

14. The Geology of Buffalo as Related to Natural-Gas Explorations

along the Niagara River, ........ xvii., 398

15. Statistics of Coal-Mining and of Miners' Wages in the United

States for 1888 (in press), xviii.,

16. Natural-Gas Explorations on the Ontario Peninsula (in press), . xviii.,

He also read at the Ottawa meeting, in October last, a bio
graphical notice of Capt. W. R. Jones, of Pittsburgh, whose recent
and distressing death by accident we were all at that time mourning.
The manuscript of his notice of Capt. Jones he retained for final
perfecting. It must now be finished by another hand, and the same
last service must be done for hiui who undertook it for his friend.

•-TTK

UNIVERSITY

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NEW YORK.

ADELE AUS DER OHE.

DECEMBER 23rd, 1886. (Liszr.)

What is her playing like ?
'Tis like the wind in wintry northern valleys.
A dream-pause, — then it rallies
And once more bends the pine-tops, shatters
The ice-crags, whitely scatters
The spray along the paths of avalanches ;
Startles the blood, and every visage blanches.

II.

Half-sleeps the wind above a swirling pool
That holds the trembling shadow of the trees ;
Where waves too wildly rush to freeze
Though all the air is cool ;
And hear, oh hear, while musically call
With nearer tinkling sounds, or distant roar,
Voices of fall on fall ;
And now a swelling blast, that dies ; and now — no more, no more.

JANUARY 8th, 1887. (CHOPIN.)

Ah, what celestial art !

And can sweet thoughts become pure tone and float,

All music, into the tranced mind and heart !

Her hand scarce stirs the singing, wiry metal, —

Hear from the wild-rose fall each perfect petal !

II.

And can we have, on earth, of heaven the whole !
Heard thoughts — the soul of inexpressible thought ;
Roses of sound

That strew melodious leaves upon the silent ground ;
And music that is music's very soul,
Without one touch of earth, —
Too tender, even, for sorrow, too bright for mirth.

R. W. GILDER.

(The Century Magazine, March, 1887.)

N. Y. MAIL AND EZFBE3S, December 24, 1886.
"FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE, a young pianist
who is one of the few who can truly claim to
have been a favorite pupil of Liszt, surprised and
delighted the audience by her brilliant perform
ance of Liszt's piano concerto No. 1 in E flat.
She exhibited extraordinary power and facility
of execution, and fairly took the audience by
storm. With such technical ability, united with
such musical intelligence as she displayed, a
brilliant future may be predicted for this young
pianist."

N. Y. W02LD.

"IT MUST BE admitted that in Frl. AdeleAus
der Ohe, New York has at the present moment
one of the most surprisingly talented and skill
ful pianists that has been heard here for years.
She surprised and delighted her audience with
her splendid impetuosity, her wonderful strength,
her marvelous technique, her bright, easy confi
dence and safety, and she was declared victress
before she had played the first number of Liszt's
capricious, fantastic and exquisite concerto.
Rarely has Steinway Hall heard such enthusias
tic applause as that which greeted the young
lady when she finished. She was recalled five
times, and then the audience would not rest un
til she had played a Chopin polonaise. Miss Aus
der Ohe is a tall, handsomely built young lady
of twenty or twenty-one, a pupil of Kullak and
of Liszt. She has immense strength ; but her
hand of iron, with fingers of steel, is incased in

a velvet glove. Over the fortissimo of the or
chestra her notes came out with bell-like clear
ness and beauty. She seems, indeed, to defy the
combined strength of the orchestra against her and
plays with a smiling confidence in her powers
that is astonishing. Miss Aus der Ohe is, in fact,
a wonderful success."

N. Y. EVENING POST.

"Miss ADELE Aus DER OHE, who made her
American d6but in the Liszt concerto, has reason
to be proud of her success. It is a long while
since an instrumental debutante has won such
immediate and emphatic approval as this young
lady. Being unknown to the audience, she
probably owed her greeting as she came on the
stage to her pretty Gretchen-like appearance. Her
very first bars must have convinced the audience
that she was what she claimed to be — a pupil of
Liszt. Such brilliancy of execution, such verve
and vigor of execution, can only be lea. ned by
the contagious example of Liszt or Rubinstein.
Her physical power is astounding for one of her
age and sex, but it is controlled by an artistic
spirit. Her phrasing was always clear and well
emphasized, and the task of keeping pace with
the orchestra never appeared to give her the
slightest trouble, thus indicating that she knew
the orchestral as well as her own part by heart.
She was most enthusiastically recalled, again and
again, and finally had to consent to play once
more — a Liszt polonaise."

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE,

N. Y. TIMES.

"FRAULEIN ADELE Aus DER OHE is one of
the few pupils of Liszt that are really entitled to
the distinction the name confers. It was once the
habit of piano students who were presented to
the master and permitted to play a few minutes in
his presence to call themselves his pupils ever
afterward ; Fraulein Aus der Ohe, luckily, stands
on a different footing and has bought the right
to her title by protracted study under Liszt's
guidance. Fraulein Aus der Ohe, in truth, pro
duced a vivid and profound impression by
execution in which tremendous physical strength
was allied to considerable sensibility and intelli
gence, to a fine technique, and to a breadth and
freedom of style totally at variance with her
youthful appearance. Vigor and endurance of a
surprising kind were the conspicuous traits of the
debutante's playing last evening, with fluency
and tonal suavity and brilliancy."

N. Y. TBIBUNE.

MR. SEIDL instituted a search for a
pianist who would be in harmony with the
spirit of his concert in all particulars he could
not have made a happier choice than Miss Aus
der Ohe. She took at once a leading position
among American performers. She is a rarity
among women players not less in respect of
depth and seriousness of musical feeling than in
finger and arm power. Her reading of the E
flat concerto of Liszt's was broad and impas
sioned and maintained itself against an accom
paniment which would have overwhelmed most
of the men players now before the American
public."

N. Y. HEBALD.

"A NEW comer was Fraulein " Aus der Ohe,"
a young pianiste of charming appearance, who
by dint of her astounding technique, her inex
haustible energy and her beauty of tone shared
the honors of the evening with Herr Seidl. She
played Liszt's concerto in E flat, a herculean task,
and after many recalls and loud bravi she gave a
polonaise by the same composer with great force
and tonal splendor."

N. Y. SUN.

"Miss Aus DER OHE was fortunate in being
able to make her debut before the American pub
lic in a concert of such magnitude and excel
lence as that of last evening. She proved her
self, however, to be worthy of the distinction.
She is a young girl, not more than 18 years old,
but is already a pianist of remarkable gifts and
attainments. Her performances are astonishing
for force and spirit. She plays as naturally as a
bird flies, with a sort of willful freedom and
healthy dash that are extremely fascinating.
She bids fair to be a very great pianist, and is
already an admirable one."

,,9febett £errn <5etbl unb fetnent Drdjefhr feterten
aber aud) bte ©olifttn btefer erften <Stnfonie*(5otree
Xrtumpfee. ftraulein Slbele 2lu3 ber Dfce jetgte in
bem uberauS fctiwtertgen unb anfhtngenben Es-Dur-
tacert »on CtSjt, bap ftc fcereitS je$t etne 3ftetfterin
auf ityrem Snfirument ift."

H. Y. COMMZBCIAL ADVZETISES.

"Miss ADELE Aus DER OHE, both in the
Liszt concerto and in the Liszt polonaise in E,
played in response to the persistent applause
which followed the first, showed herself a re
markable artist in many ways. She has an ap
parently unlimited facility of technique, marked
individuality of style and extraordinary vigor and
endurance. It is seldom that a pianist has any
thing left, for instance, to add to the last recur
rence of the principal theme of the Liszt polo
naise, and by that time most players have
exhausted their physical resources."

H. Y. STAB.

"AFTER THE symphony Frl. Aus der Ohe, a
young Berlin pianist, played Liszt's E flat con
certo so well as to win great applause, which
was rewarded with the polonaise in E of the
same composer. Frl. Aus der Ohe has decided
merit ; she is a brilliant pianist in every sense of
the term.

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DEB OHE.

N. Y. MUSICAL COUEIEE, Decemter 29th, 1886.

"MR. SEIDL'S concert brought foward as a
d6butante for American honors Miss Adele Aus
derOhe, a young pianiste of such remarkable gifts
that her success with the culivated audience
was assured from the beginning. The young
lady rendered the Liszt E flat concerto in so
masterly a manner as to leave no doubt in the
minds of connoisseurs that she is an artist of the
first rank. Miss Aus der Ohe's conception . of
Liszt's somewhat hackneyed concerto made the
work seem new and fresh and acted upon us nearly
as a revelation. It was broad, noble and dignified
in the extreme. The artiste furthermore com
mands a fine touch and good, healthy, we would
almost say, "male" tone. Her technic is thor
oughly and evenly developed, and in fact nothing
is lacking to make her a great artiste. We spoke
before of the great and instantaneous success
Miss Aus der Ohe achieved with the large audi
ence, and after a triple most hearty recall she sat
down to play as an encore performance Liszt's E
major polonaise."

N. Y. CBITIC, Jan. 7th, 1887.

"FRAULEIN ADELE Aus DER OHE, concern
ing whom the most flattering accounts have
reached us, played Liszt's pianoforte concerto in
E flat, and because it was necessary to quiet the
tumult of enthusiasm which followed her re
markable performance, added the same com
poser's Polonaise in E. She caught up the spirit
of the evening and bodied it forth finely in both
parts. In the concerto she had to compete with
a threatening muscular accompaniment, but she
proved fully equal to the task. Her breadth of
style and musicianly feeling were quite as remark
able as her digital power, and she left the im
pression that she was the coming woman — if not
the coming man — for the pianoforte. "

N. Y. MAIL AND EXPEESS, Jan. 8th, 1887.

" FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE played Chopin's
First Concerto, and in her interpretation of it
displayed as much genuine poetic feeling as she
did brilliancy of execution and power in her

playing of Liszt's concerto at Herr Seidl's con
cert. Her conception of the Chopin work is
strongly emotional, yet entirely free from maud
lin sentimentality. Indeed, it is less effeminate
than that of several of our pianists of the sterner
sex. Fraulein Aus der Ohe's simple, unpreten
tious bearing enhances the charm of her play
ing."

N. Y. MAIL AND EXPEESS.

"SYMPONY SOCIETY REHEARSAL.— The
feature of chief interest was Fraulein Aus der
Ohe's playing of Liszt's first concerto. Her
performance was marked by due appreciation
of the varied emotions expressed in the compo
sition. Her playing was forceful, sentimental
and graceful as force, sentimentality and grace
were called for. There is less effeminacy in
her interpretation of this work than in the
interpretations of it by several of our pianists of
the other sex."

N. Y. MAIL AND EXPEESS.

" FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE'S PIANOFORTE
RECITAL. — Fraulein Aus der Ohe, the young
pianist whose performances have been favorably
noticed in these columns, gave her first recital
at Stein way Hall last night. The programme
comprised the Bach-Tausig Toccata and Fugue
in D minor, Schumann's 'Carnival/ two noc
turnes and a waltz by CLopiu, Mendelssohn's
'Spmnerlied' and Liszt's ' YValdesrauschen'
and Rhapsodie Hongroise, No. 9. In the inter
pretation of Liszt, Fraulein Aus der Ohe appears
to the best advantage. The rhapsodic was
given with exceptional dash and brilliancy.
Schumann's ' Carnival ' was played with rare
delicacy and charm of expression, and the Bach
Toccata with praiseworthy clearness and good
taste."

N. Y. MAIL Al

"FRAULEIN Aus DER ORE, who plays at
next Saturday's Philharmonic concert, and will
then have been heard at each of our series of
important concerts, was the soloist at last night's
Arion concert at Steinway Hall. She played
with poetic variety of expression, and with the

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE,

healthy sentiment which characterizes her per
formance, the G minor piano concerto of Men
delssohn."

H. Y. WORLD.

" THE FIFTH public rehearsal of the Symphony
Society took place yesterday afternoon at the
Metropolitan Opera House before a large audi
ence. Fraulein Aus der Ohe was the soloist of
the concert and played the Liszt concerto No. I.
Her playing was characterized by the same
strength, brilliancy and artistic finish noticed on
the occasion of her first appearance at Steinway
Hall. She was warmly welcomed and at the
conclusion of the concert was recalled five times
to acknowledge the applause of audience and
orchestra."

N. 7. WOELD.

"THE ARION SOCIETY gave a concert under
the direction of Frank van der Stucken at Stein-
way Hall last night. The programme was an
interesting one and the soloists included Mrs.
Marie Gramm, Theodore Toedt, Mr. Remmertz
and Fraulein Aus der Ohe, the Patti of the piano.
The latter artiste was, of course, the great
attraction of the evening, and her marvelous
playing of Mendelssohn's Concerto in G minor
called forth most enthusiastic applause. "

N. Y. TIMES.

" SYMPHONY SOCIETY CONCERT. — Fraulein
Aus der Ohe's interpretation Avas fully worthy of
the music. It was admirable both in spirit and
in technique. It is refreshing to meet such
beauty of tone color and intelligence of con
ception as the player brought to the cantabile
passages, while in the swifter and more playful
parts she rendered the music with notable deli
cacy and clearness of enunciation. The finale
was given with a fine burst of vigor which quite
carried away the audience."

N. Y. TIMES.

" FRAULEIN ADELE Aus DER OHE gave a
piano recital at Steinway Hall last evening to
the edification of a large and appreciative audi
ence. The task of entertaining a large assem
bly of people unaided is no small one, but

Fraulein Aus der Ohe performed it with ease
and grace. Her programme was drawn from
the richest treasures of piano music, and was
notable for its breadth and formidable nature.
The attention of the audience was at once chained
by the fine interpretation of the opening number.
It is seldom that a Bach fugue is so intelligently
read and so brilliantly executed. The perform
ance was perhaps the most notable of the evening,
as showing the player's thorough compi'ehensioii
of the most severe and scholarly of composers.
The Schumann ' Carnival ' is unintelligible to
all who are unacquainted with Schumann's
critical writings and who have no knowledge of
the personality of Eusebius and Florestan or of
the fanciful society of the Davidsbiindler.
Those who possessed the key to its significance
must have found rare enjoyment in the finished
series of tone pictures which Fraulein Aus der
Ohe produced last evening. It was a rendering
that could fairly be called in the strictest sense
of the word an interpretation. In her other
selections the pianist was successful, and in
some of them her brilliancy and power fairly
carried away the audience, which throughout
the evening was prolific in demonstrations of de
light."

». Y. TIMES.

"THE ARION CONCERT. — The most valuable
feature of the concert was Fraulein Aus der
Ohe's performance of Mendelssohn's G minor
piano concerto. The composition is an attrac
tive one intrinsically, being conceived in a light
and happy mood, and its thought expressed in
flowing and rhythmical melody of a sparkling
nature. The suave sweetness of the andante is
in strong contrast with the joyous, almost frolic
some spirit of the finale, and it requires a player
of Fraulein Aus der Ohe's ability to give these
changeful phases adequate interpretation. Her
playing of the cantabile passages last night was
full of poetic feeling, and her rendering of the
finale was full of such splendid brio, and so ad
mirable in the fluency and distinctness of its
enunciation, that it quite carried the audience
away and she was compelled to repeat the
movement."

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE.

N. Y. TEIBUNE.

"THE MOST interesting features were the solo
numbers. Fraulein Aus der Ohe made so pro
found an impression when she played at the first
of Herr Seidl's concerts that her second appear
ance in public was awaited with something akin
to anxiety. Between her selections on the former
occasion and yesterday and the two concert
rooms there was a great difference, and it served
to emphasize the conviction, which was generally
expressed two weeks ago, that this young
woman is a piano-player of extraordinary present
merit and most brilliant promise. She discloses
a highly poetic and musicianly conception of the
piece in hand, reading the Eomanza with especial
delicacy and beauty."

N. I. TEIBUNE.

"FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE'S RECITAL. —

One of the most enjoyable and noteworthy
pianoforte recitals of the season was that given
last night by Fraulein Aus der Ohe in Steinway
Hall. The recital naturally attracted a numer
ous and enthusiastic audience. The programme
was of a high character and happily chosen to
enable Fraulein Aus der Ohe to show honestly
and artistically her wide range of abilities as a
performer and interpreter. Fraulein Aus der
Ohe played the entire programme without notes
and with seeming ease. She appeared to be in
a poetical mood and the more sentimental num
bers of the programme were played with rare
feeling and touch that threw new light on the
emotional side of her nature. The Chopin waltz
and the ' Spinnerlied ' were exquisitely played.
The programme was given with great spirit and
tireless energy — a feat worthy of mention."

N. Y. TEIBUNE.

"FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE played the Liszt
concerto, and her performance was the feature
of the evening. She was recalled five times.
But perhaps the best and most significant tri
bute of all to Fraulein Aus der Ohe was the
warm and perfect accompaniment given to the
playing of the orchestra — a natural and spon
taneous result of her musicianly work."

N. Y. TEIBUNE.

"Miss Aus DER OHE played Mendelssohn's
G minor concerto and won the two-fold gratitude
of the audience. First for playing it, and again
for playing it so admirably.",.

N. Y. EEEALD.

"FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE interpreted the
Chopin concerto with such technical splendor
and with such £ depth of feeling that one is safe
in raiikinr; her with the very best pianists that
have been heard in this country. She was at her
best in the romanze movement, which in her
hands sounded like a song, not like the move
ment of a piano concerto, in such sweet, singing
and expansive tones did Fraulein Aus der Ohe
deliver it."

N. Y. HEEALD.

"THE SYMPHONY REHEARSAL. — Fraulein
Aus der Ohe was heard in Liszt's concerto
No. 1, in E flat major, which she played, it
may be said, in masterly fashion, with much
beauty of tone and the great virility of touch,
breadth of style and physical strength which
characterize all her performances."

N. Y. HEEALD.

"A SUCCESSFUL PIANO RECITAL. — Amid
the din and blazonry of last night's counter
attractions, which were unusually showy and
alluring, it is a pleasure to record that the quiet
pianoforte recital of Miss Adele Aus der Ohe re
ceived a handsome share of public attention,
and that, in fact, this admirable young artist
drew single handed a full house. Miss Aus
der Ohe acquitted herself in a manner that won
general and appreciative applause and fully sus
tained her growing and enviable reputation."

N. Y. HEEALD.

"THE ARION CLUB CONCERT.— Steinway
Hall was filled in every part last evening with
an enthusiastic audience. It was a concert given
by the Arion Society, and a most pleasing pro
gramme was offered. Miss Aus der Ohe played
Mendelssohn's concerto for the pianoforte in G

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DEE OHE.

minor -with charming grace and in a most refined
and polished manner, and was applauded again
and again."

N. Y. SUN.

"FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE performed
Chopin's First Concerto with unimpeachable
technique and true poetic feeling."

N. Y. SUN.
"FRAULEIN AUS DER OHE'S PIANOFORTE

RECITAL. — Fraulein Aus der Ohe's pianoforte
recital at Steinway Hall last evening was given
to a large and well-pleased audience. She
played the Bach-Tausig Toccata and Fugue in
D minor with admirable clearness and precision,
and the 'Carneval' of Schumann with a deli
cate sense of the varying expression which that
charming composition calls for, but does not
often receive at the hands of the pianists who
undertake its performance. Two nocturnes and
a waltz, by Chopin, and Mendelssohn's 'Spin-
nerlied' was exquisitely given. Liszt was her
teacher, and she finds in his compositions the
material with which she can best display her
gifts and accomplishments. His ' Waldes-
rauschen,' a nocturne, and the Rhapsodie Hon-
groise, No. 9, afforded her the opportunity of
illustrating this, the rhapsodic being given with
notable brilliancy of execution."

N. Y. SUN.

" THE PHILHARMONIC CONCERT. — Fraulein
Aus der Ohe is one of the very few pianoforte
players who are big and broad enough in style
to be heard to advantage in so large an audito
rium as that of ihe Metropolitan. Her phrases
are as grand and large as the outlines of a Dore
or a Makart. She played Weber's Concert-
Stuck in a truly noble manner, elevating its
worn and sometimes trivial phrases to a height
of real grandeur. Her manner, too, is exceed
ingly pleasing. She is quiet, attentive only to
the music in progress, calm, dignified, and very
sweet and genial in her way of greeting or
saluting the audience. She was encored last
night, playing for the recall Chopin's G flat
Nocturne."

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bem 2Beber1fd)en dcncertftitcf ibren bier in le^terer
3ett errcorbenen (Srfolgen etnen neuen llrtwnpb, s,u."

N. Y. STAE.

"THE FEATURE of the rehearsal was, natur
ally , Frl. Adele Aus der Ohe's playing of LisztV
Concerto, one of the most famous test pieces of
the modern pianistic repertory. It was with
this concerto that the young pianist made her
first appearance in this country some months
ago, and what was said of her in these columns
at the time still holds good. Frl. Aus der Ohe
is a phenomenon, a mistress of technical skill,
and plays with brilliancy, and a grasp of the
work before her well calculated to carry away
an audience and to fill her hearers with astonish

ment."

N. Y. STAS.

"Miss Aus DER OHE'S PIANOFORTE RE
CITAL. — A large audience attended the first

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE,

concert of the talented young German pianist,
Miss Adele Aus der Ohe. One glance at the
programme assured her hearers of a treat in the
way of musical gems and an exhibition of won
derful musical memory, considering the age of
the performer. Miss Aus der Ohe opened her
concert with ' The Toccata and Fugue/ by
Bach, arranged by Tausig, in the performance
of which she displayed a power, depth of tone
and strict adherence to time and command of
fingering throughout the most difficult counter
passages, so common in Bach's music, which
was simply wonderful. The ' Carneval/ op. 9,
of Schumann, followed, in which Miss Aus der
Ohe gave great variety and color to the various
numbers in which the piece is divided. Two ,
nocturnes and the valse C sharp minor, by Cho
pin; the ' Spinnerlied/ by Mendelssohn, and a
grand polonaise, by Zarembski, formed the sec
ond part of the programme, the last part of
which comprised three compositions of Liszt's,
viz.: The ' Waldesrauschen/ a Nocturne, and
the Rhapsodie Hongroise. It would be difficult
to say which of Miss Aus der Ohe's renderings
commanded the greatest admiration, but from a
high musical standard it might be considered
that the Toccata and Fugue, of Bach, was the
most masterly performance, but the delightful
smoothness and feeling in the Chopin nocturnes,
or the brilliancy of the grand polonaise by
Zarembski, and the wonderful renderings of the
three compositions by her master Liszt, cannot
readily be surpassed. The audience were very
enthusiastic, giving her much applause."

9 N. Y. STAE.

"THE PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY. — Fraulein
Adele Aus der Ohe, the young Berlin pianist,
who has achieved success here in so unusual a
degree, played with much brilliancy Weber's
' Concert-Stuck/ and was so persistently ap
plauded that she added the Liszt transcription of
the 'Flying Dutchman' spinning wheel song.
Fraulein Aus der Ohe has merit of so high an
order that it is almost hypercritical to write of
her laurels of color and poetic feeling. Her
power, technical ability and brilliancy are un

deniable and will always insure her enthusiastic
reception at the hands of even so critical an
audience as the Philharmonic subscrilers."

M. Y. MUSICAL COUEiEE.

"THE MAIN interest of the audience centred
in the two soloists of the occasion. Of these the
charming young pianist, Miss Adele Aus der
Ohe, was no new-comer, she having made a re
markable success at her first appearance at the
recent Seidl concert, when she performed in a
masterly manner Liszt's E flat concerto. This
time she was heard in Chopin's exquisite E minor
concerto, and her performance was a remarkable
one. It lacked neither poetry of conception nor
feeling and touch ; tone and technic were as
marvellous as noticed on the previous occasion.
Her success with the audience was also not less
marked, and Miss Aus der Ohe was recalled some
half a dozen times after the conclusion of her

task.;'

N. Y. MUSICAL COUEIEE.

" OF THE soloists the ladies deservedly car
ried away the lion's share of the applause of the
evening. Miss Aus der Ohe played the some
what hackneyed Mendelssohn G minor piano
concerto with great finish, dash and verve, her
technic displaying remarkable clearness of scale
playing. She was thrice recalled and repeated
the last movement of the concerto."

TEE CEITIC, N. Y.

" FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE, who was heard
last week at the Symphony Society's rehearsal
and concert, gave a pianoforte recital at Stein-
way Hall on Monday evening. The programme
included representative selections from Bach,,
Schumann, Chopin, Mendelssohn and the per
former's late master, Liszt, and showed to strik
ing advantage the wide 'range of the young
lady's powers. Notwithstanding the unusual
counter-attractions at other houses on Monday
night, the recital drew to Steinway Hall an
audience almost as notable for its size as for its
enthusiasm. But this is not to be wondered at,
for it is many years since such masterly playing
as Fraulein Aus der Ohe's has been heard in a
New York concert- room."

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE.

NEW YOEE TIMES, September 30th, 1887.

E WORCESTER, MASS., Music FESTI
VAL. — The great success of the evening was
achieved by the young- German pianiste, Frau-
lein Aus der Ohe. She played a Liszt con
certo in E flat with such marvellous strength •
and facility of execution that the girls of the
chorus fairly went wild over her, and led the
applause that insisted on her re- appearance. The
members of the orchestra, too, joined heartily in
the ovation. As an encore she played the Spin
ning Song from Wagner's "Flying Dutchman,"
arranged by Liszt."

NEW YOEZ DAILY TEIBUNE.

"THE WORCESTER Music FESTIVAL. — Miss
Aus der Ohe played the E flat concerto with
such dash, brilliancy, power and beauty of tonal
effects withal (the latter quality being present in
much higher potency than at her memorable
first performance of the same work at Mr. Seidl's
first concert in Steinway Hall) that the orches
tral players were moved to welcome her with a
fanfare when she returned to the stage to bow
her acknowledgment, and eventually to supple
ment the concerto with Liszt's transcript of the
Spinning Song from Wagner's "Flying Dutch
man."

BOSTON COUEIEE, March 27, 1887.

" BOSTON SYMPHONY CONCERT.— The great
sensation of the concert was the performance of
the pianiste, Miss Adele Aus der Ohe, whose
performance was, however, anything but sensa
tional, being the most artistic piano playing we
have heard from a woman since Mehlig and
Essipoff performed here. Power and delicacy
.are combined in the work of this artiste, and
she adds to these a perception of the composer's
thought, an Inniglceit, that is thoroughly Ger
man. Seldom have we heard such clear execu
tion, yet the work was free from the constant
staccato which is the trademark of Stuttgart,
and there was also absolute freedom from the
feminine failing, overuse of the pedal. The
Larghetto was glorious. To us it seemed the
beau ideal of Chopin interpretation. It was

sentiment without sentimentality, and all the
more refreshing, as so many of our pianists be
lieve that they must shed tears over the key
board when thev play a Chopin slow movement.
There was not a trace of such mawkishness in
Miss Aus der Ohe's playing, and \v»- felt grateful
for it. The finale also was free from all rnbato
effects, yet it was not the less effective, and the
brilliancy of the final passages was marvelous.
The enthusiasm which followed was as great as
the performance. Recall after recall was show
ered upon the young pianiste, and it was long
before the audience would desist from its hearty
applause."

BOSTON DAILY AD7EETISEE.

"THE LAST SYMPHONY CONCERT. — Then
came the star of the evening, Friiulem Adele
Aus der Ohe, to play Chopin's E minor
pianoforte concerto, his opus 11. Fraulein Aus
der Ohe was in no respect an artiste less than
these requirements claim, and, if we may pro
nounce so unqualifiedly before hearing her in
any other author's music, she further showed
herself to be among the few really great pianists
who have been heard here of late years. Her
success was a complete conquest, and she was
recalled five times with a warmth which was
almost urgent enough to compel some encore
morceau in spite of the rigid rules and the grow
ing lateness of the hour."

BOSTON EVENING TEAVELLEE.

" FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE was a juvenile
prodigy when a pupil of Kullak. She went to
Liszt when 12 years old, and after a seven
vears' pupilage came before the world a great
player. She has been in the country only since
November, and one of her previous performances
was the Liszt concerto at Cambridge a few
weeks since, which we were privileged to hear.
Her playing of the Chopin concerto possessed
the highest imaginative qualities, joined to a
technique which places her as virtuoso alongside
Rubinstein, Von Biilow and Essipoff, while as
an interpretation it showed her to be signally
sensitive to the finest and most subtle thought
of her composer. The romance (larghetto) was

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE.

not only exceedingly skillful in its dynamic ex
pression, but was perfectly beautiful as music.
The quality of Fraulein Aus der Ohe's touch is
as pellucid as crystal, yet she reaches the ex
tremes of force with equally commanding re
sults ; her forte might be called heroic, her
•/tttiiiissliiio is audible, yet almost without motion,
and between these she graduates tone with a
swiftness and freedom which is but little short
of magical. Her manner at the pianoforte is
animated and she has no mannerisms ; genius,
if she have it, is not with her a physical quality.
She lacks, too, that vagary of some geniuses —
playing wrong notes ; she played the concerto
with perfect accuracy, and while the style in its
larger outlines was seen to be masterly, this was
accomplished with no shirking of the lesser
things. She read the last movement with large
ness of manner and executed it with the great
est ease."

BOSTON SUNDAY HERALD.

" SUCH A success as that made by Fraulein
Aus der Ohe on this occasion has not been known
here for a decade, and it is difficult to recall the
de"but of a female pianist which has been at
tended by such a pronounced popular verdict in
her favor. She appears to be yet in her teens,
but her playing is characterized by the self-con
fidence and finish of a veteran performer, and
the absence of all apparent effort in her work
gives a great additional pleasure to her audi
ence. She chose the E minor concerto of Chopin
for her selection on this occasion, and gave the
work a most memorable interpretation, her
reading of its several movements showing a
thorough comprehension of its characteristics
and her performance indicating a most perfect
and complete control of all the possibilities of
the instrument. Her touch is brilliant and clear
in the most intricate passages, she phrases with
admirable taste and intelligence, and the most
difficult technical demands of the score are met
with surprising ease and certainty. With all
this, there is so much musical intelligence and
artistic feeling in this pianiste's plaving, that
she easily commands the attention of the most

critical listener, and gives a degree of satisfac
tion by her efforts, seldom realized in similar
performances. She created a sensation on this
occasion, and the audience recalled her repeat
edly with enthusiasm at the conclusion of the
concerto."

BOSTON JOURNAL.

" SYMPHONY CONCERT. — An audience that
filled every seat in Music Hall and blocked the
aisles and doors Saturday evening showed by
continued applause and cheers its appreciation
of the musical treat for that evening. Hardly
ever before has there been more enthusiasm over
the work of an orchestra or soloist. This was
the programme : Carl Goldmark, Overture (Sa-
kuntala) ; F. Chopin, Concerto for Pianoforte in
.E minor, op. 11 ; Fr. Schubert, Symphony in C
major ; Soloist, Fraulein Adele Aus der Ohe.
The audience was, in a measure, prepared for
the treat arranged, when it was announced that
Fraulein Aus der Ohe was to be the soloist. Her
brilliant success in Cambridge had shown her to
be a pianist of no ordinary ability. But even
the critical Boston audience was taken by sur
prise. Her playing was a wonderful revelation.
It embodied all that the most ardent lover of
music might desire, and under her touch the
piano itself seemed endowed with the gift of ex
pression. It did not seem a difficult task that
she was accomplishing so easily. When she
had finished, the audience was for a moment
hushed. Then there was an outburst of applause
that shook the building. Her success was com
plete. Again and again she was recalled. Seven
times she responded to the calls of the audience,
and then the people were only quieted by the
preparations for the symphony."

BOSTON SATURDAY EVENING GAZETTE.
" BOSTON SYMPHONY CONCERT. — The soloist
was Miss Adeie Aus der Ohe, who played Cho
pin's Concerto in E minor. She is unquestion
ably a player of rare gifts, and, taken for all in
all, is one of the most masterly of the women
pianists who have been heard in Boston. Her
technique is of a high order, clear, true and fin
ished' to an uncommon degree. Her style is

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE.

broad and vigorous, and she produces a tone
that is quite masculine in its force and robust
ness. She plays with the utmost ease, making
nothing of difficulties, manifesting excellent taste,
large musical intelligence and sincere artistic
conscience. Miss Aus der Ohe made a profound
impression, and excited the audience to the most
stormy enthusiasm, winning five recalls at the
end of her performances."

BOSTON EVENING TBANSCEIPT.
"Miss Aus DER OHE made a positively tre
mendous impression with the Chopin concerto;
she is, indeed, a pianist like few, and may be
ranked with those exceedingly rare birds who
have not only been pupils of Liszt, but have
really learnt something from him. She came
here unheralded by managerial puffing, although
the enthusiastic accounts of her playing in
Cambridge a few weeks ago, circulated by those
who had the luck to hear her on that occasion,
lead one to expect great things of her. And,
taking unbridled enthusiasm for what it is worth,
no one could have been disappointed in her last
Saturday evening. She has many points that
qualify her to stand in the first rank as a pianist;
her technique is in every way so magnificent,
that, in this respect, she may fairly be regarded
as belonging to the Iwrs concours class. She has
the ideal pianist's strength, that strength which
comes from avoirdupois weight, seconded by
finely developed muscle, to a higher degree than
any woman we have yet heard here; not that
mere nervous strength which all but shatters a
pianoforte, but that commanding physical power
which brings out its fullest tone without preju
dice to its purity. In a word, she is as finely
equipped for pianoforte playing as any one we
know. She has the rare virtue — exceedingly
rare to-day in pianists of either sex — of not
being over-fond of her own fingers; merely
getting over the key-board at the rate of so
many notes per second seems to have no fasci
nation for her. One feels that she makes bril
liancy of execution subservient to the musical
idea, and leaves the most tempting opportuni
ties for the display of mere agility unheeded.

She phrases musically, and shows immense
power of carrying through long climaxes with
unflagging energy and ever growing brilliancy
of effect. She plays, too, with genuine warmth
of sentiment."

BOSTON SUNDAY GLOBE.

"Miss Aus DER OHE showed herself from
the first to be herein an artist such as few
pianists who have preceded her have been — and
I do not limit my comparison to her own sex by
any means, for certainly there is no woman now
in the country of whom I know, who can be
ranked on anything an equal plane with her.

BOSTON HEBALD.

" FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE followed in the
line of conquest, and awoke the echoes by her
great work in the performance of the pianoforte
score of the Liszt concerto. The ovation follow
ing this number beggars description. Everybody
got worked up to the boiling point, and finally
the orchestra gave vent to the enthusiasm of its
members by a fanfare of trumpets and drums as
the artist appeared for the fourth time to bow her
thanks, after which she graciously added the
Wagner ' Spinning Song' as an encore number."'

PHILADELPHIA TIMES.

"FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE, who played
Liszt's E minor concerto, proved to be a pianist
of extraordinary powers. The tall young blonde,
simply dressed, who took her seat at the piano-
with a perfectly unaffected manner and drew
the gloves from her long arms, had but touched
her fingers to the keys when she was recognized
as an artist. She is a genuine pupil of Liszt and
plays as he did, with a strong, firm, emphatic
touch that gives to every note its value and its-
meaning. There has been so much of ultra
refinement of technique of late that it was a
delight to hear the masterly power and style
with which this newcomer attacked a work of na
common difficulty, playing it with entire under
standing and absolute assurance and with a
brilliancy that went always hand in hand with
the impression of inexhaustible power. She is

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE.

certainly one of the most distinguished pianists
that have come to us in a long time, and it may
be hoped that we shall hear her often. She was
rapturously recalled, and after the severe work
of the concerto, played the favorite "Flying
Dutchman" transcription, with a tender senti
ment that gave it a new interest."

PHILADELPHIA EVENING BULLETIN.

" THE PIANIST of the evening was an entire
stranger, known only by her short but enviable
reputation. Fraulein Aus der Ohe's appearance
is decidedly in her favor. She is young, fair and
slender, modest, yet self-possessed. She touches
the piano as though it were hers by right. Her
hands are long, and she plays with great force,
virility— but technical correctness is a matter of
secondary importance, compared with fire, inspi
ration and soul, and these she has. Her per
formance of the immensely difficult Liszt Concerto
was one to be remembered. She was recalled
again and again, and finally, with charming
simplicity, sat down and played Liszt's arrange
ment of the Spinning Song from the ' Flying
Dutchman.'"

THE PHILADELPHIA PEESS.

"Miss Aus DER OHE has a wonderful tech
nique, and plays with the fire of inspiration.
The legato and cantabile are exquisite. She
roused the greatest enthusiasm by her brave and
ambitious and interesting performance of her
master's work, and after having been recalled
again and again, returned and played with indi
viduality and expression the Wagner ' Spinning
Song.'"

CHICAGO TBIBUNE, May 4,1387.

" FRAULEIN ADELE Aus DER OHE made her
•Chicago debut with Liszt's E flat concerto for
piano and orchestra. She is a spirited player,
with no lack of technique. Indeed, so great is
her proficiency that she plays the most difficult
portions of the work without apparent effort,
handling the instrument with an ease which be
token complete mastery of mechanical means.
But still more remarkable than her clear and

certain execution was the poetic nature of her
interpretation, in which mechanism was entirely
subordinated to the expression of the musical
thought. She was thrice recalled at the close
of the number."

CHICAGO INTEE OCEAN.

"FRAULEIN ADELE Aus DER OHE, the
pianiste, furnished the sensation of the evening,
fairly electrifying her audience with her bril
liant and powerful rendition of the difficult Liszt
concerto in E flat. The fair young stranger who
came and conquered so completely is the daugh
ter of a professor in the Hanover University.
At an early age she displayed unusual musical
abilities, and in her fifth year astonished Yon
Biilow by naming the tones of complex chords
struck by him upon the piano, and which she
could not see. Von Billow and the Hanover
Kapellmeister von Bronsart recommended her
to the elder Kullak, to whom she went when
seven years old. For the next five years she
had the benefit of his instruction at Berlin.
After this she was for some seven years one of
the favorite pupils of Liszt, residing at Weimar
and Berlin in alternation. Her playing certainly
does honor to her distinguished preceptor, and
is delightfully free from the mannerisms that
mar the playing of so many distinguished
pianists. She not only has a grace and dignity
of bearing, but a strength and elasticity of touch
that give both breadth and brilliancy to her
phrasing. Her playing throughout was charac
terized by artistic good taste, and the apparent
ease with which she carried the burden of the
weighty finale aroused the most enthusiastic ap
plause, the orchestra joining with the audience
in according the merited compliment of a triple
recall."

CHICAGO MOBNING NEWS.

"FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE is a bona-fide
pupil of Liszt, and has much of the dash and
spirit of that master. Her selection was Liszt's
E flat concerto, a composition of technical diffi
culties so great that it is calculated to dismay
even a virtuoso. Fraulein Aus der Ohe has ex
ecutive powers that are but little less than phe-

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE.

nomeiial, and she possesses the force and breadth
of style that are usually lacking when women
essay to be concert pianists. Her rendition of
the concerto was wonderfully brilliant and she
was repeatedly recalled, many of the audience
insisting upon an encore after the fatiguing
selection."

CHICAGO HERALD.

" IT REQUIRES but one hearing to convince
anyone for whom music has charms that Frau-
lein Adele Aus der Ohe possesses musical talents
that are even more extraordinary than the com
position of her unpronounceable name. She

played the Liszt concerto for pianoforte in E fiat
with a dash that was simply irresistible. The
conclusion of her number was the signal for a
storm of applause that did not wear itself out
for several minutes."

». Y. MUSICAL COUEIEE, Nov. 23, 1887.
"Miss ADELE Aus DER OHE also scored
quite a success and an encore by her masterly
playing of Chopin's andante spianato and polo
naise. The gem of the evening, however, as far
as performance is concerned, was Beethoven's
fantasie, op. 80. The piano solo was magnifi
cently played by Miss Aus der Ohe.

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE.

THE

[orld'8 Industrial and f,ott0n Internal pposition.

NEW ORLEANS, May 29th, 1885.

To Mr. LOUIS GRUNEWALD, New Orleans,

(Agent of Messrs. STEINWAY & SONS, New York.}

DEAR SIR: — In making our official report as Jurors of Group 8,
Class 808, on Musical Instruments, we deeply regretted the fact of being
debarred to express our opinion on the exquisite display of several
magnificient Steinway Pianos at your beautiful exhibit at our Exposition;
but as they were not entered for competition, and only for exhibition,
we had to abide by our instructions and ignore them as well as other
makers for above reasons.

As professional artists however, we feel it our sacred duty to express
to you, unsolicited, our great .admiration for the Steinway Pianos, which
we consider the "Beau Ideal" of a perfect instrument, combining in its great
mechanical construction all those eminent qualities of touch, sympathetic
and singing qualities of tone, brilliancy, power, etc., which render them
more than dear to any artist or amateur who loves music as produced
on any of these wonderful and, we think, unsurpassed pianos.

Had the "Steinways" been entered for competition, our work, in place
of being anything but easy and pleasant, would have become a labor of
love, and instantaneously resulted in our conferring the "highest awards"
possible to the Steinways. We write this after having individually expressed
ourselves in mutual conversation, and tender this as a tribute to a firm
which has done so much to elevate true musical art in this country, and
which has the good fortune to be represented in our section by you, Mr.
Grunewald, to whom we beg to tender our assurances of personal esteem
and best wishes for future success.

Very respectfully and fraternally,

E. RICHARD.

H. JOUBERT.

G. D'AQUIN.

WM. H. PILCHER.

HECTOR BERLIOZ.

PARIS, September 25, 1867.
Messrs. STEDTWAT & SONS:

I have heard the magnificent pianos you brought from America and
which emanate from your factory. Permit me to compliment you upon
the excellent and rare qualities which these instruments possess. Their
sonority is splendid and essentially noble; moreover, you have discovered
the secret to lessen, to an imperceptible point, that unpleasant harmonic
of the minor seventh, which heretofore made itself heard on the eighth or
ninth node of the longer strings, to such a degree as to render some of
the most simple and finest chords disagreeable (cacophonique). This
improvement is a great progress among the various others you have
introduced in the manufacture of your Pianos — a progress for which all
artists and amateurs gifted with delicate perception, must be infinitely
indebted to you.

Accept, I beg of you, with my compliments, my highest respects.

Your devoted

HECTOR BERLIOZ.

A. MARMONTEL.

PARIS, July 20, 1867.
Messrs. STEINWAY & SONS:

I rejoice in the justified success which your Pianos have had at the
Exposition.

The International and French Jury, in placing them first on the list,
brilliantly confirm the lively and deep impression which these excellent
Pianos have produced on me.

With kind affections, yours,

MARMONTEL.

ADOLPHE HENSELT.

PARIS, September 2, 1867.
Messrs. STEINWAY & SONS:

GENTLEMEN: It is with the greatest pleasure that I have just
played upon your Pianos, and can not refrain from expressing to you, in
writing, my admiration, and how much I was satisfied with them.
I regret much not to have seen you personally in Paris.

Accept, I beg of you, the assurance of my distinguished regards.

ADOLPHE HENSELT.

FRANZ LISZT.

Messrs. STEINWAY & SONS:

GENTS: The magnificent STEINWAY Grand Piano now stands in
my music room, and presents a harmonic totality of admirable qualities,
a detailed enumeration of which is the more superfluous as this instrument
fully justifies the world-wide reputation that for years you have every
where enjoyed.

After so much well-deserved praise, permit me also to add my
homage, and the expression of my undisguised admiration, with which
I remain,

Very sincerely yours,

FRANZ LISZT.

ANTON RUBINSTEIN.

NEW YOKE, May 24, 1873.
Messrs. STEINWAY & SONS:

GENTLEMEN: On the eve of returning to Europe, I deem it my
pleasant duty to express to you my most heartfelt thanks for all the
kindness and courtesy you have shown me during my stay in the United
States; but also, and above all, for your unrivaled Piano-Fortes, which
once more have done full justice to their world-wide reputation, both for
excellence and capacity of enduring the severest trials. For during all
my long and difficult journeys all over America, in a very inclement
season, I used, and have been enabled to use, your Pianos exclusively in
my Two Hundred and Fifteen Concerts, and also in private, with the
most eminent satisfaction and effect.

Yours very truly,

ANTON RUBINSTEIN.

THEODORE THOMAS.

CINCINNATI, July 19, 1879.
Messrs. STEINWAY & SONS:

GENTLEMEN: I consider the Steinway Piano the best Piano at
present made, and that is the reason why I use it in private and also in
all my publip concerts.

As long as the Pianos of Messrs. Steinway & Sons retain that high
degree of excellence of manufacture, and those admirable qualities which
have always distinguished them, I shall continue to use them in preference
to all other Pianos.

Respectfully Yours,

THEODORE THOMAS.

STEINWAY

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CHARLES GOUNOD,
AMBROISE THOMAS, '

THEODORE THOMAS,

A. DREYSCHOCK,
STEPHEN HELLER,

ADOLPHE HENSELT,
ALFRED JAELL,

JOSEPH JOACHIM,
RAFAEL JOSEFFY,

MORIZ ROSENTHAL,

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THEODORE LESCHETIZKY,
FRANZ RUMMEL,

A, MARMONTEL,

WILLIAM MASON,

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ALBERT NIEMANN,
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AUS DER ORE'S

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NEW YORK PRESS NOTICES.

FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE'S artistic and
scholarly interpretation of Beethoven's beautiful
concerto in E flat made this number stand equal
in charm and importance to the new symphony.
Her reading of the concerto was dignified, and
even reverential, in its strict attention to marks
of expression, and as regards the meaning and
spirit of the composer, while her perfect technique
enabled her to make telling effects with the
different styles of touch, graduation of tone, and
management of the pedals. — New York Sun,
March nth, 1888.

A BEAUTIFUL CONCERT BY THE BOSTON
SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA. — Next followed Schu
mann, bright, vigorous, resolute, impassioned,
entrancing. Surely no such rendering of this
magnificent piano work was ever given in New
York as the one to which we listened last evening
from the hands (literally) of Fraulein Aus der
Ohe. It was a superb and masterly performance,
worthy of every commendation. The artist
seemed infused with more than ordinary spirit,
and absolutely whirled through the majestic
difficulties of this gigantic concerto. At times
it seemed as though she were simply pulling the
orchestra along with her, so entirely did one lose
all sense of effort on her part in a realization of
the dash with which she threw herself into her
work. Immense force, facile execution, and
careful expression were all to be found in Fraulein
Aus der Ohe's playing, and, in addition, a
splendid artistic elevation at which she held her
piece, and a true fire of enthusiasm that com
municated its magnetism to the audience in a
very impressive manner. — New York Sun,
January loth, 1888.

THE SOLOIST of the evening was Fraulein
Adele Aus der Ohe, who played Schumann's
piano concerto in A minor. The fine musical
spirit of the evening inspired the pianist and she
was heard at her best. Her performance
abounded in beauty and variety of tone quality,
in exquisite nuances, and in invigorating warmth.
— New York Times, January loth, 1888.

Miss Aus DER OHE played Schumann's piano
forte concerto in a fine, broad style, with bril
liancy so far as the mechanical part was concerned,
and with a lofty, poetical sentiment which re
flected the greatest credit on her intellectual
frasp of the work and her emotional capacity,
t was the performance of a musician. — New
York Daily Tribune, January zoth, 1888.

A LARGE and appreciative audience attended
the piano recital of Fraulein Adele Aus der Ohe
at Steinway Hall last night, and were rewarded
with a performance of extraordinary merit and
beauty. The programme included the sonata in
C sharp minor, op. 27, No. 2, of Beethoven,
Schubert's impromptu in B flat, Mendelssohn's
spinning song, Schumann's Faschingsschwank,
and the Rhapsodic Espagnole of Liszt. — New
York Times, January ^th, 1889.

THE PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY. — The first
public rehearsal of the forty-eighth season of
the Philharmonic Society took place at the
Metropolitan Opera House yesterday afternoon.
The house was crowded, and the audience was
extremely attentive. Miss Aus der Ohe, who
was the soloist yesterday, played with superb
force and abandon. Her octave passages were
remarkable in their rapidity and clearness, and
some of her tours de force were uncommonly
brilliant. — New York Times, Nov. ibth, 1889.

Miss Aus DER OHE'S finest previous local
success was duplicated in her performance of
the solo part of the pianoforte concerto. She
gave an intelligent and tasteful exposition of the
contents of the piece. Its energy and dash, and
the ease with which Miss Aus der Ohe overcame
its technical difficulties were inspiriting. — New
York Daily Tribune, March nth, 1888.

CONCERT OF THE PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY. —
The solo attraction of the concert was Rubin
stein's pianoforte concerto in G major, played
by Miss Adele Aus der Ohe. It exacts dash
and brilliancy, and these qualities were present
in generous abundance in the performance last
night, especially in the last movement, which
Miss Aus der Ohe gave with splendid fire and
an audacious tempo calculated to carry all
criticism off its feet. She was rewarded gener
ously with applause by an audience splendid in
point of number and character. — New York
Daily Tribune, November ijth, 1889.

OF FRAULEIN Aus DER OHE it may be said
that never since the evening on which she was
first heard here in connection with Herr Seidl
did she make so powerful an impression as in
the Schumann concerto. Hardly less enthusiasm
than Fraulein Aus der Ohe's performance called
forth — she was summoned five times — did the
orchestra's playing of the Wagner selections
evoke.— New York Herald, January loth, 1888.

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE.

THE BOSTON SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA. —
Vogrich's concerto was excellently adapted to
the style of Fraulein Aus der Ohe. It was so
superbly played that the orchestra joined with
the public in paying tribute to the player. — New
York Daily Tribune, February ijth, 1889.

A PHILHARMONIC REHEARSAL. — Fraulein
Aus der Ohe plays Rubinstein's concerto in
splendid style. At the public rehearsal yesterday
afternoon there was unusual enthusiasm aroused.
Frl. Aus der Ohe was recalled no less than six
times after her splendid performance of Rubin
stein's concerto. Then followed 'Rubinstein's
piano concerto in G, Fraulein Aus der Ohe
playing the piano part with tremendous vigor
and fire and yet with a feeling for tone color that
delighted every musician present. It was one
of the best things yet done here by this remark
able young pianist. — New York Herald, Nov.
idth, 1889.

AT THE Philharmonic concert last night in
the Metropolitan Opera House Fraulein Aus der
Ohe repeated her masterly performance of Rubin
stein's fine piano concerto in G major. — 'New
York Herald, Noi'ember ijth, 1889.

THE PHILHARMONIC CONCERT. — The Phil
harmonic Society gave its first concert for the
season last night at the Metropolitan, Theodore
Thomas conducting. Rubinstein's Concerto No.
3, in G major followed the symphony. The
soloist was Fraulein Adele Aus der Ohe, and
this work is admirably suited to this young
artiste. Her execution was brilliant and clear.
The second movement, the andante, was played
with delicacy and grace. The last movement
was dashed off with splendid energy. — The
World, November I'jth, 1889.

THE SOLOIST of the concert was Frl. Adele
Aus der Ohe, her selection being Schumann's
Concerto in A minor. Regarding her inter
pretation of it, it may be said that this remarkable
artiste has done ntohing better since she has been
with us. She played it with energetic vitality,
delicate feeling and perfection of technique.
She brought out the full beauty of the allegro,
with all its delicacy and refinement, as well as its
passionate character, all its grace and tenderness,
and, above all, the tender melancholy which is
so thoroughly Schumannesque. She gave the
difficult Finale with power and brilliancy, and at
the close was five times recalled. — The World,
January loth, 1888.

WORCESTER'S FESTIVAL. — The sixth con
cert of the music festival, given this afternoon,
was generally admitted to be the best of the week
and aroused the most enthusiasm. Mile. Adele
Aus der Ohe, the remarkably successful pianist
of the festival of one year ago, was heard with
pleasure in Beethoven's "Emperor" concerto. —
New York Herald, September 2>jth, 1889.

THE PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY'S FIRST COX-
CERT OF THE SEASON. — Next in the scheme
followed Rubinstein's concerto in G major, of
colossal difficulty, which was given by Fraulein
Aus der Ohe with a power, freedom, and bril
liancy worthy of the great composer himself.
Her ease of movement, celerity, and certainty,
in bravura passages, are splendid, not only to
hear, but to see. For Miss Aus der Ohe is
extremely graceful in the management of her.
hands, fingers and arms. Her playing is the
personification of health and freshness, combined
with rare judgment in phrasing and in sentiment.
Though full of meaning, her expression of feeling
is never allowed to degenerate into morbid ex
aggeration. Never has a better concert been
heard from this renowned society than that of last
night. No more charming or artistic soloist than
Miss Aus der Ohe can be found, and the remaining
work was as thoroughly satisfactory as hers. More
of praise could not be said. — New York Sun,
November ijth, 1889.

THE PHILHARMONIC'S REHEARSAL. — The
Metropolitan Opera House was filled Friday
Afternoon at the rehearsal for the fifth concert
of the Philharmonic Society. The soloist was
Frl. Adele Aus der Ohe, who played with
intelligence, finish and fine effect, Beethoven's
greatest concerto, the E flat, No. 5. She was
welcomed upon her entrance and was recalled
six times after the close of the concerto and re
ceived the homage of her audience. — The World,
March nth, 1888.

THE SOLOIST of this concert was Miss Adele
Aus der Ohe, the very popular pianist, who on
this occasion interpreted for the first time in
New York, the loveliest of all existing piano
concertos, the one by Schumann. The young
lady did full justice to the demands of the com
poser, which are more severe in point of con
ception than in technic. At the close of the
concerto Miss Aus der Ohe was four times re
called and enthusiastically applauded. — The
Musical Courier, New York, January nth, 1888.

BOSTON PRESS NOTICES.

THERE is surely no pianist in this country who
enjoys a greater general favor than Miss Adele
Aus der Ohe. And there is reason for this, be
cause beside her unquestionable high achieve
ments as a virtuoso,, the brilliancy, power, en
durance and dash of her playing as it comes to
the ear, there is the appeal which she always
makes to the eye through her agreeable personal
ity, her becoming costumes and the various grace
ful movements which she makes as she plays.
Her appearance in the Symphony programme
of this week means a crowded audience to-night,
as it drew a very large concourse yesterday after
noon. — The Beacon, Boston, Dec. 28th, 1889.

Miss Aus DER ORE'S playing of the Rubin
stein G major concerto was fine enough to be
counted among the "events" of the winter.
Miss Aus der Ohe's playing showed admirable
completeness of conception, and in point of
warmth of feeling, brilliancy and magnetic effect,
it rose to, and maintained itself upon a level that
is not often reached by anyone. And, best of
all, it was musical throughout. In a word, this
gifted young pianist here touched her apogee;
the impression she made upon musicians and
unprofessional music-lovers of every stamp was
alike satisfying, brilliant and inspiring. — Boston
Evening Transcript, December joth, 1889.

Steinway & Sons' Pianos used exclusively by Miss AUS DER OHE,

THE SYMPHONY CONCERT, Miss Aus DER
OHE SOLOIST. — Miss Aus tier Ohe has gained
great favor with the patrons of these concerts in
her earlier appearances here, and she was wel
comed most heartily by the great audience as she
entered. Her choice of the Rubinstein concerto
in G as her evening's number showed a confidence
in her own abilities that she fully justified in her
performance of this difficult composition, and her
playing has never before given such genuine
satisfaction as in this number. With the natural
development of her abilities, this artist has
gained a breadth of style and masterly control of
the keyboard which puts her at the front of the
pianists of to-day, and fully justifies all the high
praise given her in former seasons. Miss Aus
der Ohe proved well equipped at all points for
the contest, and her victory was not only ap
plauded most heartily by the audience, but
the orchestral players joined in the enthusiastic
ovation which rewarded her performance. — The
Sunday Herald, Boston, December 29th, 1889.

ELEVENTH SYMPHONY CONCERT, Miss Aus
DER OHE, SOLOIST. — Miss Aus der Ohe played
with splendid fire, mastering the more exacting
passages with no apparent effort, lingering over
the gentler portions with loving touch, giving the
whole with so much breadth and abandon as to
really rouse and excite the audience; the per
formance marks Miss Aus der Ohe's best achieve
ment in Boston. At the close of the concerto,
which Mr. Nikisch accompanied carefully, the
pianist was thrice recalled. — Boston Daily Tra
veller, December joth, 1889.

THE SYMPHONIES. — Sixteenth Concert — Miss
Adele Aus der Ohe was the soloist. The soloist's
playing was a marvel. It is impossible to enu
merate a tithe of the virtues of her rendering.
She was more liberally applauded than any soloist
this season. — The Boston Times, Feb. loth, iS8g.

THE SYMPHONY CONCERT OF SATURDAY
NIGHT — Miss Aus DER OHE AS SOLOIST. —
Adele Aus der Ohe never appeared to better
advantage than in Rubinstein's piano concerto
in G major, which followed. The boldness of
the pianist's playing was entirely in place, and
at the end of the first movement, when the
theme appeared in the orchestra, embellished
with every kind of fioriture on the piano, the
latter instrument fairly balanced the forcible
tutti. The second movement afforded oppor
tunities for contrast that were well employed.
A degree of sadness, a refined melancholy, were
in the performance of this, that showed the
pianist in a totally different mood from the fiery
style of the first and last movements. Miss Aus
der Ohe never degenerated from sentiment into
sentimentality, and never allowed the pathos of
the adagio to become bathos. The third move
ment is the most successful of the concerto. It
is so full of difficulties that it may almost be
characterized as one continuous cadenza. There
is much antiphonal work between piano and
orchestra in this, and a commendable balance
characterized the responses. Such octave work,
such chromatic passages and such chord work as
the pianist gave in the finale, can scarcely be
fully explained in type! The recalls which
greeted the fair young artist at the conclusion oi
the work, were evidence that the large audience
understood the worth of the performance. —
Boston Daily Advertiser, December ^oth, 1889.

FOR THE Rubinstein concerto, the soloist
seemed as admirably adapted as though she were
o the manner born. Mile. Aus der Ohe has
seldom been heard here at better advantage, her
olaying being characterized by an abundance of
the bravura and vital intensity that are so es
sential for an effective performance of Rubinstein's
nusic. With the andante movement her repose
and her womanly appreciation of the sentiment
of the music were very impressive, yet the climax
of her masterly achievement came with the final
allegro, her performance of which with all the
dash, abandon and technical clearness that were
in attendance upon it, being no less masterly
than superb. Mile. Aus der Ohe's triumph, and
it was in the best sense of the term a triumph,
was ardently acknowledged by the audience and
she was several times recalled. — The Boston
Times, December 29th, 1889.

As REGARDS Rubinstein's G major concerto —
it can be said for Miss Aus der Ohe that she
carried its many difficulties through triumphantly,
and with an abundance of ardor and command.
As a conceptive effort her performance was
brainy, emotional, and of brilliant interest. —
Gazette, Boston, December 29th, 1889.

THERE WAS an enormous audience at the
sixteenth concert of the Boston Symphony
Orchestra in Music Hall last night. The novelty
was a concerto for piano and orchestra by
Max Vogrich, which was played by Miss Adele
Aus der Ohe. Miss Aus der Ohe played it with
tremendous energy, and overcame its difficulties
in the most brilliant manner. It was a splendid
display of intensity and of endurance, and was
as remarkable for its clearness and precision as
it was for the unflagging fire that characterized
it from beginning to end. It was done,, with
the most exciting effect. The artist was recalled
four times 'with as wild an enthusiasm as has
ever been manifested at these concerts. —
Gazette, Boston, February loth, 1889.

THEN CAME that Boston favorite, the young
pianist (but what a veteran in execution!),
Adele Aus der Ohe, in Rubinstein's G major
concerto. Miss Aus d£r Ohe was thoroughly
in her element in the work ; her very exuberance
#nd enthusiasm was entirely in place, and from
the first challenging phrases to the very end
there was a dash and vigor that carried even the
most callous auditor along with the torrent. In
contrast to the great power of the end of the
first movement, was the sweetness and tender
ness of the second. Miss Aus der Ohe was
feminine here, without being effeminate, pathetic
without degenerating into pathos. The refine
ment of shading here was most marked and
effective. The' finale is the best part of the
concerto. It is titanic in its difficulties, but all
the bravura work is given in classical form, and
there are some interesting responsive passages
between piano and orchestra. The end is a per
fect mass of difficulties, one following on the
heels of the other. Miss Aus der Ohe not only
conquered these, but gave them in a manner that
was not labored in any degree. The octave
work and the chromatic passages were magnifi
cently done. The pianist was recalled with
great enthusiasm.— Boston Courier, December
sgth, 1889.

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Warerooms, Steinway Hall, 107—111 E. 14th St., New York.

STEINWAY HALL,

16 Lower Seymour St., Portman Sq., W.,
LONDON, ENGLAND.

STEINWAY'S PIANOFABRIK,

St. Pauli, Neue Rosen-Strasse, 2O-24,
HAMBURG, GERMANY.

H. A. ROST, PRINTER, 14 FRANKFORT ST., NEW YORK.

ntmlrg

ugust 16, 1884.

alished in England had e\
re than a hundred pounds f

er brought him in
sterling.

istmg furniture wherewith for years it was
iheir delight to nil and to fit them up.
Still, in ail its main features the house re-

f_4

(*)

All hail, Bromley 1

All hail Arch High-Priest of our realm

of Bohemia 1
All hail Grand Too-Whit of the noble

Order of the Ulula 1

Thou hast found favor in my yellow
eyes I

Thou hast gained lodgment in this
ancient heart !

I have not dimmed my love by express
ing it in words — I would not waste
my love in words 1

Nor have I shown it by my smiles ; I
do not smile on those I love.

But thou has not mistaken me !

I ;.a

(3)

At thy approach my closed eyelids,
weary with the fullness of surround
ing emptiness, have opened wide.
At sight of thee, the eager pupils of
mine eyes have dilated till they
were like to burst their broad cir
cumferences. In thy presence, my
protruded bosom hath expanded
until each yearning feather stood
on end.

Between thee and me neither word nor
smile was needed.

Thou earnest 1 I poured upon thee
the refreshing flood of an approving
and affectionate silence.

(4)

For years I have marked thee in thy
daily walk ; a kindly heart to whom
all hearts must needs be kind ; a
cheerful spirit, quick to enjoy the
sunshine, and to find it even among
clouds ; a genial soul receiving the
young with pleasant welcome and
retaining the old, because the pleas
ant welcome hath grown into a per
manent friendship.

And I have noted in thee that higher
wisdom which is wise enough some
times to stoop to folly. Thou art
too wise to be forever wise !

(5)

True wisdom hath no grief ! Look at
me — I weep not ! But the wisdom
of men is sad and full of pain ; it
maketh the heart sick and the eye
lids heavy. Therefore, is such
wisdom in so far unwise, for grief
and death are sworn allies !

Whatever else be folly, it is surely wise
to be merry, and if much wisdom
banish merriment, then is such wis
dom a false friend.

Where now are the wise men of the
ancient days?

I and mine hold merry feasts in their
nameless tombs.

(6)

What they thought wisdom is now
sport for children ; what they
deemed solemn worship is now
idle mummery.

So in the never-ending cycles to come
shall the jest of to-day become
earnest and the earnest become jest,
and the one be mistaken for the
other.

Therefore, have I looked on with pleas
ure when thou hast led the revels
of my Bohemian children. Thy
unctuous voice hath always inspired
their mirth ; thy jovial face hath
ever inflamed their laughter.

(7)

I have seen thee, as High-Priest, guid
ing the young neophyte to the
Bohemian altar, and leading his
soul upward with such uttered pre
cept as never neophyte heard before.
I have listened when with strenuous
voice thou hast brought in hoarse
carols from the briny deep.

Often, for very sport, thou wouldst load
up most grave and serious words
with light and unaccustomed freight
of meaning, and then, anon, wouldst
dress some solemn thought in such
gay frivolous garb of language, that
men mistook it for a wanton.

Many the quips and jests which I have
heard from thee, but I have noted
that there was never malice behind
thy humor, and never sting to mar
the honey of thy wit.

And now, O best beloved of the Owl,
the time draws near when we must
part.

I break the silence of unnumbered years
to say, " Farewell ! "

But we shall meet again. Not soon
perhaps, within these halls, nor in
the busy hours of day. But in the
quiet of the night, when sleep hath
come, I and many a friend of former
days shall visit thee in thy distant
home and bless thy dreams !

SAN FR>-

STEINWAY HALL,

16 Lower Seymour St., Portman Sq., W.,
LONDON, ENGLAND.

STEINWAY'S PIANOFABRIK,

St. Pauli, Neue Roaen-Strasse, 2O-24,
HAMBURG, GERMANY.

H. A. ROST, PRINTER, 14 FRANKFORT ST., NEW YORK.

<">F THE

UNIVERSITY

MEMORIES OF CAS A G UIDI.

Florentine llome of the RrownlnKs as
It Is and as It Was-JBought by the Poet's
Son, but the Dwelling Place of an Aus
trian General— Reminiscences of JLlfe
There With the Brownings Forty Years
Ago— Margaret Fuller, Ossoll, Klrkup,
Trelawney, and the .Eeerton Smiths,

FLORENCE, July 15.— A London newspaper has
recently raised a somewhat idle question over
the relative hold of the finest English modern
poets upon the reading public in England and
jn America. I do not intend to-day to deal with
this question further than to observe that the
returns of the bookselling trade will pretty cer
tainly afford a decisive, practical answer to it.
The final appeal in such a matter must be
neither to gods nor to men, but to " the book
sellers' shops!" Our English cousins habitually
forget that as a matter of population they are
outnumbered two to one by the people of the
great republic; and they are habitually igno
rant also of the fact, germane to this particular
inquiry, that in respect not only of English
poetry, but of all forms of modem art, and
especially of Continental art, the American
market is very largely more important than the
English. It is no exaggeration to say that where
England possesses one really good modern
French, Belgian. Dutch or German picture, the
United States now possess twenty. In the
matter of the modern English poets, beginning
with Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats,
and coming down to Browning, Swinburne, and
Tennyson, all the finest work of all these poets
was understood, admired, and felt in America
while the authors were more or less crying in
the wilderness of British PhilisMa. This is
especially true of the Brownings. Not long be
fore his death, and after his name had become
a kind of religion with a, still comparatively
limited cL-ele of British worshippers, Robert
Browning told me that not one of his books
published in England had ever brought him in
more than a hundred pounds sterling.

I am quite sure, therefore, that what I have to
say to you to-day about the Florentine home in
which he and his wife passed the happiest years
of their life, will find a wider as well as a more
sympathetic and appreciative audience in our
I own country than can be looked for in theirs.
I The question, indeed, has been much more often
.. put to me by American than by English travel
lers in Italy, whether the Casa Guidi is still
i standing in Florence and whether it is accessible
to the piety of literary pilgrims. As a matter of
' fact the Casa Guidi not only still stands in Flor-
p ence but it is now the property of the only child
| of the two poets who have lent immortality to
! its name. It is a just and fitting thing that even
after the lapse of more than thirty years the
room in which, on the 39th of June, 1861, the rare
and radiant spirit of Elizabeth Barrett Brown
ing passed away from earth should have be-
; come the property of her only child, known from
' his infancy upward to all her friends and his by
the quaint pet name of "Pen," a name over
which, I observe, the pundits of the " Browning
\ societies from Chicago to London have puzzled
their wits and emptied their ink pots with in- \
finite ingenuity but to little purpose." Possibly 'j
Miss Browning may correct me, but my own i
recollection, going back to the time of his birth,
, is, that his mother gave this name to the child !
simply because of the eagerness he displayed I
from his earliest babyhood to get at and spoil j
all manner of sheets and scraps of paper within !
reach by scrawling over them with any and with
every pen on which he could lay his little hands.
sAs his infantile industry took the form, usually,
>|7iot of pot hooks and hangers, but of fearful and
j wonderful images intended to represent human
beings, horses, cats, and dogs, it was considered
by his parents to indicate his natural vocation '
, as an artist, the vocation to which, as you know, !
his life has since been given. Yes, " Pen " I
Browning is now the owner of the Casa Guidi, •
but, alas, the apartments on the piano nobile,
N bo long occupied by his illustrious parents, were
j| long ago dismantled of all the quaint and inter-
isting furniture wherewith for years it was
iheir delight to fill and to fit them up.
Still, in all its main features the house re-

^nains what it was when, nearly hall a century
Igo, Browning and. his wife, then newly married
fcnd led by overnristering circumstances, as
well as by their own poetic instincts, to make
Italy their home, selected this as their abode.
The Casa Guidi is not one of the great historic
palaces of Florence, though it is a building of
respectable antiquity and a fairly characteristic
typs of those Medician houses in which so much
comfort was long ago combined by the prosper
ous citizens of the glorious city on the Arno,
with a certain measure of stafeliness. It was, I
think, for more than two centuries the Floren
tine residence of the famous family of the Guidi,
whose ancestral castle, built in 1274, at the
same time with the Palazzo Vecchioof Florence
and by the same architect, Arnolfo del Cambio,
still magnificently dominates the picturesque
little city of Poppi, the ancient capital of the
green and beautiful Casentino. The arms of
the Guidi, laid in scogllola, still illuminate the
floor of the chamber in which Mrs. Browning
died. The last Count Guidi passed away, I
think, in the early part of this century, and the
house, when the Brownings went to live in it,
was tha property of a well-to-do Florentine
family. Browning himself would have been
glad to buy the house after the death of his
wife, but the owners Avould not part with it.
United Italy was then passing, thanks to Cavour,
Victor Emmanuel, and Napo'eon III., from the
realm of dreams into the realm of reality, and
Florence was locking forward to a great future
as the capital of the new nationality.

The apartment of the Brownings had been
furnished by themselves. It was full of quaint
and beautiful things picked up from time to
bime by the poets during those days of confu
sion which preceded and followed the revolu
tionary outbreaks of 1818. Mrs. Browning
with the innocent glee of a good housewife,
used to tell her friends that all the rare and
beautiful objects which filled her rooms had
really been acquired without expense, so much
money had they saved by giving up hotels and
furnished lodgings and making a home of then-
own! All these belongings were tenderly and
reverently transferred by her bereaved hus
band, first to the house which he took at War

wick Crescent in London, and afterward to tli
house in De Vere Gardens, which he owned t
tHe time, of his death in Venice. As you kuo\
!at the time of his death in Venice his son, Per
owned and occupied there with his America
wife, the noble Palazzo Rezzonico, and tl:
f urnitiire of the Casa Guidi was some time ag
brought to that place from London. Somewhs
more than a year ago Mr. Pen Brownin
learned that in consequence of the death of or
of the Florentine owners of the Casa Guidi
division had become necessary of the famil
estates, and that it might therefore be possibl
at last to secure the Florentine home of h
; parents. Negotiations were begun to that em
'through a Florentine friend, and the Caj
i Guidi eventually became* his own at a pric
j which represents something less than tl
amount of the handsome legacy left long yeai
ago to Browning and his wife by their true an
devoted friend, John Kenyon. When Mr
j Browning died the municipality of Flororem
decreed that a noble tablet should be set in tl
front of the house, which bears a simple an
; beautiful inscription, written by Tommaser
i which your readers, perhaps, will fc

trying to put into English :

forgive me fc

Here wrote and died
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING,

who, in a woman's heart, cor-bined

The genius of a poet with the learning of a scholar,

And made of her verse a golden link

Between Italy and England.

This Memorial was set hero

By grateful Florence.

1861.

Italian? and Englishmen alike, I think, wi
! agree with me that the purchase of this hous
'. by her son is a graceful recognition of hi
> mother's loving and passionate devotion to th
cause of Italy and of the feelings expressed i
1 Tommaseo's inscription. Robert Browning, Ion
before his death, attested his own faith in tli
future of Italy by investing a considerable sui
in the Italian rentes. This sum has now bee
converted into a still more solid Italian' inves
ment by the purchase of the Casa Guidi on terir
which \voulcl have commanded the approval, o
sound financial principles, even of so good
business man as the poet's uncle. Reube
Browning, still remembered with respect an
' ;vi. X(>\v. Court arid in the city of Li>i

don. How well Mrs. Browning loves Italy her
poetry attests. But loving Italy well, she loved
it Aviselv, too. Her judgment was sometimes
heated, but it was never really warped by the
ardor of her svmpathies. "Casa Guidi Win
dows," read in the light of now current events,
will show that these then "coming events" cast
their warning shadow before upon the mind of
the noble woman, who watched with such in
tense earnestness the uprising of the Italian
populations in the middle of our century. Her
friends believed at the time that her death was
hastened by the shock of the news that Cavour
was no more. Her detestation of autocracy
never blinded her for a moment to the great
claims of Napoleon III. upon the gratitude of
Italy, and, while she rejoiced in the downfall of
the Bourbons, she had the courage and the com
mon sense to see that the famous expedition to
Sicily would have wrecked instead of saving the
Italian cause but for the prudence, the decision,
and the statesmanship of the great Minister oi1
King Victor. " A hundred Garibaldis," slices
recorded to have exclaimed, " for one Cavour.

We may imagine what such a woman would
have felt and said to-day, could she have lived,
to see a hundred busts of Garibaldi set r in the
shops and public places of Italy to '.e of
Cavour! Nay. could she revisit the J:.aly of
1894 I do not think it would surprise her or pain
her true and ]ov:il spirit to find not a few of the
Italians who in 1S49 risked all that men hold
dear to drive the Austrians back toward the
Alps resolutely \ipholding the alliance of Italy
with Austria as vital now to the independence
and the greatness of their country. By a curi
ous irony of fate, her own home in the Casa
Guidi is now and has for many years been the
home of an Austrian Gemini, vyho, as a young
officer of engineers, marched past the windows
of Casa Guid! with troops, bringing back "the
good Grand Duke" from his brief exile to re
sume his paternal sway over Toscana la Felice
This young officer wooed and Avon a Florentine
bridc.and after serving hiaKaiser loyally through
good and evil fortune he is now, as a retired
and distinguished veteran, passing the evening
of his days with conten' and delight in his
Italian home, with none but reelings of respect
and kindly admiral ion for the famous English
poetess who has identified the rame of the Casa
Guidi forever with the indomitable resistance
of the Italian people to the domination of ^ the
-r. I spent an hour therewith the Gen-
era! a day or two ago. Though nothing1 in the
furniture and hangings of the chief salon re
calls it as I knew ii s*o well more than forty
years .'i^o, ;i tide of n>. tie baok upon

me. 1 spent the greater part of the winter of
1850 in Florence, remaining there late into the
lovely spring.

A photograph of the salon, taken so:ne years
later, lies before me as I write to you. There, at
one corner of the deep chimney piece, stands
empty the low. Ion 3 chair in which Mrs. Brown-
ins; was wont to receive her guests. Avlule her
luminous eyes shone under the half shade in
wVru'h her "seat was placed, with a welcome
brighter even than that of the wood fire crack
ling on the hearth. We never thought of her as
an invalid. but she en.iov/?(].. without t exacting,

all the privileges of one. The circle of their
acquaintance was not Large, but whenever
Browning made, as he sometimes did. an rxcur-
"sion beyond its periphery in the circumambient
clond of casual foreigners at Florence, he usu
ally came b°.ok more content than before
with its limits. Active, alert to the verge of
restlessness, keenly alive to every incident of
life, hn was, in those days, the incarnation of
the noble lines in which Walter Savage Landor
likens him to Chauoer. A great carved wooden
table stood on one side Of the salon, and this was
always " littered " up with the strange odds and
ends of "bigotry and virtue" picked up by
Browning in his' strolls all over the city of the
Medici. But the talk at the Casa Guidi turned
more easil y and naturally always to the " human-
ities" than to bric-a-brac. The atmosphere was
always aglow with a soft, lambent radiance "f the
indescribable content in. which these married
lovers lived and moved and had their being.

I lived at that time at the Hotel d'York; now
long since vanished. It bad been a palace of
Henry Stuart, Cardinal York, who now lies buried
in St/Peter'sas " Henrv IX., King of Great Brit-
, alnand Ireland;" and his Cardinal's hat and tas-
| sels in stone were carved over the doorway. One
evening' Browning came and dined with me
there, and we talked for a while after din
ner was over with a swell group of English at
the hotel. The central figure of these was
a portly, predominant dame, well advanced
in years, with staring Assyrian eyes and an im
placable mouth. She was the wife of a baronet
and had passed two winters at Rome. These cir
cumstances made her an oracle. A shy, modest
young artist, come for the first time to Italy, and
full of his dreapis of art, talked with us, and
sought information as to the ways and means of
life in the Eternal City. He had heard that he
might hope to find quarters within his means
not too far from the Piazza di Spagna and from
the Cafe Greco, which in those days was an art
centre." " Could he find such quarters, decently
furnished, at thirty shillings a month or there
abouts ?" "Thirty shillings a month I" ex
claimed Lady - — . with uplifted brow and
head; "you will do well if you can find a place
in which any civilized being could stay for an
hour at thirty shillings a week /" The poor little
artist shrank' within himself under the crushing
tones and the icy glare oC the oracle, but Brown
ing flushed with indignation and turned upon
her. "I thought you said you knew something of
Rome, madam ! ' Let me, tell you that not far
from the Piaz/a, di Snagna I can show you the
room in which for vears, paying for it rauch less
than thirty shillings a month, lived honorably
and happily and gloriously a most civilized
man, the latchet of whose shoes it would bean
honor for any of us here to unloose — and his
name was Thorwaldsen!" Tears of gratitude
almost glistened in the eyes of the artist. The
oracle was for a moment confounded, purple
and dumb, but presently arose and swept ma-
iestieally out of the room. Later in the even
ing, when I told the story at the Casa Guidi,
Browning's Avrath flared up ane\r, with an ^out
burst of passionate prose concerning the bit
terly respectable female Briton." Every word
.cut like a Avhip until from the warm shadow of

her great choir the voice of Mrs. Browning came :
"Robert! Robert! do put some humanity into
your speech!" The poet paused like a
child stayed by its mother's hand, stood
for a moment silent, and then broke
into a merry laugh as contagious as had been
his righteous indignation.

In the conversation which followed, I remem
ber, Mme. Ossoli (Margaret Fuller), who was
a constant guest, told tis a picturesque
story more to the credit of the wandering chil
dren of Britain. It was of a sculptor then much
talked of in Florence, less, perhaps, by reason of
his genius as an artist than of a certain wonder
ful garden and conservatory which he possessed,
and in which he took great delight. Some few
years before 1850 this sculptor, she said, had
been living in great obscurity. He was young.
ambitious, but very poor, with no relatives but
an aged mother, to whom he was devoted. His
atelier, in one of the narrow streets of old Floi*-
ence, was overlooked and commanded by the
windows of a large apartment in Avhich dwelt a
lonely, rather misanthropic Englishman, obvi
ously well to do. but saturnine and a systematic
recluse. He had struck up an acquaintance
with the young sculptor, which never got b •-
yond a civil bow when they met. The sculptor
was assiduous at his art, but he had almost no
patrons, and gave himself apparently no dis
tractions in life beyond a singing bird in a cage
and some pots of flowers which he carefully cul
tivated. One day the Englishman died, solitary
and alone, as' he had lived. Not long
afterward a Florentine notary knocked at
the sculptor's door, and. .being admitted,
astounded the artist with the informa
tion that, under the will of a person whose very
name he had never heard before, he had come
into the possession of what to the Florentines of
that day was a great fortune, of four or five
thousand francesconi, or a thousand pounds
sterling a year ! This had been left to him by
his misanthropic neighbor the Englishman, who,
having few kinsmen of his own. and detesting
the few he had, chose to bequeath his property
to the patient, kindly.- struggling Florentine
artist. The incident, of course, was a nine days'
wonder in the local gossip of the city, and made
the artist for a time the rage. His first thought
Avas to install his mother comfortably, and his
^econd to make for himself an ideal garden.
"But, of cours<-," put in Browning, "this wind-
tall made everybody admire his work as a sculp
tor, at which nobody before would so much as
look. He was run to death by people bent on
having him make their busts, and he got a com
mission to make one of the statues they were
setting up in the niches of the Ufnzi !"

Not on this evening, but on another, I
remember that some allusion to the sculptor
and his windfall led Browning to tell us a still
more curious story, the heroes of which were
Trelawney, whose acquaintance Browning
had made during his second visit, I think, to
Italy, and an eccentric scholar and philosopher,
well known in those days, but now, I fear, for
gotten. Kirkup. Kirkui), whom we always
called "the Baron"— I believe, that some Italian
potentate had really given him the title—
occupied a strange, straggling apartment, high

:*:•—»-
i

i up in fin ancient, picturesque building Avhic
j overlooked the Arno, on the west bank, near th
i Ponte Vecchio. It Avas filled with rare old tomes
most of them treatises on alchemy, astrology
and the black arts generally, for Baron Kirku
Avas one of the last of the alchemists and i
devout astrologer. Perhaps there is only on
man. UOAV liAring in England (and he is a peer o
! Parliament), who can cast a horoscope as easil'
and as Avell as Kirkup. How long Kirkup hax
lived in Italv nobody accurately knew, bu
BroAvning told us that when Treia\vney reap
pearerl in Europe a.fter his long occupation ii
the East, and found himself, through the deatl
of relatives who had utterly lost sight of him
the owner of a property in Cornwall, he remem
bered Kirkup as a schoolfellow, and as the onb
comrade of his boyhood whoso name he recallec
with interest or pleasure. He came upon Kirkuj
at Florence, and there found him as complete!}
secluded from the main currents of Europeai
life, by his tastes and his studies, as Trelawnej
had been for years by his voluntary exile in th<
East. So one day he sat doAvn and wrote Kirkm
a note to the effect that, as he, Trelawney, had £
larger income than he cared to spend, and a<
Kirkup, seeking the philosophers stone, musl
some time perhaps need more money than he
could easily find, it Avould be a great pleasure tc
him if Kirkup would allow him to put half his
income at his service ! To which Kirkup .replied
quietly thanking him, that he really had all the
money he needed, or was likely to need, and did
not see his way to making use of anymore!

Besides his apartment in Florence. Kirkus
had a queer old tOAver somewhere in the neigh
borhood into which he occasionally retired when
engaged in some inquiry more than commonly
abstruse. I have forgotten exactly where this
tower stood, but I remember that 'one day, tak
ing a rather longer vide than usual with BroAvn-
ing, we raiTu- unon it. and found it occupied only
b.-.^a very l«rge and particularly disagreeable
bu'.v .;, •• liicli stood in the one narrow little
doorway of the basement and forbade all at
tempts to approach and investigate the mace
Science may owe little to the bulldog and to the
black arts of the Baron, but art and literature
s»re deeply Indebted to liim for it WAS lit* \vhr»

?hre0Bgahrgeno.liShtGi0tto'S P°Vtmit °f bante in

caLdT inot remember that BroAvning ever
saw Irelawney more than once or twice
but he often spoke of him and of his strange
career, which I think was in Brownings
mind when he wrote his poem of "Warin- -
irelawney was a younger son, sent out as a
cadet to India. He ran away from the service
f,r°Tm civilization at Bombay, roved for vears
about India, took a hand at piracy, perhaps in
the Persian Gulf, and after joining the Greeks
against Turkey and marrying the daughter of
the great Klepht Odysseus, rambled back into
Europe, became intimate with Byron, was, the
last man to see Shelley alive on the shore
at Speyzia, presided over the cremation
of Ins remains, and HOAV himself sleeps
quietly near "Cor Cordium" in the green corner
of that beautiful cemetery at Rome. Pie told
Browning a story of Byron and Lord Blessington
which I do not think appears in any Tiiemoirs.'

«— *•

•I— •*>

as indicating11 how 'sfiglit and "superficial the
aesthetic feeling of his fair country women,
really was. "You are quite unjust," said Mrs.
Browning, with a humorous light in her beauti
ful eyes, "' those girls have a genuine love of. art.
They were here this morning. You forget that
San Marco is ful1 of Austrian soldiers, and,"
wri-hapause, "of their lively camp follower?.
You men were unconscious of this, but the
fleets had the good taste to let you alone and to
drive those poor girls nearly mad."

No one in Florence was on such inti-
ma-te terms with Mrs. Browning as the

I m upnnnoi DID.U \r>i
to the effect that after Lord Blessirigton had
bought Byron's yacht, " as it stood," and, taking
possession of it, sailed off with some friends
upon a cruise, his steward came to him just be
fore dinner was to be served, to inform him that
there was neither a spoon nor a fork nor a salt
to be found in the lockers. Byron's man Fletch
er, the steward said, had come on board of the
yacht in the morning and carried off all the sil
ver, alleging that it nelonged to his master, be
cause it was marked not only with a B, which
stood equally well for Byron and for Blessington,
but with the coronet of a Baron, whereas Lord
Blessirigton, insisted Fletcher, was an Earl.

While the career of Trelawney, I think, sug- j
gested the poem of "Waring," I ought to say that i
Browning more than once spoke of recognizing |
from the deck of the Norham Castle (the vessel \
in which he sailed from England for Trieste, on '
Good Friday, 1838, to make his first visit to
Italy) the figure and the face upon another ves
sel, which passed them outward in the harbor
of Trieste, of a man whom he had known in
England, who, after disappearing complete- /
ly for several years, with no discoverable his
tory, calmly came back again and walked quietly
into his own house on a winter's evening, as if
returning from a stroll down the street. I do
n -t think the general impression is well founded
that the experiences of Alfred Domett, the poet
of the South Seas, suggested the poem of " War-
Ing," for there was never any ignorance among
Domett's friends as to where he had gone and
as; to what he was doing. I

The circle of Mrs. Browning's friends, as I
have said, was not large. The Egerton Smiths. ,
with whom in after years Browning was so 1
closely associated by his love for music, came i
into it only casually in 1850, and at that time, i
like Browning himself, they were more inter- :
ested in pictures and in sculpture than in the ;
sister art. They were charming persons. I had i
the pleasure one day of escorting them to see ,
the frescoes of Fra Angelico in the old Dominican I
Convent of San Marco, now become a museum
of art. It was then occupied as a kind of bar- j
racks by the Austrians, but we were very civilly '
allowed by an officer whom I knew to see the
frescoes. A little to my surprise, the ladies,
with all their love of art, manifested a kind of
haste in our tour of inspection, which seemed to
me inconsistent with a real enjoyment of Fra
Angelico's exquisite work. An evening or two
afterward, at the Casa Guidi, an English, gen
tleman, who had accompanied us, spoke <J this

UT pssn SB '

ere,

Marchesa Ossoli. No woman
tainly, so thoroughly felt and appreciated h<
poetical genius, or sympathized with her so in
tensely in her love of Italy and her .devotion to
the Italian cause. Then March: •> Ossoli,
a young man of thirty, whoac elder br *"her was
a Guardia Mobile of the Poju.-. h;;<l iu-own in
his lot with the revolutionist.- of Rome, and was
therefore not ruined only, but an oxile. IK" as
much younger than his wife, whose ;u":u;iiV-
ance he had made ina somewhat r •: viatic fa.--.ii-
ion one day at St. Peter's, but > was do-
votedly fond of her and of their only boy,
Angelo. a boy born at almost the same tinv as
Mrs. Browning's boy "Pen." They occupied,
at Florence, rooms at the top of a house in one
corner of that most characteristic and Floren
tine square, the Piazza Santa Maria Novella.
Their future depended entirely on the pen
of Mme. Ossoli, who had achieved a wide repu
tation in America as Margaret Fuller. She
wished to remain in Europe, thinking, and no
doubt correctly, that her young Italian husband
would find it almost impossible to make any
career for himself in the new world, and she
expected, in the winter of 1850, to make an ar
rangement with Mr. Horace Greeley, then edi
tor a the New York Tribune, which would
enable her to live in Italy as his correspondent.
Some misunderstanding arose about this, and
Browning, long afterward, in London, told me
the tragical circumstances which finally led to
the death by shipwreck of herself, her husband,
and their little child, almost Avithiii sight of
New York, in July, 1850. Believing that noth-
in°- had come of her negotiations with Mr. Gree-
ley, Mme. Ossoli, in the early summer, engag
ed passage for America for herself and
her family, together with a young American
friend, Mr. Sumner, a brother of the well-known
American Senator, on board a vessel which
sailed from Leghorn. The Brownings tried to
dissuade her from, this voyage, about which she
herself had many curious forebodings, and as
sured her that they could help her to accomplish
her wish of remaining in Europe. On the very
day, I think, after she finally settled matters for
the voyage, came a letter from Mr. Greeley mak
ing just the arrangement she had wished for,
and the Brownings then earnestly urged her to
stay. She thought herself bound, however, to
the Captain, and reluctantly persevered in go
ing, and the vessel ran ashore and was lost al
most at the entrance of New York Bay. and the
three Ossolis, with young Sumner, perished in
the surf. Strangely enough, a most interesting
account of Margaret Fuller in Italy, afterward
sent by Browning to America at the request of
her biographer, was lost with the vessel by
which it was sent, and Browning showed me,
with a kind of tender superstition, a little Bible
given by Mme. Ossoli the night before she left
Florence to Mrs. Browning for " Pen," with an
inscription as from " Angelo Ossoli."

A strong link between Mrs. Browning and this
friend was Mme. Ossoli's intelligent a,nd thor
ough sympathy with her in regard to the atti
tude into which she had felt herself forced at
the time of her marriage by .the. .obstinate and

UU3}

unreasoning refusal of her father, Mr. Barrett,
to sanction and approve her union with Brown
ing. Browning made the acquaintance of Miss
Barrett through her kinsman and his friend,
John Kenyon, who was led to bring
them together by her warm admiration
of Browning's poetry, then little appreciated
in England, and by his interest in some transla
tions from the Greek, which Kenyon showed him
as made by her. She had then for some years been
confined under medical advice to a darkened
room and a recumbent position. She was allowed
sometimes to move about the house, but never
to walk but of doors. Indeed, I remember she
told me herself that she had never so mucn as
set foot upon the ground or on the grass for
several years, until a little time before her
wedding, when she resolutely got out of a car
riage to make the experiment. At their first
meeting, both Browning and herself felt that
they had "met their fate," and before very long
it was determined between them to unite their
lives. Browning, of course, wished to ask her
hand of her father, but with a resolution as
characteristic as her gentleness. Miss Barrett
forbade this. She was rather older than her
lover. She knew her father thoroughly and she
knew that he had made up his mind long before
to regard her as a hopeless invalid. " I do not
wish," she said, "to marry you against his
command, therefore I must marry you
Avithout his knowledge." Nor would she
allow Browning to mention their purpose to
Kenyon. "He will be our friend,'' she said,
"afterward with my father, and he must be
able, therefore, to clear himself of all suspicion
of being our accomplice."

All the preliminaries were arranged by the
two with the help of a servant, and at the ap
pointed time Miss Barrett quitting the carriage
in which she was driving at Camberwell (I think)
got into another Avhich was in waiting and drove
to St. Pancras's Church, where the marriage
took place. They went abroad immediately
and opened communications at once with their
their friends. Mr. Barrett was sternly indig
nant, nor could all the pleadings of others of the
family, and of Mr. Kenyon, move him. He
never relented, never answered his daughter's
letters, and made no mention of her m his
will. Mrs. Browning seldom spoke of him, but
always with affection. The language of Mme.
O ssoli on the subject was rather different, I re
member, nor shall I easily forget an evening in
Florence when she read to me a letter, written
not long after the marriage, by Mrs. Browning
to Kenyoii. In this letter Mrs. Browning, I
recollect, asked Kenyon why any father should
disown his daughter simply " because being of
mature years and judgment she had chosen to
exchange darkness and loneliness and despair
for light and love and Italy, and for such hap-
pine^s as human beings should scarce venture to
think of save in their prayers to their God."

AN AMERICAN TRAVELLER.

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•:*: ' *>

INVESTMENT OF THE PRESIDENT ELECT

With the Symbols of his Office,
BY

HIS EXCELLENCY, GEORGE C. PERKINS.

Vol. II. No. 3. Five cents.

Per Year, Fifty cents

Xittle Journep
to tbe Ibomes of
Hmerican Hutbors

CAROLINE H. KIRKLAND

New York and London : (5. X

iputnani's Sons

New Rochelle, N. Y. The
Knickerbocker Press.

BRYANT

His youth was innocent ; his riper age
Marked with some act of goodness every day ;

And watched by eyes that loved him, calm and

sage,
Faded his late declining years away.

Meekly he gave his being up, and went

To share the holy rest that waits a life well spent.

The Old Man's funeral.

FOREWORD

is a tender tribute to the mem
ory of Mrs. Kirkland, written by Mr.
Bryant at the time of her death, in 1864.
"A beautiful soul," wrote the Editor of
The Post . . . "one whom I was
proud to call my friend."

In the sketch presented here, friend
writes of friend. Mr. Bryant had done
much in bringing Mrs. Kirkland's books
before the public, and it was meet that
gratitude and affection should flow when
she took up her pen to write of him.
But Bryant's name deserves all the good
and gracious things that Mrs. Kirkland
says, and if Mr. Bryant's judgment was a
bit blinded by friendship when he called
Mrs. Kirkland's books "sublime" and
"immortal," why, what boots it? Love
is ever blind and friendship is quite near
sighted — and I am glad

E.H.

BRYANT.

BY CAROLINE H. KIRKLAND.*

IF ever there were poet of whom it is
not necessary to ask whether he lives
in town or country, it is Mr. Bryant.
Not even Burns gives more unmistakable
signs of the inspiration of rural sights
and sounds. Winds breathe soft or loud ;
sunshine or shadow flits over the land
scape ; leaves rustle and birds sing wher
ever his verses are read. The ceiling
overhead becomes a forest with green
boughs waving ; the carpet turns to fresh
grass, and the air we breathe is moist and
fragrant with mosses and hidden streams.

* Written in 1853 for Putnam's Homes of A mert-
can Authors.

Bryant

No need of carrying the book out-of-doors
to aid the illusion ; its own magic is irre
sistible, and brings out-of-doors wherever
it goes. Here is a mind whose

Raptures are not conjured up
To serve occasion of poetic pomp,
But genuine—

and such as could not be excited or satis
fied with pictures of what it loves.

It is consistent, therefore, when we find
the poet's home a great, old-time man
sion, so embosomed in trees and vines that
we can hardly catch satisfactory glimpses
of the bay on which it lies, through the
leafy windows, of which an overhanging
roof prolongs the shade. No greener, qui
eter, or more purely simple retreat can be
found ; none with which the owner and
his tastes and occupations are more in
keeping. It would be absurd to say that
all appearance of show or style is care
fully avoided for it requires very little
observation to perceive that these are
absent from the place simply because
they never entered its master's mind.
4S

I suppose if anything could completely
displease Mr. Bryant with this beloved
home, it would be the addition of any
outward costliness, or even elegance,
calculated to attract the attention of the
passing stranger. Friend Richard Kirk
—a Quaker of the Quakers, if he may be
judged by his works— little thought,
when he built this great, ample, square
dwelling-place, in the lap of the hills, in
1787, that he was fashioning the house
of a poet— one worthy to be spared when
temple and tower went to the ground,
because it is the sanctuary of a priest of
Nature.

Whether any captain, or colonel, or
knight in arms did spare it, from a pro
phetic insight into its destination, we
cannot tell ; but there was wild work in
its vicinity, and stories of outrages perpe
trated by " cow-boys " and other desper
adoes are still fresh in old families. The
wide region still called Hempstead was
then inhabited for the most part by loy
alists, devoutly attached to the parent
49

JSr^ant

government, and solicitous, by means of
town meetings passing loyal resolutions,
and conventions denouncing the spirit
of rebellion against "his most gracious
majesty, King George the Third," to put
down the dangerous agitation that began
to threaten "our civil and religious lib
erties, which can only be secured by our
present constitution " ; and this north
ern part of the township, in particular,
held many worthy citizens who felt it
their duty to resist to the last the unhal
lowed desire of the people to govern
themselves.

In September, 1775, an official reports
that " without the assistance of Col. I^ash-
er's battalion " he " shall not be able, in
Jamaica and Hempstead, to carry the
resolutions of Congress into execution,"
as " the people conceal all their arms
that are of any value." The disaffection
of the district was considered important
enough to justify a special commission
from Congress, then sitting at Philadel
phia, requiring the resistants to deliver
50

JSrgant

their arms and ammunition on oath, as
persons "incapable of resolving to live
and die freemen, and more disposed to
quit their liberties than part with the
small portion of their property that may
be necessary to defend them."

This seems to have had the desired ef
fect, for the people not only brought in
their arms, but were "much irritated
with those who had led them to make
opposition," says a contemporary letter.
The lovers of peace and plenty, rather
than commotion and scanty harvests,
were, however, still so numerous in
Queen's County, that on the 2ist of Oc
tober, 1776, about thirteen hundred free
holders presented a most humble petition
to Lord Howe, entreating that he would
" declare the County in the peace of His
Majesty," and denouncing "the infatu
ated conduct of the Congress," as having
"blasted their hopes of returning peace
and security." Among the names ap
pended to this petition we find that of
Richard Kirk, — a lover of comfort, doubt-
Si

JBrgant

less, like his brethren in general, — and
who, when once the drum had ceased to
outrage the mild echoes of that Quaker
region, returned to his farming or his
merchandise, and in due season, being
prospered, founded the substantial dwell
ing now known as Spring Bank, destined
to last far into the time of freedom and
safety, and to prove, in these latter days,
fit harbor for a poet whose sympathies
are anywhere but with the signers of that
humble petition.

The house stands at the foot of a woody
hill, which shelters it on the east, facing
Hemstead Harbor, to which the flood-tide
gives the appearance of a lake, bordered
to its very edge with trees, through which,
at intervals, are seen farm-houses and cot
tages, and all that brings to mind that
beautiful image, " a smiling land." The
position is well chosen, and it is enhanced
in beauty by a small artificial pond, col
lected from the springs with which the
hill abounds, and lying between the house
and the edge of the harbor, from which it
52

is divided by an irregular embankment,
affording room for a plantation of shade-
trees and fine shrubbery. Here again
Friend Richard was doing what he little
thought of ; for his only intention was to
build a paper-mill — one of the earliest in
the United States, whose wheel for many
a year furnished employment to the out
let of the pond. The mill was burnt once
and again — by way of hint, perhaps, that
beauty is use enough, — and the visitor
cannot but hope it will never be rebuilt.
The village at the head of the harbor
was long called North Hempstead, but
as there were already quite Hempsteads
enough in Queen's County to perplex
future topographers, the inhabitants
united in desiring a more distinctive
title, and applied to Mr. Bryant for his
aid in choosing one. This is not so easy
a matter as it seems at first glance ; and
in defect of all express guidance in the
history of the spot, and desiring, too, a
name at once musical in itself and agree
able in its associations, Mr. Bryant pro-
53

posed Roslyu, — the town annals declar
ing that when the British evacuated the
island in 1781, "The Sixtieth, or Royal
American Regiment, marched out of
Hempstead to the tune of Roslyn Cas
tle." The name is not too romantic for
the place, for a more irregular, pictur
esque cluster of houses can hardly be
found, perched here and there on the
hillsides, embowered in foliage, and look
ing down upon a chain of pretty little
lakes, on the outlet of which, overhang
ing the upper point of the harbor, is an
old-fashioned mill with its pretty rural
accessories. One can hardly believe this
a bit of Long Island, which is by no means
famed for romantic scenery.

After Richard Kirk's time, other Quak
ers in succession became proprietors of
the great farm-house and the little paper-
mill, but at length they were purchased
by Joseph W. Moulton, Esq., author of a
history of New York, who, not relishing
the plainness of the original style, sur
rounded the house with square columns
54

and a heavy cornice. These help to shade
a wide and ample piazza, shut in still
more closely by tall trees and clustering
vines, so that from within, the house is
one bower of greenery, and the hottest
sun of July leaves the ample hall and
large rooms cool and comfortable.

The library occupies the northwest
corner — and we need hardly say that
of all the house this is the most attrac
tive spot, not only because, besides ample
store of books, it is supplied with all that
can minister to quiet and refined pleas
ure, but because it is, par excellence,
the haunt of the poet and his friends.
Here, by the great table covered with
periodicals and literary novelties, with
the soft, ceaseless music of rustling leaves,
and the singing of birds making the si
lence sweeter, the summer visitor may
fancy himself in the very woods, only
with a deeper and more grateful shade.
And when wintry blasts are piping loud
and the whispering leaves have changed
to whirling ones, a bright wood-fire lights
55

the home scene, enhanced in comfort by
the inhospitable sky without ; and the
domestic lamp calls about it a smiling or
musing circle, for whose conversation or
silence the shelves around afford excellent
material. The collection of books is not
large, but widely various ; Mr. Bryant's
tastes and pursuits leading him through
the entire range of literature, from the
Fathers to Shelley, and from Courier to
Jean Paul. In German, French, and
Spanish he is proficient, and Italian he
reads with ease ; so all these languages
are well represented in the library. He
turns naturally from the driest treatise on
politics or political economy to the wild
est romance or the most tender poem,
happy in a power of enjoying all that
genius has created or industry achieved
in literature.

The library has not, however, power to
keep Mr. Bryant from the fields, in which
he seeks health and pleasure a large part
of every day that his editorial duties al
low him to pass at home. To explore
56

his farm, entering into the minutest de
tails of its cultivation ; to thread the
beautiful woodland hill back of the house,
making winding paths and shady seats to
overlook the water or command the dis
tant prospect ; to labor in the garden with
the perseverance of an enthusiast — these
ought, perhaps, to be called his favorite
occupations; for as literature has been
the business of his life, these out-door
pleasures have all the charm of contrast
together with that of relaxation.

And it is under the open sky, and en
gaged in rural matters, that Mr. Bryant
is seen to advantage, that is, in his true
character. It is here that the amenity and
natural sweetness of disposition, some
times clouded by the cares of life and the
untoward circumstances of business in
tercourse, shine gently forth under the
influences of Nature, so dear to the heart
and tranquilizing to the spirits of her
child. Here the eye puts on its deeper
and softer lustre, and the voice modulates
itself to the tone of affection, sympathy,
57

and enjoyment. L,ittle children cluster
about the grave man's steps, or climb his
shoulders in triumph ; and serenest eyes
meet his in fullest confidence, finding
there none of the sternness of which
casual observers sometimes complain.
It seems almost a pity that other walks
should ever draw him hence ; but perhaps
the contrast between garden walks and
city pavements is required for the perfec
tion and durability of rural pleasures.

There can hardly be found a man who
has tried active life for fifty years, yet
preserved so entire and resolute a sim
plicity of character and habits as Mr.
Bryant. No one can be less a man of the
world — so far as that term expresses a
worldly man — in spite of a large share of
worldly travel and extensive intercourse
with society. A disposition somewhat
exclusive, and a power of living self-in
closed at will, may account in part for the
total failure of politics, society, or ambi
tion to introduce anything artificial upon
a character enabled by natural courage to
58

Jftrgant

face opposition, and by inherent self-re
spect to adhere to individual tastes in
spite of fashion or convention.

And the simplicity which is the result
of high cultivation is so much more po
tent than that which arises only from ig
norance, that it may be doubted whether,
if Mr. Bryant had never left his native
village of Cummington, in the heart of
Massachusetts, he would have been as
free from all sophistication of taste and
manners as at present. It is with no
sentimental aim that I call him the child
of Nature, but because he is one of the
few who, by their docility and devotion,
show that they are not ashamed of the
great Mother or desirous to exchange her
rule for something more fashionable or
popular.

The father of Mr. Bryant was a man
of taste and learning — a physician and an
habitual student ; and his mother — not to
discredit the general law which gives able
mothers to eminent men — was a woman
of excellent understanding and high char-
59

JSrgant

acter, remarkable for judgment and de
cision as for faithfulness to her domestic
duties. And here, in this little village
of Cummington, — where William Cullen
Bryant was born in 1794, — he began at
ten years of age to write verses, which
were printed in the Northampton news
paper of that day — the Hampshire Ga
zette. A year earlier he had written
rhymes, which his father criticised and
taught him to correct.

Precocity like this too often disap
points its admirers, but Bryant went on
without faltering, and at fourteen wrote
a satirical poem called the Embargo,
which is, perhaps, one of the most won
derful performances of the kind on record.
We know of nothing to compare with it
except the achievements of Chatterton.

Here are a few of the lines — would you
think a child penned them ?

ile I sing, see Faction urge her claim,
Misled with falsehood, and with zeal inflame ;
I^ift her black banner, spread her empire wide,
And stalk triumphant with a Fury's stride.
She blows her brazen trump, and, at the sound,

JBrgant

A motley throng, obedient, flock around ;
A mist of changing hue o'er all she flings,
And darkness perches on her dragon wings !
O, might some patriot rise ! the gloom dispel,
Chase Error's mist, and break her magic spell !
But vain the wish, for, hark ! the murmuring

meed

Of hoarse applause from yonder shed proceed ;
Enter, and view the thronging concourse there,
Intent with gaping mouth and stupid stare ;
While, in the midst, their supple leader stands,
Harangues aloud, and flourishes his hands ;
To adulation tunes his servile throat,
And sues, successful, for each blockhead's vote.

This poem was published in company
with a few shorter ones, at Boston, in
1808. A short time afterward the author
entered Williams College, and greatly dis
tinguished himself during two years, at
the end of which time he obtained an
honorable discharge, intending to com
plete his education at Yale — a design
which was, however, never carried into
effect. He studied law, first with Judge
Howe of Washington, afterwards with
Mr. William Baylies of Bridgewater, and
in 1815 was admitted to the bar at Ply
mouth. He practised law a single year
at Plainfield, near his native place, and
61

then removed to Great Barrington, in
Berkshire, where, in 1821, he married
Miss Frances Fairchild, whose portrait
is exquisitely shadowed forth, to those
who know her, in that tenderest, most
domestic, and most personal poem that
Bryant ever wrote, The Future Life. In
the whole range of English literature
there can hardly be found so delicate and
touching a tribute to feminine excellence
— a husband's testimony after twenty
years of married life, not exempt from
toils and trials.

The poem of Thanatopsis was written
in 1812, when the writer was eighteen.
I once heard a family friend say that
when Dr. Bryant showed a copy to a lady
well qualified to judge of such things,
saying simply : " Here are some lines
that our William has been writing," the
lady read the poem, raised her eyes to
the father's face, and burst into tears, in
which that father, a somewhat stern and
silent man, was not ashamed to join.
And no wonder ! It must have seemed a
62

mystery, as well as a joy, that in a quiet
country life, in the heart of eighteen, had
grown up thoughts that even in boyhood
shaped themselves into solemn harmo
nies, majestic as the diapason of ocean,
fit for a temple-service beneath the vault
of heaven.

The poem of the Water Fowl was
written two years after, while Mr. Bryant
was reading law at Bridgewater. These
verses, which are in tone only less solemn
than Thanatopsis, while they show a
graphic power truly remarkable, were
suggested by the actual sight of a solitary
water-fowl, steadily flying towards the
northwest at sunset, in a brightly illu
mined sky. They were published, with
Thanatopsis and the Inscription for the
Entrance to a Wood, in the North Amer
ican Review of the year 1816.

In 1821 Mr. Bryant delivered the poem
called The Ages before the Phi Beta Kappa
Society at Cambridge. At the suggestion
of his friends it was published the same
year, at Cambridge, together with the
63

three poems just mentioned, and a very
few others, among which was that called
Green River, which he had a short time
before contributed to the Idle Man, then
in course of publication by his friend Dana.
In 1824 Mr. Bryant wrote a consider
able number of papers for the Literary
Gazette, published in Boston ; and in
1825, by the advice of his excellent and
lamented friend, Henry D. Sedgwick, he
removed to New York, and became one
of the editors of the New York Review,
in conjunction with Henry James Ander
son. At the end of six months this gen
tleman, between whom and Mr. Bryant
there has ever since subsisted a strong
friendship, was appointed Professor of
Mathematics in Columbia College, and
Robert C. Sands took his place as asso
ciate editor of the Review. The Review,
however, was not destined to as long a
life as it deserved — the life of Reviews as
well as of men depending upon a multi
tude of contingencies — and at the end of
the year Mr. Bryant was engaged as an
64

assistant editor of the Evening Post. The
next year he became one of the proprie
tors of that paper, and has so continued
ever since.

In 1827, and the two years next suc
ceeding, he found time to contribute a
considerable share of the matter of an
annual of superior character, called the
Talisman, the whole of which was writ
ten by three persons — Sands, Verplanck,
and Bryant. He also furnished several
stories for a publication called Tales of
the Glauber Spa, published by the Har
pers. The other writers were Miss Sedg-
wick, Paulding, Sands, Verplanck, and
Leggett Mr. Bryant's contributions were
The Skeleton's Cave and Medfield.

The first general collection of his works
was in 1832, when he gave to the world
in one volume all the poems he was will
ing to acknowledge. His publisher was
Mr. Elam Bliss, now no more, a man of
whose sterling goodness Mr. Bryant loves
to speak, as eminent for exemplary liber
ality in dealings, and for a most kind and
65

JBrgant

generous disposition. It was for him that
the Talisman was written.

In 1834 Mr. Bryant sailed with his fam
ily to Europe, leaving the Evening1 Post
in the charge of his friend Leggett. His
residence abroad was mostly in Italy and
Germany, both of which countries he
found too interesting for a mere glance.
Here the pleasure and improvement of
himself and his family would have de
tained him full three years — the allotted
period of his sojourn abroad— but news
of Mr. Iveggett's illness, and of some dis
advantage arising from it in the affairs
of the paper, compelled him to return
home suddenly in 1836, leaving his fam
ily to follow at more leisure under the
care of Mr. Longfellow, who had been
abroad at the same time. The business
aspect of the Post was unpromising
enough at this juncture, but sound judg
ment and patient labor succeeded, in time,
in restoring it to the prosperous condition
which it has enjoyed for half a century.

In 1842 appeared The Fountain, gravely
66

Bryant

sweet, like its predecessors, and breath
ing of Nature and green fields, in spite
of editorial and pecuniary cares. In 1843,
Mr. Bryant refreshed himself by a visit
to the Southern States, and passed a few
weeks in Florida. The While-Footed
JDeer, with several other poems, was pub
lished a year after. In 1845, Mr. Bryant
visited England, Scotland, and the Shet
land Isles for the first time ; and during
the next year a new collection was made
of his poems, with the outward garnish
of mechanical elegance, and also numer
ous illustrations by Leutze. This edition,
published at Philadelphia, is enriched
with a beautiful portrait by Cheney — the
best, in our opinion, ever yet published.
This graceful and delicate head, with its
fine, classic outline, in which taste and
sensitiveness are legible at a glance, has
a singular resemblance to the engraved
portraits of Rubens, taken in a half-Span
ish hat of wavy outline, such as Mr. Bry
ant is fond of wearing in his wood-rambles.
Add the hat to this exquisite miniature
67

of Cheney's, and we have Rubens com
plete — an odd enough resemblance, when
we contrast the productions of the painter
and the poet.

Only one still more characteristic and
perfect likeness of Bryant exists — the full-
length in Durand's picture of the poet
standing with his friend Cole — the emi
nent landscape-painter — among the Cats-
kill woods and waterfalls. This picture
is particularly to be prized, not only for
the sweetness and truth of its general
execution, but because it gives us the
poet and the painter where they loved
best to be, and just as they were when
under the genial influence and in the
complete ease of such scenes. Such pic
tures are half biographies.

In 1848 Cole died, and Mr. Bryant, from
a full heart, pronounced his funeral ora
tion. Friendship is truly the wine of the
poet's life, and Cole was a beloved friend.
If Mr. Bryant ever appears stern or indif
ferent, it is not when speaking or think
ing of the loved and lost. No man chooses
68

JBrgant

his friends more carefully ; none prizes
them dearer, or values their society more
— none does them more generous and deli
cate justice. Such attachment cannot
afford to be indiscriminate.

March, 1849, saw Mr. Bryant in Cuba,
and in the summer of the same year he
visited Kurope for the third time. The
letters written during his various journeys
and voyages were collected and published
in the year 1850 by Mr. George Palmer
Putnam. They comprise a volume em
bodying a vast amount of practical and
poetic thought expressed with the united
modesty and good sense that so eminently
characterize every production of Mr.
Bryant ; not a superfluous word, not an
empty or a showy remark. As a writer
of pure, manly, straightforward English,
Mr. Bryant has few equals and no supe
riors among us.

In the beginning of 1852, on the occa
sion of the public commemoration held
in honor of the genius and worth of James
Fenimore Cooper, and in view of a monu-
69

JBrgant

ment to be erected in New York to that
great American novelist, Mr. Bryant
pronounced a discourse on his life and
writings, marked by the warmest appre
ciation of his claims to the remembrance
and gratitude of his country. Some even
of Mr. Cooper's admirers objected that
the poet had assigned a higher niche to
his old friend than the next century will
be willing to award him ; if it be so, per
haps the peculiarly manly and bold char
acter of Cooper's mind gave him an
unsuspected advantage in Mr. Bryant's
estimation. He looked upon him, it may
be, as a rock of truth and courage in the
midst of a fluctuating sea of dilletant-
ism and time-serving, and valued him
with unconscious reference to this par
ticular quality, so rare and precious.
But the discourse was an elegant produc
tion, and a new proof of the generosity
with which Mr. Bryant, who never courts
praise, is disposed to accord it.

Mr. Bryant's habits of life have a smack
of asceticism, although he is the disciple of
70

none of the popular schools which, under
various forms, claim to rule the present
world in that direction. Milk is more
familiar to his lips than wine. He eats
sparingly of animal food, but he is by no
means afraid to enjoy roast goose lest he
should outrage the names of his ances
tors, like some modern enthusiasts. He
loves music, and his ear is finely attuned
to the varied harmonies of wood and
wave. His health is delicate, yet he is
very seldom ill ; his life laborious, yet
carefully guarded against excessive and
exhausting fatigue. He is a man of rule,
but none the less tolerant of want of
method in others ; strictly self-governed,
but not prone to censure the unwary or
the weak-willed. In religion he is at
once catholic and devout, and to moral
excellence no soul bows lower.

Placable we can perhaps hardly call
him, for impressions on his mind are al
most indelible ; but it may with the strict
est truth be said, that it requires a great
offence, or a great unworthiness, to make

an enemy of him, so strong is his sense
of justice. Not amid the bustle and dust
of the political arena, cased in armor of
fensive and defensive, is a champion's
more intimate self to be estimated, but
in the pavilion or the bower, where, in
robes of ease, and with all professional
ferocity laid aside, we see his natural
form and complexion, and hear in placid
and domestic tones the voice so lately
thundering above the fight.

So we willingly follow Mr. Bryant to
Roslyn ; see him musing on the pretty
rural bridge that spans the fish-pond ; or
taking the oar in his daughter's fairy
boat ; or pruning his trees ; or talking
over farming matters with his neighbors ;
or — to return to the spot whence we set
out some time ago — sitting calm and
happy in that pleasant library, surrounded
by the friends he loves to draw about him,
or listening to the prattle of infant voices,
quite as much at home there as under
their own more especial roof— his daugh
ter's — within the same enclosure.

In person Mr. Bryant is tall, slender,
symmetrical, and well-poised ; in carriage
eminently firm and self-possessed. He is
fond of long rural walks and of gymnas
tic exercises — on all which his health de
pends. Poetical composition tries him
severely — so severely that his efforts of
that kind are necessarily rare. His are
no holiday verses ; and those who urge
his producing a long poem are, perhaps,
proposing that he should, in gratifying
their admiration, build for himself a
monument with a crypt beneath.

Let us rather content ourselves with
asking " a few more of the same," espe
cially of the later poems, in which, cer
tainly, the poet trusts his fellows with a
nearer and more intimate view of his
inner and peculiar self than was his wont
in earlier times. Let him more and more
give a human voice to woods and waters ;
and, in acting as the accepted interpreter
of Nature, speak fearlessly to the heart
as well as to the eye. His countrymen
were never more disposed to hear him
73

with delight ; for since the public de
mand for his poems has placed a copy
in every house in the land, the taste for
them has steadily increased, and the na
tional pride in the writer's genius be
come a generous enthusiasm, which is
ready to grant him an apothesis while he
lives.

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REPUBLIC AX. FRIDAY, AUGUST 17, 1894.— TWELVE
THE BRYANT CENTENNIAL

ON THE CUJVTMINGTON HILLS.

3UU:pOp

JO OIU

HOME MEMORIES OF THE POET.

The Celebration IVot Far From Hi* Birth
place, at the II onieMte:"! Where •<Th;ui-
atopsiM" and "The Rivulet" were Writ-
leu.

From Our Special Correspondent.

CUMMINGTON, Saturday, August 11.
The celebration of the 100th birthday of
William Gullen Bryant, which takes place
next Thursday, the 16th, in this the poet's
native town, will be the great event of re
cent years in the life of that peaceful little
farming community. It is not an exact

MB BRYANT AT 60 TEARS OF AGE.

anniversary of the birthday, which comes
November 3, but Cummington is 30 re
mote and inaccessible that it was thought
impossible to hold the meeting at a season
which might be inclement, especially as
the poet's brother, John Howard Bryant
of Princeton, 111., the only surviving mem
ber of the family, would be unable to be
present. As it is, there will be some diffi-

culties in the way of accommodating so
many guests as are expected in a small
village like Cummington. The hotel accom-

iimodations are exceedingly limited, and the
residents are likely to have so many appli-
fcations for private hospitality that there
will be little surplus room for other visit

ors. The means of approach to the tillage
are also inadequate, and a good proportion

Ipf the horses in the vicinity have already
been engaged in advance by far-sighted vis

itors.

(j- It is, 6f course, impossible to tell as yet
how many guests will be present, but seats
[are being provided for 1200 people. It is
out of the question to provide free enter
tainment for all who corne, but lunch will
be served to the invited guests, of whom
It is expected that about 250 will be pres
ent, The rest will make a basket picnic of
it, and all are cordially invited to come
and hear the speaking. The site .of the
celebration is on the Bryant horakrstead,
fcigh on one of the hills of Cummington,
about three miles a little north of west
from East Cummington village, and some
what less southeasterly from West Cuni-
imington. The drive to the homestead is
full of fine scenery, of mountain and vale;
pne can look over from one point of view
to Plainfield hill, near where the author of
''A Little Journey in the "World" was born,
iand where Mrs F. H. Cooke, for years lit
erary editor of The Republican, lived in
her youth. There is "Zion's hill," ton,
whence so many missionaries to the en a of
the earth have started on their pile- \aiages.
The Bryant farm lies with a favorable
Southern exposure on the descent from the
"crest of a hill whence Greylock may be
(discerned; and here are to be seen the
many improvements which the poet
wrought in the fields, himself always out
to see that things were done to suit him,

} .nd supervising the hay-field as he did the

\>st newspaper office in New York. He

vcame into the house one time to see one of

the many visitors who intruded upon his

privacy even at this remote hill ton, and re

marked that it was "catching weather,"

and getting in the hay was a matter of

anxiety. His visitor observed: "Perhaps

sometimes you almost regret having writ

ten 'Thanatopsis' when you are torn a way

from the meadow." "No," said the vener- j

able poet; "it is a natural result of no

toriety. When I was a youth I remember

making one of a crowd that went to see

a hanging. Whether one commits a poem

or a murder, he becomes an object of pop

ular interest." Mr Bryant was not exactly

cordial to those whom he did not know, or

who were not recommended by sonic

' whom he did know. But lie. \y;is ahvays

: courteous, and bore with his visitors very

| patiently, lie pointed out to this particular

i visitor the famous Kivulet.— a little trick- ;

'Jing stream back of the house, which re-

THE BRYANT HOMESTEAD ON THE HILL.

quired and still requires an introduction,
so insignificant is it in its beginnings.

It is impossible to tell yet what distin
guished men of letters will be present, but
a large number have been invited and it is
hoped that many will be able to come.
It is safe to say, however, that the gather
ing will be one of the most brilliant of re
cent years, and there are not many occa
sions that could bring together so many
famous men to an inaccessible New En
gland village. The people of Cummington
fully realize the inwortance of the occa
sion, and while a little* timid as to the way
in which their best may strike such an ar
ray of city folk, they appreciate the dig
nity of the town as Bryant's birthplace,
and are prepared to support it in proper
state.

Not all of the neighboring villages, how
ever, have as keen a sense of Cumming-
ton's greatness, and one little incident took
place the other day which belongs to the
class of stories commonly supposed to be
long in anecdote books and not in real life.
A citizen of Williamsburg, the next town
but one, had driven over to Cummington
with another person and after carefully in
specting the Bryant library and visiting the
spacious acres of Bryant place and the
birth monument, he asked naively, "Who is
this Bryant, anyhow? Is he a man of
some means?" Which recalls Joe Jeffer
son's famous story of the backwoods farm
er who told how there was "a boy named

L son's
er wl

Dan, Dan'l Webster, who was foolishly
sot on book larnin' and went off to Boston
and was never heern of again." But this
is the exception; the neighborhood is as a
rule proud of its poet and loyal to his
memory.

There is, indeed, sufficient reason why
Bryant's name should be kept green for
generations at Cummington if he had
never written a line. The handsome and
commodious little public library and the
school which bears his name and which
was built by him are sufficient evidence
of the quality of his citizenship. Bryant
was blessed above the average lot of poets
with worldly means, he even rejoiced in
three homes, his New York house, his sum
mer home at Roslyn, L. I., and the fam
ily homestead at Cummington. But his
life was long 'enough to leave plenty of
memories to associate with all of them and
the fact that his career was so devoid of
action or excitement lends all the more
importance to the tranquil scenes of every
day life from which the beautiful fabric
of his verse was wrought. In a sense Cum
mington has a closer hold upon the poet's
admirer's than either Roslyn or his New
York home, not because most of his work
was done here, but because it was here
that his mind was molded. These land
scapes became a part of his mental furni- i
tu/e in childhood and remained the chief
inspiring element of his life work. It is
safe to say that by far the greatest part
of his work could have been done with the

THE MONUMENT ON THE

materials gathered here before he went out
into the world.

The old homestead has been kept as
nearly as possible as it was when Bryant
left it, and the changes have been com
paratively slight. The house was raised
when he first made it his home during the
heats of summer, and a new story built
beneath it, while all the rooms were re
arranged and new windows put in, except
for the attic chamber Where the poet
wrote"The Rivulet" on one of his visits.The
house has been altered somewhat at one end
since Mr Bryant left it, and fitted up for
the farmer who cultivates the place, but
the rest is undisturbed. The place of most
interest, naturally, is the study, which is
on the ground door, occupying the "whole
of the south wing, and well isolated from
the rest of the house, so as to command
quiet. It is qiijthe whole a rather disap
pointing room. The wails are covered with
the pale, striped paper of the period,, with
a narrow border, and have no pictures
but a few curious old prints. There are

glenty of bookshelves, but they are only
alf filled, and the books are apparently
chosen at random, for no principle of se
lection or arrangement is visible. The
poet's main library, indeed, was at Roslyn,
and this is only a remnant.

The chief literary work which Bryant
did here during his later years was trans
lation from the Greek, and the greater part
of his work on the Odyssey was done
here, although oddly enough the chief edi
tion of his translation is called the Roslyn
edition. The table and chairs are the
same that he used, and all the books are
his with the exception of half a hundred
or so in a case in the alcove at one end,
j which have been added since. The chief
I interest in Bryant's literary work here,

SITE OF THE BIRTHPLACE.

however, is in regard to "Thanatopsis," his
earliest and most famous masterpiece,
which is now generally admitted to Lave
been written here. Wttiiamstowii long
claimed the honor, but the question was
decisively settled in a few remarks made
by Mr Bryant at the Williams college
commencement of 1876. The Republican
at that time reported him as follows: —

Then Mr Bryant sat down, but was brought
i to his feet again by the request of Rev Dr
' Prime that he would tell where "Thanatop
sis" was written, as It was a tradition that
[ he wrote it when a student at Williams col
lege. Mr Bryant said that entering Williams
' in the sophomore class in 1811, he left it in
May, 1812, intending to go to Yale, but as
> his father's means did not permit of that,
' he returned to his home in Cummington, his
native plane; and there, one afternoon. after
wandering through the woods of that, region,
he rested beneath a group of majestic fores),
trees, and wrote the poem of "Thanatopsis,"
being then in his 18th year.
As it was written at that time and as

it appeared in the North American Review,
it was not so long as it is at present. It
began "Yet a few days and thee," etc.,
and ended just before the opilog, "So live,
that when thy summons comes," etc. The
first 17 and the last nine lines were an
afterthought.

Bryant felt a lifelong interest in the wel
fare of his native place, and the chief ma-
tf-rial token of it is to be fovu.d in the
public library, a cut of which is given
here. It is a plain, but handsome and sub
stantially built stone structure, the interior
being all one room, with a gallery across
the front end which makes* a convenient
and pleasant place for work. There are
about 6000 volumes in all, mid those which
are intended for circulation an- can-fully
protected with heavy paper covers such as
were once much in vogue. Tho library is

dissatisfaction among- the people of [
the village because the library was not '
placed there instead of half a mile away.

;"•:— f

at one time I penced from' the blasts. There never ruder

gale

Bows the tall grass that covers all the
ground;

ISSSrSP&SS? LS^nlln \1± And planted shrubs are there, and cher-

ter written by Bryant, which has been
mounted in a frame so that both sides of

ished flowers,

K^m^^^Tr^Z a°s And SJSS* verdure born of *entle

showers.

A CORNER OF MR BRYANT'S LIBRARY.

the easiest reply to the many visitors who
ask the not unnatural question, why the
library is situated there. In brief, it is
intended that the library shall supply the
needs of Cummington, West Cummington
and the families on the hill, and this loca
tion was chosen as harmonizing best the
needs of all. There could be no more fit
memorial than a library to one whose life
was as dignified, noble, and lofty as his
poetry.

MY NATIVE VILLAGE.

John Howard Bryant's Description of
Cummington.

There lies a village in a peaceful vale,
With sloping hills and waving woods
around.

'Twas there my young existence was be
gun,

My earliest sports were on its flowery
green,

And often, when my schoolboy task was

done,

I climbed its hills to view the pleasant
scene,

And stood and gazed till the sun's settine
ray

Shone on the hight,— the sweetest of the
day.

There, when the hour of mellow light was

come,
And mountain shadows cooled the

ripened grain,
I watched the weary yeoman plodding

home,
In, the lone Dath that winds across the

THE BRYANT LIBRARY BY THE WAYSIDE.

plain,
To rest his limbs, and watch his child at

play*
And tell him o'er the labors of the day.

And when the woods put on their autumn

glow,

And the bright sun came in among the
trees,

And leaves were gathering in the glen be
low,

Swept softly from the mountains by the
breeze,

I wandered till the starlight on the stream

At length awoke me from my fairy dream.

Ah! happy days, too happy to return,
Fled on the wings of youth's departed
years,

A bitter lesson has been mine to learn,
The truth of life, its labors, pains and

fears;

Yet does the memory of my boyhood stay,
A twilight of the brightness passed away.

My thoughts steal back to that sweet Til
lage still;

Its flowers and peaceful shades before
me rise;

The play-place and the prospect from the

hill,
Its summer verdure, and autumnal dyes;

The present brings its storms; but while
they last,

I shelter me in the delightful past.

THE SPKI1STGFIELD WEEKLY EEPUBLICAN,

FRIDAY, AUGUST 24, 1894.— TWELVE PAGES.

THE BRYANT CENTENARY.
CUMMINGrTON'S OWN HIGH DAY.

FINE WEATHER, SPEAKERS, POETS.

- Bj-owu ** IllinoiH— g»oenm bf
Julia Ward Howe and .lot,., Howard
— rarke <»odwiu, Norton. Chad-
artiei , Bigelow atid Othem \\ ho

From Our Special Correspondent.

CUMMINGTON, Thursday, August 16.

There seemed to be a consciousness in

Nature that it was a day on which to

show her finest temper, to breathe her most

spiritual air,— to cheer and invigorate as

well as to smile and caress, in honor of

her high priest and most faithful worshiper.

Certainly in no respect could the beauty

of earth and sky have been exceeded,— it

was supreme. To walk the fields was pure

delight, and to sit on hard benches and

tightly wedged-in chairs, or even to stand

up, were hardships scarcely thought of as

one looked up through the rich tracery of

the grove at the deep blue sky with its '

lightly floating clouds, heard the cool wind

moving amid the boughs, and thought of

the unrivaled perfeetness of the many ,

forest hymns" which had drawn their
color, their grace, aud their deep and va- ,
lous harmony from those woodlands, hills
and skies. • It was such a day as the great
poet of Nature alone could have written
of with mastery of its music and its light,
and most fortunate is Cummington in this
bounteous favor of the informing spirit of
the earth and man, Cummington, too, has
done her part with judgment and taste; the
simplicity which was Bryant's nature, and
which he so highly regarded in his fellows,
was observed in all things. There was no
ostentation, no pretense; all was pure, self-
respecting,— in the best sense, the old New
England sense, democratic.

Thr re were between 3000 and 3500 peo
ple gathered on the Bryant homestead, at
a reasonable estimate, and many called it
5000. Just think what this means on high
Cummington hill, a dozen miles from the

WILLIAM CULLEK BRYANT.

electric or otherwise. All
the couutry-side turned out; the procession
of ^ehicles at the hour appointed for be
ginning, 10 o'clock, was something of a
sight in itself. It grew and grew as we
neared the place, — buggies and canopies,
carryalls and buckboards, and now and
then a long truck wagon, with its rough
sides covered with evergreen and golden-
rod, turning in from the cross roads, and
all moving with slow and solemn dignity.
It was a great crowd, and provision had
been made for them all; for those who
loosed their horses from the buggies one
lot was reserved in which they could be
hitched to low rails and baited convenient
ly; for others stakes were driven firmly
and poles stoutly fastened to them, and
lines of these freshly cut saplings stretched
out across a broad side-hill mowing in
quadruple ranks or more, and all along
these lines were bitched the horses at
tached to their various conveyances. And
in the sweet cool day neither heat nor flies
annoyed them, for neither were there.
Many hundreds of these visitors to the
celebration made a basket picnic of it,
and the mowing was full of groups of

friends or families enjoying themselves, the invited guests were entertained in
There we»*e all the hill towns round about incnt generous, — indeed, over-generous
represented;— Plainfield, Ashfield, Chester- fashion, for when they had all eaten, gen-
field, Worthington, Huntington, Savoy: era! proclamation was made that all who
Cummiugton was in full force as befitted were hungry or athirst were heartily wel-
~ there were visitors from Spring

it; and

field, Holyoke, Northampton, Easthamp*
ton, Greenfield, Conway, Cheshire, Adams
and North Adams.

The exercises of the day, both literary
and gustatory, were held under trees, and
the eating and talking places were very
near each other. The whole aspect of the
groves northwest of the homestead was
that of a combined camp-meeting and pic
nic. Perhaps the most remarkable com
prehensive view was obtained from the
carriage stand, erected at the roadside so
that the vehicles might be drawn up close
and people step in without trouble. Here,
a little ways in toward the sunlit space
between the grove of Luculhis, so to
speak, and that of Academe, was erect eel
a triple rustic arch with a lar^e central
and two lesser side passages, wrought of
running evergreen, laurel and fern, and
decorated with United States flags— for it
was not forgotten that Bryant was a

come to devour the still bountifully filled

| tables. Then at the right, in the grove
where the young Bryant probably wrote

I "Thanatopsis," — it is certainly near the
spot — the seats were disposed for the audi
ence and the platform erected for the
speakers and invited guests, besides the
singers and the players upon instruments,
who had their part in the program. This
platform was but slightly elevated, but the
seats for the people sloped up from its
front, and others stood all around at the
edges, front and rear and sides, and
heard what they could. It is very fine to
have such an affair in the open air, but it
is trying to the speakers, few of whom are/
equal to the task of reaching even a small
throng, when the wind is rustling the trees
above and those on the outer borders are
restless and talkative, and the small boys
in the rest of the region are chattering,
whirling bazoos and manipulating the
screaming bladders. The speakers stood
beneath a tall hickory, upon which was

. ,i ••*-• 11 r. ± uciifttLU. a LU.U UKJB.UJ.V, llpuu wiucu vvo.0

great and worthy citizen as well as poet ffixed th } f £ J, lithograph of

At the left there were booths, tastefully 'Bryant . with immortelles placed loosely
SS^u^JL^^Sfe^i^ffii^Ja C over it, and beneath sumach boughs with

where light refreshments, ice-cream, cigars
and so forth were dispensed. Further and
nearer the house were the tables where

JOHN HOWARD BRYANT.

their crimson bobs, the ground pine, and

asters and golden-rod. A roughly con
structed desk was before this, and iu front
thereof were arranged flowers and ferns
of both field and garden.

The greatest interest was manifested in
the distinguished guests grouped in the
center of the platform, most noticeable
among all being the great head with its
shaggy crown of snow white hair and its
full white beard which belongs to one of
the most individual of men— Parke God
win, Bryant's son-in-law and long-time
business and editorial associate. Near him
sat John Howard Bryant, — a strong man,
despite his 87 years, with a rich, clear
voice and a thin, deeply marked, yet very
peaceful and interesting countenance, — not
at all resembling his eminent brother.
There also was Mrs Julia Ward Howe,
now looking her age, white-haired, of nota
ble presence, and vivid in her gestures as
she read h^r fine poem in a voice so sweet
and with so clear an enunciation that it
could have been heard by twice the num
ber that did hear it if people were only
patient, and could remember that even if
they cannot hear nobody wants to hear
them, at all events. Sarah O. Jewett was
close beside her, looking fresh of color and
very well, — a true New England woman.
Tn front of them sat John Bigelow, a
strong, manly figure,, with statesmanlike
head and face — which reminded one in
something more than the cut of the
whiskers of George William Curtis.
Across, next to the Cummington chorus
and the instruments, sat a striking old

man, with his long white hair brushed
straight back all around his brow, without
a part, and his long white beard beneath
keen and alert eyes — this was John TV.
Hutchinson, whose voice is as good as
when the Hutchinsons sang anti-slavery
and woman's rights songs, long ago. Miss
Julia Bryant, the poet's youngest daugh
ter, and heir to the homestead, sat close
by Mrs Howe and Mr Bigelow, a nervous,
finely tuned and original nature, one would
say. The cordial, earnest and most agree
able physiognomy of John W. Chadwick
was close at hand, and later the clear-cut,
scholarly and animated features of
Charles Eliot Norton. Then there was the I
orator of the day, Edwin R. Brown of •
Elmwood, 111., a neighbor of John H.
Bryant's now, and, like him. a native of
Cummington. He is a retired banker, we
hear, but he might be a man of letters. —
or a "literatus," as he chooses to call it, —
judging from the excellent style of his ad
dress and the fine things he said in it, —
especially his characterization of "Thana-
topsis." Contrasted with him and the only
representative present of the youngest
generation of American literature, was
Arthur Stedman, son of the poet Edmund
Clarence Stedman, who could not come.
Arthur Stedmam's clear dark complexion
and brilliant brown eyes command an at
tention which he fully deserves. It was a
pity his father could not come, and a great
pity that Richard Henry Stoddard. the in
timate friend and poetic disciple of
Bryant, who has written so nobly of his
master's genius, should not have been
present, if not in person, then by such a
noble poem as no one else could write on
this theme.

The orchestra, which opened the pro
ceedings of the morning, a home organiza
tion, consisted of a violin, clarinet, bass
viol and reed organ, and was creditably
handled. The local chorus did well also.
"Singing wnth taste, although it evidently
has not practiced much out-of-doors, ami
being well directed by Miss Julia A.
Shaw of Cummington, who wa£ presenter!
a handsome baton last night. The pro
ceedings of the morning were begun by
a few modest and judicious remarks by
Wesley Gurney, president of the centenary
committee. Then L/orenzo H. Tower of
Cummington, a natural orator, gave with
spirit and force an admirable and brief
address of welcome. It is seldom that it
is given to a speaker to pack away in a
few sentences so much clear and unadul
terated spirit of New England. It had
been the purpose of the citizens, he said,
to give a welcome not by words alone,
but by deeds, but the smaJlness of the
town of 800 inhabitants had to be taken
into consideration. They did in effect of
fer their guests the very same welcome
which greeted William Cullen Bryant at
the beginning of this stage of existence.

PARKE GODWIN.

The town is still one of pure New En
gland stock, and out of the 200 voters only
three are not American by birth. The
town has deteriorated, but it is because
•it has sent its sous out to other communi
ties to do them good. He instanced three
families which had dwelt on this spot, all
the sons and daughters of which had made
their homes out of the town. It is still a
farming community, as it was 100 years
ago, and the farmers win a scanty .living
from rebellious soil. Everything is much
as it was in Bryant's time, and to all this
the guests are welcome. It is to bo
hoped tlvat after the difficulty of getting
here and getting away is softened by time
Dhey will not regret having paid a visit
to the home of William Cullen Bryant.

Purke CvodwinN Speech.
Parke Godwin was then handsomely in
troduced by Mr Tower as president of the
day, and Mr Godwin began his address by
quoting Dr Samuel Johnson's aphorism:
"The man is little to be envied whose patri
otism would not gain force on the plains
of Marathon, or whose piety would rot
grow warmer among the ruins of lona."
Mr Godwin said that Johnson meant by
this that localities, by mere historic associa
tion, acquire a power which stirs the minds
and hearts of men to their fountains. Such
a locality is this. And assuredly no Amer
ican can traverse these hills without feel
ing an exaltation of the soul at the fact
that here one of the noblest of poets and
one of the most excellent of American cit
izens was born. It was here that a mother
wrote in this book which I hold in my
hand, in 171)4. "This nierht a .son was

born to me." It was here that he grew
from infancy in sympathy with Nature. It
was here that he heard the tales of
Bunker Hill which made him so patriotic
an American ever after. There was a

solemnity in Nature about him, where
death was every here -^ going on. The
"Thanatopsis" • which he wrote here was
the morning star of our literature. But
letters could not earn him a living, and he
was obliged to labor in the world. It was
a sad day for him when he set out in a
chill wintry evening on the lonely road to
Plainfield. He turned to look back upon
the ruddy sunset, and across the path of
the sun's rays there passed et solitary bird.
The poet watched its flight, and out of that
spectacle and its meaning, borne in upon
him at that departure in his fortunes, was
born the poem of "The Waterfowl." John
Bright had said to the speakar that he
read American rather than English poets,
not because they were greater poets, but
because they were better citizens. And in
his mind it was the chief distinction of Air
Bryant that he was a great citizen. Mi-
Bryant was the advocate, from the begin
ning of his public career, of freedom of
speech and 'assembly. He was the enemy
from the beginning of that hideous system
of slavery which had got the nation in its
clutch, and he was ever the sedulous, con
siderate and irrepressible opponent of that
other system of industrial servitude, which,
under the pretext of general protection,
fosters special traders, monopolists and
trusts, lures a pernicious immigration and
prepares the way for the division of
classes and anarchial outbreaks and blood
shed. Bryant was willing to go down ii'to
the ring of combat and fight with the glad
iators. It is not my purpose, however, to
go into Bryant's public career. Greater
than the poet, the patriot, the publicist, was
the man. Not a day but added to my esti
mate of his completeness as a human be
ing. He had so strong a sense of duty that
not the world in arms could have intimi
dated him. When he saw the path of duty
he walked in it. He was accused of being
cold, and among strangers he had a singu
lar reticence; but the moment you broke
through this you had a glimpse of the
genial humorist, the warm-hearted com
rade. I do not think there is a :nore im
pressive picture of old age than that of
Bryant, not the idol, but the patriarch of
literary men. There was not a day that did
not see him employed in some useful labor.
A neighbor, who walked with him near
Roslyn, not long before his de.ith, ea^'-
! that when he saw him turn and look toward
the ocean, his white beard tossed by the
wind, he seemed like one of the seers of
the Bible, or better, like Homer himself by
the shores of the Aegean. He lived to be
84 years old, and had no apo!)gy to make
for anything that he had done — no for
giveness to ask from a human being. Y"ou
could do yourselves no greater honor than
in getting up this memorial. You honor
yourselves even more than you honor him.

yZr Kroivn'* L>rndiit£ Addr^NN.

Mr Godwin then introduced Edwin R.
Brown, who was to speak of Bryant from
personal knowledge and did it admirably

in an address full of thought ' spirited
in style and in delivery, occupying an hour
and a. quarter without wearying his hearers.
Mr Brown began by repeating part of
Bryant's "lines on revisiting the country":
I stand upon my native hills again
Broad, round and green, that in the summer

sky

With garniture of waving grass and grain,-
Orchaj-ds and be.echen .-forests,, basking lie,
YVhile deep the sunless glens are scooped be
tween ,

Where brawl o'er shallow beds the streams
unseen.

The mountain wind! most spiritxial thing of
all

The wide earth knows; when in the sultry

time
He stoops him from his vast cerulean hall,

He seems the breath of a celestial clime!
As if from heaven's wide open gat«s did flow
Health and refreshment on the world below. '
Perfecl love, he quoted, eastern out fear,
otherwise how could I find courage to talk
•about Bryant after such an address as
you have heard already? But I am not

E. R. BROWN.

here to speak U> you as a literatus or
scholar, but to talk with you as mechanics
by the bench-side, as farmers leaning over
their hoes might talk of Bryant. I rep
resent the public which has never ranged
far in the field of poetry, but which long
ago learned to love Bryant.

To-day the fountains of joy and of tears
lie close side by side. Salutation quickly
turns to valediction, for with many of us
this occasion will prove a dissolving view
of these dear scenes. We are gathered
here from ir.any states, for mutual coii-
gratula'riom, while we look across on4' or
those broad billows which we call centuries
and recall the life of one of Cummingiton's
sons—a wonderful life, in a wonderful cea-

tury. All the family df which Willimh
Cullen was the bright pariicul-ar star were
born aniong these hills; you have seon the.
decreasing group returning here summers,
white-bearded druids seeking their forest
haunts. Now only one remains, a solitary,
picturesque and pattr eti<r. figure:* tire lavfcrf
a splendid generation. 'The chief of the
group found fame in the metropolis. The
rest, with their feet planted on the soiH
of Illinois, grew tall and strong. The reap
er has spared us John Howard Bryant,
and he is with us to-day, with brain un
scathed. Winter is on his head but eternal
spring is in his heart. I see in this gather
ing little of Oummington of old. Most of
those of older days are sleeping under turf,
bui, the rock-ribbed hills remain as they
were and some of the beeches still live on
which the poet carved his name 85 years
ago. The people of this region may well
cherish their poet's memory, for there is
not a brook or hill or murmuring pine that
has not been immortalized by him. Every
farmer finds life better worth living for the
life which began here 100 years ago. Much
that was precious 'here was his by rig>hft
of discovery, but he has left us the key to
that ideal estate for our., use forever. The
secret of bis genius escapes us, bu-t one
thing we can say, that whereas we were
blind, now we see. Bryant's genius
has thrown over these scenes the charm
which makes the Westfield river precious,
like the Avon and 'the Doon.

You know the poet's birthplace just over
the hill, but this farm was soon made his
home, and a delightful one it was. Where
is there a winter so delightful as here, a
June so tender? And anywhere is there
anything equal to that little sheaf of days
in November called Indian summer, when
the Indian sun-god smokes his pipe upon
the hills, and the earth is filled with
the sun haze of his dream? It al
ways did seem to me that this should
be the home of poetry. While we
are proud of the many honors paid
our distinguished poet, yet to-day on
this hallowed ground we will recall rather
the early life than the later days of as
sured honor and wide renown. In a pe
riod like this, when multitudes raise their
fists and clamor for possession of they
know not what, it is a refreshment to
turn to a character as serene as old Grey-
lock. Great men are apt to have great
vices to match their intellectual power.
But here was a life no chapter or line in
which calls for erasure. He came of a
line sound in physique, eminent in virtue;
| running back to John A.lden and Pris
' cilia Mullins. What better mixture coulc
have been desired? The Puritan elemenl
was strong in the poet's grandfather Snell
He had a vein of humor, but a joke fron
him was like a cherub carved on one oJ
your old mica-slate tombstones.

Dr Bryant, the poet's father, wisely pro
vided pasturage on which little ones could
browse at will, "Sandford and Merton,"
the poets, and the best periodicals. Yon
der stood the barn where the boys fougb.1
over the battles of the Greeks and Tro
jans. Dr Bryant's reputation drew stran

gers of education to tarry over night in
company with a brilliant mind. The
young lad must have absorbed much in
those Sooratic discussions at his father's
hearth that no school could have given him.
Amid these scenes his mind war,
stored with those broad pictures of
Nature which distinguished his poems
from the silhouettes of the parlor
poet. His life was much the same as that of
other lads, though he must have felt stir
ring in him dreams which he could never
share with his companions. Among the
sources of his education I must not forget
the university extension town-meeting at
which the town men and boys gathered in
mass, the men to talk and vote, and the
boys to learn the meaning and method of
public affairs. It was a model school. The
March meeting was the New England
House of Commons and the orthodox pul
pit was the House of Lords, I often won
der whether we should have had from
Bryant ^ "Thanatopsis" or a "Forest
Hymn' if our mediocrity producing public
schools, with competitive examination sys
tem, had been in vogue 100 years ago.
Far better were the discussions which
Bryant heard. Dr Bryant was a federal
ist, and most of his friends and neighbors
were likewise: Cummington was a sort of
center of federalism, as Cheshire, under
the head of Elder Lelaud, was a strong
hold of Jeffersonian faith. The youn.?
Bryant wrote his . old-school satires in the
federalist interest, and his proud father
got them published in Boston. It was the
time of which Wendell Phillips used to
tell, when Massachusetts mothers used to
frighten their children into bed by saying
Thomas Jefferson!" But the boy 'had
learned to reason and in time he became
the leader of the Jeffersonian forces of the
land.

Dr Bryant was a worthy man, worthy to
stand with Mr Thackeray's doctor in the
"Roundabout Papers." No Greek or Ro
man matron ever had a more potent influ
ence on her children than William Cullen
Bryant's mother. She was tall and active,
and at the age of 67 could still vault into
the saddle. She set the good example of
planting elms and maples by the roadside.
I wish that some one would inlay a tablet
in the breast of one, with the name of
Sallie Snell Bryant The poet's mother
kept a diary for 53 solid years, without the
break of day,— a ccondensed record of
the weather, her household work and fam
ily and neighborhood events. Nothing was
allowed to interfere, sickness and even
death made no break in the record. There
are 53 of these books, each covering a
complete year, Ea.ch J>ook was bound with
her own hands and sewed with thread of
her own spinning. The diary makes no
complaint in the 57 years, and utters not
one syllable of gush. Where can this be
matched? There is one entry of import
ance: "November 3, 1794,— stormed ; wind
northeast; churned; 7 at night a son born."
That is the son whose centenary we cele
brate to-day. Two days later the record is.
( lear; wind northwest; made Austin a
coat; sat up all d::y; went into the kitchen;
Mr Dawes died."— the grandfather of ex-

Senator Daw eg. Cullen returned from Will
iams college after a short stay: a calf was
killed, whether in honor of the student's
return is not stated. Still on and on the
diary goes, till it records her fall and the
breaking of a hip, hut there is no break in
the record till the last tremulous entry
was made in her own hand on the day of
her death, May 1. 1-S47. The persistence
of Mrs Bryant is only paralleled by that
of her son, who up to the last years of his
life devoted an hour and a half every
morning to gymnastic exercises for the
preservation of health and vigor.

There was a return to Nature in the early
years of the century. Of the leaders of the
American group, all were born in Massa
chusetts except Longfellow, and he quickly
made this h's home. There is an idea that
the poet must be an ill-regulated being,
but all these made home the center around
which things revolved. All proved stanch
and true on the slavery question, all were
profoundly religions. They all lived to a
great age; only one remains, wearing even
ly like, the "One-boss Shay"— the "Last
Leaf on the Tree." Bryant was the lirst
to catch the spirit of Nature in this coun
try, as Wordsworth was in England, and
the two have much in common. The Amer
ican group was led by the Cummiugton lad
of 17, and that with a subject as trite as I
it is old, the subject of death. It was re- :
served for Bryant, above any other poet, '
to complete nature's circuit and make even
old age and death grand and sweet. Moses
Hallock, with whom Bryant and others
boarded for a time, is embalmed in "An
Old Man's Funeral," and what an em
balming process is that!

Let us recall Bryant's rare personality. He
was erect lu figure, always standing squarely
on both feet — a mental as well as a physical
characteristic. His head and face, like his
first great poem, seemed to belong to all ages
of the world. What a capital model it
would have made for a sculpture on tlie pedi
ment of the Parthenon! Some faces carry
their date and all their story in the lines of
expression, — the whole book is printed on the
cover. Bryant's deeply carved countenance
was hieroglyphic, and belonged to ante-
(liluvia'n. post-diluvian or current time, ac-
oordirig to your fancy. Keen eyes, peering
p;<t from flip shadow of overhanging brows,
did not hold you like the glittering eye of
the- Ancient Mariner, but they penetrated to
your very marrow. There was an indefinable
thlijg in his whole aspect that at once
conveyed the Impression of a nature robust
and grand, combined with something of sanc
tity and mvstery. He was always neatly
dressed, for he had none of the small "pride
that apes humility." Antisthcnes, the cynic,
affected a ragged coat; but Socrates said to
him, "Antistheues, I can see your vanity peer-
.ing out through the holes of your coat."
Bryant carefully observed tne proprieties of
good society. He knew very well what was
due to his position, but felt rio sense of in
congruity in the company of shirt-sleeved la
borers, nor would he, like Scott's Sir Pierce
Shaftoe, blush to lead the farmer's daughter
out to dinner or the dance. He was reticent.
Even with old acquaintances he did not alto
gether conceal his distaste for those pretty
conventional fibs and pretenses that come of
"making talk."

He loved to have with him on a long scroll
an original-minded and suggestive friend, who
could enjoy the companionship of silence and

take a great deal for granted. Webster sam
of himself that he had a talent for sleep.
Bryant had a talent for solitude and silence.
He must often have felt like saying, as little
Paul Dombey said to the sympathetic chat
tering children at the sea-side as they crowd
ed around him, "Go away, please; thank you.
thank you. but I don't want you." The lover
is never lonely with his mistress. Bryant, be
ing profoundly lu love with Nature, was no
more lonely with wind and cloud in the wide
pastures an-d deep woods than amid the
Stacks of stone and brick and the everlasting
din of wheels and hustling crowds of Fulton I
street and Broadway. Even there, his inner
ear still heard the rustle of the poplars and
the soft purr of "Roaring Brook," falling Into
his cool, rocky basins.

Bryant's power of acquiring knowledge was
so prodigious, and his industry so unremit
ting, that in effect he lived two or three cen- i
tunes. His almost phenomenal memory was
not like that of Robert Houdin, the juggler,
a drag-net, raking In everything, good, bad
and indifferent; only that which had merit of
some kind was retained. He would have no
title. What title could add anything to that
of Mr Bryant, or Mr Gladstone, each the
chief citizen of his own country? The popu
lar notion that he was of cold and Impassive
temperament was not without excuse, though
the truth is that he had, on the contrary, a
torrid temper. His whole life having been a
struggle to overcome imperfections of every
kind, he came at last to have an air-brake
control of himself, and became the gentlest
of men. One, however, who should presume
at any time to impugn his personal integrity,
or kill the wild birds ou his premises, would
quickly become aware of heat under that
cool exterior.

Bryant secured nothing of what Is called
"passional training," — Lord save the mark! —
by breaking women's hearts, as did Goethe
and Byron and Burns. The windows of his
soul were open to veracity, courage and vir
tue, and these angels brought him the gift of
tongues and of song. Every public meeting
in Athens, at a certain period of Its history,
was opened with a curse on any one who
should not speak what he really thought.

Bryant was one of the few for whom such a
curse would have had no terrors. He was
saturated with truthfulness, and hence the
very antipode of the demagog.

Like the planets in their courses Bryant
was never idle, never behind time, and never
In a hurry. Though ravished by the order and
beauty of the universe, the Snell in his nature
would never allow him to burst Into a vol
canic frenzy, like poor Keats. Though he
made many voyages to Europe and elsewhere,
the record of which makes charming chapters
in his biography, he remained the most Amer
ican of our poets. He belongs to the soil
and skies of his native land, as distinctly as
the bison or the bald eagle. He was an op
timist, with the serene assurance of great
and earnest souls that the universe Is sound
and God is well. His faith was like the eter
nal sunset in "Faust," where every hight is
on fire and every vale Is In repose. Browning
vociferates this assurance with such passion
ate vehemence -is almost to make us doubt
the writer's confidence in his own shouting
He cries, "Snatch it from the hells !"-
Pay the ringers to ring it; put it in the

mouths of the bells,

Get the singers to sing it, that God is well.
In calmer and loftier strains Bryant leads us
on to serener hights, where the same glori
ous assurance opens upon us
With warmth, and certainty, and boundless

light.

Bryant's poetry Is like the playing of ac
tors like Booth and Jefferson, artists who
never descend to sentimentality or sensation
alism in order to please those who are
to hp.«r tho nlnv hut once. A commoner r.oet

might at first produce a stronger effect, feut,
gradually, absolute fidelity to Nature attunes
our taste to a faultless execution. So in the
poetry of Bryant there may at first appear a
lack of fl^e, but. like everything truly beauti
ful, it is a continual revelation, and we come
at last to listen to him as to Nature herself,
and to resent the slightest alteration in the
text, even by the author himself.

"Thanatopsis" was written at the home
stead in the summer of 1811. It must be
counted the most remarkable of short poems.
The extreme youth of the author, and the fact
that the existence of the poem was a secret
shared with no human being for five years,
at least, give it a mystery and marvel that
add to its grandem. It is the vastest figure
of death ever drawn. The subject, though
ancient as Arcturus and Orion, seems new
and untried. He tells us what we knew full
well before, bnt tells it with such power and
fitness t-hat he seems to be the original dis
coverer, and to have rescued the fact from
chaos. We can well imagine Milton saying
to Bryant, as he said to another, "After so
glorious a performance you ought to do noth
ing that is mean and little, not so much as
to think of anything but what is great and
sublime." If any such injunction was heard
by our poet, right well did he heed it.

When as a boy of 8 or 10 years of age I
sat on the "little seats" in the old red school-
house over yonder hill, the bigger boys and
girls sometimes had "Thanatopsis" for a read
ing lesson. Even then a vague wonder arose
in my mind why it was that to hear the minis
ter talk of death made my flesh creep and
my heart sink, while to hear "Thanatopsis,"
though the theme was the very same, was
soothing and exalting. Doubtless this was in
part due to the large way iu which the sub
ject is reviewed iu the poem, the magnificent
vnstness and universality of death taking
away the feeling of loneliness and gloom; it
was ever a little flattering, — "Thou shalt lie
down with patriarchs of the infant world,
with kings," and so on. And perhaps it
was also the- deep sea roll of its rhythm and
the exquisite fitness of language, which even
a child could feel, and whose beauty not even
the shambling clumsiness of rustic readers
could altogether mar or hide. There is noth
ing in it pitiful and distressing, as in Addi-
son's "Vision of Mirza." with its terrible
bridge in the valley of Bagdad, but all was
grand, orderly and serene.

Sitting in the northeast section of the wide
gallery in the "Old Meet'u House," on Meet'n
House hill, might have been seen in the sum
mer of 1811 a handsome youth, who seemed
to be listening decorously to the long homi
lies poured forth by good Parson Briggs
from the high pulpit, in which the preacher
seemed to be going to sea in a bowl. (Parson
Briggs, by the way, was ordained in this very
grove 116 years ago.) But really the thoughts
of the youth in the wide gallery were wander
ing in God's iirst temples, and he was listen
ing to

Airs from viewless Eden blown,
for "Thanatopsis" was then taking form in ;
his mind. How little the grave and stately
minister dreamod that when 80 years should .
have rolled away the soliloquy of the hand
some youth would be known and admired in all
civilized lands and languages, while his own
faithful and sonorous messages of 52 consecu
tive years would have passed with the tall
pulpit and sounding board from which they
were promulgated to a deep and common t<:r-
getfulness !

"Thanatopsis" is the soliloquy of youth, yet
forgotten nations, extinguished constellations
and the living present seem to be reverently
listening and adding their solemn amen. It
was not written for fame nor to propagate a
theory. Beec her, -in a discourse delivered
soon after the poet's death, pronounced
"Thaoatcpsis" a pagan poc?m. Well, it is
the poem of the human race, and that in
cludes the pagan. It is pagan, as the air and
the Pleiades and the Zodiac are pa^an. We
all instantly agree that what is said is the
exact truth, but if there were a theory, the
more exact the statement of it the more cer
tain should we be of disagreement. It was no

more affected by authorities or financial con
siderations than the "night of years" itself.
It is Nature's own voice, spoken through the
clear brain of an ingenuous youth. The poem
is unique in what it s-uyr* and in what it
does not say. Though the author av^d in tho
midst of fierce and continual theolocrical pro
nouncement, there it not in the poem the
slightest allusion to any system of faith, to
a L>eity, or even to a future state of exist
ence. There is no side issue, no tub to any
whale of public opinion, but death is quietlv
and surely restored to its proper place in the
beautiful universal order. U *s the one great
poem to which a date is an impertinence. It
fits as perfectly for ten thousand years ago
or ten thousand years hence as for to-day.

Af ler .this passage, which is just as h?
delivered it. Mr Brown exhibited in a
number of examples the nicety of Mr Bry
ant's choice of words in his poems, observ
ing that his words are the common speech
of the common people; that his personifica
tions have such truth that they are ac
cepted as a matter of course. He quoied
in reference to "The Waterfowl" Victor
Hugo's saying: "Every bird that flies
carries the thread of the universe in its
claw." He dwelt also upon Bryant's serene
and constant joy of life; and" spent some
interesting sentences in characterizing his
career as editor, referring here to the de^
light the Buffalo platform freesoilers felt
when Bryant in the Evening Post de
clared for free soil, free speech, free men
— and added to it on his own account free
trade. No window of this Aladdin palace
was left unfinished, said Mr Brown, Bry
ant's first utterance was the truth of Na
ture, his last the truth of human nature.
Beautiful was this life of 84 years in char
acter;' beautiful upon the mountains, but
more .beautiful when he went down into
the arena of human strife for human right.

After Mr Brown's address there was a
duet sung by Miss Shaw and Mrs Nahmer.
The poet's brother was then presented to
the audience by Mr Godwin, and read with
clear and sustained voice his sweet and
feeling monody, which is printed elsewhere;
preluding it by saying that it was not
quite true to say that it was written on
the occasion of his brother William's
death; a part of it was then written, but
it had only within a few days assumed
the shape in which he should read it to his
hearers. After this the majestic national
lyric of Mrs Howe, "The Battle Hymn of
The Republic," was sung, '.>acJi svinzo. in
solo by E. Lester Brown of Princeton, 111.,
sou of the orator of the day, in a musical
baritone, the audience joining in the "Glory
Hallelujah" chorus; until the last stanza, ;
"In .the beauty of the Hlies Christ was
born across the sea," which was token by
Mr Hutchmso-n in his ringing tenor in a
truly inspiring fashion. The chorus by
this time Imd forced the too rapid tempo
down to a reasonable beat, and the body
of sound was grand. Then the throng dis
persed for dinner.

Letter* from Mr Davres nad O. W.
f 3 el meg.

In the afternoon there were read letters
of regret from several persons, and among
them these from Dr O. W. Holmes and
es-Senator Dawes: —

r.EVERLY FARMS, August 13.

It would have given me great pleasure to
attend the celebration of Bryant's 100th j
birthday at Cummingtpn, but the effects of a |

recent illness render It imprudent for me to
undertake the journey.

Thirty years ago I had the privilege of be
ing present at a great meeting at New York
to greet Mr Bryant on his 70th birthday. He
was liie oldest of that group of poets whose
names were already familiar to all American
readers. If such an office bad existed, he \
would have been the dean of the guild of our
native poets. Emerson, Longfellow, Whittier
end Lowell wcie all then living and in full
possession of their varied powers. As I re
call him on that occasion he seemed as one ,
belonging to the past. His venerable aspect I
was growing more and more like the ideal of |
th<» bard as Gray has pictured him. I need
not quote the lines which recur to all who

remember Bryant in his later years. Yet,
though his life was handed over to us from
a bygone century, though he looked to the ,
younger crowd around him as if he had
strayed from another world into that of to
day, no man was more keenly alive to the
thoughts and doings of his time than William
Cullen Bryant.

I could have wished to contribute on this
occasion to the memory of the poet in the ;
form of verse, but I must be permitted to
borrow the words of one of the 'guests at the
banquet in New York which express what I
would say better than any I should be likely
to extort from the languors of convalescence:
How shall we praise the verse whose music

flows

With solemn cadence and majestic close,
Pure as the dew that filters through the rose!

ilow shall we thank him that in evil days
He faltered never, nor for blame or praise,
Nor hire nor party shamed his earlier lays,

But as his boyhood was of manliest hue.
So to his youth his manly years were true;
All dyed in royal purple through and through.
At the meeting on his 70th birthday Bryant
was in a vigorous condition of mind and
body. He might, perhaps, have lived into
his 9th or 10th decade had he not been
in dangerously good health, but trusting to
his strong constitution he would not spare
him elf. tie r' >ri:<'t the limitations of thies
score and twenty, and nature reminded him
of them in fatal message. As a patriot his
name belongs with those of the "Sons of
Liberty" of the century in which he was
born. As a man of letters he deserves an
honorable place among those of the scholars
of his time. As a poet he has shaped his own
monument.

Marbles forget their message to mankind ;

In his own verse the poet lives enshrined.
A breath of noble verse oulives all that can
be carved in stone or cast in bronze. In his
poems inspired by Nature, Bryant has Identi-
tici himself with' her perennial life. In sing
ing of death he has won the prize of immor
tality. O. SY. HOLMES.

PlTTSFTKI/D, AUgUSt 10, 1894.

I sincerely regret that I have not been able
to so arrange previous engagements as to
make it possible for me to participate in the
coirineinor uive exerci-.es of the iGch in my
native town. I am very glad that this gen
eration of its inhabitants cherish the mem
ory and honor the na'Tie of its most illustri
ous son. The town does itself great honor in
bearing testimony to the personal worth and
the genius of the most distinguished of its
children. It thus testifies to the world its
own appreciation of those rare gifts with
which Mr Bryant was endowed, and casts out
from its borders the pretense that a prophet
is without honor in his own country.

It is the birthright of us all to love and
honor him who has done so much to keep the
name of our good old town a living memory
as long as the rivulet shall run to the river,
and the hills among which he was born shall
stand about his birthplace. May the occasion
be most enjoyable to vou and all those who
shall with you pay fitting tribute to the rare
and lovable' character we have all held in
such high regard. I am truly yours,

H. L. DAWES.

Speech of John Rigelow.

The president of the day then introduced
John Bigelow as our representative at the
court of France under Abraham Lincoln,
ard as a distinguished public servant for
im»ny years, but especially as the man
whom Bryant chose to assist him in edit-
irg the New York Evening Post. Mr
Bigelow began with the old joke that he
came prepared to make the best speech
that was evjr made, but the previous
speakers were both mind readers and had
extracted all of it for their own credit.
Then he said that in order to be present
to honor his master and friend, William
Cullen Bryant, he had lost the only- oppor
tunity he should ever have, as he feared,
of casting his vote for female suffrage —
that is the phrase he used — in the con
stitutional convention of the state of New
York, for the vote was to be taken last
night. There was a good deal of noise
around at this time, and it slipped our
hearing whether he was able to pair on
the question or not, and Joseph H. Choate
seemed to be mixed up in it: but the clear
statement was made that "Mrs Choate was
an ardent woman suffragist. Then Mr
Bigelow said that the invitation from Mr
Bryant to join him in the conduct of the
Evening Post and share with him its re
sponsibilities and duties he regarded the
greatest compliment he had ever received.
He spoke of the long association as in
spiring him with infinite respect for the
purity of character of his associate.. Long
after, as well as during the time of his
association, Bryant exerted an influence
upon him which no other man had ever
exerted. The singular uprightness, truth
fulness and directness of diameter which
distinguished him above all men that he
had ever known had so influenced him—
though in' the result you might hardly be
lieve it — that for years he never found
himself perplexed in regard to the line of
duty upon any question, embarrassed to
know what he ought to do or what not to
do, that he did not find himself turning
back to ask whrt Bryant would have done
under the same circumstances. "And I
may say that I have never asked myself
that question and doubted any "longer. I
thought it might interest his neighbors to
have that influence which he exerted re
corded."

The closing part of Mr Bigelow's talk
was in honor of Mr Bryant's wife, and
after eulogizing her from personal knowl
edge, he described her as the guardian imd
inspiration of Mr Bryant's best work and
his finest thought and read a i.oeio of
Bryant's, "The Life That Is," w-hich
found its origin in Mrs Bryant's
serious illness at Naples (some time
before she died), in which her noble
and inspiring qualities were given full
measure. Mr Godwin after this introduced
as one of the eminent advocates of that
reform of woman "suffrage which Mr Big
elow had so eloquently alluded to, Mrs
Julia Ward Howe, who read in a singu
larly impressive and beautiful fashion,
which will never be forgotten by any who
hea,rd her, or even saw her, a poein of
mingled reminiscence and prophecy.

C'o«>m.

The age its latest decade shows.
The wondrous autumn near its close,
Revealing in its fateful span
Unwonted ways of good to man.

Imprisoned vapor speeds its course,

Flies, quick with life, th' electric force,

Nature's daemonic mysteries

Are angels now that win ana please.

But dearer far to human ken

The record of illuprrious men,

The gifts conveyed in measures wrought

Of noble 'purpose aud high thought

Above the wild industrial din,
The race an hundred goals to win,
The gathered wealth, the rifled mine,
Still sounds the poet's song divine.

The skill that marshals myriad hands,
For manhood's task in many lands,
Attunes her anvil by the lyre,
And forges witli Promethean fire.
Oh master of imperial lays
Crowned in the fullness of thy days.

MRS JTLU WARD HOWE.

Oue heart that owned thy gracious spell
Tiiy reverend mien remembers well.

For mine it was. ere fell the snow
Upon this head of long ago,
My modest wreath to intertwine
With richer offerings at thy shrine^

A guest upon that day of days

How leapt my heart to hymn thy praise!

Yea, fiom that hour my spirit wore

A high content unknown before.

The past engulfs these echoes fond;
Thou and thy mates have passed beyond,
And that fair festival appears
Dim through the vista of long years.

But love still keeps his watch below,
When fades from sight the sunset glow.
And at the challenge of thy name
Stirs in each heart the loyal flaui*.

Still battling on the field of life,
We break from the unequal strifa,
From task or pastime hasten all
As at a vanished leader's call.
Within the shadow of thy tent
We read again thy testament,
Review the treasure which thy art
Bequeathed t' enrich thy country's heart.

No gift whose precious bloom can fad*,
No holocaust on false shrine laid,
A legacy of good untold,
August as oracles of old.
The winged words that cannot die,
The world-transcending prophecy,
Word* from itlr Warner.
Charles Dudley Warner c/ade a ehareuv
{eristic and witty speech. This ]A a very
general and promiscuous picnic, he said.
When I came to the edge of it I pushed
for the storm center, and wihen I »aw that
leonine head of Mr Godwin, I knew where
the center was. It is a great thing for a
town like -this ro keep in mind the memory
of its great men and to get together on
one pretext or another as often as pos
sible for the interchange of social feeling.
To the towns about here I recommend that
they go back as soon as possible and get
a iiiviint to celebrate.] As I was bom
myself in Plainfield and as I wsus told by
Mr Bryant that his father was the physi
cian who attended my father (and I am
happy to say that he wad not the last
pnysician), it seems to me that I have the
right to lay a few wreaths of homage upon
his s&rine. I remember in my humble way
that when I was a boy I knew "Thanatop-
sis by heart. I am quite certain that it
vas a sweet ami noble influence. I re
member also how mortified I waa to bo
discovered by a relation of mine in my
attitude of Bryant worshiper, reciting that
immortal po-^m to a mortal CO»T as I was
milking her. I have wonder^l how I could
nti ye accommodated the music of that
poom to the metrical sound of the milk in
the pail. I probably did not, aud that
may account for the fact that they said
I dried up the cow. I wondered then and
wondered now where Bryant got the
poem. He was remote from the great
world arid from the literary current How-
did he happe.i to strike such a note a-a
thar? I think we shall have to say Lhat
it comes from tha/t something of an al
most supernatural character that we caJl
genius. You might have had all t-he dic-
Gpcttary makers, and some of tike plodding
fellows who speak to you, and you would
never have gathered as you do to-day. I
am now going to suggest to you that this
hereafter by a unanimous vote be
given a name which shall express some-

tiling of the permanent reputation which
the man has left Mr BigeJow has won
niaiiy friends as a man who might have
voted for woman suffrage. 1 am going to
do better than that. I am going to give
you all a chance to vote right now. The
resolut'on is: 'Resolved, That it ie tfae
senvse of the town of Gtirnirvington and the !
comity that the hill on which we stand
shall hereafter be known to the world^ and
the map-makers a.s Mt Bryatjt." TIaosc .
opposed are not in favor of woman suf-
frage, and I won't take the vote.

John W. Hutchinson, who was to
sing after Mr WTarner's address pre- \
faced the duet in -which he took paxt
with a few impromptu remarks, say- 4
ing that he was the first in the
country to sing woman suffrage songs. He'
was now the last of the Mohicans. He,
quoted from John H. Bryant's Monody, l
which was read in the morning, and |
gsve some reminiscences of old days, after
Which E. Tester Brown and he sang a
duet, "Old friends are the best.'' John H.
Bryant followed with the residing or an-
other poem, "At 87."

orchestra, the tinkling triangle of Poo
among the rest. Bryant was not a poet of
books; he went out to Nature. He abounds
in felicities of observation. I wae pleased
to find one of them in "Peter Ibbetson," a
phrase out of "The Waterfowl." He was a
master of meter, though not an experi
menter. I think we should agree that his
best things, the things that move us, are
few, but these are of such perfection that
we are content. He was not an Americm
Wordsworth, but an American Bryant. He
embodied the New England spirit. "Thana-
topsis" is a glorification of the great tomb
of man.

Norton, Chffdwfck
Others.

Prof Charles Eliot Norton made one of
his peculiarly felicitous little .addresses on
certain characteristics of Bryant. Such a,
day as this, he said, is a fit homage to a
great American citizen. Nothing which a
poet can do for his people is of greater
service than to make their' land dear to
them That is what Burns and Scott did
for Scotland, what Bryant did for us.
The dominant character is the sentiment

for

George W. Cable, who had been
to speak, was unable to be present on ac
count of ill-health. In place of the address
Mr Hutchinson sang another of his old-
time songs, "The Old Granite State," and
the chorus sang again, after which Presi
dent G. Stanley Hall spoke a few words.
He had studied in the laboratory the symp
toms of fatigue, and had made such prog
ress this afternoon in this study that he
was tempted to go on an hour or two to
falter. He said he was a simple lover of
science and Nature, and lit his candle
at Bryant's fire. Bryant was almost the
only poet he read, and from him he learned
to love not only Nature but science, which
is but an altar on which we worship Na
ture's God, Bryant says: ''Man is neces
sarily a naturalist," and if I had rime I
would take that sentence as 'my text. Every
Child worships Nature; personifies trees and
flowers. We have found a new mine of
psychology in the doctrine of Wordsworth,
that a man is best when he becomes most
childlike. As we live for our children snd
strive to make them better and wia«n u*

db more Aan speak the

peo-

are one, and then our schools
>e transformed and the love of

ai'i'fpart of'the patriotic pride of the peo- mature taught,
pie of that region,— who connects his fame A. M. Howe of Boston, who
with some natural object, with a mountain, Jongs by descent to the law firm
with a bird even, or a flower. Wordsworth wit}l wl'lich Bryant studied law, be

again without thinking of Mm.

Kev John W. Chadwick gave a a K
what extended analysis of Bryant's genius.
He said in a prayer-meeting ^^
a man got up in a silence and said
as no one seemed to have anything tosay,
he would speak about the tariff. There
has not been enough said about Mr Bry-
ant and the tariff. One might as well speak
of George William Curtis and not mention
civil-service reform. I wis:h he could write
one more editorial for the livening Post,
and tells what he thinks of those Gorman^
dizers of the Senate who have rfold theifl
birrtirig-ht for a mess of pottage. It is poo;*

wag a natural development of his life
ne should come out of the narrow

wrote rne thaf'Thanatopsis" was our great
est poem , Longfellow our greatest poet,
Poe nowhere. But we need them all m the

an American citizen. Those ot us in the
midst of affairs belonging to the dumb who
cannoi. express themselves owe a ljUX«
debt to William Culleii Bryant for his daily
Statements of public opinion. Bryant prac
ticed law 10 years and is said to have be
come disgusted with the law because he
was overruled. I do not believe he was
such a coward. He may have felt tnat
there was a larger ground for him to mam-
tain the law outside of the court-house.

An unexpected number in the program
was an address by James H. Eckels, con
troller of the currency. He was well ac
quainted, he said, with^ the ^ poet and his

(brother, ana ieii ma-ime am nimself an v,, mrtro K«»II i ,

honor in coming to pay his respects on this %££? bS^ M

occ^o^^e^rsrthiiig-~builtinthe"to^ ^Iffie^^^J^rMf* ^^

of Princeton, 111., where he lives, was a Come dancing from the rosy west.

church: the second, a school. The be<st K^ ^m i ft i

Bought of New England has gone there. ^!fflSS^^^^^^

For what it is it owes much to the Bryant' When in their belt the woods are drS'sed-

infiuence. The name of John H. Bryant The same his raptured boyhood knew

is loved and cherished like that of William i triiP hermit *v™i, f

Cullen Bryant. Nowadays, said the chair- \ ^uJZ^^^Z^^^.

•man, ac the close of the speech, everything ' No blossoms gay beside the Way

begins and ends in the newspapers, and Attract his quick and eager sight

Zt&^vS3SteS:Il£S& ^V± ***™yy?>* «-» '»<- «»™a

No more shall .soothe his noonday rest
Nor trailing cloud with misty shroud
For him the morning hills invest.

tor of the Hampshire Gazette. Mr 'Gere
said that he had been examining the early

files of the paper and found all of the — CT „„„

poems which Bryant contributed thereto That voice so sweet that late did zreet
that were signed. One m the issue of My ear each passing Ln^tSl/

March Id, 180/, is prefaced by the editor, Is silent now; that reverend brow
"A poem composed by a lad 12 years old; Rests in the grave at Hoslyn-side

to be exhibited at the close of the winter His was a life of toil and strife
school in presence of the master, the min- Against the wrong and for the good-

Ister of the parish and a number of private Through weary years of hopes and fears
jzniests." It is dated from Cummington, Fov freedom, truth and right he stood. '

1807, and must have been writ Len in his At length a gleam of broad esteem
13th year and not in his 10th year, as was Ou his declining years was cast

stated in a sketch of his life published in Ami a Jarigh thrown of high' renown

880. In 1810 was written a poem called

The Genius of Columbia," dated April

nd a bright crown of high renown
Enwreathed his hoary head at last.

15. an ode for the Fourth of July to the
" "

is love of song so deep and strong
In boyhood, faded not in age-
'

air "Ye Gentlemen of England" and in the At life's last hour, -,vith noontide power
issue of July 12, 1815, another ode. The Hus S**lu* lit the printed page,
speaker closed with a warm tribule to tlie His sun has set: its twilight yet

.work and character of the poet.

J. H. BRYANT'S POEMS.

My heart to-day is far away:
I seem to tread my native hills;

I see the flocks and mossy rocks;
I hear the gush of mountain rills.

There -with me walks and kindly talks
The dear, dear friend of all .my years.

.VYe laid him low not long ago,
At Roslyn-side, with sobs and tears.

But though I know that this is so,

I will nut have it go to-day;
»The illusion still, by force of will,

bhdll give my wayward fancy play.
."With joy we roam around the home

Where in our childhood days we played;
\\t tread the mead with vordure spread

And '

Flushes the chambers of the sky
i" A softer flame of spreading fame

A glory that shall never die.

Ai £ighty-.«4ev?n.
EJ Alone, alone, why wait I here,

When all most loved have passed away-
l 1 arents and wife and children dear.

Brothers and sisters, where are they?

> Gone to the boundless silent past—
r _An(* WM that past return again

Restore its conquests wide and vast,
L Or is this yearning hope iu vain?

I know not and I cannot know;
».l I only know a mighty wave,

Resistless in its onward flow
.} Sweeps all things living to the grave.

^No voice from that reluctant sphere
Or whisper of the srilly night

).»er falls upon my waiting ear,

Nor faintest shadow meets my sight.

And seek the woodpath's grateful shade. Still, hope eternal looks ^ way

Wt climb the steep where fresh winds .sweep, l ^^^^^T^^0^'

Where oft before our feet have trod.
And look far forth, east, south and north,
"Upon the glorious works of God."

,We tread itgain the rocky glen,
Where foaming waters' dash along;

And sit alone on mossy stone,
Charmed by the thrasher's twilight song.

, or strav
Through bowers of light and Joy and blooi

Though thus bereft, life still is sweet-
All nature doth her promise fill;

The wild flowers blossom at my feet-
These glorious heavens are round me still.

The changing seasons come and go,
Anon we stray far far -iw-iv mt u!1 ^arvests ripen on the plain,

The club-moss crumKLg 'neath our tread '^"SSS W°°dS ^""^ thelr gl°W'
Seeking the spot by most forgot An<1 "mter snows return ncnln-

Where sleep the generations dead.

AM now we come iuto the home—
The dear old home our childhood knew,

And round the board with plenty stored
v\e gather as we used to do.

With reverence now I see him bow
That head with many honors crowned;

All white his locks are as the flocks
lhat feed upon the hills around.

Again we meet in converse sweet
Around the blazing collage hearth,

Ana while away the cloKinr day
With quiet talk and talcs of mirth.

The

sp«;ll is broke. Oh, cruel stroke!
illusive vision will not stay:

_. sweet dream was fancy's gleam,

Wnlch stubborn fact has chased away.

I am alone;, my friend is gone.

He 11 seek rib more that lovely scene;
iPis feet no more shall wander o'er

Those wooded hills and pastures green.

snows return again.
| Alone, I said; oh, not alone.

For loving friends still wait around
Sweet voices yet of silvery tone

Greet my dull ear with grateful sound.
Goodness and mercv day by day

trom birth unto the present hour,
Have followed me or led the way—

Ihe guidance cu Ahnighty Power.

And now, amid the fading light
With faltering steps I journev on,

Waiting the coming of the night
When earthly light and life are gone.

And shall there rise a brighter dav
Beyond this scene of c;;lm and strife

Where love and peace shall rule for aye
And goodness be the rule of life?

I 'lean on the Almighty arm,
Ihe Good, the Merciful and Just.

His love ami care all fears disarm;
On His unchanging law I n

T T T T

Samuel de (Tlhamplain;

............. ,

A SHORT SKETCH

—BY-
HENRY H. HURLBUT.

SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN;

A BRIEF SKETCH

OF THE

EMINENT NAVIGATOR AND DISCOVERER.

READ BEFORE THE CHICAGO' HISTORICAL SOCIETY,
TUESDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 20, 1885,

HENRY H. HURLBUT.

A PORTRAIT OF THE GREAT EXPLORER,

PAINTED BY

Miss HARRIET P. HURLBUT,

WAS ON THIS OCCASION PRESENTED IN HER NAME TO THE SOCIETY.

CHICAGO:
FERGUS PRINTING COMPANY.

1885.

HISTORICAL SOCIETY ROOMS,
CHICAGO, October 22, 1885.

'.Dl.AK MISS HrRLKUT:

I have the honor to inform you that at a Quarterly Meeting of the
•Chicago Historical Society, held on the 2Oth inst, on motion of Hon. Mark
Skinner the thanks of the Society were unanimously tendered to you for the
• excellent and valuable portrait of Samuel de Champlain you so generously

presented to the Society.

Very respectfully,

ALBERT D. HAGER,
Miss HARRIET P. HURLBUT, Chicago. Secretary.

The thanks of the Historical Society were also given to Mr. Hurlbut for
.the Paper read by him on evening of October 20, 1885.

SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN.

MR. PRESIDENT AND MEMBERS OF THE HISTORICAL SOCIETY,
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN:

FROM the enlarged notes of a work now in preparation
by myself and intended for publication, to be entitled
14 Our Inland Seas and Early Lake Navigation," I will, with
your leave, read a sketch, or rather an imperfect outline
portrayal, of the movements in the life of the first white
man who came within the basin of the great American
Lakes; the first European, I may say, that saw and navi
gated not only the small yet storied body of water drained
by the Sorel, but that of Lake Ontario; and who, further
more, was the first who looked upon the face of Lake Huron.
I need not suggest that there is an evident propriety for the
Historical Society of the greatest City of the Lakes to pay
at least some tribute to the memory of our earliest explprer,.
who passed over the waters of Lake Ontario more than sixty
years before LaSalle built Fort Frontenac by its banks, and
more than a quarter of a century before either Joliet or
Marquette, the first-known white men at Chicago, were born.
I speak of Samuel de Champlain.

Though James Cartier, in 1535, passed up the St. Law
rence River as far as the Island of Hochelaga, to which he
gave the name of Monte Royal, yet singular as it seems, he
nor any other European, as far as we know, never reached
any of our great Lakes for three- fourths of a century suc
ceeding.

6 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN.

Samuel de Champlain was the son of Antoine de Cham-
plain (a captain in the French marine), and the maiden name
of his mother was Marguerite Leroy; he was born in the
village of Brouage, in the ancient Province of Saintonge,
about the year 1567. Little is ^nown of the boyhood days
of Champlain; his home-village was a fortified town, and its
harbor, available for large ships, was called one of the best
in France. Not only was Brouage a post of some military
importance, but it was the manufacturing centre and port of
shipment of a large trade in salt; and these were the two
great interests of the people in citadel and seaport of the
busy Brouage.

During many years of Champlain's early life, Brouage was
the occasion of frequent struggles of contending parties for
its possession, during the civil wars of the time. While these
vicissitudes must have been perplexing to close study in
school, and while Champlain's school education was no doubt
limited, there was yet a discipline in that misfortune, and his
active habits and excellent common-sense led him to educate
himself.

It was no slight good fortune for Champlain that he often
came in contact with men of high character, connected with
the military and commercial departments of Brouage. It is
supposed that he paid considerable attention to the study
and practice of drawing, as his after-efforts in that line were,
and are still, of no little interest and value.

Early in the year 1599, he was in command of a large
French ship, chartered by the Spanish government for a voy
age to the West Indies. Just previously, however, he had
been connected with the French army as quartermaster for
several years, yet still before that he must have had practical
experience in navigation; indeed he acknowledged the fact,

SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 7

for he has confessed the fascination which attracted his early
life to that employment. In the Spanish voyage referred to,
including not merely a view of various West-India Islands
and important ports, but casting his anchor in the roadstead
of San Juan d'Ulloa (then as today the island castle and
defence of Vera Cruz), he visited not merely Porto Bello on
the Isthmus, by a native sail-boat, but from Vera Cruz he
passed into the interior, spending a month at the City of
Mexico.

This- voyage embraced a period of somewhat over -two
years, and in it Champlain carried out a purpose of his own,
which was to make extended notes and drawings of whatever
seemed worth his observation; not for his own gratification
merely, but for use and aid to the French government. It
was Champlain that made the first suggestion of the bene
fits to be derived from a ship-canal across the Isthmus of
Panama.

It is understood that after an able communication by
Champlain to his own government,* regarding matters and
things coming within his notice in the Spanish possessions of
America, he was honored not only with the gift of a pension
from the French king, Henry IV., but it is believed that from
the same source there was also conferred upon him a patent
of nobility.

In March, 1603, Champlain first sailed for northern
America, having joined the expedition under Pont Grave,
which had been organized by Gov. Aymer de Chastes. The
fleet consisted of two barques of small size, accompanied by

* The full and illustrated account of that voyage to Spanish America by
Champlain continued in manuscript more than two centuries and a half, but
in 1859, after an English translation, it was printed in London by the Hakluyt
Society.

8 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN.

one or more craft of still less burthen, and arrived in the
St. Lawrence River at a place called Tadoussac, at the mouth
of Saguenay River.

I wish to make here a slight digression, and say that we
have no authentic knowledge of an earlier people who dwelt
by or navigated our great lakes and their tributary or neigh
boring waters, than various 'tribes of our North-American
Indians. These Indians, we are to presume, were the in
ventors and from time immemorial have been the manufact
urers of that famous and historic little craft, the birch-bark
canoe. The first description which we have of this canoe
appears identical with that manufactured by our northern
Indians of today. Though no long distances very far from
shore were often attempted, the ability of this canoe when
well managed, even in a pretty rough sea, is not slight.

The Indian canoes of the old fur-companies were usually
large, of some four or five tons burthen. How many cen
turies previously they may have been in use we have no
means of telling, yet two hundred and eighty-two years ago,
in 1603, Champlain met them at the Saguenay, and which he
afterward spoke of as "from eight to nine paces long, and
about a pace or pace and a-half broad in the middle, grow
ing narrower toward the two ends." "They are apt," said
he, " to turn over, in case one does not understand managing
them, and are made of birch bark, strengthened on the
inside by little ribs of white cedar, very neatly arranged;
they are so light that a man can easily carry one." Said
Gouverneur Morris: "Among the curiosities of newly-dis
covered America was the Indian canoe. Its slender and ele
gant form, its rapid movement, its capacity to bear burdens
and resist the rage of the billows and torrents, excited no
small degree of admiration for the skill by which it was con-

SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 9

structed." The Chippewas call it che-maun, and it was this
same sort of vessel in which Champlain passed into lakes
Champlain, Huron, and Ontario; the same in which Joliet
and Marquette voyaged down the Mississippi, the same in
which, differing as I must from the opinion of our worthy
secretary, they navigated the Chicago. The Society, it is
noticed, has a small specimen of this canoe.

After looking a few miles up the Saguenay, Grave and
and Champlain, in a light boat, ascended the St. Lawrence
as far as the Falls of St. Louis, now called the Lachine
Rapids, and by the way going a short distance on what they
called the River of the Iroquois, now known as the Sorel or
Richelieu. Unable to -pass the rapids in their boat, they
returned to their vessels at the outlet of the Saguenay.

Upon this first visit of Champlain to the St. Lawrence, he
questioned the Indians about the river and waters above and
beyond what he had seen; in a manner, imperfectly however,
they told of the Rapids of the upper St. Lawrence, Lake
Ontario, the Falls of Niagara, Lake Erie, and the Strait of
Detroit. Of anything beyond they professed no knowledge.
In the month of September of that year, 1603, Grave and
Champlain reached France. Champlain now learned that
his friend de Chastes had died in his absence; he exhibited
to his sovereign, however, a map which he had drawn of the
region he had visited, together with an account of what he
had learned.

In 1604, two vessels left France, having Champlain on
board one of them ; a new expedition for colonial settlement
in America, north of latitude 40°, N., having been organized
by Sieur de Monts. Arriving in America, and passing a
severe winter at a temporary station, Champlain after thor
oughly exploring the coasts of New England, New Bruns-

10 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN.

wick, and Nova Scotia, and after three years absence, reached^
France in 1607, where he spent the succeeding winter.

Champlain is distinguished for his survey of the New-
England coast, extending also to the northern limits of Nova
Scotia. While other explorers made but slight examina
tions, imperfectly described, his account is thorough, and,
furthermore, is illustrated by drawings of the seashore, rivers-,
harbors, etc.

Again Champlain had reached the St. Lawrence, in June,.
1608, and while a barque was being constructed, he explored
the Saguenay and also the St. Lawrence, and where at the
site of a future city, then called Quebec — an Algonkin word,
meaning a narrowing — he was impressed with its peculiar
attractions, and decided to commence a settlement there at
once. The decision was followed directly by the felling of
trees and the erection of buildings. Fortunately, a few days
after their arrival there, it was revealed to Champlain that a
plan was about perfected among a number of the men to-
assassinate not only him but others also, and then conduct
matters as they might choose. By a cautious and prompt
movement, however, four of the ringleaders were placed in
irons, and, after a trial, one was hanged and the others sent
to France for further treatment.

One of the vessels sailed for France in September, but
Champlain remained to spend the winter with the little
colony at Quebec. That winter, however, was one of sick
ness and death ; from an exclusively salt diet they were
attacked with the scurvy, and twenty out of the twenty-
eight had died before winter had disappeared. Of the
Indians in the neighborhood also, many died from starvation,
for Champlain could only, from his limited supplies, afford
slight relief. But spring at length succeeded that winter of

SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. II

death, and in June, Grave again appeared with a vessel in
the St. Lawrence.

Champlain now prepared to carry out his plans for explor
ing the interior. A fierce war was then existing between the
Algonkin tribes of the north and the great Iroquois confed
eracy of the region now called New York. It was proposed
to Champlain by the Indians, in consideration of services to
be rendered him in his travels as guides, interpreters, and
canoe-men, that he should aid them in their battles with
their enemies, the Iroquois. To this he consented.

Whether or not it was wise for Champlain to conclude
such a treaty with his newly-found red friends may at least
be questioned. I do not, however, believe with Mr. George
Geddes that "but for the mistake of Champlain, and the
unwise treatment of the Five Nations that followed, the gov
ernment of the continent would have fallen to the French
rather than to the English." Yet the consequences resulting
from the acceptance and ratification of the agreement referred
to, for more than a century and a half involved a multitude
of gory witnesses; it was a most unfortunate precedent, too
readily copied. Torture, human blood, and human scalps
were the seals of the cruel strife, of which instances by the
hundred might be quoted. The governments of France and
Great Britain in their contests for dominion helped onward
the red-handed crime.

America, after breaking loose from the crown of Great
Britain, fell heir to the miseries of the system referred to.
In the words of DeWitt Clinton, "The whole confederacy,
except a little more than half of the Oneidas, hung like the
scythe of death upon the rear of our settlements, and their
deeds are inscribed with the scalping-knife and the tomahawk
in characters of blood on the fields of Wyoming and Cherry
Valley, and on the banks of the Mohawk."

12 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN.

I need not recite particulars of Champlain's tour of that
year, 1609, accompanying his Indian friends upon a war
excursion against their enemies, the Iroquois, farther than to
say that he then discovered the lake since called after him;
and if, as he seems to have acknowledged, he then introduced
to the acquaintance of the Indians of the great Iroquois
league the fatal effects of firearms, by killing three of their
chiefs, it was not the most unfortunate first salutation of a
deadly agent which came to the red men. That same year
of 1609, Henry Hudson sailed up the river which received
his name. On that occasion, the renowned yet baneful fire
water was pressed upon the notice of the savages. Of the
two satanic inventions, gunpowder and wrhiskey, the last, with
its numerously-named congeners, is reasonably believed to
have been the most destructive.

Returning to Quebec, Champlain sailed with Grave for
France, arriving out in October. Again in April of the fol
lowing year, 1610, he reached the mouth of the Saguenay.
He found his Indian allies had in view another expedition
against the Iroquois, and they again desired his assistance.
I may say that they accordingly attacked a party of the
enemy, who were located near the mouth of the Sorel; and,
as in the previously-named battle, came off victors.

Hearing of the assassination of King Henry IV., with
other unwelcome news from over the sea, Champlain left for
France, arriving there in September, 1610. During this visit
a contract was made by Champlain with the parents of
Helene Boule, for his marriage with their daughter ; the
nuptials, however, were not to take place under two years.
They were afterward married, and she accompanied him to
Quebec some years later.

In the year 1611, he visited the St. Lawrence, but returned

SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 13

in the autumn of that year. In March, 1613, he again sailed
from France, and arrived at Tadoussac in April. A tour up
the Ottawa River was soon undertaken by Champlaln. The
purpose of this expedition was, in great part, to ascertain if
there might be found a channel and shorter way to the
Pacific and the famed Cathay. Some reports which had
been told to Champlain led to strengthen his belief in and
to look for such a passage. Champlain, after a journey of
some two hundred miles from the St. Lawrence, up the chan
nel and over the portages around the numerous falls of the
Ottawa, reached Allumette Island in that river. Here Cham-
plain raised a cross of cedar, to which he attached the arm,s
•of France; not succeeding, however, in the main purpose of
his journey. Returning, he embarked for France the same
year, and where he remained through the year 1614, making
plans for the success of his colony.

He was particularly impressed with the importance of
establishing "the Christian faith in the wilds of America."
By his efforts, four Franciscan friars were secured for such a
mission, who embarked with himself for America in the
spring of 1615. One of them, Joseph LeCaron, was ap
pointed to the distant Wyandotte or Huron tribe of Indians,
and set out with great bravery, knowing nothing as he did
of those Indians or of the country where they dwelt. Cham-
plain also soon left for the westward, for an expedition had
.been already planned by the Indians to invade the country
of the Iroquois, and the power of Champlain and the deadly
arquebus was needed to accompany them to their enemy's
stronghold south of Lake Ontario.

Going up the Ottawa, Champlain took a roundabout way
to reach Central New York, but he was piloted by the
Indians, who doubtless had an axe or rather a tomahawk of

14 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN.

some kind to grind, and so they led him to their place of
abode. A part of the route up the Ottawa Champlain had
traveled before; now, still farther, he passed via Lake Nepis-
sing and French River into the Georgian Bay of Lake Huron.
This course by the Ottawa was the old canoe-route of after-
years, the route of the fur-trader's goods from Montreal to
Mackinac and the upper lakes. But if it was the shortest
channel to the Northwest, it was yet a hard, back-breaking
road to travel; its numerous uprising portages and rough
paths, which none but the famed and hardy Canadian voya-
geurs, those toiling, yet uncomplaining and merry courier dcs
bois, would endure, each carrying the ninety pounds of pack,
box, or cask, whenever the vessel and cargo must take to
the land.

When the canoe of Champlain pushed into Lake Huron
it was the farthest point westward yet visited by any white
man within the basin of the Great Lakes. The statement in
several historical works of Michigan, that Champlain or any
other European visited the site of Detroit before that date,
July, 1615, is certainly an error. The priest LeCaron was a
few days earlier than Champlain in the neighborhood of Lake
Huron, at a large Indian village, but that was not by the
lake, and we are not advised that he came within sight of it.
From the vicinity of the north-east shore of Lake Huron,
with only a portion of the force of savages expected to com
prise the invading army, Champlain now passed by way of
Lake Simcoe and various small lakes, the River Trent, and
Bay of Quinte; and whether he went out above or below the
Isle of Tonti, the name of which has been stupidly changed
to Amherst Island, he, the first of white men, now glided
over the waters of Lake Ontario.

Coasting along the east shore in part and partly on foot

SAMUEL DE CHAM PLAIN. 15

upon the sandy beach of the lake, and after secreting their
canoes in the woods near the shore, the invaders struck into
the forest, and went southward from some point in the pres
ent county of Oswego, N.Y. Whether the fortress sought
was at Onondaga Lake, as believed by the late Hon. O. H.
Marshall, or upon a pond in the county of Madison, as con
fidentially urged by Gen. Clark, the post of the enemy was
reached in due time, and the siege of a rather uncommonly
strong Indian stockade began. After considerable time spent
in the investment, and some hours of fierce contest, the
attacking Indians lost their patience, and concluded to aban
don the enterprise. Champlain had endeavored to direct
and guide them in the attack, but the thing was impossible;
they were an unmanageable, boisterous crowd of ruffians,
with no purpose, it would seem, beyond the gratification of
cruelty and revenge.

However interesting this marauding adventure may be con
sidered as a matter of history, and though the invading
Indians, with Champlain's assistance, had suffered much less
than the besieged, it was a bootless expedition. The fortress
was not taken, and Champlain was wounded in the leg.

The retreating army now returned to the outlet of Lake
Ontario; but the Indians were unwilling to give Champlain
an escort down the St. Lawrence, and the result was he was
obliged to follow them to the interior and pass a winter in
their wigwams. It was summer in the following year, 1616,
before Champlain, who was accompanied by the missionary
LeCaron, reached Quebec, where they found Grave from over
the sea, and with whom they embarked for France in the
month of July. In 1617, and also in 1618, Champlain visited
New France, but returned to the fatherland each of those
years. He desired something more for his country than a

1 6 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN.

mere trading-post on the St. Lawrence. To quote the words
of Rev. Edmund F. Slafter: "He was anxious to elevate the
meagre factory at Quebec into the dignity of a colonial plan
tation." * Without doubt he had to struggle with the avarice
of a company which cared little for New France beyond its
own profits in furs. But Champlain enlisted official aid, and
by government appointment was made lieutenant of the vice
roy of New France, which last-named dignitary was the Duke
de Montmorenci, high admiral of France.

Champlain sailed for America, accompanied by his wife, in
1620. His time was now occupied at Quebec during the
four ensuing years, energetically attending to the building of
various structures and other duties; yet we learn that he had
to endure not a few annoyances and discouragements.

In 1624, with his wife he sailed for France, arriving there
in October. In April, 1626, he again left France for the
St. Lawrence. This was his eleventh voyage across the
Atlantic to this river, besides one to the coast of New
England.

A new association in place of the former company was
organized by the Cardinal Richelieu, the able prime-minister
of France, a friend of Champlain. The prospect to Cham-
plain seemed now more promising for his great purpose of
French colonization. Hitherto as a colony his settlement
had not prospered. We are told that at no time had its
numbers exceeded fifty persons; and what seems strange, so
unlike our own prairie pioneers, that for a period of twenty-
years but one family of the colony attempted to gain a living
by cultivating the soil.

* 'To Rev.. Edmund F. Slafter I am indebted for many facts used in this
Paper, found in his Comprehensive Memoir of Champlain, published in the
Prince Society papers.

SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. I/

I do not agree with Mr. DeCosta, that " but for a head
wind when off Cape Cod, sailing southward in 1605, Cham-
plain might have reached the Hudson, and instead of plant
ing Port Royal in Nova Scotia, he might have established its
foundations on Manhattan Island, and that this would have
made the greatest city in America a French city."

But I will here take the occasion, parenthetically, to make
the query, iihy it ivas that French colonization in America
has been comparatively a failure ? May the answer be given
that it is a national characteristic to be averse to becoming
agricultural pioneers ? Or may it have been occasioned by
the restrictive laws and feudal tenure which came with them
from the fatherland ? Else was it, as some claim, the result
of superstitious and bigoted religious teaching, hampering
the freedom of mind and person ?

Quebec was founded in 1608, and New France had the
opportunity of more than one hundred and fifty years before
it finally resigned in favor of Great Britain. A hundred and
fifty years from the settlement of New Plymouth had fitted
the descendants of those settlers for self-government and the
opening drama of the Revolution.

We believe that Charnplain and other French explorers
were men of broad, practical views, and their plans, embrac
ing the settlement of the vast and fertile basin of the great
Lakes and valleys of the St. Lawrence and Mississippi, may
certainly be termed grand; yet the genius of the French
nation, indeed of any Latin nation, was not fitted to the
task. Sterile New England was peopled by another race.

The remaining few years in the life of Champlain may be
briefly alluded to: War had broken out between France and
Great Britain, and a British fleet appeared in the St. Law
rence in 1628; but it was not until July of the following year

1 8 SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN.

that serious demonstration was made against the post of
•Quebec, which was then obliged to surrender to a British
force. Champlain was taken to England, but as a peace had
been arranged even before Quebec had been taken, he was
allowed to go to France, and Quebec was restored to French
rule.

In March, 1633, Champlain made his last departure from
France, being again appointed governor; and he arrived at
Quebec in May. He was greeted with demonstrations of
great affection, for he was much beloved by his people. In
the fort at Quebec, December 25, 1635, after an illness of
several months, Champlain died. Somewhere within what
is now the court-yard of Quebec post-office his remains lie
buried; this much has been satisfactorily proven, yet the
exact spot is unknown. It does not appear that Champlain
had children. His widow entered a convent, and afterward
founded a religious institution in which she herself subse
quently entered as a nun. She died in 1654.

We will close this meagre sketch by quoting the following
from the Rev. Mr. Slafter, regarding the eminent explorer:

"He was wise, modest, and judicious in council; prompt,
vigorous, and practical in administration; simple and frugal
in his mode of life; persistent and unyielding in the execu
tion of his plans; brave and valient in danger; unselfish,
honest, and conscientious in the discharge of duty."

[The portrait of Champlain was here unveiled.]

It would have been rather a singular circumstance, at the
time of the landing of the early settlers of New England,
for one of their number, one of the Puritans or Pilgrims, to
have volunteered to memorize as praiseworthy the name of
any prominent personage connected with the Roman Catholic

SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 19

Church ; but some things seem to have changed, and we
trust somewhat improved since that day, and here this even
ing is a painted portrait of the distinguished navigator of
whom I have spoken, copied by a native of the west coast
of Lake Michigan, a protestant daughter of the eighth gen
eration, in direct descent from Priscilla of the Mayflower,
who is rather a prominent figure in Longfellow's poem, "The
Courtship of Miles Standish," and who, in December, 1620,
left the cabin of the famous vessel just named, and stepped

"On the wild New-England shore."

We shall not soon forget that the Pilgrims arrived in 1620,
but it is well also to remember that Champlain with his
vessel spent a day in Plymouth harbor fifteen years before.

This painting, intended as a copy of one of the engraved
portraits of Champlain by Moncornet, as it appears in a
volume of the Prince Society publications, together with the
frame enclosing it (which frame is not altogether without a
story, as may be seen on page 80 of the volume known as
" Chicago Antiquities "), I beg to present to the Chicago
Historical Society in behalf of Miss Harriet P. Hurlbut.

CHICAGO:

FERGUS PRINTING COMPANY.

CHICAGO ANTIQUITIES

/s^/

COMPRISING
ORIGINAL ITEMS AND RELATIONS, LETTERS, EXTRACTS, AND NOTES

PERTAINING TO

EARLY CHICAGO;

E.M BEL LI-SHED WITH

VIEWS, PORTRAITS, AUTOGRAPHS, ETC.

HENRY H. HURLBUT.

•>!-*«•

It is the most complete history yet written of early Chicago;
the book will be found of abounding interest, not only to the old settlers and
their descendants, but to the larger class of modern Chicagoans, who equally
love and believe in its present and pi-ospective greatness. — Chicago Inter Ocean.

This volume will be sent, express charges paid, to those who may
order it. Price, $7.50, C. O. D. Address

Miss HATTIE P. HURLBUT,

44 South Ann Street, Chicago, 111.

FERGUS' HISTORICAL SERIES

RELATING TO

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2. — Chicago Directory for 1839. Sketch of City. By Robert Fergus, 50

3.— The Last of the Illinois; Origin of the Prairies. J. D. Caton, 25

4. — Slavery in Illinois. By Hon. William H. Brown of Chicago, 25

5.— Early Settlers of Chicago, Sketches. Part I. By W. H. Bushnell, 25

6.— Early Settlers of Chicago, Sketches. Part II. 25

7, 8. — Early Chicago. Two Lectures by John Wentworth, LL.D., each, 35
9.— Future of Chicago, by Henry Brown ;^ Its Rise and Progress, by

James A. Marshall; Chicago in 1836, by Harriet Martineau, 25
10. —Addresses Read before Chicago Historical Society, 25
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12.— Illinois in the i8th Century. Kaskaskia and its Parish Re
cords; Old Fort Chartres; Col. John Todd's Record Book.
Read before the Chicago Hist. Soc. By Edw. G. Mason, Esq., 50
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14.- The Earliest Religious History of Chicago; Early History of
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19. — Reminiscences of Early Chicago. By Charles Cleaver, Esq., 25
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21. — John Dean Caton, LL. U., ex-Chief-Justice of 111., Sketch of, 25
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26. — Aborigines of the Ohio Valley. By Wm. H. Harrison, Pres't U. S.
Notes by Edw. Everett. Speeches delivered at Ft. Wayne, Sept.
4, '11, by Indian chiefs; also, Manners and Customs of N.-W.
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Nov. 2oth, 1885. Ferg-iis-ij Printing: Oo.

Unveiling of the
Statue of *# *#

George Clinton

Newbur^n N.
Oct. 6th,

vf^0rr)prirr)er)fs of

)©ciel,

0y Gtrjd trj

Unveiling of the
Statue of ^ ^

George Clinton

Newburgh, N. Y.,
Oct. 6th, J896.

At a meeting of the committee for obtaining subscriptions,
etc., E. M. Ruttenber, Win. Cook Belknap and Chas. L. C.
Kerr, were appointed a sub-committee to prepare and have
printed a full report of the subscriptions received and of
the exercises on the occasion of the unveiling of the statue
of George Clinton.

At -a, meeting of the Historical Society, held October 26,
1896, this action was approved by resolution authorizing
the publication of the report in creditable pamphlet form.

Historical Statement.

The inception of the proposition to erect in Newburgh a
statue of George Clinton, the first Governor of the State of
New York, is due to Miss Mary H. Skeel, deceased, who, on
the 7th of January, 1896, addressed to Mr. E. M. Euttenber
the following letter:

Newburgh, N. Y., Jan. 7, 1896.
Dear Mr. Ruttenber:

" I appeal to you as a well known authority on historical subjects, and
also, because, like myself, I think you love our beautiful Highland City, and
also know the public pulse.

" In an interview with my friend, H. K. Bush-Brown, he spoke of a
statue of General Clinton, now in the capitol at Washington, made by
his uncle, Henry K. Brown.

" Of this statue Mr. Bush-Brown offered to give a duplicate in bronze,
if the city would stand the necessary expense of placing and mounting
it — placing it in Golden Square — once owned, it is said, by the Clinton
family.

" Do you think we could persuade some of our wealthy citizens to
furnish the money, and our City Fathers to accept the statue?"

MARY H. SKEEL.

Publication was made of this letter in the " Newburgh
Telegram/' with favorable endorsement, and the proposi
tion also received the equally favorable endorsement of the
" Newburgh Journal," " Newburgh Register,7' " Newburgh
News/' and " Newburgh Press." Mr. Charles S. Jenkins,
on request, interviewed Mr. H. K. Bush-Brown, and received
from him, under date of February 14, 1896, the distinct
proposition that he " would have the statue of General
George Clinton cast in bronze and placed in Newburgh on
a suitable granite pedestal, and guarantee every part of it
carried out in the best manner, for the sum of three thou
sand dollars."

6 CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

The proposition to obtain had had from its first
publication the warm approval of Mr. Win. Cook
Belknap and Mr. Charles L. C. Kerr, and other members of
the " Historical Society of Newburgh Bay and the High
lands/7 and on formal submission to that body a committee,
composed of E. M. Ruttenber, Ghas. L. C. Kerr, Wm. Cook
Belknap, Jas. N. Dickey, Chas. F. Allan, and Eussel Head-
ley, was appointed to open subscriptions. The Committee
met — Rev. Rufus Emery, President of the Society, ex-officio,
acting as Chairman, and Wm. Cook Belknap, as Secretary—
and issued an appeal to the public, soliciting subscriptions
of " one dollar from each and every person, without limit
as to how many subscriptions should be made by any one
individual as the representative of family or friends."
Books were opened at the National Bank of Newburgh, the
Highland National Bank of Newburgh, the Quassaick Na
tional Bank of Newburgh, the Newburgh Savings Bank, the
Columbus Trust Company, the Newburgh Free Library, and
the members of the Committee. The first individual sub
scription was by Miss Mary H. Skeel (five). The Tenth
Separate Company and the Fifth Separate Company sub
scribed one dollar for each man on their respective rolls;
the Daughters of the American Revolution sent in fifty sub
scriptions; Newburgh Lodge, F. & A. M., and Hudson River
Lodge, F. & A. M., each twenty-five subscriptions, and New
burgh Lodge, No. 242, I. O. G. T., ten subscriptions. In
dividual subscriptions came in with liberality, and the fund
was aided by the proceeds of a ball match between the
Etna Club and Washington Heights Hose Co., net f 35.20;
and by the proceeds of the Corse Payton Comedy Co., volun
tarily tendered, net $91.80. When about tAvo-thirds of the
amount required had been realized, it was deemed best, in
order to insure the completion of the statue on or before
the 6th of October, to solicit special subscriptions, for which
purpose Mayor B. B. Odell (subsequently added to the Com-

HISTORICAL STATEMENT.

mittee) consented to act in association with Mr. Wm. Cook
Belknap. The response wa,s prompt and satisfactory. A
contract was then made with Mr. H. K. Bush-Brown, and
the statue was duly placed by him in Golden Square in ac
cordance with its terms.

The program of the exercises on the occasion of the un
veiling of the statue, the names of the subscribers to the
fund, and other matters relative, are annexed. The statue
is a duplicate of that placed by order of the State of New
York in the Rotunda of the Capitol at Washington. The
figure is seven feet in height, the pedestal is also seven feet.
The facial portraiture is from a bust of Gov. Clinton at
the time of his death and corresponds fairly with the St.
Memin portrait. The entire work is a work of art, and the
first step towards the Historical and Artistic embellishment
of the city.

CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Order of the Day*

The statue was unveiled on Tuesday, October 6th, 1896;
the occasion being the 119th anniversary of the battles at
Forts " Montgomery " and " Clinton,'- in the Highlands.
The celebration was entirely local and embraced the follow
ing official

ORDER OF THE DAY.

Rooms of the Clinton Statue Committee of the Historical Society of
Newburgh Bay and the Highlands:

Newburgh, N. Y., Oct. 3, 1896.

The following Program to be observed in connection with the unveiling
of the Statue of George Clinton in this city, on Tuesday afternoon, Oct.
6th, is published for the guidance of all concerned.

FORMATION OF PROCESSION.

First division on south side of Broadway, right resting on Liberty
street. Second division on north side of Broadway, right resting on Liberty
street. Third division on Liberty street, north of Broadway, and right
resting on Broadway. The various organizations will assemble at the
points designated at 1.30 p. m. Procession will move promptly at 2 o'clock
p. in., and the exercises at Golden Square will begin at 3 o'clock. The
citizens are requested to decorate and display national colors and, as far
as possible, to discontinue business and participate in making the occasion
one long to be remembered. By order

CHAS. H. WEYGANT, C. M.

CHAS. T. GOODRICH, Secretary.

ORDER OF PROCESSION.
Platoon of Police under City Marshal,

Emanuel Perrott.
Chief Marshal, Chas. H. Weygant.

Aids— Janies A. P. Ramsdell, J. Blackburn Miller, Frank G. Wood, Corne
lius L. Waring, Albert N. Chambers, Geo. E. Trimble, AVm. I. Cook,
F. G. Balfe.

ORDER OF THE DAY. 9

FIRST DIVISION.
Collins' Band, Newburgh.
Marshal, James T. Chase.
Fifth Separate Co., N. G. N. Y.

Captain, James T. Chase.

Twenty-first Regiment Band, Poughkeepsie.

Tenth Separate Co., N. G. N. Y.,

Captain, William G. Hunter.

Drum Corps.

Ellis Post, No. 52, G. A. R.,

William B. Russell, Commander.

S. W. Fullerton Post, No. 58, G. A. R.,

John N. Milliken, Commander.
Col. W. D. Dickey Camp, No. 106, S. of V.,

William G. Thorpe, Captain.

Participants of Exercises at Unveiling of Monument in Carriages, in charge
of Chas. T. Goodrich, Assistant Marshal.

SECOND DIVISION.
Marshal, Joseph M. Leeper.

K-nights of Pythias.

Waite's Comedy Band.

Assistant Marshal, A. G. Baxter.

Chas. T. Goodrich Division, No. 25, U. R.,

A. G. Baxter, Captain.

Storm King Lodge, No. 11,

C. H. Baumes, Chancellor Commander.

Olive Branch Lodge, No. 133,
Frank B. Bayless, Chancellor Commander.

Independent Order of Odd Fellows.

Assistant Marshal, James T. Erwin.

Highland Lodge, No. 65,

Isaac Sager, Noble Grand.

Bismark Lodge, No. 420,

Philip Diehl, Noble Grand.

Acme Lodge, No. 469,
Lewis Zimmerman, Noble Grand.

German Societies.
Assistant Marshal, Chas. E. Moscow.

People's Band.

Newburgh Turn Verein,

William Mucke, President.

Newburgh Mannerchor,
Ernest Brunngraber, President.

10 CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Newburgh German Citizens Association,

Henry Rudolph, President.

Independent Order of Red Men,

Muchattoes Tribe, No. 54,

Wm. J. Douglas, Sachem.

Minsis Tribe, No. 285,

Alexander O. Lockwood, Sachem.

Ancient Order Hibernians,

Newburgh Division, No. 4,

John Dourney, President.

Foresters of America,

Court Quassaick, No. 264,

Frederick Ott, Chief Ranger.

Court Newburgh, No. 44,

James Tole, Chief Ranger.

Court Pride-of-the-Hudson, No. 122,

Samuel Hewitt, Chief Ranger.

Sons of St. George,
Hudson River Lodge, No. 276,

Harry Milner, W. P.

Junior Order American Mechanics,

Highland Council, No. 5,

George Turner, Councilor.

Patriotic Order Sons of America,

Washington Camp, No. 13,

H. W. Walsh, Vice-President.

Order United American Mechanics,

Newburgh Council, No. 38,

James B. Ronk, Councilor.

THIRD DIVISION.

Marshal, William Nixon.
Aids— Andrew Glynn, Daniel Long, John Sansbury.

Peabody Band, Poughkeepsie.

Brewster Hook and Ladder Co., No. 1,

William P. Donahue, Foreman.

Anderson's Drum Corps.

Chapman Steamer Co., No. 1,

Michael McLaughlin, Foreman.

Ketcham Post Band, Marlboro.

C. M. Leonard Steamer Co., No. 2,

Edward F. Kelly, Foreman.

Elaine Drum Corps.
Highland Steamer Co., No. 3,

ORDEK OF THE DAY. 11

Charles E. McCleery, Foreman.

Walden Drum Corps.
Washington Steamer Co., No. 4,
Walter G. Allwoocl, Foreman.

Po'keepsie Drum Corps.

Ring-gold Hose Co., No. 1,

William Nixon, jr., Foreman.

Band.

Columbian Hose Co., No. 2,

John J. Strong, Foreman.

Rupp's Military Band, Newburgh.

Washington Heights Hose Co., No. 3,

George E. Purdy, Foreman.

Walden Cornet Band.

Lawson Hose Co., No. 5,

George R. Mitchell, Foreman.

LINE OF MARCH.

Starting on Broadway and moving north through Grand street to the
junction with North Water street, thence south through North Water and
Water street to Golden Square.

EXERCISES AT THE SQUARE.

1. Invocation by Rev. Charles H. Snedeker.

2. Singing by the audience — " America " — accompanied by band.

3. Unveiling of the statue by Master Albert Rivers Genet, Jr., of Sing
Sing, great-great-great-grandson of George Clinton, accompanied by other
descendants.

4. Salute of statue by 17 guns at Headquarters, all bands playing " Red,
White and Blue."

5. Presentation of statue to the city by Rev. W. K. Hall, D. D.

6. Acceptance of statue on behalf of the city by Hon. B. B. Odell,
Mayor.

7. " Star Spangled Banner," by bands.

8. Address by Hon. M. H. Hirschberg.

9. Benediction by Rev. Henry B. Cornwell, D. D.

HISTORICAL COMMITTEE.

E. M. RUTTENBER, C. L. C. KERR,

RUSSEL HEADLEY, HON. B. B. ODELL,

CHAS. F. ALLAN, REV. RUFUS EMERY,

JAMES N. DICKEY, President Ex-Officio.

W. COOK BELKNAP,

Secretary.

12 CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Unveiling Ceremonies*

The unveiling ceremonies were conducted from a stand
erected on the south end of Golden Square. The large as
sembly was called to order by the Chairman of the Commit
tee, Mr. E. M. Ruttenber, who introduced Mr. Kussel Head-
ley, who, on behalf of the Committee, made the following
explanatory remarks:

Ladies and Gentlemen:

At the solicitation of the Committee of Arrangements, the Rev. Dr.
Hall has kindly consented to preside on this occasion, and discharge those
duties connected with the ceremonies abont to take place, which would
have devolved upon the Rev. Rufus Emery, the President of the Historical
Society. Both the committee and all AV!IO have been in anywise brought
into connection with Mr. Emery during the progress of this patriotic pro
ject desire to publicly voice their sincere regret that he has been prevented
by a severe illness from being present with us to-day, and thus deprived
from witnessing the completion of a work which has enlisted his liveliest
interest, and toward the success of which his constant efforts and untiring
zeal have contributed in a most material degree. Dr. Hall will now take
the chair.

Rev. Dr. Hall, President, introduced the Eev. Chas. H.
Snedeker, who made the following

INVOCATION.

O Lord, Our God; Father of Nations and of men! Thou hast crowned
us with glory and honor, and enriched us with every token of Thy Love.
We thank Thee for the favored place of our American Nation among the
peoples of the earth. We thank Thee for the patriots and the fathers, for
those great and good men who have caught a measure of Thy Spirit, and
led us on toward liberty and righteousness. We thank Thee for the
glorious name and the abundant labors of the heroic statesman in whose
honor we are this day assembled. May the inspiration of this hour re
double our devotion to the welfare of our fellowmen and of this world
which Thou Thyself hast so unceasingly loved. Grant, we beseech Thee,

UNVEILING CEREMONIES. 13

that as this noble monument shall grace the busy scenes of our city's
commerce, may it keep us mindful of the unselfish virtues which made
him ji-reat, and may we, too, be enabled by Thy Grace to do our duty
as brothers, citizens, patriots and men, and to Thy Name alone will we
ascribe the praise. Anieu.

" America " was then sung by the audience, led by
Messrs. Nathan S. Taylor, Wm. H. Ooldwell, and George
G. Peck, accompanied by Collins' band.

UNVEILING THE STATUE.

The ceremony of unveiling the statue was then performed.
The arrangements for the purpose were complete and the
scene dramatic. The cord was placed in the hands of
Albert Rivers Genet, Jr., aged seven years, son of Albert
Rivers Genet, of Sing Sing, and great-great-great-grandson
of Governor Clinton, with the following descendants of Gov.
Clinton standing as guard-of -honor, viz: Gilbert Rodman
Genet, brother of Albert Rivers Genet, Jr., aged six years,
great-great-great-grandson; Albert Rivers Genet, great-
great-grandson; Mrs. Elizabeth T. Burdett, of Englewood,
N. J., great-great-granddaughter; George Clinton Genet,
great-grandson; George Clinton Hale, of Catskill, Charles
Hale, Will K. Hale, Anna M. Hale, Mary L. Hale, great-
great-grand-children, children of George C. and Anna M.
Hale, of Catskill. The shroud-veil— a flag of the United
States — rose gracefully and floated in full expanse above
the statue, while the audience broke into cheers, the several
bands played " Columbia the Gem of the Ocean," and a
salute of 17 guns at the Headquarters of Washington awoke
the echoes in the hills.

ADDRESS BY REV. WM. K. HALL, D. D.

On the restoration of order, Rev. Dr. Hall, Chairman, de
livered the following address:

Fellow Citizens: The honor of the inception of the patriotic enterprise
which has resulted in this occasion, the first of the kind in the history of

14 CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Newburgh, is due to a Daughter of the American Revolution, Miss Mary
H. Skeel, who has not lived to see this full realization of her desire and
to participate with us in these rejoicings.

A frequent visitor to the studio of our esteemed citizen, Mr. H. K. Bush-
Brown, she had often admired the model of the statue which the sculptor's
uncle, Henry K. Brown, in whose national fame Newburgh has just pride,
was commissioned by the State of New York to execute as one of the two
statues of her most distinguished sons of the Revolutionary Era to be
placed in the rotunda of the Nation's Capitol. This happy thought came
into her mind, ' Newburgh should erect a statue from that model in one
of its public parks.' Encouraged by a subsequent consultation with the
artist, she made a public appeal through one of the city newspapers on
January 7, 1896, in behalf of the project. That appeal received a prompt
and hearty response from one whose enthusiasm in historical research,
and particularly in that of our own locality and neighborhood, has con
tributed so largely to the fostering of a patriotic interest and pride in our
Revolutionary history. I scarcely need to mention his name in this pres
ence, Mr. Edward M. Ruttenber. Two young men, the youngest members
of the Newburgh Historical Society, the sons of honored sires prominently
identified with the recent history of our city, Messrs. William Cook Bel-
knap and Charles L. C. Kerr, caught his enthusiasm, and together with our
veteran historian laid the matter before the Historical Society for its
consideration. Impressed by their ardent presentation of the project and
their courageous faith in its success the Society took immediate and unani
mous action, appointing them, with Messrs. James N. Dickey, Dr. Charles
F. Allan and Russel Headley, and the President, the Rev. Rufus Emery,
as Chairman ex-officio, a committee to raise the requisite funds by a popu
lar subscription. To this committee there was afterwards added his Honor,
Mayor Odell, by whose timely, personal efforts the subscription was suc
cessfully completed.

And now, Mr. Mayor, with this brief recital of the history of this
enterprise, in the outcome of which we all so heartily rejoice to-day, the
grateful duty falls to me to make formal presentation of this statue through
you to the City of Newburgh. Though this patriotic endeavor has been
made under the leadership and auspices of the Newburgh Historical
Society, it had not been possible for it to issue in this success, crowned as
it is by this large, enthusiastic assemblage of people and of our military,
firemauic and civic organizations, were it not for the general and ready
response to the appeals of the Society for the co-operation of citizens and
our public press.

In behalf, therefore, of many citizens and others, as well as in behalf
of the Newburgh Historical Society, I now commit to your care and to the
care of your honored successors in office this statue of George Clinton.
This statue will adorn our city, but not for this primarily has it been erect
ed. This statue will honor the memory of a native citizen of our county,

UNVEILING CEREMONIES. 15

whose name is illustrious in the annals of the State and of the Republic,
but not for this mainly has it been erected. It has been erected in the hope
and in the belief that the heroic virtues, exalted patriotism, eminent abil
ities and purity of character exemplified by George Clinton, which won
for him the many high and honorable official trusts which are inscribed
on this pedestal, may be an inspiration to us and to the generations that
are to come after us. As long as this statue shall stand in the midst of
the busy trafficking of these thoroughfares, may it be a silent force in
the culture of a spirit not only loyal to the memory of the founders of
the Nation, but loyal to the institutions of liberty they conceived and be
queathed to us. So shall the sentiment incised upon the base of the statue
ever find an echo in the hearts and lives of our citizens: " Country is dear,
Liberty is dearer." (Applause.)

ADDRESS BY MAYOR B. B. ODELL.

His Honor, Mayor Benj. B. Odell, responded as follows:

Mr. President: I can assure you and those of your Society and other
citizens whom you represent, that I have never been called upon to dis
charge a more agreeable duty as Mayor than is involved in the acceptance
of this magnificent monument. Our city has been highly favored by nature
in its location and surroundings; it has a record unusually rich in historic
associations; and in its churches, its schools and its many other public-
buildings will compare very favorably with any other city of its size in
the land. But it has been heretofore destitute of any public monument,
excepting the property of the State at Washington's Headquarters. This
artistic creation which you present to the city to-day is therefore valuable
as a means of civic adornment, while at the same time it serves as a
permanent memorial of a great man, Avhose fame is a part of the colonial
and revolutionary history of the neighborhood.

George Clinton wras an illustrious member of a most illustrious family
among the pioneers of what is now Orange County. His achievements as
a soldier and a statesman render the erection of a monument to his memory
in every way commendable and proper, and there is no place more suitable
for it than here in Newburgh. On behalf of the city I accept it with
gratitude and gratification, and trust that it may ever stand not only as
a proud ornament of our beautiful city, but also as an artistic instructor of
our citizens and our visitors in the great lessons of duty, devotion and
patriotism which are inseparably connected with the life and public ser
vice of George Clinton. (Applause.)

16 CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

ORATION BY RON* M. H. HIRSCHBERG.

These addresses were followed by the " Star Spangled
Banner" by the several bands in attendance, and at its con
clusion Dr. Hall introduced the orator of the day, Hon.
M. H. Hirschberg, who spoke as follows:

Mr. President and fellow citizens: We have assembled to-day to com
memorate the life and perpetuate the features of a great American. He
has not always received in full measure the due recognition of his services.
His character and his achievements are but imperfectly understood and
appreciated by the present generation. No published volume devotes itself
exclusively to the narration of his biography; no public monument im
mortalizes his memory; but it is our purpose that from this day forth on
this historic spot the genius of art shall tell the thrilling story of his noble
life as long as granite withstands the elements and bronze endures. Since
he was the proud product of our own county as at present constituted,
the celebration has been made wholly local in its scope and character.
Suggested by a public spirited Newburgh woman, adopted and carried out
under the auspices of our Historical Association, and powerfully aided at
a critical moment by our city's Executive, it is fitting that our civic
societies, our fire and military organizations, and our citizens generally,
should grace and dignify the ceremony with their presence. So too it is
matter of congratulation that the statue which we unveil is itself the pro
duction of a former great Newburgh artist whose National reputation sur
vives his span of life. But the fame which kindles our admiration cannot
be confined to the limits of our city or our county. The illustrious deeds
which compel our homage to-day, and the stirring scenes which inspire
our memories are the priceless heritage of freemen everywhere. Wherever
civilization spreads its benign influence, and the hope of liberty cheers and
illumines the life of man, the story of George Clinton should be hailed as
at once an inspiration and a benediction. His history is the record of a
man born of the common people, in unsettled times and amid unpromising
worldly surroundings, yet winning a high place without adventitious aid,
by dint alone of his unequalled energy, courage and force of character,
wearing the rewards of public honor, esteem and confidence to the close
of a lengthened life; and leaving in death an unsullied name and an un
broken record of patriotic services to his country.

George Clinton was born at Little Britain, in the neighboring town of
New Windsor, on the 26th day of July, 1739. His parents had emigrated
from the country of Longford in Ireland ten years before, sailing from
Dublin, May 20th, with the intention of debarking at Philadelphia, but
landing at Cape Cod, in October following, after a voyage as fateful and
momentous as it was protracted. His father was the lineal descendant of
a titled adherent to the cause of royalty during England's civil wars as an

ORDER OF THE DAY. 17

officer in the army of Charles I. Religious proscription incited the act of
emigration, and with a number of his fellow immigrants the elder Clinton
settled in Little Britain in the Autumn of 1730, purchasing the farm on
which George, his youngest son, was afterwards born. The country was
then a wilderness, and the Clinton home was fortified and stockaded for
security from savage incursions, and as a refuge to neighbors in time
of need, agreeably to pioneer custom. Here George Clinton was educated
in the school of nature, amid her grandest and most inspiring surroundings,
ripening quickly into the matchless manhood of a typical colonist, strong,
hardy, alert, sagacious and brave, breathing the spirit of independence in
every pure blast of the virgin forest air, and moulding a physical and
moral being, firm, reliant, rugged and unshakable as the granite of his
native hills.

It is not surprising that his early years gave promise of his characteris
tic activity, enterprise and courage. In the second French and Indian war,
when but sixteen years of age, he enlisted on board a privateer which
sailed from the port of New York, and on his return he demanded and
received a sub-commission in the company of his brother in their father's
regiment, and with them rendered valuable service in the expedition
against Fort Frontenac. On the cessation of hostilities he studied law in
the office of the Chief Justice, William Smith, was admitted to the bar,
and commenced the practice of his profession in his native county, then
Ulster, where for some time he held the offices of County Clerk and Surro
gate. He was meanwhile elected a member of the Colonial Legislature,
and served in that body until its closing cession under the English Govern
ment, during which period no voice was firmer in resistance to the aggres
sive demands of the ministry, and none among his distingished associates
received greater recognition as a leader. In 1775 he was elected a member
of the Continental Congress, remaining in attendance until the adoption
of the Declaration of Independence, but leaving Philadelphia to engage in
active service as a revolutionary soldier before that instrument was pre
pared to receive the signatures. He was appointed one of the first briga
dier-generals in the Continental Army, and as such saw active and inces
sant service during the first years of the revolutionary struggle. The
British had succeeded in invading and capturing the City of New York,
and during these years his chief military duty was devoted to guarding the
passes and forts of the Highlands. That this work was skilfully, ener
getically and effectively performed, is the unanimous verdict of history.

Meanwhile, however, in accordance with the recommendation of the
Continental Congress measures were taken for the formation of a State
Constitution. In the Spring of 1777 a convention was held for that purpose
and a constitution duly adopted, and under it in the summer of that year
George Clinton was elected with great unanimity by the people of the
State of New York to the offices both of Governor and Lieutenant Gover
nor. When we consider that he was not formally nominated and that

18 CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

among the candidates voted for were such men as Schuyler, Jay and the
Livingstons, scions all of proud and noble lineage and princely fortunes,
this spontaneous selection of a New Windsor pioneer farmer's son to be
the first magistrate of the State is a striking proof of the impress he had
already made upon the age. It was with reluctance that he accepted the
office of Governor, and with difficulty that he could be persuaded to leave
his post in the Highlands long enough to appear at Kingston and take
the oath of office. Yielding to the importunities of the Legislature he
finally went to Kingston, and according to one account, in front of the
Court House, clothed in the uniform of a continental general, with sword
in hand, and standing upon a barrel, he officially assumed by oath the
duties of the first Governor of the State. This act performed he im
mediately returned to his post in the Highlands to engage in the most
sanguinary conflict of his1 military life.

His defense of the Highland forts merits more than a passing notice
to-day. It is the story of the only battle ever fought on the soil of Orange
County. It was a culminating act in an invasion the successful resistance
of which sealed the fate of the British dominion over the colonies, and this
day is its one hundred and nineteenth anniversary. In the year 1777 the
British Government, then in possession of the St. Lawrence and of the
harbor at the mouth of the Hudson, designed an invasion embracing both
streams and the lakes and valleys which unite them; a magnificent war
path along which France and England had contended for a century for the
control of the western continent. The scheme was comprehensive in its
broad simplicity. Burgoyne, the very flower of royalist military pride,
was to proceed from Canada through Lake Champlain and down the
upper valley of the Hudson to Albany. St. Leger from Oswego was to
push through the Valley of the Mohawk, reaching the same point; and
Sir William Howe, from New York was to force his way up the majestic
Hudson, reduce the forts under Clinton's command, break through the
chain and boom which had been placed across the river beneath the
beetling Highland crags, and proceed on his triumphant way to join Bur
goyne and St. Leger. It was confidently believed that the three forces so
co-operating would succeed in severing the New England colonies from
their sisters, and thus by a single and combined blow shatter the revolu
tionary hopes forever. How gaily Burgoyne sailed up the lake, with
beating drums and flying banners, the summer's sun glinting from the
helmets of his German dragoons, and lighting up the swarthy faces of his
savage allies; and with what short-lived confidence St. Leger invested
Fort Stanwix as a preliminary to dealing death and desolation along the
pathway of the winding Mohawk, are all too well known to require
repetition. The fall of Ticonderoga, the unsuccessful siege of Fort Stan
wix, the deadly ambuscade of Oriskany, the famous triumph of Benning-
ton, the double victory of Bemus Heights, and the final glorious and
decisive field of Saratoga, are the revolutionary watchwords of the state.

OKDEE OF THE DAY. 19

Deserted by his Indian allies, his forces reduced by fatal defeat, and
scarcely less fatal victory, without provisions or the means of transporta
tion, hemmed in by the forces of Gates, hourly increasing as the startled
colonists gained confidence and courage, Burgoyne in the early autumn
found the glad hopes of the summer converted to despair; and doubtful
whether to retreat or to surrender, he despatched a hasty message to
New York for the expected co-operation, announcing that he could hold
out only until October 12th. The vision of victory vanished while the
verdure still was green, and the courage of the invader bade fair to droop
and die with the falling of the forest leaves.

But Sir William Howe had unexplainedly sailed away to the south.
Some one had blundered. It seems the orders requiring Howe to co
operate with the others had never been despatched at all. They were not
originally written in accordance with the fastidious taste of Lord George
Germaine, and withheld for correction, were actually found after the
collapse of the invasion, unsigned upon the minister's desk in London.
Sir Henry Clinton, however, whom Sir William Howe had left in charge
of the British forces at New York, at last voluntarily responded to the
urgent appeal from the north by preparing late in the mouth of September
to proceed up the river to Burgoyne's succor. Reinforcements had just
arrived across the water and an unwonted activity was stirring New York's
unrivalled bay. All kinds of water craft ply the harbor, but the most
Conspicuous are the ships of war and the armed galleys carrying between
three and four thousand of the British soldiers. Slowly in the early October
days these vessels are wafted up the river. On the 4th, Putnam at Peek-
skill learns that Sir Henry's men have landed at Tarry town and he sends
the information across the river to our tough and determined Governor
at tjie Highland forts; but the landing is a mere feint designed to impress
and succeeding in impressing, on Putnam the idea that the east side of the
river is Sir Henry's point of attack. The men are soon recalled, the arma
ment sails further up the river, and on the 5th Sir Henry's men are once
more landed on the east shore, this time a few miles below Peekskill.
Putnam in haste draws back into the country east of Peekskill, to meet
the expected attack, and sends post haste to Governor Clinton at the
forts for reinforcements; but the entire manoeuvre of Sir Henry's is a
feint. Having drawn the attention of the American commanders to the
vicinity of Peekskill and Fort Independence, thus preventing a union of
their forces at the forts, in the early hours of October 6th, stealthily, and
shrouded in the obscurity of a fog, Sir Henry crosses the river to the west
shore just below the Dunderberg for a forced march through the narrow
and rugged mountain passes to the rear of the still unfinished forts which
he hopes will quickly yield to his overpowering assaults. Here between
Fort Montgomery on the north and Fort Clinton on the south the Poplopen
Creek bursts its channel through the Highlands. On either side the moun
tain crags tower steeply, and then, as now, the vivid glories of our autum-

20 CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

nal splendor blush and blaze upon their shaggy sides. The possibility of
hostile approach by land to these guardian forts had early challenged
Washington's keen sight, but Greene and Knox had reported it impractica
ble. Once again in war the impossible occurs. Through the Highland
defiles Sir Henry's men push and fight their way, stubbornly and bloodily
resisted by detachments sent out from the scanty garrisons, until at about
four o'clock in the afternoon, the patriot forces are driven within
the works and both forts are assailed. For an hour the desperate
and hopeless defense is still maintained, the Governor hoping for reinforce
ments from Putnam, who by this time must know Sir Henry's real purpose,
but determined to resist until nightfall may offer a chance of escape; and
his forces equally determined to die each man if need be, but never to
surrender. About five o'clock a British officer advances with a flag de
manding the surrender of the forts to prevent a further effusion of blood.
" Surrender yourselves," is our Governor's reply; " surrender yourselves
as prisoners of war and you shall be well treated. Otherwise renew your
attack at once, for I am determined to defend my post to the last extrem
ity." The attack is renewed at once with increased violence and im
petuosity, and just as the darkness of night closes upon the scene, over
powering numbers exhaust the depleted garrison and force the works.
Down the sheer precipice and through the dense and tangled brush
rush the American survivors to the river, our doughty General and his
wounded brother among the rest, and lighted by the blazing American
frigates, he, our hero, hastily crosses to Putnam to concert immediate and
effective measures to harass and check the further progress of the trium
phant foe.

Such in brief was the hopeless battle of the forts. It is the story of
more than a century ago. Peace smiles upon the country now; happy
villages, fruitful farms and stately mansions adorn the landscape; and
the tourists of the world gaze in rapture upon the grandeur of the rugged
Highland gorge through which the lordly river bears on its majestic bosom
the commerce of an empire to the sea. And in conquering, the final peace
and happiness which now pervade the scene the conflict so hastily de
scribed proved to be a potent force, for though the battle on the mountain
top was lost, the stubborn purpose of the defense was gained in the
delay which the reduction of the forts necessitated, in the effect of the
exhibition of American bravery and nerve, and in the succeeding intercep
tion of Sir Henry's message to Burgoyne to the effect that he was on the
way to the latter's relief. " Here we are," wrote Sir Henry; " here we are,
and nothing between us but Gates." This airy message of cheer and con
solation committed to the keeping of a spy is forced in its silver case from
the body of the messenger, by our general's rude emetic administered at
the house of Mrs. Falls, still standing at Little Britain, and Burgoyne is
left to ponder his deplorable condition without the knowledge of Sir
Henry's fruitless victory. A few days later the spy is hanging dead upon

ORDER OF THE DAY. 21

a tree in sight of Kingston's ashes, Burgoyne surrenders to Gates upon the
plains of Saratoga, Sir Henry's vandals return to New York, leaving the
Continental forces again in complete possession of the Highlands, and
America is free. The conflict indeed wages a few years longer but the
question has become but one of time. The defeat of the invasion inspires
the patriots with confidence and secures the French alliance, and that
alliance assures the final result. " Paul Revere's lantern," says Curtis,
" shone through the valley of the Hudson and flashed along the cliffs of the
Blue Ridge. The scattering volley of Lexington green swelled to the
triumphant thunder of Saratoga, and the reverberation of Burgoyne's fall
ing arms in New York shook those of Cornwallis in Virginia from his
hands."

Yes, it is the story of long, long ago; a story paralleled on countless
fields since freedom's battle first began. But it possesses a peculiar and a
personal interest to us. for the men who stood by Clinton's side to meet
the bayonet thrust and s;ibre blow were the men who rescued from
the wilderness the fair region in which we dwell. The brunt of the
resistance fell en the brave heroes of the Fifth Regiment of the New
York Continental line, a regiment organized to serve during the war under
the call of September 10th, 1776. and recruited almost, if not entirely,
from among the residents of Orange and Ulster Counties. This regiment
was commanded by Col. Lewis DuBois, of Huguenot descent, and a soldier
of distinguished colonial and revolutionary fame. Besides this regiment
and three regiments from other districts, there were Col. Lamb's artillery
and detachments of military from the Goshen regiment of Col. Allison,
the New Windsor regiment of Col. McClaughry, the Cornwall regiment of
Col. Woodhull and the Newburgh regiment of Col. Hasbrouck. But at
least one-third of the effective strength of Col. DuBois' command perished
in the engagement of October 6th, and this loss comprised a very large
percentage of the total casualties. On this anniversary hour it is most
fitting that we should recall their stubborn valor and yield a grateful
tribute to the memories of the men of this vicinity who died to give their
country independence.

To narrate in detail George Clinton's other military services is beyond
the scope of this address, li was after all in civil life that his virtues
chiefly shone, and his clain to the gratitude and the recognition of his
countrymen m«y well rest upon his statesmanship. In this regard he
displayed a most marked sagacity and far-sightedness. His view of pub
lic questions was always broad and comprehensive. His qualified op
position to the federal constitution has been at times unjustly criticised.
It is difficult for us to comi,-rehend the politics of 1788, but we, better
than the fathers, can appreciate the value of an opposition which secured
the amend ments proposed by the New York Convention under the leader
ship of its President, Gov. Clinton, and which sanctified the Constitution
of the United States by its association with the sacred bill of rights. This

22 CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

opposition secured to the people the freedom of religion and of speech, the
right of petition, the right to bear arms, immunity from unreasonable
search and seizure in their homes, and the constitutional safeguards which
surround the citizen accused of crime, and no man is entitled to greater
credit for their enactment in our fundamental law than is the just due of
George Clinton.

In 1780, and again in 1783, in 1786 and in 1789, in 1792 and in 1801, he
was re-elected Governor of the State. At the close of the last term in
1804 he was further honored by election to the office of Vice-President
of the United States under Thomas Jefferson's second administration, and
in 1808 he was re-elected Vice -President for the first term of James Madi
son's administration. The mere mention of these repeatedly renewed
expressions of public confidence suggests the exalted estimation of those
who best knew his sterling worth, and the most cursory examination of
the records of the time fully justifies the people in their good opinion. Dur
ing the war, of course the Governor and the legislature, when in session,
were chienj engaged in concerting measures for defense. But after hos
tilities were terminated and tranquillity restored, other subjects were per
mitted to engross the G or t riser's attention and chief among them were
the questions of internal improvements and public education. It was in
pursuance of his early recommendation that the board of regents of the uni
versity of the state was established and he became the first in its illustrious
line of chancellors. The institution has no parallel in the world. Unique
both in conception and in operation, it not only survived a century without
a distinctive home and with the most meagre official aid, .but its services
in the cause of higher education even under discouraging conditions proved
so admirably effective that the people of the state in 1894 felt constrained
to perpetuate the institution and its brilliant results by constitutional
recognition and adoption. So, too, the Governor found the common school
system prostrate. To build it up, to place it on a sure and permanent
foundation, and to foster and encourage its healthy growth and develop
ment were the salutary objects of his suggestions to the legislature from
year to year; and were we indebted to him for no other blessing than his
wise, foreseeing contribution;-; to the cause of both primary and secondary
education, which have since constituted so large a share of the true glory
of the state, that manifestation of genuine statesmanship woukl be amply
sufficient to justify the memorial which we unveil to-day.

In the matter of internal improvements his fame is overshadowed by
his nephew DeWitt. Yet his state papers furnish abundant evidence that
it was his mind which originally conceived the mighty system of inland
water communication which the genius and perseverance of the nephew
afterwards carried out. In short he advocated every measure during his
administration of the affairs of state which wTas calculated to advance the
interests and promote the happiness of his fellow citizens, and to keep

OBDER OF THE DAY. 23

New York in the highest rank in the promotion of the substantial welfare
and prosperity of the union.

He never lost his interest in public events. He was never an indiffer
ent observer of his country's progress. His retirement from the post
of Governor in 1795 was an act dictated by private matters which
imperatively demanded his attention, and the need of rest from the
incessant cares of state. He died at Washington on the 20th of April,
1812, while serving his second term in the second office in the laud, and
was buried there in the Congressional Cemetery. His children erected
a monument over his remains on which is inscribed the simple, truthful
tribute that " while he lived, his virtue, wisdom and valor were the pride,
the ornament and security of his country; aud when he died he left an
illustrious example of a well spent life, worthy of all imitation."

When the general government during its centennial celebration resolved
to place in the capitol at Washington the statues of two of the most
distinguished citizens of each of the original thirteen states, the State
of New York naturally selected George Clinton as one of its illustrious
representatives. The statue which now adorns that edifice was the pro
duction of the famous sculptor Henry K. Brown, and the statue which we
unveil is its replica. We see that Clinton was prepossessing in appearance,
dignified, energetic, majestic and intrepid, cast in the large mould of great
and noble men. He was essentially a man of the people, from them and
of them, and he never lost their confidence and affection. Washington
trusted him implicitly and felt especially that his judgment could always
be relied on. As a soldier, he was bold, courageous, and resourceful, of
unfailing will, absolute self-possession and unfaltering confidence in ulti
mate success. As a civil magistrate he was industrious, untiring, capable,
broad, sagacious and creative. In private life he was amiable and affec
tionate, but not lacking in firmness and decision, a wrarm friend and a
good haior. but always ready and eager to do an act of kindness. His
mind was strong, his perceptions clear, and his character displayed an
even and consistent uprighti-ess of purpose and a lofty patriotism which
were recognized and appreciated by the masses of his day, and earned
for him their ungrudging and unstinted respect, esteem and love. We
sum up our estimate of him in the words of one who knew him well:
" He had a boldness and inflexibility of purpose and decision and sim
plicity of character which resembled those of the hardy sons of antiquity
in the best days of Roman freedom, when the sages and heroes displayed
the majestic port and stern defiance of the ' lords of human kind.' "

And now our pleasant task in done. Here on the old " gore " where the
heroes of the revolution passed to and from the continental ferry; where
Washington, and Gates, and Greene, and Knox have often trod; where
the Father of his country watched and waited through many gloomy,
anxious hours of Liberty's Gethsemane, and where the final joyous resur
rection of the western world was triumphantly proclaimed to struggling

24 CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

and oppressed humanity; here where the many thousands of earth's
patriotic pilgrims tread the yearly pathway to Freedom's Mecca on the
hill; here where the tide cf peaceful trade and commerce ebbs and flows
and surges at its base, we plant our statue of George Clinton; and here
may it remain through countless centuries to teach the world the lofty
lessons of his noble and heroic life, and to testify forever our filial rever
ence for the memory or' the Father of the Empire State. (Loud applause.)

The oration was received with marked demonstrations
of appreciation, and at its conclusion the speaker was warm
ly congratulated.

Rev. Henry B. Corn well, D. D., pronounced the Benedic
tion:

The Blessing of God Almighty— the Father, the Son, and the Holy
Ghost— the Controller of the destiny of nations, and the Creator of all
souls, be with us now and evermore! Amen.

And the audience dispersed.

GEORGE CLINTON.

Born at Little Britain, Orange County, July 26, 1739.
Died at Washington, April 20, 1812, aged 73.

CORNELIA TAPPEN.

Wife of George Clinton, born at Kingston, N. Y., daughter
of Petrus and Tyante Tappen.

From Engravings by St. Memin in Possession of Pierre Van Cortlandt.
[Doc. Hist. N. Y., Vol. IVJ

26 CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Press Notes*

Newburgh Register, Oct. 6.

Very properly the committee, when it had secured the funds for the
construction of the statue, decided that there should be suitable exercises
attending the placing of it in position, and in order that it might be done
with as little ostentation and bluster as possible, it was decided to make it
wholly of local character. They had not the least idea that it would
eventually assume such gigantic proportions and prove in the end one of
the grandest and greatest local observances ever held in the city. But
Newburghers are never content with doing anything by halves, and when
their enthusiasm becomes thoroughly aroused there is no telling where
they will stop. It was so in this case, and when the military, firemanic,
fraternal and civic organizations were asked what they would do to aid
the committee in the waj of a parade, there was a general rally, and it
seemed almost like a repetition of the shout that went up during the days
of civil strife, when the call for more troops was made and the response
came back, " We are coming, Father Abraham, 300,000 more."

The day was not exactly what might have been styled " all that could
have been desired," but as the committee in charge had no control over the
meteorological department conducted by the government, it was in no
way responsible for the failure of the sun to shine all day, or the mercury
in the thermometer to touch the 80 degree mark. That it was not a
stormy day all should be thankful, and feel content with the blessings ac
corded, even if not up to the desired point of excellence. During the morn
ing hours everything ran along about as usual. The committee had per
formed its duty so fully that there was nothing left for them to do but
wait for the final exercises. The bronze figure had beeoi hoisted on the
pedestal yesterday, the box removed, and the reproduced form of him who
had so faithfully served his state and his nation, was hidden from the
view of the passer-by in the folds of the flag whose early history he had
himself taken no little part in making. * * * *

The orders of the marshal, Colonel Charles H. Weygant, issued to all
his aids and by them promulgated to the several organizations, in their
respective divisions, was that the coluniii would form at 1.30 p. m., so that
a half hour later the line of march might be taken up. For convenience
the column had been divided into three divisions, each having its particu
lar rendezvous, and so excellent had been the detail work performed that
there was no confusion and but little delay; in fact it is rare that a parade
is started so close on time as was the one of to-day. At 2.16 the column
moved up Broadway, on the south side of the street, and when the first
division, formed of military and veteran bodies, had got fairly under way,

PRESS NOTES. 27

the second division formed of fraternal organizations followed, and then
came Newburgh's glory, the fire department, forming the third division.
They went as far as the electric power house, and then countermarched on
the north side of the railroad track, coming down as far as Grand street.
There were about 1.500 persons in line, occupying a quarter of an hour
in passing. * * * *

The column marched up Grand street to its junction with Water street,
and then south to the place where the exercises were to be held. * * * *

The scene on the streets, as the column moved along, beggars descrip
tion, and as the head of the procession approached the park the scene was
one the like of which Water street has not seen since that autumnal day in
'83, when Newburgh fittingly observed the centenary of the proclamation
of peace. As far as the eye could see there was a mass of people assem
bled, only a small proportion of whom could hope to get near enough to
the speaker's stand to hear a word of what was being said, and some of
whom could scarcely see what was being done. * * * *

The assemblage joined in singing the inspiring national hymn " Ameri
ca." As the thousands of voices joined in its rendition a volume of melody
went up that threatened to drown the sound of the band as it played an
accompaniment. To thoroughly appreciate the honor of being an Ameri
can citizen one has but to listen to such a grand chorus as that on the
square to-day. The words seem to thrill the soul and to make one feel
that there is a realism in every utterance, and that truly they are pouring
out their soul in praise to our father's God, author of liberty. As the last
note died away, the statue Avas unveiled. * * * *

Simple words can but fully describe the enthusiasm that prevailed, or
the scene as the flag dropped from the well proportioned form of the
statue of the first governor of the Empire State of the union. Cheer after
cheer went up. the bands were playing " Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean,"
and from Washington's headquarters could be heard the booming of
cannon, as a salute of 17 guns was fired. * * * *

Newburgh Telegram, Oct. 11.

The celebration of the George Clinton statue, on Tuesday, was a marked
success. As a home product it has had no equal in our history, nor has
it been exceeded by any event, except by the great centennial of '83, when
New York City, Brooklyn and the national government were contributing
elements. Masses of people — a very sea of faces — witnessed the procession
on Broadway and through Grand street to Clinton, while Water street was
simply packed. The elements composing the procession were the flower
of the male representatives of Newburgh' s population in fine dress, regalied
or panoplied for war, with heroes surviving fields of conflict— a procession
bristling with bands of music and uumarred by intemperance, cigars or
cigarettes, and well ordered and admirably handled. The only mar
throughout was the effort to put 25,000 people into the triangle and its
immediate approaches — it could not be done, and the effort to do it only

CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

resulted in noise, confusion, pressing, squeezing, and, worst of all, in the
utter inability to get the firemen within two blocks of the stand. Decora
tions along the line of march were abundant and in many cases elaborate.
The manifestations of interest were everywhere apparent. * * * *

We are sure that every man, woman and child who witnessed the pro
cession was proud of its appearance and representative character. We are
not going to say that " as a home product " it was a grand demonstration,
but we are going to say that it was a grand demonstration compared with
anything that can be produced elsewhere. Perhaps the Knights of Py
thias excelled in marching in the civic division; but the honors seemed to be
pretty evenly divided. The fire companies will have to settle the claim
to superiority among themselves. There is no doubt that the boys in
red shirts aind black pants were recognized most distinctly as firemen.
The age of art in firemanic uniforms was in evidence, as well as the age of
art in history. The representation was the first appearance of most of
our companies in the new departure. They looked well, no doubt about
it. * * * *

The vast audience dispersed, everybody within hearing distance con
gratulating every other body upon the success of the whole affair, the
eloquence of the speakers, the appropriateness of the exercises, and them
selves in particular as a part of the grand aggregate in an event which
opens to our city the era of art in history. * * * *

Newburgh Journal, Oct. 6.

To-day is Clinton Day in Newburgh. The exercises held this day in
Golden Square, the decorations which appear in every part of the city,
the splendid parade of the local organizations, are all in memory of General
George Clinton, first Governor of the State of New York, elected to that
high office six times, twice elected Vice-President of the United States.

General Clinton was a son of Orange, born but a few miles distant from
the spot on which his statue stands. It was fitting, therefore, that New
burgh should thus honor his memory, as that of one of the Revolutionary
patriots who fought for the national cause on the soil of Orange County.
That this honor has been paid in a manner most appropriate will be the
judgment of all who witnessed the day's events. * * * *

The work of decorating residences, public buildings and places of busi
ness began yesterday, and has been performed with taste and effectiveness.
Not often has the city been so adorned as it is to-day. The National colors
of course have had the chief place in this work of decoration. * * * *

Golden Square never held more people than to-day, not even in the great
centennial outpouring of 1883. It was packed from end to end and from
side to side, and the streets in the neighborhood were also packed. Ten
thousand is a small estimate of the number of people gathered there to-day.

Of similar tenor were the descriptions in the " Newburgh
News " and the " Newburgh Press. "

CORRESPONDENCE. 29

Correspondence*

State of New York, Executive Chamber,

Albany, October 5, 1896.
William Cook Belknap, Esq., Secretary,

Newburgh, N. Y.

Dear Sir: Governor Morton is in receipt of the invitation which you
forwarded to him on behalf of the committee having in charge the exer
cises to be held in Newburgh, N. Y., to-morrow at the unveiling of the
statue of George Clinton, first Governor of the State of New York. He
directs me to say that he has held this invitation unanswered until now in
the hope that he might be able to be present, but at the last moment he
finds that official business will require his attendance to-morrow at the
capitol to meet a number of engagements made some time ago, and which
could not well be set aside without great inconvenience to the persons who
desire to appear before him. He, therefore, expresses to" the committee
his thanks for their courteous invitation, and regrets that it will not be
possible for him to attend.

Very respectfully,

ASHLEY W. COLE,

Private Secretary.

709 Fifth Ave., New York, October 3, 1896.
Mr. W. C. Belknap,

Secretary of the Newburgh Historical Society,

My Dear Sir: I have to thank you for the kind invitation of your
committee of arrangements, to be present at the unveiling of the statue of
Governor George Clinton in your city on the 6th of this month.

It would give me great pleasure to be present on such an interesting
occasion, but my health is such that I must deny myself the enjoyment I
would have, to mingle with the patriotic citizens who have been instru
mental in the movement which has led to the achievement of so important
a result in honoring the memory of one, so long identified with the
early history of your beautiful city.

Again thanking you, and through you the committee for their courtsey,
1 am

Yours very respectfully,

J, A. C. GRAY,

30 CLINTON STATUE UNYEILING.

State of New York, Court of Appeals, Judges' Chambers,

Albany, October 4, 1896.
Wm. Cook Belknap, Esq., Secretary, etc., etc.

My Dear Sir: You kind invitation has but just come to my hands,
upon my return here, or I should have acknowledged the receipt earlier.
I regret that the necessity of my attendance upon my Court will prevent
my going to Newburgh upon the occasion of the unveiling of the statue of
George Clinton on next Tuesday. Thanking you for the invitation I am

Very truly yours,

J. M. CLINTON, ESQ.

488 Marshall St., Milwaukee, Wis.

October 5, 1896.
Wm. C. Belknap,

Dear Sir: I have this moment received your invitation to attend the
unveiling of the statue of my illustrious ancestor, George Clinton. It is
impossible, even with the mo'St rapid transit system, for me to reach you
to-morrow. I regret it exceedingly, and I beg you to convey to the His
torical Society my thanks for their kind invitation and my inability to
bridg the space between us and be present in body as I shall in spirit.

Most gratefully,

MARIE CLINTON LEDIJC.

The Chenango National Bank of Norwich.

Norwich, N. Y., Oct. 1, 1896.
William Cook Belknap, Esq.,

Secretary Historical Society, Newburgh, N. Y.

Dear Sir: It would give me pleasure to accept your Society's invitation
to be present at the unveiling of the George Clinton statue, but it is to be
located too far away for my convenience on the date named— Oct. 6— and
so I will send my thanks for the courtesy extended to

Yours truly,

CYRUS B. MARTIN.

71 Wall St.. New York. October 2, 1896.
Mr. Wm. C. Belknap, Secretary,

Dear Sir: I have been absent from this city for several weeks, and am
just in receipt of your kind favor, stating your committee has extended
an invitation to me to be present at the unveiling of the George Clinton
statue, on Tuesday, 6th inst. I sincerely regret an important business
engagement on said date, will prevent my accepting.

With cordial thanks to the committee, and yourself, I am,

Very sincerely yours,

A. J. CLINTON,

SUBSCRIBERS TO THE FUND

Subscribers to the Fund

Abrahamson, Hilda
Abrahamson, Matilda
Acker, E. S.
Adams, A. E.
Adams, Geo. B.
Adams, John C.
Adams, Mrs. John C.
Akerly, Mrs. Charlotte M.
Akerly, Lucy Dubois
Akerly, Mary
Akerly, Rev. Samuel M.
Aldridge, Wm. H.
Alexander, Harvey
Alexander, Joseph
Allan, C. F.

Allan, Francis Crawford
Allan, Mary E. C.
Allen, Mrs. Sarah
Allen, William
Allen, James
Allison. Mrs. Anna DeP.
Anderson, Elizabeth S.
Anderson, Hilma
Anthony, Mary H.
Anthony, Mary T.
Anthony, Theo. V. W.
Anthony, Walter C.
Appleton, Eliza J.
Appleton, Elizabeth
Appleton, G. J.
Armstrong. Wm. J.
Armstrong, W. H. H.
Arbuckle, George A.
Atkins, George H.
Avery, Mary St. John
Bain, F. N.

Bain, Mrs. F. N.
Bain, Helen
Bain, H. N.
Bain. Mrs. H. N.
Bain, H. N. & Co.
Baird, John
Bailey, C. I.
Baker, Frank L.
Baker, Fred
Baker, John J.
Baker, Mrs. J. Ed.
Balfe, T. F.
Bancroft, Jolm H.
Banks, Frederic W.
Banks, Margaret A.
Barclay, David
Barclay, Mrs. David H.
Barclay, Harriet E.
Barclay, Maude M.
Barclay, P. M.
Barnes, E. C.
Barnes, James W.
Barney, Mrs. J. L.
Barns, W. D.
Barr, Rev. Robert H.
Barrett, Mrs. E. R.
Bartlett, Fred
Bartlett, H. A.
Bartlett, Mary H.
Barton, Charles
Bannies, C. H.
Bayne, James
Bayne, John R.
Beattie, Rev. R. H.
Bedell, Newton
Belknap, Wm. Cook

CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Belknap, Mrs. Charlotte
Belknap, Cornelia R.
Belknap, Evelina D.
Belknap, Edmund S.
Belknap, Edwin Starr
Belknap, E. W.
Belknap, Frank S.
Belknap, Florence H.
Belknap, Helen K.
Belknap, Mary E.
Belknap, N. Deyo
Belknap, Ward
Belknap, Ward Broadhead
Belknap, Wm. Cook, Jr.
Bell, Anna C.
Bell, David
Bell, Mrs. David
Bell, David C.
Bennett, Hannah M.
Bennett, Mrs. Geo.
Bensel, A. A.
Bensel, Mrs. A. A.
Birch, James G.
Birch, Mrs. James G.
Bircurary, Wm.
Birnie, Alex. O.
Birnie, Gabrielle G.
Board, Frank
Bomberger, J.
Boothroyd, Arthur W.
Boothroyd, J. T.
Boothroyd, Mrs. J. T.
Boothroyd, Raymond T.
Bourne, C. Clayton
Boyd, Robt. H.
Boyer, Mrs. Arthur A.
Bradley, Ambrose
Bradley, Mrs. Ambrose
Bradley, Ambrose S.
Bradley, Charles T.
Bradley, Emma J.
Bradley, F. J.
Bradley, Mrs. F. J.
Bradner, Mary W.
Brewster, Anna W.

Brewster, E. A.

Brewster, Mrs. E. A.

Brewster, Elizabeth T.

Brewster, George R.

Bridgeman, Alfred

Bridgeman, Mrs. Alfred

Briggs, J. A.

Brill, Edward Hopkins

Brill, Harriet Oakley

Brill, J. S.

Brill, Ruth Oakley

Brink, C.

Brockaway, I. M.

Brooks, Alfred H.

Brooks, E. G.

Brotzmann, George F.

Brougham, Mary

Brown, Chas. F.

Brown, Mrs. Chas. F.

Brown, C. L.

Brown, Miss Florence

Brown, Mrs. Geo. T.
Brown, Miss Nana
Brown, S. F.
Brown, Wm. H.
Bruder, James
Brundage, Mrs. E. E. M.
Rrundidge H. V.
Bull, Emilie Grace
Bull, Herbert E.
Bull, John S.
Bull, Martha M.
Bull, S. M.
Burton, Crawford
Burton, Florence S.
Burton, Florence Southwick
Burton, Louise
Burton, Robert L.
Caldwell, Charles
Caldwell, Mrs. Charles
Caldwell, Janet
Caldwell, John R.
Caldwell, Mary S.
Callahan, Geo. M.
Callahan, Margaret L.

SUBSCRIBERS TO THE FUND. 33

Cameron, Ada D. Chadwick, William E.

Cameron, A. May Chadwick, Willie

Cameron, DeWitt Clinton Chadeayne, H. W.

Cameron, D. G. Chambers, A. N.

Cameron, Kenneth M. Chambers, Mrs. A. N.

Cameron, Mrs. De Witt C. Chambers, Durno

Cameron, Sarah M. Chambers, Helen

Campbell, Jennie Chambers, Mrs. W. C

Campbell, Sadie Chambers, Wm.

Cantine, Emily' E. Chambers, W. C.

Cantine, Francis M. Chandler, Mrs. A. K.

Cantine, Geo. A. Chapman, I. C.

Carpenter, Wm. W. Chapman, Mrs. I. C.

Carroll, Edward Chapman, John H.

Carroll, Joseph Chatterton, Jule P.

Carroll, Mary Chatterton, Susie I).

Casey, Helen Thornton Chew, Rev. J. M.

Carr, W. J. Church, Irving P.

Carson, Agnes O. Church, S. P.
Carson, David, Si1., Craigville, 1704 Clapp, Annie Brooks

(In memoriam) Clapp, Eliza Townsend

Carson, David F. B. Clark. Delia

Carson, George W. Clark, Mrs. Edson L.

Carson, Harry W. Clark, Edson Stanley

Carson, John D. Clark, Frances

Carson, Margaret D. Clark, George A very

Carson, Sarah M. Clark, Juliette Weed

Carson Thomas G. Clark, Leander, Jr.

Carson, Wm. W. Clark, Owen

Carver, Geo. B. Clark, Zipporah R.

Carvey, Mrs. W. S. Clarke, E. Y.

Carvey, W. S. Clarke, Ernest P.

Cassedy, Mrs. W. F. Clarke, Mrs. Mary E.

Cassedy, J. Townsend Clarkson, D. A.

Cassedy, W. F. Clauson, Henry P.

Cathcart, Hugh Cleveland, Frances E.

Chadborn, G. F. Cleveland, Harry W.

Chadwick Bros. Cleveland, Louis C.

Chadwick, James Cleveland, O. M.

Chadwick, Mrs. James Cleveland, Mrs. O. M.

Chadwick, Joseph Clinton, A. J.

Chadwick, Mrs. Joseph Clinton, Mrs. A. J.

Chadwick, Joseph, Jr. Cohen, Mrs. Sol.

Chadwick, M. L. Cohen, Sol.

Chadwick, Thomas F. Coldwell, Kenneth Peirce

CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Coldwell, Mrs. Wm. H.

Coldwell, Thos.

Coldwell, Theodore

Coldwell, Wm. H.

Coleman, William

Collier, Mrs. Price

Collier, Katherine

Collier, Price

Collins, Mary

Colvill, Arthur

Colwell, Miss A. B.

Conkling, B. H.

Conners, John

Connell, Mary

Conyngham, John A.

Cook, A. M.

Cook, J. Hervey

Cook, Martha M.

Cook, Mrs. W. H.

Cook, Pierre F.

Cook, R. P.

Coolbaugh, Addie Reeve

Coolbaugh, Mrs. Adeline R.

Coolbaugh, Wilhelmine F.

Corley, Mary E.

Cornwell, Rev. Henry B.

Cornwell, Mrs. Sarah J.

Cornwell, W. K.

Corwin, John

Coutant, D. J.

Covert, C. W.

Covert, Helen Denniston

Covert, Mrs. C. W.

Covert, O. J.

Covert, Mrs. O. J.

Covert, Wm. J.

Craig, Frederick Phillips

Craig, Hector

Craig, Harriet Ruena

Craig, Mary D.

Crane, James M.

Crane, James T.

Crawford, Fanny C. \

Crawford, David

Crawford, Isaac B. f (In

Crawford, James T. '

Crist, John N.
Crowther, Nelson
Cronk, Viola K.
Culbert, Francis R.
Culbert, Mrs. Henrietta P.
Curtis, Lewis
Curtis, Susie Carson
Curtis, Thomas Carson
Cusack, Rev. Andrew F.
Daly, John J.
Dales, John
Dannat, W. B.
Darragh, J. J.
Decker, Geo. W.
Decker, G. W.
Delany, Joseph A.
Delany, P. & Co.
Delaney, Bessie
Delaney. Mollie
Delaney, P.
Delano, Catharine
Delano, Frederic A.
Delano, Mrs. Frederic A.
Delano, Helen W.
Delano, Jennie W.
Delano, Laura
Delano, Lyman
Delano, Louise
Delano, Laura
Delano, Sara
Delano, Warren
Delano, Warren, Jr.
Delano, Mrs. Warren, Jr.
Dell, Andrew
Dell, Andrew
Dell, Mrs. Andrew
Denniston, Alexander
Denniston, Anna M.
Denniston, Aug.
Denniston, Chas. M.
Denniston, Henry M.
Denniston, Mrs. Mary
Denniston, Mary E.
Denniston, Prudence M,

, Susan H,
Pepuy, Thomas R,

SUBSCRIBERS TO THE FUND.

Derbyshir, John

Derbyshire, John

Deyo, Edith

Deyo, Ernma C.

Deyo, John

Deyo, Mildred

Deyo, Robert E.

Dickey, Anna L.

Dickey, Arthur

Dickey, Constance S.

Dickey, Frank R.

Dickey, Helen

Dickey, J. M.

Dickey, James N.

Dickey, Jennie M.

Dickey, Mrs. J. M.

Dickey, Mrs. James N.

Dickey, Julia

Dickey, Laura S.

Dickey, Russel C.

Dickey, Warren F.

Dickey, Wm. D.

Dickey, Mrs. Wm. D.

Diemer, L. J.

Dimmick, S. G.

Dohm, John

Dougherty, M. E.

Dougherty, M. J.

Dougherty, Thos.

Doughty, J. W.

Doughty, Lizzie

Doughty, Mary

Doughty, Mrs. S. C.

Doughty, Wm. B.

Dorr, C. H.

Dorr, Mrs. C. H.

Dotzert, J. H.

Downey, Catherine

Downey, Mary

Doyle, Ethel

Doyle, M.

Doyle, Wm. E.

Doyle, Walter H.

DuBois, Col. Lewis (In memory)

DuBois, Mary E.

Dubois, Mrs. M. W.
Dudley,, Guilford
Dudley, Mrs. Guilford
Dumville, Walter
Duncan, H. C.
Dunlevy, R.
Dwyer, Mary E.
Dwyer, M. J.
Dwyer, Mrs. M. J.
Earl, J. H.
Edwards, Thomas
Edwards, Mrs. Thomas
Egan, John
Ellis, R.

Ellis, Mrs. Julia C.
Elle, Joseph
Embler, Charles J.
Emery, B. P.
Emery, Rev. Rufus
Emmet, N. P.
Ericson, Minna
Estabrook, Charles
Estabrook, Lillie
Fancher, E. L.
Farrington, Agnes E.
Farnum, Miss N. S.
Felter, Carrie G.
Ferguson, D. A.
Ferguson, Mrs. D. A.
Fiorini. Rudolph T.
Fisher, Jas. S.
Fitzpatrick, P. J.
Fleming, Frances Larose
Fleming, Henry Stanton
Fleming, John C.
Fleming, Minnie Stanton
Flemming, Jas.
Flemming, Lillie
Flynn, John T.
Flynn, Mrs. John T.
Fogarty, Cornelius
Forbes, Mrs. William H.
Forbes, William H.
Force, Miss Ruth
Forsyth, George W.

CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Forsyth, Mrs. M. .T.
Forsythe, Elizabeth
Forsythe, F. E.
Forsythe, Mrs. Nellie K.
Foster, Minnie S.
Foster, Win.
Foster, Mrs. Wm.
Fowler, A. D.
Fowler, C. D.
Fowler, Eliza D.
Fowler, Mrs. E. D.
Fowler. Mrs. Henry D.
Fowler, Henry D.
Fowler, Mrs. Sebring
Fowler, Thomas Powell
Fowler, AY. D.
Fowler, W. H.
Fowler, W. J.
Fuller, Charlotte Parolee
Fuller, Edward Logan
Fuller, George W.
Fuller-ton, Wm.
Fullerton, Mrs. Wm.
Franklin, C. F.
French, Michael
Friend, A
Fritts, Rev. C. W.
Garrison, Dr. Chas. M.
Garrison, Everett
Garrison, Mrs. Everett
Garrison, Mrs. Isaac
Garrison, John
Garrison, Mrs. John
Garrison, Mrs. John D.
Garrison, Katie
Garvey, Thomas
Gatter, Lachlan Stewart
Gatter, Robert S.
Gatter, Mary Stewart
Gay, Miss G.
Gay, Miss M,
Gay, W. A.
Gazley, G. H.
Gearn, Sarah L.
Geara, W, W,

Gehrig, Theodore
George, J. R. C.
Genet, Albert R.
Genet, Albert Rivers, Jr.
Genet, George C.
Genet, Gilbert R. F.
Genet, Mrs. Martha R. F.
Genet, Mrs. Saraii A.
Gillespie, Jas L.
Oilman, Emma H.
Gilmartin, Mrs. Amelia
Glackmeyer, George
Glackmeyer, Mrs. George
Gleason, Charles B.
Gleason, Grace H.
Gleason, W. S.
Glynn, P. J.
Goldberg, Alex.
Goldberg, Mrs. Alex.
Goodrich, Charles T.
Goodrich, Mrs. H. E.
Goodrich, S. Carlisle
Gorman, F. J.
Gordon, George
Gordon, Theodore
Gordon, Louise M.
Gordon, Reginald
Gordon, Mrs. Reginald
Gordon, Reginald Worth
Gordon, Walter Francis
Gouldy, Francis
Gouldy, Mrs. Francis
Gouldy, Mary E.
Gouldy, Jennie A.
Gouldy, N. E.
Graham, Mrs. J. G.
Graham, Jas. G.
Gray, John Alex Clinton

(100 subs.)

Gray, Hon. John Clinton
Greaves, Herbert
Greaves, Mrs. Ella
Greaves, Howard
Green, Wm. S.
Grenzebach, F, A,

SUBSCRIBERS TO THE FUND.

Green, George W.
Green, Mrs. Geo. W.
Gurnee, Clinton, Jr.
Gnrnee, Hazard Roe
Hait, Ella M.
Hall, Anna B.
Hall, Ida G.
Hall, John B.
Hall, Margaret S.
Hall, O. D.
Hall, Rachel A.
Hall, Rev. W. K.
Hall, Walter P.
Ilalloran, James
Hallorau, Mrs. James
Hallock, Mamie
Halsey, David H.
Halsey, Jernsha S.
Halstead, Charles L.
Halstead, Mrs. Charles L.
Hanford, J. C.
Hanuan, Wm. F.
Hanmer, Wm. A.
Hanmore, Mrs. Benj.
Hanmore, G. V. N.
Hanmore, Dr. L. E.
Harper, J. Abner
Harris, Wm. H.
Harris, Grace N.
Harris, Helen F.
Harris, Nancy E.
Harrison, J. J. E.
Harrison, William
Hart, James
Hart, John A.
Hart, Patrick
Hasbrouck, Mrs. Wm. C.
Hasbrouck, Maria H.
Hasbrouck, H. C.
Hasbrouck, Alice
Haven, F. A.
Hawks, W. W.
Hawthorne, Thos. M.
Hayt, Edward D.
Hayt, Stephen K.

Hayt, Walter V.

Hayt, W. Dudley

Hayes, Chas. J.

Hayes, Thos. J.

Headley, Adelia J.

Headley, Allston

Headley, J. T.

Headley, J. T., Jr.

Headley, Mrs. J. T.

Headley, Lucy C.

Headley, Russel

Heard, Wm.

Hoard, Mrs. Wm.

Heckey, Lathelle

Henderson, Win. J.

Herman, Fred

Hermann, Leonhard

Herman, Robt.

Hewitt, R. W.

Higginson, H. C.

Hilton, Caroline Q.

Hilton, J, Ralph

Hilton, M. A.

Hilton, R. H.

Hilton, Wm. T.

Hilton, W. H.

Hilton, Mrs. W. H.

Hirschberg, M. H.

Hitch, Frederick Delano

Hitch, Mrs. Frederick Delano

Hitch, Joseph F.

Hitch, Mrs. J. F.

Hitch, Laura D.

Hitch, Robert D.

Hoffman, Jane

Hoffman, Sarah

Holt, Miss M. A.

Horton, Wm. H.

Horton, J. H.

Howell, J. T., M D.

Howell, John Taylor

Howell, Fred B.

Howell, H. M.

Howell, Mrs. J. T.

Howell, Mary T,

CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Hcrwell. Josephine C.

Hudson River Lodge,No.607,F.&A.M.

Hulett, Mrs. Ellen A. A.

Hulse, E. G.

Humphrey, Geo. Clinton

Humphrey, Jackson

Humphrey, Mary

Hutchinson, Jas. M.

Hutchiuson, Mrs. Jas. M.

Hyiidman, Wm. H.

Innes, Robt. S.

Innes. Mrs. Robt. S.

Jack, Rev. A. B.

(In memoriam)
Jackson, Andrew
Jacobs, Bessie May
Jacobson, F. A.
Jacobson, Mary M.
Jacobson, Mary R.
Jansen, Frank
Jenkins, Chas. S.
Jenkins, Mrs. Chas. S.
Jenkins, Miss Grace
Jenkins, Marie B. W.
Jenkins, Ralph
Jeffrey, Alex.
Johnes, G. D.
Johnes, Mrs. G. D.
Johnes, Henry P.
Johnson, Enos .
Johnson, E. M.
Johnson, Martha
Johnson, Win. Chas.
Johnston, Robert
Johnston, Robert
Jones, Rev. Arthur
Jones, Mrs. Arthur
Jordan, J. V.
Joseph, Max.
Joslin, Fred
Jova, Henry J.
Jova, A. V.
Kades, Louis
Kelly, Aline
Kelly, Mabel

Kelly, Wm. Brooks
Kelly, W. H.
Kelly, Mrs. W. H.
Kenny, Edith B. D.
Kenny, Grant
KeiT, Anna C.
Kerr, Anna W.
KeiT, Augusta V.
Kerr. Chas. Ludlow
Kerr, C. L. C.
Kerr, Elizabeth C.
Kerr, George S.
Kerr, Harriet
Kerr, Helen Ward
Kerr, John
Kerr, John B.
Kerr, Katherine
Kerr, Leila
Kerr, Mrs. John B.
Kerr, Marian M.
Kerr, Margaret
Kerr, Margaret F.
Kerr, Mary E. W.
Kerr, Walter
Ketcham, Frank H.
Keefe, Sterrit
Kernochan, J. A.
Kidd. Frank C.
Kidd, Mrs. Frank C.
Kiefer, Katharine E.
Kimball, Harry H.
Kimball, Mary S.
Kimball, Sarah F.
Kimball, S. Frances
Kimball, Samuel G.
Kimball, William G.
King Coal Co.
King, Cral L.
King, Robt. L.
Kittredge, Dr. Chas. M.
Klemmer, John, Jr.
Koch, John
Koch, Mrs. John A.
Lawson, Chas. J.
Lawson, Mrs. A. E.

SUBSCRIBERS TO THE FUND.

Lawson, H. B.
Lawson, Wni. H.
Lawson, Mrs. Win. H.
Lawton, F. B.
Lawton, Mrs. F. B.
Layman, Albert E.
Leiclit, Charles E.
Leicht, Charles K.
Leiclit, Mrs. Charles K.
Leech, Margaret K.
Leech, Win. K.
Leech, Mrs. Wm. K.
Leon, Alice
Leon, David D.
Leon, W. Pedro
Leonard, Henry M.
Leonard, Jas. J.
Le Roy, Henry W.
Leslie, Augusta
Leslie, S. J.
Levy, L. and J.
Levy, Samuel B. N.
Levy, Solomon N.
Little, William H.
Littleton, George
Low, Agnes
Low, C. H.
Low, Carrie J.
Low, Joseph
Lozier, Miss Frances
Lozier, Hiram
Lozier, Samuel
Lynch, Francis
Lynch, Mrs. Francis
Lyon, W. H.
Mabie, J. D.
Mabie, Miss H. S.
Mabie, Mrs. J. D.
Mabie, W. H.
Macdonald, Benj. J.
Macdonald, Joseph A.
Macfarlane, Mary J.
Magourty, Jas. E.
Maher, James J.
Maher, Josephine E.

Mailler, E. R. J.
Mailler, Wm. O.
Many, Mrs. S. V.
Mapes, A. W.
Mapes, Alice Van C.
Mapts, Charles
Mapes, Charles
Mapes, Mrs. Charles
Mapes, Fred A.
Mapes, Mrs. Charles
Mapes, Edward F.
Mapes, Frank W.
Mapes, Fred B.
Mapes, S. Palmer, Jr.
Mapes, Win. P.
Marquardt, N.
Mason, Hudson W.
Mason, John A.
Mason, Mrs. John A.
Mason, Warren T.
Marsh, Antoinette
Marsh, Mrs. Mary S.
Martin, John H.
Martin, Mrs. John H.
Martin, Cyrus B.

(25 subs.)
Martin, S. J.
Martin, W. F.
Martine, Henry B.
Marvel, Thomas S.
Marvel, Mrs. Thomas S.
Marvel, T. S. & Co.
Matthews, Maud
Matthews, J. W.
Matthews, Mrs. J. W.
Mead, Mrs, M. W.

(Memory of parents.)
Merritt, Mary C.
Merritt, Daniel H.
Merritt, Daniel Hait
Merritt, Daniel T.
Merritt, Eleanor Hait
Merritt, Elizabeth
Merritt, George H.
Merritt, Hiram

CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Merritt, Hiram, New York
Merritt, Laura S.
Merritt, Mary K.
Merritt, Ralph C.
Merritt, Theodore
Merritt, Theo., Jr.
Merritt, Theodore A.
Merritt, Theodore, 3d
Merritt, Win. Kimball
Meyer, A.
Meyer, A.
Meyer, Eddie B.
Meyer, Elie C.
Meyer, Emma B.
Meyer, Evlyn S.
Meyer, Frank P.
Meyer, G. S.
Meyer, Ida L.
Meyer, Moe
Meyer, Nat. F.
Miller, Chas. A.
Miller, D. C.
Miller, Mrs. D. C.
Miller, Clarence
Miller, Christopher B.
Miller, George W.
Miller, J. Blackburn
Miller, Mrs. J. Blackburn
Miller, Jas W.
Miller, Johannes

(In memoriam)
Miller, A. Lincoln J.
Miller, Violet Clarkson
Miles, Christopher
Mills, Mary Duryea
Mills, S. C.

Mills, Sarah McDonald
Mills, Stephen McDonald
Mitchell, E. O.
Mitchell, Geo. R.
Mitchell, Mrs. Geo. R.
Mitchell, J. J.
Mitchell, Marion
Mitchell, Mrs. J. J.
Mitchell, Mary Rodman

Mitchell, Warren R.
Monell, Mrs. J. J.
Monell, M. G.
Monell, G. L.
Monell, Mrs. G. L.
Montfort, R. V. K.
Morehouse, Frank
Mooney, Rev. J. F.
Moore, B. B.
Moore, Eugene
Moore, Joseph A.
Moore, Laura
Moore, Margaret T.
Moore, Mary T.
Moore, Mrs. J. P.
Moore. R. J.
Moore, Thomas, Jr.
Morris Luella E.
Morris, Mrs. Wm. J.
Morrison, Alexander
Morrison, Thos. W.
Morrison, Mrs. Thos. W.
Moshier, George
Moss, C. B.
Moss, John H.
Muir, M. G.
Muir, Mrs. M. G.
Mullenneaux, Wm.
Mulligan, Cornelius
Murphy, Thomas F.
Murtfeldt, E. M.
McBurney, Minnie
McCamly, Mary E. C.

(In memoriam)
McCann, John E.
McCann, W. H.
McCloy, Bernard
McClung, Benj.
McClung, Marie K.
McCormick, John
McCracken, John
McCroskery, Henrietta Young
McOroskery, John N. D.
McCroskery, Mrs. Margaret R.
McCroskery, Marquis C.

SUBSCBIBEES TO THE FUND.

McCroskery, Maud B.

McCroskery, J. J- S.

McCroskery, L. W. Y.

McCullougli, Frederick R.

McCullough, John R.

McCullougli, Mrs. John K.

McCullough, Susie V.

McDowell, Fred

McEntyre, Thomas

McGibbon, Mrs. Jas.

McGiffert, Jas. D.

McGlynn, Rev. Edw.

Mclntire, David Carson

Mclntire, Martin V.

McKay, W. Johnston

McKinstry, DeWitt E.

McKinstry, Stephen, Jr.

McKissock, Hugh

McKissock, Win. A.

McLaughlin, Fred S.

McLean, Arthur A.

McLean, Arthur A., Jr.

McLean, Mrs. Arthur A.

McLean, Charles Joseph

McLean, Cornelius Stafford

McLean, Felix Rosslter

McLean, Harry Charles

McLernon, Hugh

McLernon, Mrs. Hugh

McMeekin, Wm.

McNair, Robt.

Nellie, Miss.

Newburgh Lodge, No. 282, I. O. G. T.

Newburgh Lodge, No. 309, F. & A. M.

Newburgh Lumber Co.

Newburgh Free Academy, Class '96.

Newburgh Woolen Mills.

New York Furniture Co.

Nicoll, Anna C.

Nicoll, Mrs. Anna B.

Nicoll, E. L.

Nicoll, G. O. F.

Nicoll, Henry D.

Nicoll, Margaret

Nicoll, William L.

Noe, Eugene
Noe, John C.
Noe, Josephine E.
Norris, Charles E.
Nott, C. H.

O'Connell, Rev. Daniel A.
O'Neill, John F.
Oakley, Mrs. Lucas.
Oakley, Mary T.
Oakley, Christina
Oakley, Robert D.
O'Carroll, Rev. Henry
Odell, H. B.
Odell, B. B.
Odell, Mrs. B. B.
Odell, B. B., Jr.
Odell, Mrs. B. B., Jr.
Odell, Benj. Bryant
Odell, Charles L.
Odell, Clara
Odell, Estelle
Odell, Geo. C. D.
Odell, Mrs. H. B.
Odell, Herbert R.
Odell, Mildred
Odell, Miss
Odell, Ophelia
Odell, Walter C.
Ormsbee, Addison C.
Orr, James
Orr, Mrs. James
Orr. Katherine
Orr, Margaret
Oulton, M. J.
Parker, George A.
Parker, Mrs. George A.
Parsons, H. C.
Patton, Anna F.
Patton, William M.
Payton Corse Opera Co.
Perrott, Emanuel
Pecheux, Henry J.
Pecheux, Nicholas
Pecheux, Mrs. Nicholas
Pecheux, Wm. L. F.

CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Peck, George
Peck, George G.
Peck, G. W.
Peters, George W.
Peck, J. C.
Peck, Mrs. J. C.
Peck, John E.
Peck, Percy
Peirce, A. S.
Peirce, Mrs. Mary E.
Penny, Rev. Wm. L.
Perkins, F. W.
Perkins, W. R.
Peters, Mrs. Geo. W.
Peters, Maud
Peters, Nettie
Petty, Charles E.
Phillips, E. J.
Phillips, J. H.
Phillips, Robert
Phillips, Mrs. W. M.
Pickens, A. H.
Pickens, Thomas
Pierce, Mira E.
Pollock, Thomas
Pope, Thos. M.
Post, E. R.
Post, R. J.
Post, Frances.
Post, Lillian
Potter, F. W.
Potter, Mrs. F. W.
Potts, Arthur
Powell, Fred T.
Powell, Isaac S.

(In memoriam)
Powell, Mrs. Isaac S.
Powers, John
Powles, William
Price, G. A.
Prince, Alvin
Prince, George W.
Quaid, Harry V.
Quaid, J. H.
Quaid, Wm., Jr.

Quaid, William

Quassaick Chapter, Daughters Ameri
can Revolution (50 subs.)
Quinlan, Florence
Quinlan, Raymond
Quinn, Rev. J. F.
Rains, Mrs. George W.
Ramsdell, Adele V.
Ramsdell, Frances
Ramsdell, Mrs. Fanny Van N.
Ramsdell, Master Homer
Ramsdell, Mrs. Homer
Ramsdell, H. Powell
Ramsdell, J. A. P,
Ramsdell, Miss L. R,
Ramsdell, Maud
Ramsdell, Pauline
Ramsdell, Mary Powell
Ramsdell Transportation Co.
Randall, Adele B.
Randall, Arthur H.
Rankin, C. W.
Randall, Kate B.
Randall, William V.
Randall, William V., Jr.
Reed, Frederick
Reeve, A. S.
Reeve, J. Henry
Reid & Gorman
Reid, William
Rhynders, William
Richards, Thomas
Richards, William
Richardson, Henry A.
Ring, Thomas Ludlow
Ritchie & Hull.
Ritchie, Samuel
Ritchie, Mrs. Samuel
Robbins, Muriel Delano
Robbins, Warren Delano
Robinson, C. D.
Robinson, Mrs. C. D.
Robinson, F. B.
Robinson, George
Robinson, James

SUBSCRIBERS TO THE FUND.

Robinson, Julia

Rodman, John G.

Roe, Emily M.

Roe, T. Hazard

Roe, Win. J.

Roe, Wm. J., Jr.

Rogers, Elizabeth Weed

Rogers, Fred, B.

Rogers, Mrs. Grace

Rogers, John B.

Rogers, John B., Jr.

Rogers, Mrs. John L.

Rogers, McLeod

Rogers, Mary

Rogers, Mary B.

Rogers, Ruletta B.

Roosa, E. E.

Roosa, L.

Roosevelt, Franklin Delano

Roosevelt, Jaines

Roosevelt, Mrs. Jaines

Rosa, Miss Laura

Rose, E. D. W.

Rosell, C.

Rosell, Elizabeth

Rosell, Miss Frances

Rosell, Mrs. Frances

Ross, George M.

Ross, Mrs. George M.

Ross, Rev. R. L.

Round, Elizabeth

Round, Mary E.

Round, Seward M.

Rowley, Geo. L.

Roy, Kenneth W.

Roy, J. H.

Roy, Mrs. J. H.

Rudd, Mrs. Erastus B.

Rumsey, Catharine A. Daniel

Ruinsey, Wm. W.

Russell, Aline

Ruttenber, C. B.

Ruttenber, Mrs. C. B.

Ruttenber, E. M.

Ruttenber, Mrs. E. M.

Ruttenber, Edward M., 2d.

Ruttenber, Helen G.

Ruttenber, J. W. F.

Ruttenber Mrs. J. W. F.

Ruttenber, Ralph D.

Ryan, Charles H.

Ryan, Daniel

Ryan, W.

Sadlier, C. P.

Samuel, W.

Samuels, Max

Samuels, Sigismund

Sanford, George A.

Sanford, Mrs. George A.

Sanxay, Edmund

Sargent, J. H.

Savage, Barclay Jermain

Savage, F. B.

Saxton, Louisa M.

Sayer, Samuel

Sayre, Thos. G.

Sayer, W. E.

Scallen, John

Schaefer, F. J. A.

Scharbauer, P.

Scharps, M. & V.

Scharps, Victor

Schoonmaker, Elizabeth M.

Schoonmaker, Hiram

Schoonmaker, John.

Schoonmaker, Margaret L.

Schoonmaker, Samuel V.

Scott, Miss Anna

Southwick, Anna C.

Scott, Anna G.

Scott, Charlotte

Scott, Elsie B.

Scott, Frank A.

Scott, J. Bradley

Scott, Minnie S.

Scott, W. Clement

Scott, Winfleld

Searle, Mrs. M. F.

Sears, C. Milton

Seeger, A. H. F.

CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Seeger, John A.

Seibert, John

Senff, F. W.

Senff, Mrs. F. W.

Senff, Lulu

Seymour, George T.

Shannon, Win. H.

Shaw. E. K.

Shaw, Mrs. E. K.

Shaw, George W.

Shaw, Mrs. George W.

Shaw, Mrs. Henrietta R.

Shaw's Sons, Thomas

Sherman, Mrs. D. D.

Shields, James V. A.

Shields, Mrs. Jas. V. A.

Shipp, Maltby

Shirer, Edwin

Shirer, Gilbert

Shirer, Mrs. Gilbert

Shuart, Anna B.

Shuart, Charles H.

Skeel, Miss Adelaide

Skeel, Mary H.

Skelly, Joseph
Slee, Miss Elizabeth

Slee, J. N.
Slee, J. N. H.
Slee, Mrs. J. N. H.
Slee, Lincoln
Smith, George C.
Smith, Harry
Smith, H. C.
Smith, Jas. C.
Smith, John
Smith, John T.
Smith, Mary A.
Smith, Mrs. N. S.
Smith, N. S.
Smith, Wm. H.
Sneed, Fred M.
Sneed, Jos. A.
Snyder, Charles E.
Snyder, Frank S.
Southwick, Fanny C.

Spaight, John W.

Speir, Marie Corley

Speir, J. Henry

Spencer, Mrs. F. M.

Stafford, Mrs. Caroline M.

Stebbius, C. M.

Steele, Josephine C.

Sterrit, L. S.

Stevenson, Florence Clark

Stevenson, Sylvia

Stewart, Ida Carr

Stewart, Jessie E.

Stewart, Julia Lyon

Stewart, Lachlan

Stewart, Samuel L.

Stewart, Thomas Wesley

Stewart, William

Stoutenburgh, J. M.

Stoutenburgh, Mrs. J. M.

Straw, L. S.

Straw, Mrs. L. S.

Straw, Linda P.

Stubley, Ingham

Street, John W.

Street, Josephine W.

Swain, Mary R.
Sweet, Clayton E.

Sweet, Mrs. Clayton E.
Sweet, Clayton M.
Sweet, Lucy D.
Sweet, Mabel
Sweet, Orr & Co.
Swezey, Ada A.
Swords, Julia.
Swords, Maud
Taggart, Charles J.
Taggart, George
Taggart, Harry
Taggart, W. G.
Tappan, Miss J. A.
Taylor, Carolyn R.
Taylor, Franklin J.
Taylor, Fred M.
Taylor, Gertrude C.
Taylor, Grace A.

SUBSCRIBERS TO THE FUND.

Taylor, Grant B.
Taylor, Mrs. Grant B.
Taylor, James S.
Taylor, Minnie A.
Taylor, Nathan S.
Taylor, Mrs. Nathan S.
Teller, James L.
Terry, Ann G.
Terwilliger, A.
Terpenning, Willard M.
Terwilliger, W. W.
Terwilliger, Mrs. W. W.
Thacher, Mrs. Geo. W.
Thayer, Albert S.
Thayer, Mrs. Albert S.
Thornton, Mrs. Anna T.
Thompson, Charles J.
Thornton, Howard
Thompson, Rev. J. R.
Thompson, J. R., Jr.
Tierney, Dennis G.
Tierney, Mary
Tillinghast, George F.
Todd, James
Todd, William E.
Tole, Anna M.
Tompkins, Frank W.
Tompkins, Mrs. Lewis
Toohey, Wm. A. C.
Toohey, E. J.
Topping, C. H.
Topping, J. H.
Townsend, Bessie
Townsend, Dr. Chas. E.
Townsend, E. M.
Townsend, George W.
Townsend, James A.
Townsend, Mrs. James A.
Townsend, J. Augustus
Townsend, Mrs. J. Augustus
Townsend, Lina H.
Townsend, Mary A.
Townsend, Mrs. P. B.
Townsend, T. Powell
Traphagen, Helen

Traphagen, W. D.

Travis, Mrs. P. W.

Treadwell, Stephen

Turl, Mrs. John

Turl, Joseph H.

Turl, Mrs. Joseph H.

Tuthill, A. P.

Tuthill, Mrs. A. P.

Underbill, J. M.

Vail, Martha B.

Vail, Walter S.

Valentine, John H.

Van Benschoten, Henry.

Van Buren, Ayinar

Van Buren, John D.

Van Buren, Margaret M.

Van Cleft, Barclay

'Van Cleft, Edwin L.

Van Cleft, Joseph

Van Dalfsen, J. T.

Van Dalfsen, Mrs. J. T.

Van Dalfsen, Mae

Van Duzer, F. C.

Van Keuren, H. N.

Van Scoy, C. A.

Van Tassel, L. R.

Van Voorhis, Miss

Vermeule, Mrs. Carolyn C.

Verplanck, Mrs. Katharine W.

Wait, Emma B.

Wait. Mrs. Emily S.

Wait, Eva

Wait, Frederick S.

Wait, Isabel S.

Wait, Mrs. John.

Wait, Wesley

Waite, Arthur

Waite, L. P.

Waite, Mrs. L. P.

Walker, Wilkin

Wallace, Frederic

Walsh, Rev. G. H.

Walsh. Howard T,

CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Walsh, Stephenson H.
Ward, Harriet E.
Ward, Julia P.
Ward, Rens
Waring, C. L.
Waring, D. S.
Waring, George A.
Waring, Mrs. D. S.
Waring, H. M.
Waring, Mrs. H. M.
Waring, J. DeWitt
Warren, G. T.
Washburn, Charles
Washburn, Rev. F.
Washburn, Mrs. Francis
Weed, Charles G.
Weed, J. N.
Wentz, J. M.
Wentz, Mrs. J. M.
Weller, A. Y.
Weller, Constance F.
Weller, Evelyn Frances
Weller, George S.
Weller, Miss May
Weller, Mary A.
Weiss, Frederick. -^

West, Helen Lewis
WTest, Mrs. Lewis
Westlake, D. T.
Westlake, J. R.
Weston, Justine
Weston, Mary C.
Weston, Ralph
Weston, W. H.
Weygant, Bessie
Weygant, Charles H.
Weygant, Charlotte S.
Whelan, Robert N.
Whigam, Mary E.
Whitaker, Samuel J.
Whitehill, Robert C.
Whitehill, Mrs. Robert
Whitehill, W. H.
Whitney, F. E.
Wickes, Forsyth

Wickes, May Forsyth

Wickes, Mrs. Mary Forsyth

Wilkiu, Lt. George ^

Wilkin Jason > (In memoriam)

Wilkin, Jonas )

Williams, Bessie D.

Williams, Blanche

Williams Charles S.

Williams, Mrs. Charles S.

Williams, Ella D.

Williams, Eleanor

Williams, Mrs. George A.

Williams, Hiland

Wittmann, John

Williams, John R.

Williams, M. Josepha

Williams, Mary

Williams, Mrs. G. Mott

Williams, Rt. Rev. G. Mott

Williams, Mary Neosho

Wilson, Capt. Andrew

Wilson, Miss Eleanor

Wilson, Jonathan D.

Wilson, Mrs. Jonathan D.

Wilson, Jonathan D., Jr.

Wilson, Miss Louise

Wilson, Miss S. E.

Wood, A. S.

Wood, Mrs. A. S.

Wood, Harriet

Wood, Mary Shirer

Wood, W. S.

Wood, Mrs. W. S.

Woodburn, James

Woolley, C. N.

Woolsey, Alzamora

Woolsey, Antoinette

Wright, E. O.

Wright, George E.

Wright, Juliette H.

Wright, William

Wright, J. Victor

Wygant, W. J.

Yeomans, George E,

Youngs, Arthur

SUBSCRIBERS TO THE FUND.

Fifth Separate Company, N. G. N. Y,

Captain. James T. Chase.

First Lieutenant, James F. Sheehan.

Second Lieutenant, Alex. G. Baxter.

Surgeon, Robert J. Kingston, M. D.

A. P. Gardner.

J. Wittman.

H. E. Dunn.

F. II. Booth.

T. J. Dinan.

P. J. O'Brien.

John Gallagher.

Adam Faulkner.

John McDowell.

James McDowell.

J. J. Robinson.

F. W. Smith.

IT. Blythe.

S. L. Wilson.

J. M. Dillon.

J. E. Clark.

J. T. Collins.

E. E. Foster.

S. E. Abrams.

R. Armour.

A. Burton.

E. A. Bush.

J. F. Clark.

P. J. Clark.

E. Collard.

A. J. F. Colman.

E. K. Colman.

S. Craig.

C. F. Crane.

W. S. Grans.

AV. P. Delaney.

J. F. Dooley.

I). F. Early.

M. Epeneter.

A. D. Eckert.

J. M. Eckert.

G. S. Ferguson.

P. Gallagher.

J. W. Geralds.

J. E, Grogan.

G. Hill.

F. E. Holly.
M. W. Hoyt.
J. T. Hunter.
A. Indzonka.

G. Johnson.
AAr. J. Johnson.
J. M. Kadrisky.
C. Kellyhouse.
AAr. King.

H. Kutcher.
C. Littleton.
T. B. Martin.
J. H. Marvel.
AAr. E. Matthews.
C. E. McCauley.
J. G. McDowell.
J. McElroy.
J. A. Miller.
G. X. Milliken.

F. A. Ostrander.
T. F. Penny.
AAT. A. Phelps.
C. J. Raymond.
J. Relyea.

G. H. Seaman.
A. A. Smith.

F. H. Smith.
C. S. Terry.
T. Todd.

AV. Todd.

G. S. Turner.
T. Turner.

J. D. Tweed.
W. Y. Vankeuren.
H. N. Aranvoorhis.
G. M. Walker.
M. J. AA^elsh.
I. F. Weygant.
C. E. Wood.
G. F. Wright.
R. Youmans.
W. Youmans.
W, H. Ziegler,

CLINTON STATUE UNVEILING.

Tenth Separate Company, N, G. N, Y,

William G. Hunter, Captain.

William H. Mapes, First Lieutenant.

Stephen H. Mould, Second Lieutenant

James Wood, Asst. Surgeon.

William Berry, First Sergeant.

David W. Jagger, Q. M. Sergeant.

William N. Beggs, Sergeant.

William J. Wilkes, Sergeant.

Arthur G. Ackert, Corporal.

Charles II. Moore, Corporal.

James S. Angus, Corporal.

D. Lincoln Orr, Corporal.

John E. Whitehill. Corporal.

Charles J. Stones, Corporal.

Charles C. Jacobus, Corporal.

Norman W. Conyes, Corporal.

George E. Beggs, Musician.

William E. Johnston, Musician.

Lester C. Acker.

Arthur Y. Beers.

Eugene W. Bigler.

Chester H. Bond.

George M. Brown.

Titus A. Brown.

William H. Burton, Jr.

John Caldwell, Jr.

Francis M. Cantine.

Edson L. Clark.

Harry T. Coldwell.

Arthur L. Collins.

Jacob Crevling.

James S. Darragh.

Charles F. Dixou.

James E. Easman.

Louis D. Fletcher,

Frank W. Fullerton.
Charles B. Gilcrist.
Harry W. Hopper.
John H. L. Janson.
James Johnstone.
Edward L. Keller.
Afred H. Kemp.
J. Hampton Kidd.
George R. Lang.
Anthony W. LaTour.
Michael A. McCann.
James R. Matthews.
Joseph W. Monell.
Hudson B. Moore.
George Moshier, Jr.
John K. Peattie.
Joseph M. Pine.
P. Samuel Rigney.
George M. Ross, Jr.
Andrew B. Ryer.
Joseph M. Sandford.
William K. Schuyler.
Sidney A. Scofield.
Frank S. Sewell.
William H. Shannon, Jr.
Adra A. Sinclair.
Robert B. Sinclair.
William B. Theall.
Willard H. Tillmau.
Homer C. Waltermire.
Irving K. Weed.
Frank S. Weller.
A. Francis Westberg.
J. William Westervelt.
John Wise.

FINANCIAL EXHIBIT. 49

Financial Exhibit*

Cluis. L. C. Kerr, Treasurer, in acct. with The Clinton Statue Fund.

DR.

To subscriptions received through Highland National Bank....$ 255 00

To subscriptions received through Quassaick National Bank... 325 00

To subscriptions received through Newburgh Savings Baink.... 44 00

To subscriptions received through Columbus Trust Co 95 00

To subscriptions received through The Nat. Bank of. Newburgh. 1,000 00

To subscriptions received through Free Library 9 00

To subscriptions received through Russel Headley 16 00

To additional subscriptions made to Messrs. Odell and Belknap. . 1,326 00

To subscriptions made by Fifth Separate Company 104 00

To subscriptions made by Tenth Separate Company 70 00

$3,250 00

CR.

By cash paid Henry K. Bush-Brown as per contract $3.000 00

By cash paid Smith Granite Co 25 00

By cash paid Thos. Shaw's Sons 35 00

By cash paid H. Gichel 15 00

By cash paid E. M. Murtfeldt 18 00

By cash paid David C. Miller 37 00

By cash paid Logan & Macdonald 1 80

By cash paid Newburgh Register . 6 75

By cash paid W. C. Belknap, postage, etc 6 84

Bv Balance . 104 61

$3,250 00

Examined. CHAS. F. ALLAN,

Correct. .TAS. N. DICKEY,

Feb. 9, 1897. Auditing Committee.

t ,

CELEBRITES CONTEMPORAINES

FR. COPPEE

PAR

JULES CLARETIE

PARIS

A. QUANTIN, IMPRIMEUR-EDITEUR

7, RUE SAINT-BENOIT, 7
1883

CELEBRITES CONTEMPO RAINES

FR. COPPEE

JULES CLARETIE

OF THE

rNIVERSIT1

PARIS
A. QUANTIN, IMPRIMEUR-EDITEUR

7, RUE SAINT -kBENOIT, J

i883

t\ 5

5s t^

HL :;

5S.

FRANQOIS COPPEE

Imp . A . Qua.ntin

FRANCOIS COPPEE

NE des meilleures soirees de halte
en pleine causerie amicale, libre
et confiante, qu^il rrfait ete donne
de passer, dans cette £pre vie de
Paris, c'est un soir d'avril, rue
Oudinot, chez Francois Coppee, devant le jardin
du poete oil les premieres fleurs printanieres
donnaient a ce coin parisien des perspectives
d^ecran japonais. Et sous la lampe, entre es-
prits divers et charmeurs, quels propos ironi-

4 CELEBRITES CO NTEMPOR AI NES.

quement joyeux echanges la, dans le cher lais-
ser-aller d'une reception sans fracas, a coeur
ouvert! Vrai nid de poete que cette maison de
Coppee, oil Pauteur des Intimites et du Reli-
quaire apparait souriant, heureux, a cote de sa
soeur qu'il adore, qui Ta toujours couve dMne
affection maternelle, entre ses livres, des ta
bleaux d'amis et le jardinet fleuri oil, du rez-
de-chaussee, on descend par quelques marches
a peine.

Logis de poete-artiste, et fajouterai de poete
parisien. Francois Coppee est, en efifet, un
Parisien de Paris, ne en 1842, a Paris,, de
parents nes a Paris eux-memes, chose rare. Si
Ton remontait pourtant au grand-pere paternel,
le nom Coppee serait beige. II parait qu'a Mons
etaux environs tout le monde s'appelle Coppee.
C'est « du vieil fran^ois » ; cela signifie « cou-
pee : une coupee de bois. N^importe, le nom
est joli, sonne bien, rime richement avec epee,
mot sublime. II y a un Coppee de Mons — le
parent du poete peut-etre ? — qui est fort riche, a
une ecurie celebre, fait courir. II signe F. Cop-
pee, et d^aucuns prennent Tauteur du Passant
pour un sportman, quand il n'a dans son
ecurie d^autre cheval que Pegase (vieux style).

FRANCOIS COPPEE.

Revenons aux origines. Du cote paternel, il
y a une grancTmere (Coppee montre chez lui
un delicieux portrait cTelle, par une dame,
eleve de Greuze) qui a dans le sang de la vieille
noblesse lorraine; de ce cote, on trouverait
des gendarmes de la Maison du Roi et des
chevaliers de Saint-Louis. Du cote maternel, le
contraste est frappant. Le grand-pere (Baudrit
de son nom) est maitre serrurier et, pendant
la Revolution, forge des piques pour armer les
sections. La maison Baudrit existe encore. Le
petit-fils, Auguste Baudrit, cousin germain de
Coppee, est un serrurier d'art du plus grand
talent. On pourrait conclure, si Ton voulait,
d'apres ces sources, que Tauteur d1 Olivier est
un aristocrate qui aime le peuple.

Bref, ce fut en 1842, dans un entresol au
numero 9 de la rue des Missions (actuellement
rue de TAbbe-Gregoire, jadis rue Saint-Maur-
Saint-Germain) que la mere de Coppee, selon
Texpression de Chateaubriand, lui infligea la
vie. « II y a de bons moments, tout de meme! »
nous disait en riant Coppee. Le bon et grand
Charlet, le peintre des soldats et des scenes
populaires, demeurah sur le meme palier que
Coppee le pere, qui fut son ami.

6 CELEBRITES CON T EM FOR AIN ES.

Famille pauvre ; le pere, modeste employe aux
bureaux de la guerre; trois filles, qu'on elevait
chez les dames de Saint-Maur, dans la rue, en
face le logis meme, et le petit garc,on, chetif,
debile. On demenagea, on alia loger rue Van-
neau, au cinquieme. II y a, dans Olivier, des
ressouvenirs touchants de ces temps de luttes
honnetes.

Le poete Olivier, cet 6tre chimerique,

Qui, tout en racontant son beau reve feerique,

A trouve le moyen de charmer quelquefois

Ce temps d'opera-bouffe et de drame bourgeois,

ce poete, c^est Coppee ou un peu de Cop-
pee, et lorsque, dans son poeme, Tauteur arri-
vant a ce vers:

Car revoir son pays, c'est revoir sa jeunesse!

s'interrompt et se reporte vers son passe, alors
un not de souvenirs lui remonte et, oubliant
la jeunesse d'Olivier, il se rappelle sa jeunesse
a lui, son enfance :

Tenez, lecteur. — Souvent, tout seul, je me promene

Au lieu qui fut jadis la barriere du Maine.

C'est laid, surtout depuis le siege de Paris.

On a plante d'affreux arbustes rabougris

Sur ces longs boulevards, ou naguere des ormes

De deux cents ans croisaient leurs ramures enormes.

FRANCOIS COPPEE.

Le mur d'octroi n'est plus; le quartier se batit.

Mais c'est la que jadis, quand j'etais tout petit,

Mon pere me menait, enfant faible et malade,

Par les couchants d'e'te, faire une promenade.

C'est sur ces boulevards deserts, c'est dans ce lieu

Que cet homme de bien, pur, simple et craignant Dieu,

Qui fut bon comme un saint, naif comme un poete,

Et qui, bien que tres pauvre, eut toujours 1'ame en fdte.

Au fond d'un bureau sombre apres avoir passe

Tout le jour, se croyait assez recompense

Par la douce chaleur qu'au coeur nous communique

La main d'un dernier ne, la main d'un fiis unique.

C'est la qu'il me menait. Tous deux nous allions voir

Les longs troupeaux de breufs marchantvers 1'abattoir,

Et quand mes petits pieds e'taient assez solides,

Nous poussions quelquefois jusques aux Invalides,

Ou, m£les aux badauds descendus des faubourgs,

Nous suivions la retraite et les petits tambours;

Et puis, enfin, a 1'heure ou la lune se leve,

Nous prenions, pour rentrer, la route la plus breve;

On montait au cinquieme e'tage lentement,

Et j'embrassais alors mes trois soeurs et maman,

Assises et causant aupres d'une bougie.

Eh bien, quand m'abandonne un instant 1'e'nergie,

Quand m'accable par trop le spleen decourageant,

Je retourne tout seul, a 1'heure du couchant,

Dans ce quartier paisible ou me menait mon pere,

Et du cher souvenir toujours le charme opere.

Je songe a ce qu'il fit, cet homme de devoir,

Ce pauvre fier et pur, a ce qu'il dut avoir

De resignation patiente et chretienne

Pour gagner notre pain, tache quotidienne,

Et se priver de tout, sans se plaindre jamais.

Au chagrin qui me frappe alors je me soumets,

Et je sens remonter a mes levres surprises

Les prieres qu'il m'a dans mon enfance apprises.

Je le revois, assez jeune encor, rnais voute

OF THE

UNIVERSITY

8 CELEBRITES CON T EM PO R AI N ES.

De mener des petits enfants a son cote,
Et de nouveau je veux aimer, esperer, croire!...
— Excusez. J'oubliais que je conte une histoire,
Mais en parlant de moi, lecteur, j'en fais 1'aveu,
Je parle d'OIivier qui me ressemble un peu.

Quelles notes biographiques vaudront ja-
mais celles que tout homme pourrait donner
sur lui-meme?

L^enfant qui errait, flanait ainsi avec son
pere, fut mis en pension chez Hortus. II se
rappelle que, a six ans, en 48, il voyait du
balcon de ses parents, dans le jardin de Thotel
Monaco, alors quartier-general de Cavaignac,
bivouaquer les soldats pendant les journees de
Juin.

L/enfance de Frangois Coppee fut, encore un
coup, celle des humbles. Coppee s'en fait
gloire. II a raison. Saluons ces laborieux et ces
honnetes. Le pere faisait durer longtemps ses
redingotes de la Belle Jardiniere; la maman
faisait des « roles » pour des petits entrepreneurs
du voisinage et savonnait le menu linge. Les
deux soeurs ainees etaient peintres ou pein-
tresses, et copiaient les tableaux du Louvre.
Coppee fut ainsi eleve par des femmes, dans
un milieu d'art, ce qui a certainement deve-
loppe sa sensibilite et son gout. De M1Ie Annette

FRANCOIS COPPEE.

Coppee, sa soeur, j'ai vu un portrait du poete
enfant, tout a fait remarquable, tres vivant et
solidement peint.

II grandit; ses parents demenagent encore
pour etre plus pres des colleges. On demeure
rue Monsieur-le-Prince, et le futur academi-
cien fait d'execrables etudes, comme externe,
au lycee Saint-Louis. II etait debile encore et
reveur, flaneur, le petit Parisien qui a si bien
exprime, quelque part, la vie familiere de Ta-
dolescent a Paris. La page est embaumee de
souvenirs. Coppee la lut, un jour, dans une
Conference applaudie :

« Le vrai Parisien aime Paris comme une patrie;
c'est la que 1'attachent les invisibles chaines du coeur,
et, s'il est force de s'eloigner pour un peu de temps, il
eprouvera, comme Mme de Stael, la nostalgie de son
cher ruisseau de la rue du Bac. Gelui qui vous parle
est un de ces Parisiens-la. Dans cette ville dont, comme
s'en plaignait Alfred de Musset, il connait tous les
paves, mille souvenirs 1'attendent, dans ses prome
nades, au coin de tous les carrefours. Une paisible rue
du faubourg Saint-Germain, dont le silence est rare-
ment trouble par le fracas d'un landau ou d'un coupe
de maitre, lui rappelle toute son enfance; il ne peut
passer devant une certaine maison de cette rue sans
regarder la-haut ce balcon du cinquieme, sansserevoir
tout petit sur sa chaise haute, a cette table de famille
dont les places, helas ! se sont peu a peu espacees, et
ou il n'y a plus aujourd'hui d'autres convives que lui
et sa soeur aimee, qui Taime pour tous les morts et

io CELEBRITES CONTEMPORAINES.

tous les absents. II ne s'arrete jamais devant les librai-
ries en plein vent des galeries de 1'Odeon, — qui sont,
entre parenthese, une des aimables originalites de
Paris, — sans se souvenir de 1'epoque ou, ses cahiers
de lyceen sous le bras, il faisait la de longues stations
et lisait gratis les livres des poetes qu'il aimait deja.
Enfin, il y a quelque part — il ne dira pas ou — une
petite fenetre qu'il apergoit en se promenant dans un
certain jardin public et qu'il ne peut regarder en au-
tomne, vers cinq heures du soir, quand le coucher du
soleil y jette comme un reflet d'incendie, sans que son
coeur se mette a palpiter, comme il le sentait battre, il
y a longtemps, il y a bien longtemps, mais dans la
meme saison et a la meme heure, alors qu'il accourait
vers ce logis avec 1'ivresse de la vingtieme annee et que
la petite fenetre, alors encadree de capucines, s'ouvrait
tout a coup et laissait voir parmi la verdure et les
fleurs une tete blonde qui souriait de loin.

a Heureux, ah ! heureux, bien heureux celui qui ha-
bite la campagne a ce delicieux moment de la vie!
C'est un lit de mousse sous les chenes, c'est le bord
d'une petite riviere ou bouillonne 1'eau d'un moulin,
c'est un chemin creux dans la vallee, c'est une prairie
de fleurs et de papillons, ce sont de durs et doux
paysages qui garderont, pour les lui rendre, les im
pressions de sa jeunesse, et qui lui offriront plus tard,
quand aura fui le bonheur, un asile de solitude, de
fraicheur et de paix. Mais 1'enfant de Paris qui, tou-
jours prive d'air libre et d'horizon, ne voit dans son
passe lointain que des rues tortueuses et les quatre
murs d'un college, il faudra bien, s'il est poete, qu'il
recolte les souvenirs semes au temps de sa jeunesse
sur des chemins depaves et dans des maisons de platre,
et qu'il sache faire tenir dans un couchant vert et rose
apercu au bout d'un faubourg, toute la morbide me-
lancolie de 1'automne, et dans une matinee de soleil,
pres des lilas, au Luxembourg, toute la joie divine du '
printemps. »

FRANCOIS COPPEE.

A cette heure-la, Francois Coppee faisait
deja des vers; a douze ans, il traduisait ses ver
sions en rimes. Le pere etait alors mis a la re-
traite. La vie devenait dure chez les braves gens.
Trois filles sans dot ! Une seule, la seconde, se
mariait au peintre-verrier Lafaye; la troisieme
allait bientot mourir a vingt-deux ans; Tainee
resterait fille : c^est aujourd'hui la chere An
nette de Coppee, sa compagne de toujours, sa
maternelle amie.

L?enfant quitta le college apres la troisieme,
Frangois Coppee n^est pas bachelier. Ce n^est
pas faute devoir etudie. II comple'ta de son
mieux son instruction par des lectures, passant
toutes ses soirees sous les bees de gaz de la bi-
bliotheque Sainte-Genevieve ; — il en eut meme
une maladie d^yeux. Cependant, le pere deve-
nant paralyse du cerveau, on alia loger en
haut de Montmartre; Coppee resta pendant
deux ans surnumeraire, sans traitement, au
Ministere de la guerre. C'est un temps noir,
et de souvenirs tristes qui n^ont pourtant laisse
d'autre trace en cette nature d'elite, d'autre sen
timent que de la pitie pour les souffrants.
D^autres ont garde d'epreuves pareilles des
haines de refractaires et une boulimie d'argent

CELEBRITES CO N TEM PO R AI N ES.

et de revanches. Coppee n^en a pris qu^unesou-
riante philosophic et une vraie bonte. Sa mere,
cTailleurs, sublime de courage et de devouement,
donnait 1'exemple, et la soeur aine'e,reste'e seule
au logis, gagnait quelques sous a restaurer de
vieilles toiles.

Le pere mourut. Coppee devint un employe
titulaire; il eut charge dairies, fut pere de fa-
mille, — a vingt-un ans. Et il faisait toujours
des vers; mais cette jeunesse sans joie Fattrista
pour jamais. N^mporte, on remplissait son
devoir et la table de famille, autour de laquelle
iln'y avait plus quetrois personnes, — lavieille
maman, Annette et lui — avait des soirees me-
lancoliques mais confiantes. On voyait clair
dans Favenir.

Le temps passe. Coppee a vingt-trois ans; il
fait la connaissance de Mendes, des Parnas-
siens, il brule 3 ou 4,000 vers de jeunesse et
public a ses frais, — le pauvre garc,on ! — le
Reliquaire. Le succes fut grand ; Timothee
Trimm, qui etait un Sainte-Beuve a un sou, fit
un article dans le Petit Journal ;\\ nese vendit
pourtant pas cent exemplaires du volume. Al-
phonse Lemerre, deux ans plus tard, imprimait,
a ses frais, les Intimites — un cheWoeuvre ; —

FRANCOIS COPPEE. 13

on n'arrivait cette fois qu'a 70 exemplaires.
Enfin, par hasard, parce que le poete avait
rencontre Mlle Agar sur son chemin, on joue
le Passant a POdeon. Ce fut un changement
de decor, comme dans les feeries. Du jour au
lendemain,le poete eut un peu d'argent et beau-
coup de bruit.

Jadis, quand il rimait des vers sous les gouttieres,
Enfant par 1'ideal et le rdve maigri,

il n'avait peut-etre pas espere un tel triomphe,
— quoiqu'on espere tant de choses quand on
ne connait point la vanite de la vie !

Ah! ce Passant! quelle surprise heureuse et
quel gazouillis d'oiseau ce fut, dans la salle
de POdeon, lorsqu^on entendit Sylvia et Za-
netto, ces deux exquises figurines de Dona-
tello, recitant leurs sonnets florentins !

Nous ecrivions alors — et c^est un de nos
meilleurs souvenirs de jeunesse — dans notre
feuilleton de theatre de I1 'Opinion nationals :

Voila un poete jeune, qui apporte une piece a
POdeon, et le petit acte fait plus d'impression sur la
salle que les cinq actes d'un gros drame haut en cou-
leur. Si 1'on goute souvent a ce vin de Chypre, on jet-
tera le vin bleu par la fenetre.

La courtisane Sylvia est accoudee sur la terrasse,
rdveuse, attristee, regardant au loin les toits de Flo-

i+ CELEBRITES CON T EM P O R A I N ES.

rence lactee par la June et les coupoles se detachant
sur le ciel bleu. Elle songe, elle s'ennuie. Le faux
amour dont on Pentoure, les hommages dont on la fa
tigue ont enfin lasse la Sylvie, qui regrette maintenant
le passe peut-etre, et qui n'a meme plus de larmes pour
sa melancolie, de pleurs pour sa soufFrance. II faut
1'entendre interroger son cosur triste et glace ; il faut
ecouter cette langue ferme et sonore a laquelle le
theatre ne nous accoutume point, et qui soudain vous
transporte, heureux et charmes, au pays des reves.

II me semblait revoir ces claires nuits norentines, ces
nuits d'ete bleues et parfumees, ou du haut des ter-
rasses de TOmbrellino — la ville de Galilee — nous
regardions voleter, se meler, etinceler, s'elancer les
gerbes de lucioles, pareilles a des essaims d'etoiles.
G'est bien la un reve italien, ce Passant, lesonge d'une
nuit amoureuse, une vraie chanson de poete entendue
au bord de PArno, a la saison des roses.

Sylvia reve et le poete passe. Le poete est un enfant.
II a seize ans, il porte ce gracieux costume des fres-
ques de Ghirlandajo et de Botticelli. Vetu de serge, il
tient a la main sa guitare, il a jete sur son epaule
son manteau brun. Un bane! il s'arretera la, il
y dormira au bon vent, a la belle etoile. Tout a 1'heure
Sylvia etait demeuree attentive et troublee, entendant
venir le refrain du chanleur, ce refrain fleuri comme
une strophe de Remi Belleau, le gentil Belleau.

Frangois Coppee songe, d'ailleurs, avec atten-
drissement a ce soir deja lointain qui fut comme
le lever de soleil de sa gloire. Le mot de Vau-
venargues sur les premiers feux du jour aura
sa poesie eternelle. « Et cependant, disait 1 un

i. Dans le journal la Gironde scientifique et littc-

FRANCOIS COPPEE.

excellent biographe, ami de Coppee, M. A.
Chenneviere, le poete lui en a voulu parfois
a ce Passant I II s^irritait d'entendre cette
eternelle pe'riphrase de son nom : « Pheureux
auteur du Passant » ; mais comme, apres
tout, il n'est pas ingrat, il lui demande, apres
bien des annees, pardon de ces impatiences :

« Pauvre petit Passant, douce inspiration d'uneheure
radieuse de mes vingt-cinq ans, pardonne-moi, dit-il
quelque part, les minutes d'impatience et de mauvaise
humeur que m'a causees bien des fois ton nom mali-
gnement prononce pour deprecier mes creations nou-
velles. Tu n'en es pas moins reste Tenfant bien-aime de
ma jeunesse, le reve d'ideal et d'amour qu'on ne fait
qu'une fois dans sa vie, et jamais je n'ai oublie, gentil
chanteur d'une nuit de clair de lune, que je te devais
cette premiere recompense du poete, ce premier rameau
de laurier qui a fait pleurer de joie ma vieille mere et
qui m'a donne pour toujours le courage et Pesperance. »

Des lors, Frangois Coppee, applaudi, etait
celebre, recherche, choye, et ses vers, qui ne
se vendaient point la veille, furent dans toutes
les mains. II eut pour lui, comme jadis Musset,
les jeunes gens et les femmes. La princesse
Mathilde Tinvitait, et ce fut pour aller chez
elle que le poete se fit faire son premier habit
noir serieux. « C'etait trop beau, nous disait-

i«5 CELEBRITES CON TEMPOR AI N ES.

il lui-meme ; je tombe malade : une pneumo
nic dont ^avais souffert plusieurs annees et
qui a assombri ma fin de jeunesse. D^ailleurs,
favais ete trop prive d^bord : ga tue, le
desir. »

II suffirait de citer maintenant les volumes
et les drames qui ont succede au Passant pour
rappeler auxlecteurs une seduction, un charme,
un cher souvenir : les Poemes modernes, le
Cahier rouge, Olivier, les Humbles } les
Recits et les Elegies, Deux Douleurs, VAban-
donnee, le Rendezvous, le Luthier de Cre-
mone, le Tresor, Madame de Maintenon, —
d'abord ecrite sous le litre du Psautier, — enfin
apres Une Idylle pendant le siege, ces Contes
en prose qui composent deja deux volumes et
qui, unissant Femotion profonde a une sin-
guliere nettete de style, font parfois songer a
une sorte de Merimee attendri.

Un journaliste d^un vrai talent, critique tres
penetrant et chercheur erudit, M. Ed. Dru-
mont, caracterisait naguere le talent de Coppee
et cherchait surtout la dominante du poete
dans le recueil intitule les Humbles :

« Les Humbles, disait-il, indiquaient un changement
profond dans la maniere de Tecrivain. Faut-il voir la,

FRANCOIS COPPEE. 17

comme le pretend Zola, 1'introduction du naturalisme
dans la poesie ? Coppee, que le maitre du naturalisme
a voulu ranger a toute force parmi ceux qui se rallient
a son drapeau, se defend centre un tel honneur et pro-
teste comme un beau diable. Ces tableautins, dont
quelques-uns sont exposes, ne se rattachent, en realite,
a aucune ecole ; ils correspondent a ces scenes de la
vie domestique, a ces reproductions de moeurs fami-
lieres, dans lesquelles ont excelle les Hollandais; ils
ont la finesse de touche, la sincerite, la bonhomie de
ces petites toiles que Ton paye a prix d'or, et nous ne
decouvrons pas pourquoi ce qui est permis a la peinture
serait interdit a la poesie. A cote des puerilites, il y a
des effets d'une exactitude inouie, des visions de rues,
des impressions de nuit tombante d'une penetrante
justesse. Cette sorte de poesie journaliere a certains
spectacles urbains, a un coin de boutique, a une allee
de jardin public, a un faubourg regarde a une heure
de 1'annee, est rendue avec une etonnante habilete de
facture. »

Eh substituant le mot parisien au mot hol-
landais je souscris volontiers au jugement de
M. Drumont, mais les Humbles et meme les
Intimites ne donnent quMne face du talent de
Coppee. Uauteur d'Olivier a des elans qui
rappellent qu'il est le contemporain de Pauteur
de la Legende des siecles, et c'est sur les oeu-
vres completes du poete qu'il le faut juger.

II airne et chante les petits, les timides, les
desole's, ceux qui trainent sans bruit, obscu-
rement, les plus lourdes chaines, les parias de

"
^UFOftNtA-

i8 CELEBRITES CO N T EM P O R A I N ES.

notre societe heureuse et souriante, les pau-
vres diables dont la chair ne semble faite que
pour fournir de Thumus au sol ou s'epanouis-
sent les fleurs cueillies par les autres, et que
ces « humbles » soient un pauvre mobile arra-
che au pays natal par le grand devoir ou une
enfant rachitique condamnee aux exhibitions
de la scene, un deporte, un outlaw qui se re-
trouve Francois lorsque le drapeau est en dan
ger, ou une pauvre marchande de journaux, ou
meme un petit epicier, — Pepicier, raille deja
et pourtant celebre par Balzac, — qui reve en
cassant son sucre, Coppee a pour chacun d^eux
une pitie, un attendrissement. II s^emeut dans
la vie, et aussi dans cette vie fouettee qui est
le voyage, devant tout heroisme, tout devoue-
ment : Walhubert a Avranches ou Cambronne
a Nantes. En Bretagne, si Sainte-Anne d'Au-
ray et Carnac sont pour lui, — comme pour
nous? _ deux deceptions, le pays de Brizeux
lui plait parce qu'on y rencontre des pecheurs,
« ces bonnes figures de loups de mer, vrais
jambons cuits par le soleil et sales par le vent
du large ». Les marins ! Frangois Coppee les
a souvent salues, en vers et en prose, non sen-
lenient pour leurs heures de sacrifices, comme

FRANCOIS COPPEE. i9

dans I'Epave, mais dans leurs heures de la-
beur quotidienvouees au soin du navire. « Ce-
lui qui est a son poste pour balayer, dit-il, y
sera aussi pour combattre, etquiconque n'a pas
peur d'un nuage de poussiere ne reculera pas de-
vant la fumee d'un coup de canon. » En toute
chose Coppee a ainsi vu la grandeur des des-
tine'es humaines dans leur humilite touchante,
et son oeuvre est la glorification des obscurs et
des simples de coeur. Je ne sais pas de plus
noble emploi du talent que de laisser venir a
soi les petits pour les couronner.

Ces oeuvres, le maitre editeur qui a tant fait
pour la librairie fran9aise classique et mo-
derne et qui merite depuis longtemps une re
compense officielle, Alphonse Lemerre a tenu
a en faire un des plus beaux livres qu^on
puisse voir. II a voulu, comme jadis Perrotin
pour Beranger, clever un monument artistique
a son poete, Francois Coppee. II public, en
une edition in-4°, les oeuvres de Pauteur du
Reliquaire et il les a fait illustrer par un
maitre, Taqua-fortiste Boilvin. Cest un chef-
d'oeuvre.

Le premier volume de cette edition defini
tive, monumentale, contient les poesies pu-

20 CELEBRITES CON TEMPOR AI N ES.

bliees par Coppee de 1864 a 1872 : le Reli-
quaire, les Intimite's, les Humbles., etces poesies
dramatiques, si rapidement devenues popu-
laires, ces recits poignants et superieurs, la
Benediction, la Greve des Forgerons, la Lettre
du mobile breton et les pieces ecrites pendant
le siege. Avec les pages intitulees Promenades
et Interieurs, d'un sentiment si profond et si
juste, penetrant, sincere, — c'est peut-etre la ce
que le poete du Passant a ecrit de plus acheve,
de plus personnel.

On aime a relire, en cette edition magistrale,
ces vers qui chantent depuis longtemps dans
les memoires. Boilvin a signe la des eaux-
fortes exquises, tres variees, d^n naturalisme
tres simple, comme lorsqu^il illustre le Bane
ou la Nourrice, et d'une tournure fine ou fiere,
comme dans ses gravures de la Greve et du
Fils des armures. Coppee a ete bien compris
et admirablement traduit.

Sa poesie tres moderne, d'une intensite de
sensations tout a fait particuliere, emue, repliee,
parisienne par les souvenirs, les enervements,
lagrace souffrante et irresistible, etait bienfaite,
au surplus, pour inspirer un artiste tres con-
temporain dans sa fac,on de voir. Elle est cou-

FRANCOIS COPPEE.

sine de la muse triste de Sainte-Beuve,la muse
charmante de Coppee, mais elle a, je le repete,
de sa fine main de Parisienne louche a la grande
epee de Hugo; elle a garde de ce contact une
vigueur rare qui ajoute du prix a sa nervosite
exquise. C'est d'ailleurs une note toute speciale
que Fran9ois Coppee a donnee dans ces Inti-
mites ou les tendresses, les frissons, les odeurs,
le replie et le complique de la passion mo-
derne, ou de Vamour-gout contemporain, sont
analyses dans une langue d^une simplicite sa-
voureuse et savante. La est Coppee, dans ce je
ne saisquoideprofondement senti, d'amoureux
et de douloureux, de sincere et de vecu. Amou-
reux parisien et poete de Paris, avec des mu-
railles grises pour encadrer des idylles et des
jours de neige pour eveiller les nevroses. Vrai
poete moderne, contemporain, sensitif, expri-
mant avec une nettete decisive, pleine de des-
sous emus, les realites quotidiennes. Cette
edition, ce monument que lui eleve Alphonse
Lemerre, c'est deja comme une posterite qui
commence pour Goppee. II ecrit a la derniere
page de ce beau livre ce quatrain trop modeste.
« A mon editeur » :

Mes humbles vers vont done me survivre, Lemerre ?

22 CELEBRITES CON TEM FOR AI N E S.

Gr&ce au format de luxe et grace au beau papier,

Et ton livre sera le magnifique herbier

Qui conserve longtemps une fleur ephemere.

Mais la fleur est loin d'etre fanee, Elle em-
baume toujours, la fleur depoesie! Elle repand
toujours son parfum subtil et doux,et Frangois
Coppee, ce poete de nos vingt ans, est deja de
ceux dont on peut dire, en ces pages achevees,
que les relire, c'est les revivre.

On a deja fait ressortir le contraste qui existe
entre les poetes de la generation qui preceda
la notre et ceux qui vivent aujourd'hui. Les
premiers, nes dans le fracas d'une tempete, fils
de chouans ou de bleus, berces au bruit du
canon, tels que Hugo se le rappelle quand il
raconte la jeunesse de Marius dans les Mise-
rableSj ou que Musset nous le fait voir dans
Tadmirable premier chapitre de la Confession
d'un Enfant du siecle , continuerent dans ]a
litterature Poeuvre tourmentee de leurs peres.
Us furent militants, audacieux, exasperes, dans
une epoque calme, pacifique et heureuse. Le
regne doux et sans points noirs de Louis-Phi
lippe leur permettait d'etre, en art, revolu-
tionnaires tout a leur aise. Au contraire , ceux
d'aujourd'hui, nes et grandis dans des heures

FRANCOIS COPPEE. 23

calmes, ne cherchent que les seductions du
coin du feu, les bonheurs intimes, les tendresses
vraies — meme dans les Values tendresses de
ce cher et profond penseur qui est Sully-Pru-
dhomme; — et pourtant ils ont, comme la patrie
meme, la menace et le glaive suspendus sur
leurs fronts. « Pareils, a-t-on dit, a ces lettres
gallo-romains qui, a Pexemple de Fortunat,
alignaient leurs vers charmants entre deux in
vasions de barbares, ils ont la tragedie sur la
tete et Pidylle dans le coeur. »

Cette edition definitive est comme une carte
remise par CoppeeaPAcademie. Ilafailli s^as-
seoir deja dans un des fauteuils et lorsque la
jeunesse litteraire (qui commence a avoir bien
des cheveux blancs) a donne un banquet a
Sully-Prudhomme, elu parmi les Quarante,
c'est le poete du Passant qui a chaleureuse-
ment porte le premier toast au poete de la Jus
tice :

« — Mon cher Sully-Prudhomme (je Pentends
encore), les amis que reunit cette fete intime
nVont fait Thonneur de me choisir pour inter-
prete de la joie profonde que leur cause la con
secration publique d'un talent qui ne compte
que des admirateurs. En vous nommant — et

2* CELEBRITES CONTEM FOR AI N ES.

en vous preferant — PAcademie frar^aise a
voulu couronner en vous la poesie dans son
expression la plus pure et la plus desinteres-
see; et finvitetous ceux qui gardent fidelement
au fond de leur coeur le culte de Part profond
et exquis, a lever leur verre avec le mien. Je
bois a Sully-Prudhomme , de PAcademie
francaise! »

M. Sully-Prudhomme, tres emu, repondait
alors en quelques mots :

« — Nous avons a peu pres debute ensemble,
mon cherCoppee, et si je rappelle ce souvenir,
et si je parle de cet a-peu-pres, c'est que je
tiens a constater que je suis votre aine.,. Et
c^est parce que je suis votre aine que j'ai ete,
comme vous le dites, preferepar rAcademie...
Maintenant que je suis a Plnstitut, mon cher
ami, je vous y attends. »

Francois Coppee d'ailleurs n'est point presse.
II est heureux entre ses amis et ses parents,
recevant Barbey cPAurevilly et Banville, les
maitres, Paul Bourget, le poete delicat, sen-
sitif et profond, une des individualites ex-
quises de la generation nouvelle, et, sou-
riant, le poete des Intimites dit de lui-meme et
de sa vie :

FRANCOIS COPPEE. 25

« J'habite dans un faubourg; la chambre ou je tra-
vaille est situee au rez-de-chaussee et accede par quel-
ques inarches a un jardinet. Mais la maison est expo-
see au nord, en plein nord, et, meme en etc, meTne a
midi, son ombre s'etend sur la moitie de ce petit carre
de fleurs. Celles qui sont au fond du jardin, en plein
soleil, s'epanouissent et embaument dans Pair attiedi;
mais les autres, les plus proches du mur, que jamais
n'atteint un rayon, s'ouvrent a peine et ne donnent
qu'un faible parfum.

« Souvent, en me promenant dans Petroite allee cir-
culaire de mon petit jardin, je jette un regard de com
passion sur ces oeillets etioles et sur ces roses mala-
dives — car celles-la sont mes preferees — et, au meme
moment, les bruits des maisons prochaines, en parve-
nant jusqu'a moi, me font songer, par une mysterieuse
correspondance d'esprit, a certaines existences compa-
rables a ces tristes fieurs. C'est la chanson monotone
de Pouvriere qui tire 1'aiguille dans sa chambre haute;
c'est le hoquet de la machine a vapeur voisine ou
s'agite, dans Penfer d'une forge, le peuple des artisans;
c'est la cloche du couvent ou des femmes innocentes
offrent a Dieu leurs souffrances et leurs prieres pour
ceux qui, comme beaucoup d'entre nous, ne savent ni
souffrir ni prier ; c'est enfin le clairon de la caserne
ou de pauvres paysans, exiles de leurs champs et de
leurs vignes, subissent les rigueurs d'une dure disci
pline en attendant que la guerre eclate, qui les forcera
de payer a la patrie le terrible impot du sang. J'ecoute
ces bruits melancoliques, je regarde ces roses languis-
santes et ma reverie unit dans une meme pitie ces
ames et ces fieurs a qui la destinee n'a pas accorde ce
qu'elle semblerait devoir a tous, une place au soleil. »

J'oubliais d'ajouter que, de 1870 a 1871,
Coppee fut soldat comme Sully-Prudhomme,

26 CELEBRITES CONTEMPORAINES.

mais il rfoublia pas, a-t-on dit, le sac au dos,
qu^il etait poete. Pendant le siege, la Lettre
du Mobile breton, Plus de sang ! Une Idylle
pendant le siege datent de cette epoque. En
1 874 parurent les Promenades et Inte'rieurs et
le Cahier rouge. « Le poete avait alors, tout
en s^occupant d'oeuvres plus importantes,
Thabitude d'ouvrir a ses heures un mince
cahier rouge qui trainait toujours sur sa table
de travail et de se delasser en y jetant quelques
poesies fugitives. Reunies et publiees sous ce
titre : le Cahier rouge, ces poesies, empreintes
de « ce spleen qui est au fond du coeur de
« presque tous les poetes modernes », avaient
precede immediatement Olivier '. »

Mais, encore une fois,ce spleen est souriant
et indulgent chez Coppee. II se trouve satisfait
et bien paye de la vie, on vient de le voir par
ses confidences. II travaille beaucoup. « ^exis
tence du poete se compose de reve et de papiers
noircis. » II fut, aux mauvais jours, le de-
biteur du bon Lemerre ; maintenant il est sou-
vent son creancier.

Nomme par Pintervention de la princesse
Mathilde, en 70, avant la guerre, bibliothecaire

i. A. Ghenneviere.

FRANCOIS COPPEE. 27

adjoint au Senat, — devenu ensuite simple
Luxembourg, — Coppee a demissionne, deux
ans apres, en faveur de Leconte de Lisle, le
tres admirable poete. Depuis, on a donne a
Tauteur tf Olivier la bibliotheque du Theatre-
Fran^ais, la croix, trois prix a rinstitut; mais
il n'y a guere que quatre ou cinq ans qu'il est
libre et vit a son gre. Encore lui a-t-il fallu,
comme Theophile Gautier, accepter la corvee
d^un feuilleton.

J'ai voulu lui faire raconter sa vie litteraire,
mais comme tous les hommes — surtout lors-
que le cap de la quarantaine est double —
c'est surtout vers son enfance, ses debuts, les
belles heures ou Ton croyait a toutes les chi-
meres, que s'est reportee sa pensee. Plus
rhomme fait de pas dans Pexistence, plus il
regrette les premiers qu'il a faits.

Avec Coppee, les souvenirs sont tout inti-
mes. Des impressions d'art. Rien de politique.

II a pourtant fort bien parle de la politique,
certain jour :

« G'est une science, a-t-il dit, une science peu exacte,
mais une science enfin, et pour celle-la pas plus que
pour les autres, je ne me sens aucune aptitude. J'ai
cette modestie, plus rare qu'on ne pense par le temps
qui court, de me considerer comme tout a fait inca-

a8 CELEBRITES CONTEMPORAI N ES.

pable de legiferer et de me meler du gouvernement;
je suis poete, rien de plus; je tache de faire des vers
de mon mieux, et c'est encore, ce me semble, le meil-
leur moyen que j'aie d'etre un bon et utile citoyen. »

Uami de Coppe'e, dont j'ai cite plus d'une
page, a d'ailleurs recueilli quelques-uns des
propos et certaines confidences du poete. C'est
en causant que 1'homme deshabille sa pensee
et se peint tout entier :

« Coppee, ecrit M. Chenneviere, exprime ses sympa
thies litteraires avec la franchise de la conviction. En
parlant de Victor Hugo, il s'ecriait 1'autre jour : « G'est
notre grand patron a tous. II a des vers qui durent
vingt-quatre heures ! » II disait une autre fois, dans
un elan de fervente et respectueuse admiration : « C'est
le plus grand genie lyrique que la France ait produit.
C'est comme le soleil de notre litterature moderne, et
ses rayons ont penetre partout. Et aujourd'hui meme
que nous le voyons, avec une poignante melancolie,
decliner vers son couchant, il lance des lueurs si splen-
dides qu'elles ne permettent pas de distinguer les
faibles et timides etoiles qui resteront seules dans
notre ciel poetique quand il aura majestueusement
disparu derriere 1'horizon. »

Et Chateaubriand? Gustave Flaubert, fatigue d'en-
tendre pendant huit heures d'horloge le piano d'une
voisine, disait : « Je me venge en lui hurlant par la
fenetre des pages entieres des Martyrs ou des Nat-
che%. » Coppee n'en est pas a defeudre sa tranquillite
par ces moyens heroiques, mais il aime autant que
1'aimait son illustre ami cette prose majestueuse.

Du reste, il place tres haut Flaubert lui-meme :
« C'est un des premiers prosateurs du siecle, disait-il ;

FRANCOIS COPPEE. 29

il sera classique un jour; dans deux cents ans, on fera
copier aux lyceens 1'episode des lions dans Salammbo,
comme un pensum. »

Coppee, ne romantique, a, comme Flaubert,
ses admirations classiques. II aime a rappeler,
ainsi que le faisait Tauteur de Madame Bo-
vary, — qui la recitait a pleine voix, — telle
phrase de Bossuet dont la concision sublime
paraissait au grand romancier un modele ini
mitable. « En verite, en verite, je vous le dis,
demain vous serez avec moi en paradis ! » C^est
le Christ parlant au bon larron supplicie a son
cote. Et Bossuet ajoute : « Demain, quelle
promptitude! Dans le paradis, quel sejour!
Avec moi, quelle compagnie ! » On retrouve,
avec Texpression d'admiration qu^avait Flau
bert, 1'accent meme du colosse rouennais dans
la voix de Coppee lorsqu'il redit ces mots de
Bossuet.

— Palme a fumer et a lire ! dit encore le
poete, et a passer du papier aupapelito.

Un Andalous ne roule pas plus que lui de
cigarettes dans une journee. Coppee, en va-
reuse, au milieu de ses esquisses de Jules Le-
febvre ou de Jules Breton, et de ses livres,
resterait des journees enferme et revant.

30 CELEBRITES CON T EM PQ R A I N ES.

II dira encore — et je le cite car rien ne vaut
sur un homme le temoignage de rhomme
meme :

« Je suis un grand liseur et un grand coureur de
galeries et de musees/De plus, j'aime a fixer par une
lecture rimpression que m'a donnee un objet d'art ou
de curiosite. C'est une facon de s'instruire en s'a-
musant que je recommande a lout le monde. Voir
d'abord, ensuite savoir. En revenant d'une visite aux
salles egyptiennes du Louvre, je relis le charmant
Roman de la Mamie, de Th. Gautier, ou les admi-
rables paroles prononcees par Isis, dans la Tentation
de saint Antoine, de Gustave Flaubert, et, le lende-
main, pris du desir d'en savoir davantage, je vais a la
Bibliotheque feuilleter le grand ouvrage de Leipsius
ou parcourir les travaux de M. Mariette ou de M. Mas-
pero. Puis, la folle du logis se met de la partie. Pen
dant huit jours, je ne reve plus que d'obelisques, d'hy-
pogees, de sphinx et de pyramides, de dieux a tete
d'epervier promenes en barque sur le Nil, de Pha-
raons impassibles sur leurs trones, les mains sur les
cuisses et coiffes de 1'uroeus sacre, et de tous les mys-
teres de 1'Egypte antique. En sortant du musee de Cluny,
ou ma flanerie s'est arretee devant une armure niellee
et damasquinee d'or, j'ouvre volontiers Froissart ou
Joinville, et me voila parti pour les croisades, les
nobles pas d'armes et les grandes chevauchees. La
methode est excellente, je vous assure. La vue d'un
bouclier de bois dore, avec ses deux doigts leves pour
benir et ses yeux hypnotises, fait mieux comprendre le
beau livre d'Eugene Burnouf. Au souvenir d'un por
trait historique s'eclaire et s'anime une page de Saint-
Simon. Une statue grecque est completee par un chant
d'Homere et un primitif italien par un evangile. »

La confession est jolie et d'un tour inge-

FRANCOIS COPPEE.

nieux. Ainsi, et dans tout ce qiTil confie a
ses vers et a ses livres, Francois Coppee nous
apparait non comme un satisfait dans le sens
ego'iste du mot, mais comme un sage, un jeune
sage, que les nouveaux venus vont saluer
comme un maitre et quails aiment bientot
comme un ami. Remarquez que presque tous
les volumes de vers des debutants sont dedies
a Coppee quand ils ne portent point le nom
de Fauteur de la Justice. Cest que Coppee les
aide, les encourage, ecrit parfois pour eux une
preface, comme pour le recueil de M. R. du
Costal ou le Reliquice du jeune et pauvre
Read. C'est que Coppee est un maitre sans
morgue, un artiste sans pose, respectueux de
son metier jusqu'a la religion — amoureux de
Tharmonie et de la sincerite; ayant souffert et
aimant la vie; connaissant les hommes et ne
les detestant pas; laborieux et loyal; revant les
bravos du theatre et leur preferant le murmure
de quelque greve bretonne ; retouchant, a
Pheure ou fe'cris, un drame italien que nous
donnera TOdeon bientot, et tout pret a s'echap-
per pour aller a Florence ou a Douarnenez
chercher quelque impression d'art ou quelque
bain d'oubli dans Invent de me,r, Un poete, en

32 CELEBRITES CONT EM FOR A I N ES.

un mot, un vrai poete, qui a su mettre dans sa
vie le charme meme et la poesie de ses livres,
Un des plus heureux d'entre nous^uisquHl vit
dans la realite de son reve : Tart, le travail, la
lecture et Faffection de ses amis et de celle qui
a remplace sa mere.

Imprimerie-librairie A. QUANTIN, 7, rue Saint-Benoit, PARIS

CEL E B R i T i

LITERATURE - POLITIQUE -BEAUX-ARTS - SCIENCES - ETC.

BIOGRAPHIES PTJBLIEES
DANS L'ORDRE DE PREPARATION DU TEXTE ET DU PORTRAIT

MM. Victor Hugo ......... par MM.

— Jules Grevy .........

- Louis Blanc ......... -

- Emile Augier ........ _

— Leon Gambetta ....... —

— Alexandre Dumas fils . . —
- Henri Brisson

— Alphonse Daudet

- De Freycinet

— Emile Zola

— Jules Ferry

— Victorien Sardou

— Georges Clemenceau.

— Octave Feuillet

— Charles Floquet

— Ernest Renan

— Alfred Naquet

— Eugene Labiche •-. ,

— Henri Rochefort

- Jules Claretie. .*^.

JULKS CLARBTIK.
LUCIEN DHLA BROUSSK.
CHARLES EDMOND.
JULKS CLARETIB.
HECTOR DEPASSB.
JULES CLARETIE.
HIPPOLYTK STUPOY.
JULBS CLARBTIB.
HECTOR DKPASSE.
GUY DB MAUPASSANT.
EDOUARD SYLVIN.
JULBS CLARETIB.
CAMILLB PBLLBTAN.
JULES CLARETIB.
MARIO PROTH.
PAUL BOUROET.
MARIO PROTH.
JULBS CLAKETIE.
EDMOND BAZIRB.
M" DB CHE RVILLK.

MM. Erckmann-Chatrian . . .

— Paul Bert, ..... UFO

— de Lesseps

— Spuller

— Jules Sandeau

— Challemel-Lacour ...

— Auguste Vacquerie ...

— Marechal de Mac-Mahon

— Paul D&roulede

— Jules Simon .

— Ludovic Halevy

— Due d'Aumale

— Jules Verne

— Due de Broglie

Francois Coppee
Edouard Pailleron.
Henri Martin
Comte de Paris
Paul Meurice
Ranc

par MM. JULBS CLARBTIB.
NiA*-^- -HECTOR DBPASSE.

— ALBERT PINAKD.
HBCTOR DBPASSE.

— JULBS CLARBTIB.

— HECTOR DEPASSB.

— Louis ULBACH.
ERNEST DAUDET.

— JULES CLARETIB.

— ERNBST DAUDBT.

— JULES CLAKETIK.

— ERNEST DAUDKT.

— JULKS CLA<<KTIB.

— ERNBST DAUDBT.

— JULBS CLARBTIK.

— JULKS CLARBTIK.

— HBCTOR DKPASSE.

— ERNBST DAUDBT.

— Louis ULBACH.
HKCTOR DKPASSB.

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%ife anb

William Ifoarris Crawforb
of 6eoroia

•e**-

THE LIFE AND TIMES

WILLIAM HARRIS CRAWFORD,

OF GEORGIA.

AN ADDRESS

DELIVERED BY CHARLES N. WEST, A. M.,

BEFORE THE

Georgia Historical Society, at Savannah, Ga., May 2, 1892.

PUBLISHED BY THE SOCIETY.

1892.

PROVIDENCE :

SNOW & FARNHAM, PRINTERS,

1802.

ADDRESS.

Mr. President and Gentlemen of the Society :

ABOUT sixty years ago, could you have strolled into
the little court-room in the village of Lexington, near
our Georgian Athens, you would have seen presiding
as judge a very tall and strongly built man of some
what more than middle age, but who, upon closer
scrutiny, had the appearance of one who had grown
older than his actual years. Observing him only very
slightly, you would have said to yourself that this
judge was apparently far above his bar of lawyers and
his court-room company, and, had you known nothing
of his history, you would have marveled how it had
happened to him in life that such a man as he was
should be there upon that bench.

A large, long head, with bold brow, from beneath
which a pair of shrewd, kindly gray eyes looked
straight at you, — seemingly straight through you —
a large nose, firm compressed lips — the firmest lips
you ever saw — full round chin, and strong jaw, made
up a face too strong and commanding, but for that
kindly expression in those bluish gray eyes. And
those eyes ! What a world of experience and thought

in them and in that characteristic mark between the
brows ! What firmness of intent and tenacity of pur
pose in that mouth, and the lower part of the face.

The court over which he presided was the ordinary
rural Superior Court-room, that so many of you have
often seen. In front of the clerk, a small saw-dust
covered space filled with tables, at which sat the little
local bar, and some circuit-riding lawyers — big guns
from neighboring towns ; behind them a crowd of
countrymen sitting on rough pine benches, and intent
on the proceedings, each with a certain cowlike, cud-
chewing movement of face ; rustic sheriffs and rustic
bailiffs walking around amid bar and juries — hats on
for sign of office, and full of self-importance. From
his high desk, down upon the scene of petty strife
and perpetual small appeal to the weaknesses of the
human heart, in jury assembled, looked this man, who
would have had no fit place anywhere in that room
except upon the judge's seat, and hardly seemed fitly
placed there. He was not sixty years of age at the
time of which I am speaking, but his life was already
lived, and had for him nothing but memories. I think
that often as he turned his head from the wearisome
crowd, and gazed absently through the dingy little
windows, his thoughts must have escaped from that
dull environment, and carried him far away into
strange scenes, in which he had played no small part
with people whose names you may yet find in history.

About 1811, if vagrant curiosity had carried you
into the Senate of the United States, or if you had
gone there with a mind to hear Mr. James A. Bayard,
of Delaware, or old John Gaillard, of South Carolina,
you would have seen the same man whom I have de
scribed controlling the deliberations of the Senate as
its president. There were no marks of age upon his
countenance then ; but youth — determination — power.

While Bonaparte, with burning heart, was restlessly
pacing the terraces of Elba, if you had been in France
and were sufficiently conspicuous to ask presentation
to Louis XVIII., our friend of the court-room would
have been the proper person there to do this service
for you as the American Minister to the Tuilleries ;
and no one in Paris could half so well commend
you — only a semi-barbarian — to Mme. de Stael as
her friend, that man, one of the gayest of diplomats
there.

If in 1820 you had been allowed to see the Cabinet
of President Monroe in council met, you would per
haps have thought it very stupid. Mr. Monroe was
not inspiring; John C. Calhoun was very stately ; and
the satisfying goodness of John Quincy Adams, Secre
tary of State, was always chilling. But a strong, quick
step might be heard, and the man of the court would
stride in, breezy — alert — towering six feet three ; and
forthwith the Cabinet would brighten, and look as if
something quite pleasant had befallen each of them,
except John Quincy, who would afterwards go home

with black rage and despair tugging at his heart be
cause all men so loved the Secretary of the Treasury,
even to the intolerable point of wishing to make him
President.

Such were some of the scenes through which the
absent thought of the Superior Court judge must
have wandered at times. His name was William
Harris Crawford, of Georgia. He achieved no great
feat in statesmanship. He wrote no page of original
thought that is now read, or which in any likelihood
has ever been seen by anyone in this room. He lived
an active, busy, bustling life, and died, leaving little
else than personal memories behind him — memories
which have so far passed away that his name now
evokes nothing more than a vague recollection that
some such man once lived. Yet he was the ablest,
greatest man ever in this State ; and it will be my
task to-night to bring him back to us for a short half
hour; to clothe his name with circumstances of fact;
and to call back from tradition and the criticisms of
friends and foes a trace — only a trace, perhaps — of the
powerful personality which once was his, and now is
dead almost beyond recall.

Georgia claims Mr. Crawford as her son, and his
affection for her affords certainly some color for her
claim. She cannot say that she gave him the honors
that he received. She cannot even urge in his case
the most dubious of all preferences shown by a distin
guished child — that of birth upon her soil — a mark of

approval which the person most concerned cannot very
well either prevent or confer, but which nevertheless
seems to be as highly esteemed by most nationalities
as if the wise infant had so decided. But to such
honor as may be derived from Crawford's birth Vir
ginia is really entitled ; and such is the curious strength
of the particular national vanity to which I have just
adverted, that this circumstance of his advent in the
State of the " Mother of Presidents " had afterwards
far more to do with his favor in the eyes of a Con
gressional caucus than any assistance received from
his adopted State.

Mr. Crawford having been born in Amherst County,
Virginia, in 1771, in 1779 his family removed to Edge-
field County, South Carolina, and in 1783 to Columbia
County, Georgia. History records the name of neither
his father nor mother, while assuredly the industrious
genealogist inquiring of the many reputable people
of this State connected by blood or marriage with the
Crawford family, would find no mystery in his search
for either. They were certainly Scotch people of ex
cellent origin and character. Georgia became their
final home, and there, near the banks of what was
then the crystal Savannah, they passed the remainder
of their toilsome days, and reared a family of six lusty
sons of great size, one of them only of great mental
stature, and with him solely we have to do.

You can easily fancy the scenes of young Crawford's
early life. The Revolutionary War was hardly over

when the family settled in Georgia, and a tide of im
migration was pouring south into the lovely country
north of Augusta. We may suppose without danger
of mistake that the Crawfords were almost pioneers in
Columbia County, so far as permanent settlement is
concerned ; and it is certain that the future statesman's
youthful days were passed in the midst of those scenes
of rudeness and hardship which are inseparable from
the opening of a country by the advance guard. As a
lad he followed the plow with his stalwart brothers,
but, fortunately for his education, his county was fav
ored by the residence there of an excellent teacher in
the person of Dr. Moses Waddel, to whom Crawford
first became pupil, and, afterwards, assistant. Subse
quently he taught school in Augusta, at the famous
old Richmond Academy, until 1799, when, having in
the meantime studied law, he was admitted to the bar,
and removed to Lexington, in Oglethorpe County, not
many miles away from his old home, or from the prin
cipal town of that portion of the State. Augusta it
self was then scarcely more than a large village — a
small straggling town along the river bank — to which
the interior farmers, not then very many or very pros
perous, but plain, hardworking country folk, labori
ously carried their produce in carts, to bring back with
them their economical purchases; and the adjoining
counties and villages, while rapidly opening up and
developing under the tide of life pouring over the
Savannah river, resembled in none of the circumstances

of living that cotton belt of Georgia which we have
known. Masses of forest stretched westward from the
river, broken only by an occasional clearing made by
such people as Crawford's family, and crossed by very
few and rough roads ; until, not far north of the small
hamlet to which Crawford had removed, was reached
the wild domain still possessed by the Creeks and
Cherokees.

An infant before the Revolutionary war — a lad in
its hard times — and a young man in the rough set
tling day of the eastern counties, we cannot suppose
that Crawford commenced his career with much of
what we now consider personal cultivation. Indeed,
uncontradicted tradition attributes to him, during the
course of his whole life, a want of refinement, — a dis
qualification which brings his natural abilities into
only sharper outline, when we realize, that, so born
and bred, he afterwards became rather a favorite in
that foreign capital which esteemed refinement and ele
gance of manner the highest of virtues, and in which
a faux pas in etiquette was worse than a crime.

He was not altogether unknown to the people of
the State when he commenced to practice law. Not
only had he, as a teacher in a very popular school, be
fore the days of moral suasion, established close rela
tions with many of its young men, but he had come
before the people in one political matter of the great
est gravity. There was great excitement in Georgia in
those days, concerning what is known as the Yazoo

fraud. Georgia had a splendid empire of land west
ward, even to the Mississippi, upon which greedy eyes
had fastened. Eyes from Virginia — eyes from South
Carolina — no lack of similar eyes from Georgia her
self — all covetous, hungry, wolf-like. Very pliable leg
islatures to be found, and a Governor Matthews, with
honest intentions, perhaps, and undoubted personal
bravery, but without sufficient capacity to withstand
subtle assaults upon his mind. Now here were ad
mirable opportunities for personal work and artful
influences — not unlike development days again in
Georgia after 1866. Personal work and influences —
no doubt termed energy and enterprise by the owners
of the multitudinous greedy eyes — had due effect upon
persuadable legislatures and befogged Governor, and
the State's empire was shared out liberally, to the
great disgust of most Georgians, some of whom —
many of whom — we may hope were honest, and many
we may be sure were mournful, chiefly because no
slice of the loaf had come to them. But honest or
covetous, patriotic or revengeful, a fine ferment arose
— Georgia in a turmoil. One Senator, James Gunn,
backing the owners of the greedy eyes; the other,
James Jackson, resigning his seat to hurry home and
fight the industrious developers. I think that in these
days Jackson would have staid in Washington, and let
the other men do the fighting. But home he came, and
wrote and talked, and then and thus came on hotter
wrath and a new legislature, who undid — as far as new

1 1

steps could undo the old — the canny work of the last;
and then with solemn procession and formal procla
mation consigned to fire — some say to fire drawn from
Heaven — the bill and act, which had been the State's
visible outcome of the Yazoo fraud. What delight
must young Crawford have found in all this fury and
ferment over patent bribery and corruptible legisla
tures. Being young, of course he was on the patriotic
side ; and while still a school teacher, in the winter of
1795 addressed a petition to the Governor, intended
to stiffen up that weak gubernatorial spine and to en
lighten that pondering brain against fatal compliance
with the wishes of the covetous. But while the peti
tion was fruitless, its writer was not forgotten ; for as
soon as he came to the bar, and yet unknown as a law
yer, he and Marbury were appointed to digest the laws
of this State — a distinction clearly attributable to con-
spicuousness not derived from his own profession.

A classical scholar, a lawyer, and not disinclined to
take a hand in matters political, we need not be sur
prised to find Crawford in 1802 in the legislature,
where he sat until 1806, when, upon the death of Sen
ator George Jones, he was elected Senator of the
United States in his place.

In this election Mr. Crawford may be said to -have
literally fought his way. Duels were of course a com
mon mode of settlement of disputes, and he had the
bad fortune to kill one bully by the name of Van
Allen, a first cousin of Martin Van Buren; and to be

wounded by another, afterwards governor of this
State. To Governor Clark he was subsequently in
debted for much distress, for he always remained
Crawford's bitter enemy, and the fountain of all sorts
of calumnies and murderous assaults on his character.
In Crawford's worse contest, while the presidency
was trembling in the balance, there came from Geor
gia a poisonous arrow shot by Clark with intent to
kill. There is some satisfaction in recording that
although the presidency was not for Crawford, it was
not Clark's shaft that brought down the mighty game.
Through easy ways, or rough ways, to the Senate
Crawford went. Now here was a real man, given by
Georgia to the country — the best man that Georgia
ever had — with full complement of qualities for great
ness in him, but with little more when the gift was
made. Just thirty-four years old — not seven years
from his teacher's desk, what political views did he
have to commend him in the highest council. Fancy
how far off the Capital really was. By land the
journey there from Georgia required more time than
now to go around the world. No daily paper in the
up-country recording the views of political parties :
political thinkers not in touch with each other, either
to agree or to expose : no crystalization of men or
thought, in Georgia, in matters national. Nothing
but the obsolete remains of former contests over
federalism, become now in most men's minds a mere
tradition since the adoption of a Federal Constitution,

however immortal and imperishably true many of the
rejected contentions may have been and may yet show
themselves to be.

The stock of political views held by Crawford when
he went to the Senate, upon such matters as finance,
political economy, foreign relations, and naval and
war administration, would not to-day suffice for the
editorial management of a country weekly. But the
big brain was there, and his career shows that he
took in and assimilated political knowledge with the
rapidity of a perfect mental digestion. Only notice
his strides as he walks in ways political, towering
among his brother Senators. A tyro in politics — in
five years President of the Senate. An infant in
foreign affairs — in seven years an excellent Minister
to France. A novice in matters of war — in nine
years an acceptable Secretary of War. Certainly
ignorant of all finance — in ten years a most success
ful administrator of the Treasury. That present, the
rough diamond so given by Georgia to the country
was never returned to the keeping of the State until
worn out, its brilliancy gone, and nearly useless.
Five years only the representative of the State —
always after that the nation's man, until he was able
to serve the nation no longer. The country saw that
it had in him a man beyond most men — of such mind,
and nerve, and heart, that he could remain no State's
man, but belonged to the largest sphere of work for
which men were born ; and the nation took him from

the State, and kept him in her service, in this or that
high office, and would have made him its chief ; and
never did he cease to rise, and never did he go back
one step in his wonderful career, until his splendid
frame gave way.

Doubtless, deep and laborious digging into the
records of the Senate in those seven years of his life
there will show what Crawford learned to think about
many matters. Labor useless enough to us for the
purposes of this search for the man ; revealing, if we
could follow and sum up his utterances, some glimpses
perhaps of the great capacity which made him soon
acknowledged to be the first among men of his sort :
but needless digging in the presence of the great fact
of a luminous intelligence always equal to the step
before him. In 1812 he was elected President pro
tern, of the Senate upon the sickness of Vice-Presi-
dent Clinton. English aggression was at that time
rampant, as it had been for years ; and during those
years war was always impending. Between Bona
parte absorbent of the earth, and England com
bining, cajoling, bribing, persuading, compelling the
earth against Bonaparte, what escape was there for
the poor little much despised republic ? First Citizen
Genest almost forced her into arms against France ;
and afterwards she could not decently evade the issue
with France's foe, for which in truth that foe was little
to blame. For that war Crawford was not at first in-

clined, but he finally believed it to be an inevitable
necessity, and the sooner over the better.

If the traditions handed down in writing by men
who knew him and his times well are to be believed,
President Madison quickly recognized in him the
breadth of mind which rapidly changed Crawford —
an uninformed countryman from Georgia — into a
statesman, able to understand and deal with the
greatest international affairs : and frequently sought,
obtained, and relied upon his advice. The probabil
ity of the truth of this tradition is enhanced by the
fact that in 1813 Madison offered Mr. Crawford
the portfolio of War, which for some reason not
known to me was declined. Little glory had come
to the army out of that war, and little was yet to
come until Jackson's victory at New Orleans after
the peace was signed ; and it may be that Crawford
saw in the peculiar features of the army of this
country an undertaking against which any man's
genius would be feeble and incompetent until the
people would be more persuaded to resign individual
rights for the public safety. At any rate, he declined
and was not responsible for the absurd military fail
ures of the war : but, instead of the office so refused,
accepted, in April, 1813, the appointment of Minister
to France.

Mr. Crawford arrived at Lorient, France, on July
n, 1813, having crossed the ocean on board the
United States brig Argus. What were his adven
tures in eluding British cruisers history does not re-

corcl, but to France he got safely, and found it in a
momentous year. Napoleon's mistakes, of the sort
that caused his ruin, had all been made, and future
mistakes scarcely could count against him.

Spain, with its record of failures, blunders, savage
coercion, and desperate Saragossa, lay behind him.
Burning Moscow, and a forlorn escape of gaunt and
starving remnants of a grand army over snowy wastes
were of the last year's wretched work. All Europe,
except Austria and Saxony, had joined hands against
him ; and Austria and Saxony counted the days until
they could safely turn their coats. Lutzen and Baut
zen had been hardly fought, in vain ; and the tiger at
bay was facing his enemies in armistice before closing
in final grapple.

When Crawford arrived in Paris, Austria had not
turned against her Corsican son-in-law, and Dresden
had not been fought. All France was a great military
camp. The conscripts, down to the boys of sixteen
years, had gone to lay their bones in German fields.
The Moniteur was daily resounding the proclama
tions, appeals and lying bulletins of the great gladia
tor. France, ever self-deceived, was hopeful still of
her emperor's success; proud of his glory, and ago
nized over her bankruptcy in money and men. Her
women were mourning their lost children, and, with
hearts almost stilled from fear, awaited the next day's
news. They said, " So the cold came and our army
perished. And now those who are leaving us are the
same as already dead."

Says a charming writer :

" On the 8th of January a large placard was posted
on the town hall stating that the emperor would levy,
after a Senatus Consultus^ as they said in those days,
in the first place, 150,000 conscripts of 1813 ; then 100
cohorts of the first call of 1812, who thought they had
already escaped; then 100,000 conscripts of from 1809
to 1812, and so on to the end. So that every loop
hole was closed, and we would have a larger army than
before the Russian expedition."

Such was the condition of France, and its desperate
mind outside of Paris, while Crawford was journeying
from Lorient to Paris, where he arrived on July i5th.
But Paris was gay, as Paris has always been gay, ex
cept in memorable days not so long ago ; and Craw
ford, though not for some time officially received by the
emperor, and having done those things that American
ministers should do, made the most of Paris. Only
the records of state departments will show why he
was not received at once; and it affords a curious in
stance of the absolutely personal government of
Bonaparte.

There was practically no ministry of foreign affairs
in Paris, the Duke de Bassano, who was permitted to
masquerade as foreign minister, being kept by Napo
leon at his hand, so that he could know and control
every word to foreign powers. He himself had things
upon his mind at Dresden and Leipsic of a kind that
gave him no time to think of a modest American

minister, and it was November before he hastily got
back to Paris and civil affairs, when at last Crawford
was pleasantly received.

The records of our own state department show of this
reception that, as he had expected, his first interview
with the duke took place on the i3th of November,
and was followed on the next day by his official recep
tion, which, as he wrote on the igth, "was intended to
be as acceptable to me as it could be made."

Not only did the emperor acquit himself of the
common official amenities, but took pains, "after
mass," says Crawford, " to be particularly pleasant with
the minister plenipotentiary, asking him a number of
questions, and praising the manner in which our con
tention with Great Britain had been conducted, and
making flattering mention of the many great men of the
United States." And thus the new minister was re
ceived into the good graces of the moribund empire,
the emperor complimenting the Americans present
upon the grand air of their representative.*

Tradition hands down to us for Crawford a great
social success in Paris, and books have recorded the
fact without circumstances. One patriotic admirer
has written that he gained the favor of Parisian soci
ety by his open manners and instructive conversation.

Crawford was so apt, and fell in so easily with things
around him that we find no difficulty about the open
manners; and if we had any reason to think that he

* Parton's Life of Andrew Jackson, p. 345.

spoke French, we might easily credit the instructive
conversation. Perhaps he acquired it while he was
awaiting the return of the peripatetic ministry of
foreign affairs ; but I fear that we must suspect that his
conquests and friendships, like those of most Ameri
can ministers, were confined to those persons who
spoke his own language. Still they were many in
Paris ; enough to create a sufficiently large society for
the truth, in our eyes, of the statement that he was
much liked, even though of " limited learning and
unpolished manners," as another quite partial writer *
puts it. The fact must be that his gaiety of heart
and bonhommie served him in place of that refine
ment so dearly loved by Frenchmen.

The manners of the better class of Americans never
did, — even to later times than those of Crawford, —
commend themselves to the thorough Parisian. How
that poor Frenchman, the Chevalier de Bacourt, must
have suffered in that horrid American contact when
he was minister at Washington as late as 1842. He
writhes in his agony of spirit, and caps the climax of
his miseries by an account of a state dinner of Presi
dent Tyler, speaking thus of Mr. Webster, the secre
tary of state :

"The Madeira wine, of which he drank entirely too
much, made him, not only amiable in the American
sense, but most tenderly affectionate. He took my
arms with both hands and said, ' My dear Bacourt,

*Ex-Gov. George R. Gilmer's " Georgians."

I am so glad to see you to-night. More so than I
ever felt at any other time. I do not know why.
Perhaps I have not been so friendly with you as I
ought to have been ; but if you are willing, we will
become bosom friends. You will find me a good
comrade. Come and see me every day without cere
mony. It will give me great pleasure, my dear Ba-
court, for really I think you are charming. '

" This flattering declaration was made with a
drunken stammer, and — shall I dare to say it? — with
hiccoughs, which made it very disagreeable to be near
this minister of foreign affairs."

Bacourt was finical and critical, but the fact remains
that, while America could justly be proud of its youth
ful vigor and vitality ; of its growth and pluck ; of its
brains and energy, the manners of its politicians were
not those in which Parisian society rejoiced. Even
Thackeray — who was himself of rough ways, though
of gentle heart — even Thackeray, in no wise averse to,
or critical of, the American gentleman, cannot forbear
a caricature of an American minister to France :

" So he, the doctor, nodded to the queen of France,
but kept his hat on as he faced the French monarch,
and did not cease whittling the cane he carried in his
hand. ' I was waiting for you, sir,' the king said peev
ishly, in spite of the alarmed pressure that the queen
gave his royal arm. ' The business of the republic, sire,
must take precedence even of your majesty's wishes,'
replied Dr. Franklin. * When I was a poor print
er's boy, and ran errands, no lad could be more punct-

ual than poor Ben Franklin ; but all other things
must yield to the service of the United States of
North America. I have done. What would you,
sire? ' And the intrepid republican eyed the monarch
with a serene and easy dignity which made the descend
ant of St. Louis feel ill at ease."

Satire aside, we have sufficient accounts of Ameri
can statesmen abroad to let us realize the grain of
truth in the picture of American stalwartness.

But it behooves a speaker to this society to be a lit
tle tender in his remarks concerning the personal car
riage and behavior of American ministers, remember
ing that we have rejoiced in the possession of four
such gentlemen.

As to them we have no authentic accounts, and
must have recourse to charitable surmises.

In Crawford's case we know not only what he was,
and what he would be likely to have done, but, if time
permitted, more than one vivid picture of him in that
role could be given, betraying the free and easy feeling
which always characterized him wherever he was.

To my mind, the period of Crawford's stay in Paris
presents itself as the most stirring and interesting
time of recent centuries. In the scant two years of
his residence there, he saw France driven back across
the Rhine, desperately battling with combined and
advancing Europe; Napoleon at bay, and no one so
wise as even then to say whether he would be finally
crushed, or would, by some wonderful stroke of his

immense genius free himself, and defeat combined
Europe. He saw sad Fontainbleau ; Napoleon ruined ;
abdicating; made emperor of a little island; Marie
Louise gone, never to see her throne again. He saw
Alexander I., Francis of Austria, Frederick William
of Prussia, Talleyrand, and all the great powers in
congress assembled, deciding the future of Europe.
He was there when the Creole empress, the type and
embodiment of American Creole grace and beauty,
was dying, sustained, enwrapt and transfigured to the
last breath by her love for the merciless man who loved
yet deserted her, her fading accents caught by Napo
leon's Russian foe, weeping by her bedside. He saw
Louis XVIII. restored, with his horde of bankrupt
emigrants ; the new reign with its processions and
pious expiations. He saw Napoleon's militaires, with
their war-worn faces and drooping moustachios wan
dering through France, homeless, despised and starv
ing. He saw Lafayette and Madam De Stael, and
became their intimate friend. He saw all Paris shout
ing " Vive le roi" and the next day crying just as
lustily, " Vive Fempereur?

He saw Ney sent out to oppose the invader, and
witnessed his return by the emperor's side. He saw
the Bourbons again fugitives from the kingdom, and
the beginning of the famous Hundred Days ; and
these things seen, that foreign life ended for him.

During the Hundred Days he returned to his own
country and never went abroad again.

Were not those scenes notable things for the supe
rior court Judge to recall in that little court-room
when he would sit, weary of petty business, upon his
small judicial throne?

When Crawford came back to the United States
Mr. Madison was still the president, and he hastened
to offer to the returning minister the same portfolio
of war which he had declined in 1816, and which he
now accepted. But his tenure of this office was very
short; for, by the election of 1816, Mr. Monroe, be
coming president, selected Mr. Crawford for his secre
tary of the treasury, with John Quincy Adams, secre
tary of state, and John C. Calhoun, secretary of war.
Thus in the president's cabinet were three men, each
of whom hoped to succeed his chief.

It is difficult to fancy men of more opposite charac
teristics than the secretary of state and the secretary of
the treasury. Adams, — cold, severe, unapproachable,
with burning ambition, and fear that his disposition
was such as would certainly exclude him.

Crawford, — open, gay : already so much the favor
ite that he had been a caucus candidate before Mon
roe's nomination, and was deemed the latter's sure
successor.

The Puritan could never understand Crawford's
command of men and his hold upon their hearts. To
him it seemed mere jugglery, and, as he would gloomily

stand upon the Capitol steps, wrapped in his own
morbid fancies, and see Crawford march gaily off with
some brother statesman, arm-in-arm, and roaring with
laughter over some good story or ridiculous joke, in
the blackness of his despair he would murmur to him
self that it was " intrigue, all intrigue," and would go
home to his closet and record his venom, enforced by
pious observations, and religious verses.

They sat together in the same cabinet for eight
years, in every hour of which Adams hated Crawford
with a measureless hatred, — of which we will see some
thing again.

Residence abroad must have been of great service
to Crawford. The change was noticed by his friends
at home, one of whom writes that when he returned
home his appearance and manners made him the most
imposing gentleman ever seen in Georgia. Fancy the
appearance of the young country lawyer from upper
Georgia when he went to Washington, in 1807; and
then picture to yourself the same adaptive man after
seven years in the Senate, and two such years as I
have mentioned in France, and it may not be difficult
to believe in the friend's impression.

A little circumstance shows how completely Craw
ford suited himself to his environment. During his
life in Washington as secretary of the treasury he
used a service of silver so handsome that when he
went back finally to Georgia it was bought by the
government for the White House. His needs may

have required the sale, but that service would, in no
event, have gone with him to Georgia. Oglethorpe
County was no place for silver services, and Crawford
knew too well that amongst those people there was no
room for that sort of style, if he had any political
hopes, and those hopes he still must have had.

I suppose that when he returned from Paris he was
in the best of his life and powers. Only forty-three
years of age, with wide experience, his abilities en
larged by varied use, he was fit for the best and hard
est work that an American statesman can be called to
do ; and this was shown by his discharge of the duties
of the treasury for eight years. Parton says of him
at that time : " His position, in fact, was then so com
manding and advantageous that his not reaching the
presidency prior was either that he disdained intrigue
or was an unskillful politician.'"*

In the beginning Adams chuckled over the outlook
for the secretary of the treasury and even hoped that
he would not rise to the difficulties.

" The banks are breaking all over the country,"
says he, k' some in a sneaking and some in an impu
dent manner. Some with sophisticating evasions, and
others with the front of highwaymen. Our greatest
evil is the question between debtor and creditor, into
which the banks have plunged us deeper than would
have been possible without them. The bank debtors
are everywhere so numerous and powerful that they

Parton's Life of Andrew Jackson, p. 345.

control the newspapers throughout the Union, and
give the discussion a turn extremely erroneous and
prostrate every principle of political economy. Craw
ford has labors and perils enough before him in
the management of the finances for the next three
years."

But he did manage those finances with consum
mate skill and perfect success and surmounted every
peril ; and his administration of the treasury, com
mencing in clouds and storms, ended in clear skies
and brilliant sunshine.

Seen at this distance the figures that surrounded
him in those eight years loom up like far away shores
in peaceful profile, and not until you come to read
contemporaneous history can you fancy the agitations
and intrigues that kept them in restless movement.
Parties then had not crystallized around great princi
ples, but personal qualities, personal ambitions, per
sonal fojjjpt^ngs and personal attacks were the charac
teristics of the contests for the greatest prize far more
than now. Even now, when party is everything, and
men are least considered, the eye of the country is
constantly attracted by and turned upon the personal
behavior of prominent men ; sometimes in the politi
cal family of the man they seek to supplant. But in
1820 and 1824 party differences were almost dead, and
the struggle was between the friends of Clay, Cal-
houn, Jackson, Adams and Crawford. The friends of
each reviled, intrigued against and freely lied about

the others; and it may be said with regret that the
principals were not free from taint.

In all this ignoble contention it is with pleasure
that we can feel that the Georgian bore himself like
a man, and though ever attacked by the small pack
who attended the heels of their particular hero, came
out with untarnished reputation. Such assaults were
usually made in private, from mouth to mouth ; sel
dom through the public prints. But Crawford was so
conspicuous and dangerous an enemy that he became
an exception.

A man by the name of Ninian Edwards, an Illinois
politician of note, an ex-senator, and partisan of
Adams, preferred charges against him to the senate,
characterizing his administration of the treasury as
corrupt.

A special committee was appointed, upon which
were Webster, and John Randolph, of Roanoke; and
after a thorough examination Crawford was completely
exonerated. This incident is labelled in history as the
"A. B. plot," and it may give some satisfaction to
know that after the verdict was rendered the author
of the plot, who had just been appointed governor of
a territory, was forced to resign, and disappeared from
national public and political life forever.

It has been generally supposed that Mr. Crawford's
chief opportunity for the presidency arose in the con
test of 1824. But such was not the case. When he
returned from France, in 1815, and became secretary

of war in Mr. Madison's cabinet, it lay with him en
tirely whether he should be president or not.

In 1815 he and Mr. Monroe were rivals for the
nomination of the congressional caucus of what was
known as the Republican party.

Dr. Jabez Hammond, referring to this contest in
his " Political History of New York," and comparing
the aspirants, says :

" William H. Crawford was a self-made man. He
was possessed of a vigorous intellect, strictly honest
and honorable in his political conduct, sternly inde
pendent, and of great decision of character. On the
other hand, Mr. Monroe, although he had been long
in public life, a considerable part of which consisted
in the execution of diplomatic agencies, was, speaking
of him as a candidate for the presidency, not distin
guished for vigor of intellect, or for decision of char
acter, independence of action, or indeed for any ex
traordinary public services. He made no pretensions
to distinction as a writer, or eloquence as a public
speaker. He seems to have owed his success in life
to great caution, prudence, and deliberation in every
thing he said or did."

Dr. Hammond was a member of that caucus, and
remarks that " When Congress first assembled, as be
tween Crawford and Monroe, I have not a particle of
doubt that a majority of the Republican members
were for the former. But the caucus was put off from
time to time, until the session was considerably ad
vanced, and such was the influence of the administra-

tion on its own friends, or from other causes unknown
to me, when the grand caucus was held Mr. Craw
ford received fifty-four votes and Mr. Monroe sixty-
five, who was therefore nominated for president.

" Governor Tompkins was nominated for vice-presi
dent. Of the members from New York, I believe
that Messrs. Irving, Throop and Birdseye were the
only ones who voted for Monroe."

There seems no room to doubt that the election of
Mr. Monroe was chiefly due to Mr. Crawford's volun
tary postponement of his claims. In effect he de
clined the nomination in favor of Mr. Monroe, and
this procedure, together with the show of strength
made by his adherents in the caucus, was supposed
to place him before all others in the line of succession.*

I have already alluded to Crawford's bitterest enemy.
It is curious to see how hatred for the brilliant states
man had possessed the Puritan's heart. If it had died
its natural death — if Mr. Adams had simply disliked
the other man as one man may detest another, and
then, — successful or failing in ambition, — passed on
his way, leaving the bitterness of feeling to fade away
from memory as do all emotions of any one man, I
would not now speak of this matter. But it was his
habit, for good or bad, to keep a diary of his life, in
which he freely noted his opinions of his fellow men,
with self-gratulation upon his own performances and
successes. In those pages his feelings toward Craw-

* Parton's Life of Andrew Jackson.

ford occupy a prominent place, and his son* has seen
fit to publish them. You will find them in any large
library. They are upon our own shelves, and ten
thousand readers know Mr. Crawford by its pages to
one in any other way.

Haying thus freely given them to the world, I am
at liberty to speak of the feeling so freely displayed
and published.

Nothing could exceed its intensity. It was the
fruit of political jealousy heightened by the constant
sight of an attractive rival and morbid introspection.

Says he at one time in his diary, " Crawford was
made a candidate against Monroe, and in the legisla
tive caucus nearly outvoted him. He therefore con
siders himself as the natural successor, and has made
all his arrangements accordingly."

And, at another, turning his melancholy thoughts
in upon himself, he felt, and said as the opinion of the
world, " The result is, that I am a man of reserved,
cold, austere and forbidding manners. My political
adversaries say a gloomy misanthrope ; and my per
sonal enemies an unsocial savage. With a knowledge
of the actual defect in my character, I have not the
pliability to reform it."

Here was cause enough for hate — which requires
neither logic nor reason.

The picture is so forbidding that I would not trouble
you with its recorded and published expression but

* Hon. Charles Francis Adams.

for a curious conclusion which the merest justice re
quires me to notice. The years from 1816 to 1824
were spent in leaving to posterity — intentionally and
avowedly to posterity — his dislike of and opinions
concerning his great rival. You will find them lib
erally besprinkling the pages which he bequeathed to
his children, and I quote incidentally a few of the ex
tracts here and there found, in which this statesman —
afterward president of the United States — made
known his opinions in this solemn way to those of his
own blood.

I quote his exact language. Says he :

" The important and critical interests of the country
are those, the management of which belongs to the de
partment of state. Those incidental to the treasury
are in a state which would give an able financier an
opportunity to display his talents ; but Crawford has
no talents as a financier. He is just and barely equal
to the current routine of the business of his office.
His talent is intrigue?

And at another time :

"Crawford is not unwilling to see this disagreement
between the president and congress fester and infiame.
It will all turn to his account?

"Aug. 19, 1820. The delays and hesitation of the
president and the connivance of Crawford in regard
to these most infamous transactions have forced me to
push the subject again and again?

"Crawford 's intense passion is unbridled ambition,
and he has great address in his conduct, though he has
exposed to so many the nakedness of his heart that he
cannot be called very profound. His ambition has
been inflamed by success far beyond either his services
or talents ; the former of which are very slight, and
the latter much over-rated"

And again :

"Crawford's efforts to screen Mitchell from punish
ment are marked with desperation. It is impossible
he should believe him innocent, but at heart he thinks
slave smuggling no crime, and supposes his own polit
ical fortune depends upon Mitchell being cleared. The
whole transaction is a succession of malpractices to
screen Mitchell from punishment"

And again :

" They have been the uniform supporters and cham
pions of the president and his administration against
that disguised and insidious but most venomous oppo
sition which Crawford has pursued against it"

And mark you, this remark is made as to the con
duct of the secretary of the treasury concerning his
own chief's administration.

And again :

"Crawford has been a worm preying upon the vitals
of the administration within its own body"

33
And again :

"The pamphlet has produced an effect unfavorable to
Crawford's reputation as a man, and the present state
of the treasury does him no credit as a financier"

And again :

"A worthless and desperate man against whom I
have been compelled to testify in a court of justice,
attempts in the face of his own conscience to save him
self from infamy by discrediting my testimony, and
finds in Mr. Crawford a ready and willing auxili
ary, to support him in this scandalous piir pose. Craw
ford solemnly deposes in a court of justice that which
is not truer

He adds a grudging concession to conscience :

"I cannot yet bring myself to believe that it has been
by wilful falsehood. . . . Crawford's deposition
throughout is marked by a prevaricating spirit of
embarrassment"

But enough of such quotations, selected almost at
random from many similar. They show with preci
sion what Mr. Adams wished his posterity to believe
was — really and truly, and in the privacy of communion
with his own heart, and, it may be said from the pres
ence of numerous calls upon his Maker, in commun
ion with his God, — his faith. He wrote it, kept it,
and handed it down to posterity without a single word
to show that at any time afterwards he had changed

his mind or saw his errors of fact. Summed up briefly ?
they mean that he said and believed, or tried to be
lieve, that Mr. Crawford was a man of small capacity,
without financial ability ; in fact, a mere intriguer.
That he was treacherous, unfaithful to his chief, and
an enemy of the cabinet of which he was a mem
ber. That he was false to the government; false to
his associates; and false in the mere bearing of testi
mony. Incapable, a desperate intriguer, treacherous,
deceitful and lying. That is what he wished posterity
to believe of the man who was his rival. You will
find no change in those sentiments down to the Qth
day of February, 1825, when this recording angel was
elected President of the United States. So far from
any change of mind you will find the same venomous
pen on the 28th day of December, 1827, while Craw
ford was presiding over his little court in Georgia,
transmitting the same opinion in these words:

"Treachery of the deepest dye is at the bottom of
Craw ford' s character. It was before his palsy, com
bined with strong mental powers little cultivated and
a desperate energy of soul. The whole composition
was more like Milton s fallen angels than any man I
ever knew, except that Milton made his devils true to
each other''

And now what is to be thought of this man, who,
while so feeling and so writing, on the loth day of
February, 1825, offered the place of secretary of the
treasury, a seat in his own cabinet, and the manage-

ment of the nation's finances to the man whom he
has thus recorded in vitriolic phrases as guilty of in
capacity, unscrupulousness, base treachery and per
jury.

If the rest of the world had thought as Mr. Adams
said he did; if Mr. Crawford had been esteemed in
the same way by his chief — Mr. Monroe — and by the
other public men with whom he was in daily contact,
there might be some ground for the theory that in
making this offer Mr. Adams yielded to political ne
cessity and was merely weak. But such is not the
case. He stands alone among his contemporaries in
his views of Mr. Crawford. In his rage and jealousy
he wrote feelings and thoughts untrue and unworthy
of him. He did himself the injustice to hand down
those expressions to his posterity, unchanged by sub
sequent reflection and a returning sense of justice;
and so he has gone forth in print to the world the au
thor of groundless, unqualified, and unretracted libels
against an eminent man, whose chief fault was his
prospect of success in the great race in which they
were entered. But the truth and our opinions of the
persons will not change the verdict of future readers
of American biography upon the character of the
great Georgian.

A man seldom appears to his own generation as he
genuinely is. Some know one phase of his character,
some another; few the same. As to living men you
will hear unlimited differences of opinion from those

who know them best; and only shadowy, distorted re
flections of the fact — the real fact of the veritable
man — exist in the minds of those who know him only
by repute. At hand and all around us are false views,
mistaken opinions, narrow prejudices, foolish admira
tions, and unmerited approvals as to the living men
we see, of sufficient mark or vigor to call for a per
sonal judgment upon them. And then when genera
tions have passed, and the acute lines of personality
have become dim in the distance, nothing is left ex
cept the large acts which make up the figure seen, un
less the sketch is filled out and perfected by contem
poraneous minute evidence, to which the genuine man
falls a helpless victim, or which surrounds him with a
nimbus of perfection, as the witness may bean enemy
or partisan friend — an Adams or a Boswell.

That minute evidence has been furnished concern
ing Crawford by Adams. Vouched for by the hand
of a pious president of the United States, the off
spring of jealous hate will be read and naturally ac
cepted by the American student when the present
earnest protest to this little Society will have died
away forever, even should that protest by any chance
have the good fortune of a single day's recollection.
And we may rest assured that, notwithstanding that we
are now able to see through those thousands of pages
of bitter feeling to the genuine man there pilloried,
that man will go down to history not our Crawford —
the gay, brilliant, open and wise — but Adams's Craw
ford ; the low, base, incapable, lying intriguer.

Do what we may we can never help it. The en
emy has defaced one of God's noblest works for all
human time.

Fortunately for Mr. Crawford's vindication at this
late day before us — even this small part of a world,
too easily fatigued by defensive exposures — he was not
the solitary animosity nourished by John Quincy Ad
ams's heart ; and the whole of this painful subject and
exhibition of the morose infirmity coloring the feel
ing of this president of the United States may be
well summed up by one sentence which he himself has
written, and which must always stand out as his un
conscious and unreversed verdict upon himself. Af
ter Crawford was sleeping the sleep that knows no
strife, nor jealousy, no success and no failures, and
could trouble him no more, Adams wrote :

"But from the day that I quitted the walls of Har
vard, H. G. Otis, Theophilus Parsons, Timothy Pick
ering, James A. Bayard, Henry Clay, Jonathan
Russell, William H. Crawford, John C. Cathoun,
Andrew Jackson, Daniel Webster, John Davis, W. B.
Giles, and John Randolph, have used up their facul
ties in base and dirty tricks to thwart my progress in
life and destroy tny character"

In this conviction we may well leave him and his
commentaries upon the great of his day. Some of
these men were fairly decent and " indifferent honest."
It is most unlikely that they were all his enemies ;
but if, in fact, they were, I suspect that the world

could not fail to think that they had indeed just cause
for their dislike.

In most respects, however, Mr. Crawford's life in
Washington was not only successful but exceedingly
happy until he was stricken with paralysis, in the early
part of 1824. Up to that moment there seems to
have been no doubt in the minds of his contempora
ries that he would be the next president. He was the
favorite of the Republican party, so-called, in Con
gress, and was the nominee of the congressional cau
cus. He was opposed by Mr. Clay, General Jackson,
Mr. Adams and Mr. Calhoun. It is wonderful to read
the intriguing of that day — how they mined and coun
ter-mined ; bargained and out-bargained ; bought and
sold. It is certain that Mr. Crawford would have
been elected but for a bargain consummated between
the friends of Mr. Adams and Mr. Clay, by which
Mr. Clay's friends voted for Mr. Adams, who was to
make, and did actually make Mr. Clay his secretary
of state — a bargain afterwards alluded to by John
Randolph, on the floor of the House, as a combina
tion between the "blackleg and the Puritan," which
delicate expression found its event in a ball subse
quently shot by Clay through Randolph's coat. While
the combination was sufficient to have produced Mr.
Crawford's defeat, many people have contended to this
day that but for his ill health he would have been

elected. This I have not been able to verify, while it
still remains certain that his health was also a suffi
cient consideration to have excluded him from the
race. A very short time afterwards he resigned him
self to the inevitable ; and from that atmosphere of
fierce contention and pestilential intrigue ; of busy
industry and national thought ; of the hopes of friends
and the fears of foes, he came back to the quiet and
stillness of Georgia rural life, where, in 1827, he was
appointed judge of the superior court of the circuit
in which his home was situated.

Such a return must have been to him equal to death
itself. He was in his prime when stricken ; only fifty-
two years ; the most conspicuous figure of the ad
ministration, and full of buoyant life and sanguine
and well founded hope. The future had in it for him
the highest possibilities attainable in this country.
To feel himself stricken down while yet his arm
should be strong; to be bound hand and foot ; to un
derstand and know that while he was yet alive and
might live for many years, the doors to the American
political paradise, that for which he would cheerfully
have given many years of his life, were closed. That
the great future for him was gone must have been
agony beyond expression — a veritable sentence of
death, worse than death. It would be strange indeed
if Crawford realized at once the length and breadth
of this decree of living death, and the indications are
too clear that realize it he did not. His struggle with

hopeless fate was desperate. While friends watched
with anxious eye and daily less of hope, he battled on.
He could not bring his mind, or rather his heart, to
believe that his vigor had fled forever. He would not
retire from the contest ; and the love and admiration
and devotion of his friends clung to him and abided
by him, and exhibited themselves at last in splendid
fidelity, by forty-one congressional votes for the poor
paralyzed statesman, in the final count for the presi
dency.

A pathetic account is given by a member of the
caucus of the manner in which Mr. Crawford received
the news of the action of Congress :

" Three of the warmest of the partisans of Craw
ford repaired to his residence to announce to him the
sudden failure of all his hopes. Mr. Cobb was one of
the three, but he dared not witness the shock of his
chief's disappointment. The other two, Messrs. Ma-
con and Lowery, went into the room of the ambitious
invalid.

" Crawford was calmly reclining in his easy chair,
while one of his family read to him from a newspaper.
Macon saluted him, and made known the result with
delicacy, though with ill-concealed feeling. The in
valid statesman gave a look of profound surprise, and
remained silent and pensive for many minutes, evi
dently schooling his mind to a becoming tolerance of
the event which had forever thwarted his political el
evation.

" He then entered freely into conversation, and com
mented freely on the circumstances of the election as

though he had never been known as a candidate. He
even jested and rallied his friend Cobb, whose excess
of feeling had forbidden him to see Crawford until the
shock had passed, for he knew that the enfeebled vet
eran would be shocked.

" The conversation on the part of these friends was
not untinged with bitterness and spite, vented against
the prominent actors in both the adverse political fac
tions, but more especially against those of the succes-
ful party, as being more immediately responsible for
the crushing overthrow of their own beloved candi
date. Crawford himself refrained from giving utter
ance to the least exceptional sentiment, and behaved
during the remainder of his stay in Washington with
a mildness and urbanity befitting one of his exalted
station, who had just staked and lost his political for
tune." *

But even when the contest was over and he had re
tired to his plain Georgia home, there is reason to be
lieve that he did not resign himself to the prospect
of a terminated career.

Ever and anon the eyes of the great men of the na
tion were turned towards that modest house in Ogle-
thorpe County, where the judge was living, and peo
ple were sent to see him personally, and to report
whether he would ever be his old self again; and I
do suppose that at times it must have been so that as
news would come to him of political changes, and of
the varied fortunes in life of his old comrades, the old

*Cobb's Leisure Labors.

statesman's eye would flash, and he would gather him
self together as though to rise and go forth again into
the fury and fierce turmoil of the personal politics of
that day. No doubt his soul yearned for the din and
tumult; the attack and defense; the sweet incense of
flattery, and even the delights of repellable slander ;
for the "foul fat furrows of the circus " that

" Splashed and seethed and shrieked."

But that was not to be his good or bad fortune.
From 1827 to 1834 he discharged the duties of judge
of a circuit with great diligence and fidelity. I doubt
if he were a good lawyer, and I strongly suspect that
he was a poor judge so far as decisions by the books —
in many cases the printed record of former judicial
narrowness — are concerned ; but with his great mind
he made himself the law of his court, and we may not
doubt that justice was executed in that circuit as
fully, impartially, and intelligently as it would have
been by the best book lawyer on the bench. His de
cisions were most likely not based on precedents, but
they made most excellent laws for the people of Ogle-
thorpe County and of his circuit. And then, after
ruling his little domain with a firm hand and broad
mind for seven years, saying many a wise thing and
cracking many a mellow joke, he died, and was buried
amongst his own people.

In this hasty narration of Crawford's life I wish
that I were able to point to you some great work
that he achieved ; some lasting memorial that he either
made or wrote. But such was not the career or char
acter of the man, nor was it of the men of his times.
He and they — and he probably the greatest mind of
them all — were not men of that sort of aim or life.
Monroe was president, and is now chiefly known by
a dogma of American exclusive sovereignty. Clay,
Calhoun, Randolph, Webster, and the other great
names of that era come down to us immortal by their
speeches, and too often by their mistakes. But they
accomplished little notable, of good, that remains.
They wrote nothing except speeches that transmits
them to us in sentence now worth reading. I suppose
that had occasion offered — if any great question had
been evoked or forced itself upon the country, the
master mind that so easily overcame antecedents, and
made himself whatever was demanded by the hour,
would have conquered the opportunity, and thus have
handed himself down to generations of readers of
American history. But such were not his times. His
was the life of a man of affairs ; the doing every day
of those things that were to be successfully done in
that department of the government to which he was
called. There was no creative opportunity ; no abid
ing mark to be made on the tablet of the country's
life ; and neither time nor inclination served him for
thought and study and productiveness in fields out-

side of that which each year absorbed his energies.
And thus it was that he died and left no mark behind
him ; no great work done ; no fruits of his splendid
mind bequeathed to the world ; no wisdom to be ac
cepted ; no novel views to be disputed. And that is
the pity of it, and would seem to be the pitiful epitaph
that should be inscribed upon the memorial tablets
of nearly all the statesmen of his day. Jefferson,
Madison, and Hamilton stand forth with all their vir
tues and all their errors, yet constructive, creative,
productive; while the rest are dead; useless and un
profitable to this generation, except in the fruition of
the official work of their day, and in the constitu
tional development of the nation evoked from con
gressional argument and struggle.

Is it not a woeful misfortune to mankind that such
should be the outcome and ascertainable result of the
life of a creature so splendidly gifted as must have
been this man Crawford ; so far above, not only his
environment, but the mass of all living people ; so
liberally endowed with all good things that nature
could bestow, and yet to go hence leaving no more
behind him than a name scarcely rememberable for an
even score of years ; known only as the possessor of
wonderful talents that enabled him to go without falter
or stop from the legislature of his rustic State to the
highest national honors.

But I turn always from these painful reflections to
the picture of Crawford as he must have been, and,

indeed, certainly was, before stricken with paralysis.
I see the giant so clearly in the cabinet of Mr. Mon
roe, the keen bright eyes ever changing from the light
aroused by earnest debate on questions of state, to
the sparkle of merriment over some ludicrous side.
I like best to think of him as he would speak with
broadest view of Forsyth's troubles with Spain, or
Andrew Jackson ruling with high hand in Florida, or
the financial interests of the country. I see him at
his best, and I give myself some comfort in so seeing
him, when he would infuse his own light heart into
the cabinet itself in suggesting to the President, with
a sly twinkle of those kindly eyes, about the wording
of a public document, which he said should be made,
as Governor Telfair instructed his secretary, " a little
more mysterious"; or when an appointment to office
of an impartial person was under consideration, jest
ing about a man in Georgia who had two sons with
whom he was dissatisfied, and being told that a certain
cause in court was to be referred to two indifferent
men, said it ought then to be referred to his two sons,
for they were " two of the damnedest indifferent men
in the State."

To me, this picture of the gay, wise and brilliant
statesman is the pleasantest part of the life of Craw
ford ; and thus remembering him we may leave him
to his successes and his calamity ; to the hopes of
his friends and the fears of his enemies, and, I trust
that you feel with me, to our love, and sympathy, and
admiration.

Hn flftemoriam

GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS

* * *

PAPERS READ BEFORE

Starr King Fraternity

OAKLAND

September 16, 1892

Annual Meeting of Unitarian Club

SAN FRANCISCO

September 26, 1892

HXI

George William Curtis.

Death holds our Curtis now; — no more that pen
From which fell amber drops of honey dew,
No more that spoken word so strong and true,
For sweet refreshment of the sons of men;

Nor tongue, nor pen, shall ever speak again

This side of Heaven; but Fame shall fondly strew
His grave with amaranth, and Love renew
Her passion there to utmost of her ken;

For he was more than Letters' honored child,
And more than lover of the artist race;
His country held him as her noble son,

Who strove to make her parties undefiled,

To lift their feet from out the filth of place,
And set them where real victories might be won.

EDWARD R. TAYLOR.

GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS, CITIZEN.

In the first two years of this last decade of the cen
tury we have suffered the loss of the two most eminent
Americans of the time.

I use the term most eminent Americans advisedly,
as applied to two men, who combined in their own
persons the broadest culture, literary genius, oratori
cal powers, distinguished personal presence, and, above
all, a love of humanity as universal and pervading as
the race. They possessed all these attributes of a
noble manhood.

Their accomplishments made them most welcome to
the cultivated people of older lands, and the highest
possible recommendation of our Western civilization.
Their love of humanity was such that it embraced all
men, and placed them in sympathetic touch with
mankind everywhere. Yet they were above all else
true Americans, proud of their people and its institu
tions, and willing to give up everything for the com
mon good.

James Russell Lowell and George William Curtis
stood for many years as a type of the best American
manhood. To think of them makes us proud of our
country and its capabilities.

If the highest honor of a country is to produce no
ble men and women, surely Americans have no reason
to be ashamed of the showing made by preceding
generations, before the struggle to get money became
the all-pervading desire of our people. I sometimes
doubt whether our present ideals will produce the
men needed to give high character to a nation.

You will hear from others to-night of George Wil
liam Curtis as a writer, a scholar, a genial critic of
manners, but I shall attempt to point a moral by call
ing attention to his example as a citizen, an Ameri
can ; trusting that our faith and our courage may be
increased, as we contemplate a man of great abilities
and attainments, who made his duty as a citizen par
amount to all considerations of self. It is not proba
ble that he was so different from other men that he
did not have faults of character, but the generous
mind does not seek for blemishes.

Instinctively we clothe the noble exemplars of what
we admire with ideal qualities pertaining to their
known characteristics ; and the teaching force of these
ideals is incalculable. It is a credit to human nature,
that it will persistently ignore the faults of good men
and make their virtues the salient features of their
characters. It is on account of this that the lives of
the great and good have such an educating effect upon
the young.

When a man so richly endowed as Curtis lives up
to the ideals of good citizenship, his life and character

should be held up before our children as an inspira
tion to the performance of public duty. He did not
possess the rugged strength nor the great talents of
some of our grandest men, but to those who knew him
his character seems almost faultless. I do not refer to
his political views as faultless, but to his character as
a citizen. It is not necessary that we should agree
with his political views. We may be convinced of
their unsoundness, but of such men as Lowell and
Curtis we ought, as Americans, to be proud, whether
we agree with them or not. When we consider their
lofty patriotism, their great attainments, we should
receive their rebukes and instructions, their words of
encouragement and cheer with the modest deference
due to their great knowledge and love combined.

The characteristic of Mr. Curtis that has made the
most impression on my mind, as showing his good
citizenship, was his honesty. I do not now refer to
honesty in business, to his giving all his property and
then devoting many long years of toil to earn money
sufficient to pay off debts which he was under no legal
obligation to pay, but to his honesty of conduct in
following what he deemed the right in political mat
ters. I repeat, that I do not ask you to agree with
Mr. Curtis' political views. Whether he was right or
wrong is not now the question for discussion.

The most of you no doubt are Republicans in poli
tics, and look upon Elaine as a second Henry Clay.
You also believe that a high protective tariff is the

best possible panacea for a country's ills. But not
withstanding your views, I do ask you to admire
the man, who thinking just the opposite, deliberately
gave up power, influence, friends, all hope of political
preferment and endured a storm of abuse unparalleled
in bitterness, because he could not conscientiously
support the party candidate, or the party platform.
Who of us would have done as much ? Do you
wonder now that he had the moral strength to
surrender his patrimony and give so many years
of labor to pay debts not binding on him in law, but
which his conscience told him he ought to pay? How
many of us would have done as much ? Is not such
an example of adherence to conviction of right worthy
to be held up as a model?

Perhaps it is an indication that I have reached at
least the point of middle life, that I look back with
so much enthusiasm to the fight against slavery
in the midst of which my youth was spent, and to
the glorious political party of Lincoln and Seward
and Chase and Sumner and Greeley, and a thousand
lesser lights. There were giants in those days : men of
great moral force as well as intellectual power.

The question of slavery was a moral question, and
around it centered the political and social forces of the
times. Congress, and especially the Senate, was an
arena in which was fought the most stirring intellec
tual battles of our history. Men were sent to the
Senate because they were the leaders m thought and

public opinion in their respective States. The
speeches of Douglas, Davis, Toombs, Seward, Sum-
ner, Trumbull, Doolittle, were published in the daily
newspapers and eagerly read, even by school boys.

Perhaps the Senate of the present time is a worthy
successor of what we old and middle-aged people look
back to with so much pride, but somehow the Senate
of millionaires and corporation attorneys do not in
terest us much.

Now7 it was among such men as led the nation in
1860, that Curtis took his place. He had youth, mag
nificent physique, the highest cultivation that training
and foreign travel could bring, moral force, fine
manners, true eloquence.

At the great Republican Convention of 1860, where
Seward, Chase and Lincoln were the most prominent
candidates for nomination, Mr. Curtis wTas a conspicu
ous figure, carrying the Convention with him in,
probably, the greatest speech of that great occasion.

From that time on he was a power in the land, but
always for justice and right, for civil service reform,
and, until slavery and the rebellion were put down,
for human freedom and the integrity of the Nation.

With manners, the most genial and kindly, there
was yet within him the propelling force of an iron
will, which once having seen its duty, carried him
forward through all obstacles towards the desired
end. And this end was always the advancement of
the general good.

It is hard to imagine one of his polished manners,
and education taking part in ward politics. Yet for
many years he was the chairman of the Republican
County Committee of his county, and gave to local
politics much time and attention. For such a man as
he, there was no hope of fame or reward in filling such
a position. He wanted no office, but he wanted to do
his duty as a citizen. He declined the appointment of
Minister to England and to Germany, but because he
thought it his duty, labored for years for clean politics
in the county of his home.

Oh, that we had a few such men in San Francisco
and Oakland ! But could they deliver us from the
hand. of the saloon-keeper and the political boss? Or
are we so accustomed to our slavery that we had
rather endure the lash applied to our backs by our
municipal rulers than give such attention to local
matters as would place our city affairs in the hands
of honest and efficient men ?

Not the least beneficial work for the public per
formed by Mr. Curtis was the constant urging, in
season and out of season, of the creation of an inter
national reservation at Niagara, until success finally
crowned the efforts of himself and his coadjutors.
Every one visiting that wonderful work of nature
now, who knew the place twenty years ago, must
bless the memory of a man who never tired in a work
he conceived to be for the public good.

But the work to which he devoted most time, zeal
and intelligent effort was the work of reforming the
civil service. He saw clearly that our present methods
placed it in the power of unscrupulous men to control
elections and fatten off the tax-payers and the indus
trious workers.

Given the proposition, that in political matters, to
the victors belong the spoils, and what is the inevitable
result? At every election there are a large number
of offices to be filled, with the accompanying deputy-
ships and clerical force. In addition, and what is still
more tempting to the unscrupulous, the public moneys
are controlled by the victors at the polls. Now here
is inducement to men to make combinations, to give
their entire time and attention to such manipulations
as will enable them to control the expenditure of the
public money and the distribution of the public pat
ronage. But such men would be shorn of their power of
combination if they had not the means to reward
those who stand in with them by giving them clerk
ships or other employment at public expense. There
is where the blow must be struck. We must take away
the power to reward the workers at the polls and the
primaries. As it is now, a large body of men in every
municipality follow no calling save that of politics.
Of course the busy citizens, engrossed with their own
affairs, have no time to make combinations to beat
these fellows; and if they had the time, they would
quickly find that training tells here, as in every other

contest in life, and that these men who make a busi
ness of politics and have the assistance of the saloon
arid its patrons, can get away with the good citizens at
the polls.

Here is where the work of Mr. Curtis is destined to
be of incalculable benefit to his countrymen. He ad
dressed himself like a knight of old to crushing this
monster of political patronage that is sucking the blood
from out the body politic.

By voice, by pen, by sarcasm, by genial wit and
eloquent denunciation, by appeals to men's reason,
judgment and observation, by organizing his follow
ers, by giving them courage and supplying them with
arguments, he carried forward a work from which
great results were obtained in his lifetime, and which
must go on to complete fruition, if a government by the
people and for the people is to be maintained in the
land. He was the head and front of the movement for
reform in the Civil Service, and to him more than to
any other dozen men, we are indebted for the system
that has come to stay, and which already in the Na
tional service lessens the power of the political boss.
President Hayes offered him any foreign mission that
he would select, but he felt that his work was at home,
fighting for pure politics.

Defeat in his cherished schemes for the public came
to him often. Vituperation and abuse were poured
out on him without stint; friends deserted him in
crowds, yet he kept on in the even tenor of his wav.

knowing that only by strenuous effort and through
many defeats the truth is finally brought home to
men's minds and consciences.

The noble and oft quoted lines of Lowell apply pe
culiarly to Curtis and his defeats :

" Truth forever on the scaffold, wrong forever on the throne,
Yet that scaffold sways the future, and behind the Great Unknown,
Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own.'

Let us take courage as we contemplate the charac
ter of this man of many labors, who never became dis
couraged by defeat or abuse, or want of appreciation,
but who, having decided that the line of his duty
called him to work for the public good, steadfastly
pursued his course to the end.

Let us hold him up as an example of true American
manhood, as an instance of what a man may do whose
objects in life are unselfish, and whose zeal as a citizen
never abated.

Let us honor ourselves by honoring the memory of
him who has left us and passed into the unknown,
trusting that we, too, each in his own sphere, may
when the great summons comes, have added some
thing to the improvement and to the happiness of

mankind.

WARREN OLNEY.

GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS, EDITOR.

It is difficult to make a separate estimate of this emi
nent citizen as an Editor, because he was an all-round
man. His several offices blended with a fine har
mony. We think of him as an author of some of the
most charming books of his day. We remember him
as one of the best platform orators of his time. Only
three others were his equals. These were Henry Ward
Beecher, Wendell Phillips and Thomas Starr King.
In the grace of culture, the art of statement, he had no
superior among all the men who addressed popular
audiences on literary occasions.

We think of him, too, as the reformer whose invect
ive was all the more effective because his weapons
were so polished that the head seemed to fall before
one could see what hand had dealt the master stroke.

Then, lastly, we think of him as the scholar in poli
tics. It was in that character that he was before the
public for a third of a century or more. In that rela
tion he did vastly more to influence public opinion
than in any other. In short, he brought literature,
scholarship, the grace of all his culture, finally to the
one office of addressing the public through the Press.
It is impossible to measure the influence of the man

in this relation.

His weekly readers must have ranged from a quar
ter of a million to half a million. And there was such
an investment of grace, such force, such a fine temper,
and such incisiveness that all the pages his hand had
traced seemed to have a special illumination. He had
uttered the best things for the time. He knew the
height and depth, the length and the breadth of all
the questions he touched. He was for some years the
only scholar in politics who had greatly influenced
public opinion in his editorial position.

Going now, the last of his class has disappeared.
Bryant went years before him. Longfellow, Emerson,
Dana, Hawthorne, and Whittier had in some good
degree wrought as reformers. They had touched the
great questions of the day at many points, but never
at so many angles nor so effectively as did this man.

When Lowell departed, Curtis stood alone. There
was not another man who did, in any large sense,
represent the scholar in politics. And the very fact
that he stood alone, increases our sense of the loss.
He was the solitary man at the opposite pole from all
the vulgar mob, the cowardly, gross, and bullying
men who have crowded into the ranks of political
editors. He was not of them, and that very fact made
him a target for their butts and sneers. He was hated
as a reformer, as all men have been who have sought
to lead humanity up to a higher plane of life. We
still stone the prophets, and afterwards garnish their

tombs.

Not only was the scholar in politics, but all the
while he kept untarnished a pure and knightly soul.
This very elevation of character was a cause of offense
with many who were conscious that there was a gulf
between him and them.

The Athenians who bought and sold political favors,
were tired of hearing about Aristides the Just. The
corrupt politicians of our day did not like to be re
minded that this man was just, that he was so loyal to
principle, that he was ready to give up fame, fortune,
party and friends for it.

How finely has Lowell put the case for his friend:

Had letters kept you, every wreath were yours;
Had the world tempted, all its chariot doors
Had swung on flattened hinges to admit
Such high-bred manners, such good-natured wit;
At Courts, in Senates, who so fit to serve?
And both invited, but you would not swerve,
All meaner prizes waiving, that you might
In civic duty spend your heat and light,
Unpaid, untrammelled, with a sweet disdain,
Refusing posts men grovel to attain.

The clear sweet singer, with the crown of snow,
Not whiter than the thoughts that housed below !

And so amid all the turmoil, the coarse revilings,
the mean questioning of motives, this man was walk
ing with garments unspotted, a clean white soul, utter
ing his message and waiting for the harvest.

There was also the noble quality of self-abnegation.
Like Edward Everett Hale, a kindred spirit, he chose
to render the public a multifarious service, rather than
to win fame by some single monumental work. For

those who serve humanity by touching it at all the
points of sorest need, there is ever a providence that
takes care of human fame. It takes on an imperish
able quality.

Oh, for more of this scholarship in our day, with the
nerve and the brawrn to face the jibing majority ! For
men of letters not given to soft ways, having the
serene courage to look out on the angry mob, shaming
it to better ways by noble example and the voice of
an inspired leadership!

" They are slaves who dare not be
In the right with two or three."

In the beautiful Unitarian church in Oakland, they
have set up the emblem of the Sower. But has any
other man in this country, connected with the press,
in the last half century, gone forth to sow with such
high endeavor, such lofty aims, or with nobler results?
It is only the man of courage, touched with a great in
spiration, who can turn his back on party and friends
in support of a great principle. For such a man God
is always a majority.

This ideal editor needed no machinery. He was
greater than party. If one did not represent him, he
went to another. If that failed, he stood alone, greater
in this seeming isolation than if all the popular cur
rents had been turned in his favor.

It is given at long intervals to here and there
one to formulate a principle that slowly works out a
great revolution. Mr. Curtis, in his capacity as editor,

as much as in any official capacity, formulated the
principle of civil service. It was an old principle set
in a new light. It incited the hate of every corrupt
politician, and of all the brutal and half educated
men, who as partisan editors, were fattening on party
spoils.

The principles he enunciated ran counter to party
and all those personal ambitions for which a mere
politician lives. Standing the foremost citizen as a
leader in civil service reform, he was also the foremost
citizen for all the shafts of detraction. Nothing better
can be said than Lowell uttered on that point :

Knowing what all experience serves to show,
No mud can soil us but the mud we throw.
You have heard harsher voices and more loud,
As all must, not sworn liegemen of the crowd,
And far aloof your silent mind could keep,
As when in heavens with winter-midnight deep,
The perfect moon hangs thoughtful, nor can know
What hounds her lucent calm drives mad below.

The poise of his own character was fitly expressed
in words which Curtis uttered of Lowell only a few
months ago : " The price of liberty is not eternal
cringing to party, but eternal fidelity to our own
minds and consciences. . . . The hope of free
institutions lies in character, in educated intelligence,
in self-reliance, in quality, not in quantity."

Much of his editorial service took the form of the
essay, especially in his work for Harper's Magazine,
which was continued through a period of nearly forty
years. Whatever was best in the style of Steele, and

Addison and Thackeray, he not only illustrated in these
brief essays, but he added a richness and power of lan
guage which made him in this sense the superior of
them all.

It was in the weekly paper that his supreme work
was accomplished. He summoned all his intellectual
force to lift the great questions of the day above par
tisan heats. He broadened the horizon and enlarged
the value of American citizenship. The scholar, the
gentleman, the knightly Christian, the reformer, the
writer of the purest English, magnified and exalted
the editorial office beyond that of any of his country
men, living or dead.

One sentence in the tribute which Curtis rendered
to Lowell, now is applicable with equal force to this
dead editor:

" Intellectual excellence, noble character, public
probity, lofty ideals of art, literature, honest politics,
righteous laws, conscientious public spirit, social jus
tice, the stern, self-criticising patriotism which fosters
only what is worthy of an enlightened people, not
what is unworthy, — such qualities and achievements,
and such alone, measure the greatness of a State ; and
those who illustrate them are great citizens. They
are the men whose lives are a glorious service and
whose memories are a benediction."

it;

The man who illustrated this high citizenship in
his editorial office was royally enthroned. The more so
that, in the same spirit, he sometimes entered the pul
pit to speak of things seen, unseen and eternal.

From such heights were not the mountains for him
at his going tipped with gold ; and the Eternal Gates
ajar for his fellowship with immortals?

WM. C. BARTLETT.

Ernst Curtius

Gedachtnisrede

gehalten bei der von der Berliner Studentenschaft am
26. Juli 1896 veranstalteten Trauerfeier

von

Reinhard Kekule von Stradonitz

BERLIN

W. SPEMANN
1896

Ernst Curtius

Gedachtnisrede

gehalten bei der von der Berliner Studentenschaft am
26. Juli 1896 veranstalteten Trauerfeier

von

Reinhard Kekule von Stradonitz

BERLIN
W. SPEMANN

1896

Commilitonen!
Hochansehnliche Versammlung!

Vor wenigen Wochen haben Sie eine Gedachtnisfeier fur
Heinrich von Treitschke veranstaltet. Heute sind wir ver-
sammelt, um das Andenken von Ernst Curtius zu ehren. So
bald ist dem Geschichtsschreiber des deutschen Volks der Ge-
schichtsschreiber der Hellenen im Tode nachgefolgt, der milde
abgeklarte Greis, der nach keinem neuen Kranze mehr rang,
dem kampfesmutigen jiingeren Freunde und Genossen. Heinrich
von Treitschke wollte nicht glauben, dass Gott ihn abberufen
konne, ehe er seine deutsche Geschichte zu Ende gefiihrt habe.
Ernst Gurtius hat wenige Tage vor seinem Tode die letzten
Satze seiner Geschichte von Olympia geschrieben, die er als
den Abschluss seines Lebenswerkes betrachtete. Wir klagen in
wehmutiger Trauer, dass diese vornehme, edle und grosse Per-
sonlichkeit uns genommen ist. Aber wir diirfen sein Leben
glucklich preisen, wie er es selbst glucklich gepriesen hat. Die
Erfahrung des Schmerzes, ohne die sich kein menschliches
Leben vollendet, ist auch Curtius nicht erspart geblieben. Aber
seine irdische Laufbahn war eine ununterbrochene Kette von
begliickenden inneren und ausseren Erfolgen, die er, fromm und
bescheiden, voll freudigen Dankes, als eine gottliche Fiirsorge
und Fuhrung an sich erlebt und empfunden hat.

In der alten Hansastadt Liibeck, deren abgeschlossene Stille
durch den Glanz einer grossen geschichtlichen Vergangenheit
Bedeutung erhielt, unter dem Schatten der ehrwiirdigen und
schonen Marienkirche 1st er aufgewachsen, als Kind einer Fa-
milie, in der einfache Frommigkeit, vaterlandische Gesinnung,
geistige Regsamkeit und Arbeit selbstverstandlich waren.

Wie sein um fiinf Jahre jungerer Bruder Georg, von dem
Vater und von trefflichen Lehrern in der Neigung zu den
classischen Studien friih bestarkt und gefordert, ist er schon
als Schiiler durch Johannes Classen mit Niebuhrs Leben und
Ansichten bekannt geworden. Die Studienjahre fiihrten ihn
zuerst nach Bonn, dann nach Gottingen und Berlin. Aber noch
ehe er diese Studien ausserlich abgeschlossen hatte, vollzog sich
die Wendung, die flir sein ganzes Leben entscheidend war.

Sein Bonner Lehrer, Professor Brandis, hatte sich dazu
bestimmen lassen, nach Athen uberzusiedeln, um dem jungen
Konig Otto wissenschaftliche Vortrage zu halten. Er forderte
seinerseits Curtius auf, ihn nach Athen zu begleiten und den
Unterricht seiner Sohne zu ubernehmen.

So ist Gurtius im Friihjahr 1837, 22Jahrig, nach Athen ge-
wandert und hat mehr als vier Jahre der empfanglichsten Jugend-
zeit in Griechenland verbracht. Diese Jahre waren um so
reicher und glticklicher, seit er im Mai 1838 seinen geliebtesten
Jugendfreund Emanuel Geibel im Pira'us abholen und zu dauern-
dem Aufenthalt in Athen einfiihren konnte. Auch Geibel hatte
eine Hauslehrerstelle in Athen angenommen. Jeden freien Abend
und jeden freien Tag verbrachten die beiden Freunde gemein-
sam, und so gefesselt fiihlten sie sich beide von der Zauber-
kraft des griechischen Bodens, dass sie ihn noch nicht verliessen,
auch nachdem die Verhaltnisse sich losten, die sie zunachst
nach Athen gefiihrt hatten.

Beide, Geibel wie Curtius., waren zugleich Dichter und
Philologen. Bei dem einen hat die Dichtkunst, bei dem andern
die Philologie den Sieg davongetragen. Von der damaligen
Gemeinsamkeit des Lebens, der Wanderungen, der Studien hat
Curtius ein lebhaftes Bild gegeben in den von warmer Liebe
getragenen Erinnerungen an Emanuel Geibel. «Geibels Natur
— so erzahlt er — war nicht darauf angelegt, dass er die
Altertiimer des Landes zum Gegenstande eines eingehenden
Studiums machte. Es war der Gesamteindruck des siidlichen
Landes, der auf sein Gemiit wirkte, die Freude an ihrer
keinem Banne des Winters erliegenden Naturkraft, das Inter-
esse ftir das rege Leben eines geistig hochbegabten Volks und
seine Sagen; vor allem aber wichtig war es ihm, dass das
klassische Altertum ihm hier lebendiger als je vor die Seek
trat, und dass er unter dem Himmel von Athen einen neuen
Antrieb flihlte, sich in die attischen Dichter ganz hineinzuleben.
In diesem Bestreben fanden wir uns durchaus, und was wir
als Gymnasiasten auf den W alien der Vaterstadt begonnen, er-
neuten wir jetzt auf gemeinsamen Spaziergangen, sei es an den
stillen Abhangen des Ilissus, wo Sokrates die Einsamkeit suchte,
sei es im Oelwald und am Rand des Kolonos oder auf den ab-
gelegenen Hohen der alten Felsenstadt, welche den Ausblick auf
Aigina gewahren. Wir beschaftigten uns mit den Worten der
Dichter, gemeinsam bestrebt, ihnen ihr Innerstes abzulauschen
und dafiir den deutschen Ausdruck zu finden. Abends schrieben
wir die Zeilen nieder und fanden in dieser Arbeit liebevoller
Nachdichtung einen unerschopf lichen Reiz.»

Die Krone der gemeinsamen Wanderungen war die sommer-
liche Fahrt nach Paros und Naxos, fur Curtius zugleich eine
plotzliche Offenbarung der Bedeutung des Insel-besaeten griechi-
schen Meeres, das die kleinasiatische Kiiste mit dem griechischen

Festland verbindet, - - eine Offenbarung, die ktinftig den lesten
Grund fur seine Auffassung der griechischen Geschichte dar-
bieten sollte. Wie stark der Eindruck dieser Inselfahrt war,
lehren noch die Jahrzehnte spater niedergeschriebenen Blatter
iiber Geibel. Machtiger klingt er wieder in dem aus naher
Erinnerung gehaltenen Yortrag iiber Naxos, der die Zuhorer
durch seine gliihende Begeisterung mit sich reissen musste.
Man hore nur die prachtvolle Schilderung:

Die priesterlichen Sagen des agaischen Meeres meldeten
von jener langen Regennacht, die einst alles Inselland im Wasser
begraben habe, wie vom ostlichen bis zum westlichen Strande
einst ein breites, wiistes, hafenloses Meer geflutet habe. «Aber
die Fluten sanken; empor stiegen die Tochter des Meers, Delos
als die erstgeborene, die nach altem Dichterworte zitternd vor
Bangigkeit unter den Wellen verborgen lag; dann hoben die
andern Sch western nach einander die Haupter empor; da
wurde auch die schonste Gruppe frei, das Inselpaar Naxos und
Paros, beide so eng unter sich verbunden, dass man sie mit
dem ein en Namen Paronaxia umfasst. Paros1 edle schlanke
Formen scheinen schon aus der Feme den kostlichen Inhalt
seiner Berge zu bezeugen. Welch eine Welt von Tempeln
und Bildwerken ist aus ihrem Schoosse hervorgegangen, und
heute noch glanzen ihre unterirdischen Hohlengange bei Fackel-
licht wie die Festsale eines weit verzweigten Feenpalastes ;
Paros ist reich an Quellen und geraumigen Hafen. Naxos ist
die grossere und machtigere Nachbarin; nach alien Seiten ab-
gerundet, ohne tiefere Einschnitte, steigt sie in massenhafter
Erhebung aus dem Meere und hebt ihren breiten Gipfelberg
stolz iiber alle Gykladen. Durch Umfang und Festigkeit zum
Haupte der Schwesterinseln bestimmt, ist sie durch mannig-
faltigen Segen der Natur nicht minder ausgezeichnet. Klein-

Sicilien hiess sie bei den Alten wegen der Fulle an Korn?
Wein und Oel; auch heute noch 1st Naxos ein Paradies im
Vergleiche mit den umliegenden Inseln. Seine Garten bliihen
in morgenlandischer Pracht, voll von Cedern, Granatbaumen,-
Mandeln, Orangen und alien edlen Friichten, welch e die Naxi-
oten bei Siidwind brechen, in ihre Schiffe laden und in rascher
Fahrt nach Constantinopel bringen, um der Reichen Tische
damit zu schmiicken. Immergrun sind die edlen Waldungen,
die der Herbst mit mildem Regen anfrischt, und ehe man des
Winters gewahr wird, verkiinden die Orangendiifte, welche die
Luft erftillen, und die bunten Anemonen, die den Boden farben,
dass der Fruhling wieder da sei? und die Bienen schwarmen
wieder um die mit duftigen Krautern dicht bewachsenen Hohen.»
Und triumphirend schliesst diese entziickte Beschreibung : «Auf
dem iiber 3000 Fuss hohen Berge Zia in der Mitte von Naxos sieht
man zweiundzwanzig Inseln zu Fiissen liegen und in der 6'stlichen
Feme die Bergmassen Asiens in blassen Linien aufsteigen.»

Aus den Erzahlungen der frankischen Familien auf Naxos
entnahm Geibel die Anregung zu seinem Gedicht «Die Blut-
rache»? und auch Curtius brachte, wie stets, zwischen seiner
Suche nach Inschriften der Muse sein Opfer dar. Das Geschick
eines Abkommlings der alten italienischen Familie Coronello,
die einst das Herzogtum Naxos beherrschend nun bettelnd
darbte, gab ihm den Stoff zu einem empfindungsvollen Klagelied,
und den Abschied von dem geliebten Naxos besang er in einem
Sonett, das er noch im Alter vor vertrauten Freunden nicht
ungern anfiihrte:

Leb' wohl mein Naxos! Sieh, es schwellt gelinde
Das Segel sich und fuhret mich von hinnen;
Noch seh' ich driiben deine weissen Zinnen
Und gebe diesen letzten Gruss dem Winde:

Hab' Dank fur jede Lust! Gleich einem Kinde,
Dem leicht und ohne Harm die Stunden rinnen,
Hab' ich bei dir gelebt, und dies gewinnen -
Es ist des Gliickes schonstes Angebinde.

Wann warden wieder zu so holdem Frieden
Zu Lust und Lied mich duft'ge Garten laden,
In welchen gliiht die Frucht der Hesperiden?

O, bliihe stille Wohnung der Najaden

Und bleibe gern vom lauten Markt geschieden,

Dir selbst genug, die schonste der Gykladen !

Im Sommer 1840 erfullte sich fur Curtius eine schone
Hoffnung, die sich bald in bitteres Leid verwandeln sollte. Sein
geliebter und bewunderter Lehrer Otfried Muller kam nach
Athen. Sie wollten das Land gemeinsam durchwandern. Die
Reise im Peloponnes gelang iiberaus glucklich. In Delphi,
unter den heissen Strahlen der Julisonne erkrankte der rastlose
Forscher; am i. August standen Curtius und Scholl an seinem
Todtenbette. Und wenn irgend etwas den unvertilgbaren Ein-
druck, den Otfried Mullers Personlichkeit und dessen wissen-
schaftliche Ideale in Curtius' Seele einpragten, noch verstarken
konnte, so war es dieses Erlebnis eines grausamen vorzeitigen
Todes. Es war der tragische Abschluss des langen Aufenthaltes
in Griechenland.

Im December 1841 erwarb sich Curtius den Doctorhut in
Halle - - es versteht sich fast von selbst, dass er dies that auf
Grund einer Abhandlung iiber eine Frage der attischen Topo
graphic; er dachte sich in Halle zu habilitiren, aber Meineke
zog ihn an das Joachimsthal'sche Gymnasium. Noch als Lehrer
dieses Gymnasiums hielt er am 10. Februar 1844 im wissen-
schaftlichen Verein einen Vortrag, der die zwreite entscheidende
Wendung in Curtius1 Leben bezeichnet — wie noch einmal,

8 Jahre spater, ein soldier Vortrag, der tiber Olympia, fiir Curtius
selbst und fur die Geschichte der Wissenschaft bedeutsam wurde.

Der Vortrag am 10. Februar 1844 hatte die Akropolis
von Athen zum Gegenstand. Aus frischer eigener Anschauung,
mit plastischer Kraft, mit feurigem Schwung schilderte der
jugendliche Redner die Lage Athens und seiner Burg, ihre
Bauten und Statuen, ihre Schicksale, ihre Zerstorung in alter
und neuer Zeit. Unter den Zuhorern befand sich die Enkelin
Karl Augusts von Weimar, die Gemahlin des grossen Kaisers
Wilhelm, damals Prinzessin von Preussen. An diesem Abend
hatte sie den Erzieher gefunden, den sie fiir ihren Sohn, den
damals i2Jahrigen Kaiser Friedrich suchte, dessen Andenken in
unser aller Herzen unausloschlich eingegraben ist.

Curtius' Vaterstadt Liibeck hatte unter der Fremdherrschaft
der Franzosen schwer gelitten; sein Vater war von dem corsischen
Imperator geachtet worden. Curtius selbst war 1814 geboren;
in seine Kindheit und Jugend verwoben sich die frischen Er-
innerungen der Befreiungskampfe. Eigener politischer Thatigkeit
wie jeder Missachtung fremder Volker abgeneigt, w7ar er ein
feuriger Patriot, unerschiittert im Glauben an Deutschlands grosse
Zukunft und Preussens deutschen Beruf. Wir konnen uns denken,
mit welch flammender Begeisterung er sich der Aufgabe hingab,
dem Erben des preussischen Thrones alle Elemente der edelsten
Geistesbildung zuzufiihren — in heiligem Ernste, aber ohne jede
Pedanterei. Diese Hingebung brachte reichen Segen. Der Er-
folg des Unterrichts war. der gliicklichste, der so hoch geborene
Schiiler, wie seine Schwester, die jetzige Frau Grossherzogin
von Baden, dem treuen Lehrer besonders herzlich zugethan, die
erlauchten Eltern voll Dank und Vertrauen. Sie waren und
blieben unerschopflich in der Erfindung immer neuer Formen,
um ihre Zuneigung zartsinnig und freundlich auszusprechen.

Als der Prinz von Preussen, der unter dem was er 1848
erleben musste schwer litt, das Weihnachtsfest im friedlichen
Kreise der Seinen feierte, begrtisste ihn sein kiinftiger Erbe, der
lyjahrige Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm mit einem ernsten Gedicht,
das Curtius fur diesen Zweck verfasst hatte. Es ermahnte,
nicht der erfahrenen Treulosigkeit zu gedenken, sondern der
Treue, des alten Ruhmes, der hohen Zukunft. Die Schluss-
strophen lauteten:

Zur Ernte reif sind der Geschichte Saaten,
Die Eure Ahnen in dies Land gesenkt,
Und neue Bahnen winken Euren Thaten;
So habt nicht Ihr --so hat es Gott gelenkt.

Wir seh'n auf Euch mit frohem Angesichte,
Verbannet sei, was Angst und Zweifel schuf.
O, horchet auf! Es ruft die Weltgeschichte,
Und Hohenzollern horet ihren Ruf.

Es bedarf nichts anderes, um zu zeigen, wie nahe Curtius
seinen kaiserlichen Herren stand.

Eine so enge Gemeinschaft konnte sich nicht losen? auch
nachdem die zunachst gestellte Aufgabe erfiillt war. Curtius
fuhrte den Prinzen Friedrich Wilhelm noch in die rheinische
Universitat ein. Dann widmete er sich wieder ausschliesslich
seiner Lehrthatigkeit an der Universitat Berlin und seinen For-
schungen. 1856 wurde er nach Gottingen auf den Lehrstuhl
seines Lehrers Otfried Muller berufen. 1868 kehrte er nach
Berlin zuruck als Professor an der Universitat und zugleich
Director an den Koniglichen Museen. Von nun an blieb Berlin
die Heimat, in der und von der aus er seine umfassende und
grosse Wirksamkeit ausiibte, in seinen Vorlesungen als begeisterter
unermudlicher Lehrer? aber auch in jedem anderen Zweige seiner

Thatigkeit, als Beamter am Museum, als Forscher in jeder wissen-
schaftlichen Untersuchung die er vornahm, stets und iiberall mit
seinem ganzen vollen Herzen beteiligt.

Die Friichte der in Griechenland begonnenen Studien waren
rasch gereift. Schon 1851 erschien der erste Band seines Werkes
tiber den Peloponnes, das ihm mit einem Schlage die bewun-
dernde Anerkennung aller Fachgenossen sicherte, 1857 zum
ersten male der erste Band der griechischen Geschichte, die
seinen Namen weit iiber die gelehrten Kreise hinaus bei alien
Gebildeten bekannt machte.

Aber Curtius konnte bei der Arbeit am Schreibtisch, in
den Bibliotheken, in den Museen allein sein Geniigen nicht linden.
Er wusste, welche Schatze classischer Kunst, welche Denkmale
alter Geschichte unter dem Boden Griechenlands ruhend ihrer
Auferstehung harrten!

Den beruhmten Vortrag iiber Olympia, dem eine grosse
und auserlesene Zuhorerschaft aus alien Kreisen lauschte, hielt
Curtius am 10. Januar 1852.

Er sprach von den athletischen Wettkampfen als Teilen
der griechischen Gotterfeste; er erzahlte von der Geschichte
Olympias und seiner Bedeutung fur die Gesammtheit des weit
zerstreuten Griechenvolkes ; er schilderte die Bauten und Heilig-
tumer, den Zeustempel mit seinem reichen stdtuarischen Schmuck,
die glanzenden Siegesdenkmaler und Weihgeschenke, die Zer-
storung und Yerschuttung, und er fuhr fort:

»Der Verfall des Heiligtums ist durch den Alpheios be-
schleunigt worden. Denn seit er nicht mehr durch Damme
gebandigt wird, hat er bei jedem Hochwasser seine Flut iiber
den Boden der Altis gewalzt und die wankenden Saulen um-
gerissen. Aber er hat nicht nur zerstort, er ist auch im Mittel-
alter ein treuer Altishiiter geblieben, er hat die niedergeworfenen

Schatze der alten Kunst unter seiner Schlammdecke versteckt
und an alter Stelle aufbewahrt. Darum hat der erwachte Sinn
ftir griechische Kunst, darum hat Winckelmann vor Allen sich
mit Recht gesehnt, diese Decke zu liiften. Sechzig Jahre nach
seinem Tode war es die wissenschaftliche Commission des fran-
zosischen Befreiungsheeres, welche seinen Gedanken ausfiihrte.
Zwei Graben wurden an den schmalen Seiten des Zeustempels
gezogen und in kiirzester Zeit grub man aus der Tiefe eine
Reihe von Bildwerken ; es waren die Zwolf kampfe des Herakles,
wie sie Pausanias beschrieben hat. Ehe man noch den ganzen
Tempel vom Schutt gesaubert hatte, wurden plotzlich alle
Grabungen eingestellt; man horte auf zu suchen, ehe man zu
finden aufgehort hatte. Von neuem wa'lzt der Alpheios Kies und
Schlamm fiber den heiligen Boden der Kunst und wir fragen
mit gesteigertem Verlangen: wann wird sein Schooss wieder ge-
6'ffnet werden, um die Werke der Alten an das Licht des Tags
zu fordern? Was dort in der dunkeln Tiefe liegt, ist Leben von
unserm Leben. Wenn auch andere Gottesboten in die Welt
ausgezogen sind und einen hoheren Frieden verkundet haben,
als die olympische Waffenruhe, so bleibt doch auch fur uns
Olympia ein heiliger Boden und wir sollen in unsere, von
reinerem Lichte erleuchtete Welt herubernehmen den Schwung
der Begeisterung, die aufopfernde Vaterlandsliebe, die Weihe der
Kunst und die Kraft der alle Mtihsale des Lebens uberdauernden
Freude. «

Diese Mahnung machte den tiefsten Eindruck auf alle Zu-
horer, auch auf Konig Friedrich Wilhelm IV. Aber noch war
die Zeit nicht gekommen, dass sich Preussen und Deutschland
an dem Wettkampf der Nationen um die Wiederaufdeckung
des griechischen Altertums beteiligen konnten.

Curtius ist nicht mude geworden, seine Mahnung zu

wiederholen. Immer wieder wies er darauf bin, dass die Fort-
schritte der Altertumswissenschaft abhangig sind von den For-
schungen und Entdeckungen an den Statten der alten Cultur
selbst. Von den wichtigsten Platzen alter Geschichte seien nur
wenige genau bekannt, geschweige denn ausgebeutet; selbst fiir
die Umgebung Athens entbehrten wir noch einer geniigenden
Aufnahme.

«Die Zeit ist kostbar - - so rief er aus — •, denn die Zer-
storung der edelsten Ueberreste schreitet unaufhaltsam fort, und
die in immer grosserer Fiille zu Tage kommenden Altertiimer
werden in Folge der Gesetze des griechischen Konigreichs, die
jede Ausfuhr verponen, versteckt gehalten, unter der Hand ver-
handelt und heimlich in alle Welt zerstreut. Da kann nicht
durch einzelne Reisen, sondern nur durch eine ununterbrochene
Thatigkeit geholfen werden, welche nach einem festen Plane die
Aufnahme aller ftir die Geschichte und Kunst wichtigeren Platze
des classischen Bodens, die noch mangelhaft bekannt sind, all-
mahlich fortschreitend ins Werk setzt und dabei an den be-
deutendsten Stellen durch Nachgrabungen unterstiitzt wird ; ferner
durch die Errichtung einer wissenschaftlichen Station, welche^
wie in Rom, so auch in dem fur Kunstforschung jetzt so un-
endlich wichtigeren Athen den ganzen Kunsthandel iiberwacht,
alle Entdeckungen genau registrirt und so allmahlich das Material
sammelt, welches zu einer umfassenden Kenntnis der attischen
Kunst unentbehrlich ist. Athen ist zugleich die richtige Warte
fiir den Orient, so weit derselbe ein Schauplatz hellenischer
Cultur gewesen ist.»

Jeder Fortschritt in der Festigung Preussens und Deutsch-
lands war zugleich ein Schritt vorwarts zur Erreichung der von
Curtius ausgesprochenen idealen Forderungen der Wissenschaft.

Nachdem der Prinz von Preussen die Regentschaft iiber-

nommen, erfolgte die Entsendung von Curtius, Strack und
Botticher nach Athen, zu Studien liber die Topographic und
die Denkmaler. Am 2. Ma'rz 1871, am Tage nach dem Ab-
schluss des grossen Kriegs, hat Kaiser Wilhelm I. die An-
erkennung des archaologischen Instituts in Rom als preussische
Staatsanstalt volizogen. Im Herbste desselben Jahres machte
Curtius gemeinsam mit einigen wissenschaftlichen Freunden eine
Recognoscirungsreise in Kleinasien, welcher Kaiser Wilhelm einen
Generalstabs-Oftizier zur Anfertigung genauer Terrainaufnahmen
beigegeben hatte. Am 16. Mai 1874 wurde das archaologische
Institut in eine Reichsanstalt verwandelt und gleichzeitig die
Zweiganstalt in Athen gegriindet, die schon im Herbst desselben
Jahres eroffnet werden konnte. Zu gleicher Zeit wurde die
grosse Unternehmung der Ausgrabung von Olympia ins Werk
gesetzt. Wie dies geschah, das hat Curtius selbst bei der Feier
seines achtzigsten Geburtstages in kurzen, schwerwiegenden
Satzen zusammengefasst : «Als nach dem blutigen Volkerkampfe
der edle Wunsch sich regte, nun auch ein echtes Friedenswerk
in Angriff zu nehmen, da erwachte in dem Kronprinzen der
Eindruck eines Vortrages iiber Olympia. Der Tra'ger der Kaiser-
krone ergriff den Gedanken mit ruhmwiirdiger Energie; der
alien hellenischen Sympathien fernstehende Kanzler beauftragte
den Professor mit Abschluss eines Vertrags mit der Krone
Griechenland, und der junge Reichstag bewilligte, ohne dass
-cine Stimme des Widerspruchs laut wurde, hunderttausende von
Thalern fur eine nationale Unternehmung, bei welcher nach
den Staatsgesetzen von Hellas nichts zu erwerben war, als der
Ruhm, zum ersten male einen der an Denkmalern reichsten
Platze von Altgriechenland mit seinen Tempeln, Bildwerken
und Inschriften vollstandig frei zu legen.»

Im April 1 874 schloss Gurtius den Yertrag mit der griechi-

schen Regierung in Athen ab. Am 4. Oktober 1875 geschah
der erste Spatenstich auf dem Boden der Altis.

Vier Jahre darauf, als die Arbeiten in Olympia noch in
vollem Gange waren, schloss sich an diese Unternehmung des
deutschen Reiches die preussische der glanzenden Ausgrabungen
in Pergamon, mit denen der Name Carl Humanns unvergang-
lich verbunden ist wie der von Curtius mit Olympia, auch diese
Unternehmung ermoglicht und getragen durch den machtigen
Schutz und die personlichste Forderung, die ihr der grosse.
Kaiser und sein hochgesinnter Sohn zuwendeten.

Schon seit 1862 hatte Graf Moltke als Chef des grossen
Generalstabs topographische Aufnahmen auf dem classischen
Boden Griechenlands durch seine Offiziere und Beamten vor-
nehmen lassen. Mit der Stiftung der athenischen Zweiganstalt
des deutschen archaologischen Instituts wurde gleichzeitig die
grosse Aufgabe einer planvoll fortschreitenden genauen topo-
graphischen Aufnahme der Stadt Athen, ihrer Umgebung und
der ganzen attischen Landschaft ins Werk gesetzt, — eine
langwierige miihselige Arbeit, die dank der aufopfernden Thatig-
keit der beteiligten Offiziere und Beamten des Generalstabs jetzt
vollendet vorliegt.

Mit welchem Hochgefiihl des Gluckes begriisste Curtius
alle diese Erfiillungen seiner sehnsiichtigen Traume! wir em-
pfinden es nach, auch mit wie tiefem Dank gegen das Kaiser-
haus der Hohenzollern. Durch seine amtliche Stellung bot sich
Curtius oft der Anlass als 6'fFentlicher Redner aufzutreten und
diesem Geftihl des Dankes Worte zu leihen. - - Einer Samm-
lung solcher Reden hat er den Titel gegeben: «Unter drei
Kaisern». Wie gerne und wie oft hat er die friedlichen Thaten
Kaiser Wilhelms I. gepriesen! es fiel ihm auch die Aufgabe zu,
die Gedachtnisrede fiir den grossen Todten zu halten, und wenige

18 —

Monate darauf die noch schmerzlichere Pflicht, des Todes Kaiser
Friedrichs in offentlicher Versammlung zu gedenken. Schwerlich
jemals hat er, der beriihmte Meister formvollendeter Rede, die
Herzen seiner Zuhorer tiefer getroffen als bei dieser Trauer-
feier, da er mit der Klage des personlichsten Leides erklarte,
nichts kunstvoll Ausgearbeitetes bieten zu konnen, sondern nur
Blatter der Erinnerung, die er zu den vielen anderen Kranzen
-auf seines Kaisers Grab lege. Aber er richtete sich empor aus
seinem bittern Schmerz und er hat den jugendstarken dritten
Kaiser des neuen Deutschland in hoffnungsreicher Zuversicht
und frohen Mutes in einer Rede begriisst, der er die stolze
Ueberschrift gab: Die Biirgschaften der Zukunft.

Nach sechs Arbeitsjahren waren die Ausgrabungen in
Olympia 1881 zum Abschluss gelangt — an Ergebnissen so
reich, dass sie alles Hoffen iiberstiegen. Drei Jahre darauf
feierte Curtius seinen 70. Geburtstag. Seine Schiller und Ver-
ehrer iiberreichten ihm, um ihre Liebe und Dankbarkeit zu
beweisen, zugleich mit einer Festschrift seine von Ktinstlerhand
geschaffene Portratbiiste. Wiederum drangten sich um ihn die
Schaaren der Freunde am 22. December 1891. Es war der
Tag, an dem er vor 50 Jahren den Doctortitel erworben. Um
seinen 80. Geburtstag wiirdig zu begehen, wurde sein mar-
mornes Bildnis an der Statte seines Ruhmes, in Olympia, auf-
gestellt. Bei der Enthiillung wetteiferten die griechischen und
die in Griechenland weilenden deutschen, franzosischen, eng-
lischen und amerikanischen Gelehrten in Lobpreisungen und
Huldigungen. Aber alle Festfeiern und alle Liebe und Treue
konnten das Alter und die Gebrechen, die es mit sich fiihrt,
nicht verscheuchen. Mit der bewundernswiirdigen zahen,
geistigen und korperlichen Energie, die diesem Greise mit dem
^ugendfrischen Herzen eigen war, hat er immer wieder jede

aussere Storung der Gesundheit iiberwunden, und er blieb
wissenschaftlich thatig, so lange er athmete. Nach wenigen
Wochen einer schmerzhaften inneren Krankheit 1st er, im
zweiundachtzigsten Lebensjahre, sanft und rasch verschieden.

In dem langen und reichen Leben, das Curtius beschieden
war, hat er eine iiberaus grosse Zahl von Schriften veroffent-
licht, die nach alien Seiten der Altertumsforschung weit aus-
greifen. Sie erwarten nicht, dass ich sie im einzelnen aufzahle.
Aber ich darf nicht unterlassen, auf ein Thema hinzuweisen,
das ihn durch das ganze Leben begleitet hat — die Topographic
von Athen. Seit seinen Jiinglingsjahren hat er nicht aufgehort,
die Probleme der athenischen Stadtgeschichte immer wieder zu
durchdenken, um sie im Geiste wieder aufzubauen und ihr
Bild durch jede neue Entdeckung, durch jeden neuen Fund
reicher und lebensvoller auszugestalten.

Die Stelle, die Curtius in der Reihe der grossen Entdecker
und Forscher einnimmt, ist schon fur uns, die wir noch mit
ihm lebten, unverkennbar klar bezeichnet.

Stets, in der Jugend wie im Alter, hat Curtius als die
Lehrer, von denen er die wissenschaftliche Richtung seines
Lebens erhalten, August Boeckh, Friedrich Gottlieb Welcker und
Otfried Miiller bezeichnet und neben ihnen den grossen Be-
grunder einer neuen geographischen Betrachtungsweise Carl
Ritter genannt. Ihnen alien war er auch personlich nahe ge-
treten, mit Ritter und Otfried Mtiller in Griechenland gemeinsam
gewandert. Die drei Heroen der Altertumswissenschaft hatten
ausgebaut, was F. A. Wolf als Ziel der Philologie hingestellt
hat, die einheitliche wissenschaftliche Ergriindung und Dar-
stellung des griechischen Lebens, das ihnen der wichtigste In-
halt der alten Welt war, in seiner Gesammtheit und in alien
seinen Erscheinungsformen. Jeder von ihnen war auf die Er-

fassung dieser Gesammtheit gerichtet und keiner 1st einer Seite
ausgewichen, die ihm in seinen Forschungen entgegentrat. Aber
gemass ihrer Eigenart suchte sich jeder seinen eigenen Weg in
der Flille der Erscheinungsformen, jeder ging von einem anderen
gesicherten Herrschaftsgebiet des Konnens und Wissens aus
und strebte nach anderen Zielen, die nur in welter Feme zu
einer Einheit zusammenwuchsen. Boeckh hat in seinem classi-
schen Werk den Staat und die Finanzwirtschaft Athens zur
Grundlage genommen. Welcker wollte griechische Gotterlehre,
griechische Poesie und griechische Kunst in drei selbstandigen
Werken schildern, die sich so gesondert zu einer Einheit zu-
sammenfugen sollten. Seine eigenste Heimat war die griechische
Poesie. O. Miiller ist durch friihen Tod verhindert worden,
zu vollenden, was er hatte geben konnen — sein Herz hing
an der Geschichte der griechischen Sta'mme und Stadte. Wenn
es Boeckh vergonnt gewesen ware, Griechenland aufzusuchen,
- er wtirde schwerlich in der Art seiner Forschung irgend
etwas geandert haben. Welcker betrachtete die lange Reise?
die ihn, gereift und schon alternd, nach Griechenland und
Kleinasien fiihrte, als die Vollendung seines Verstandnisses der
griechischen Mythologie, Poesie und Kunst. O. Miiller war
durch das Bedurfnis deutlicher und fester Vorstellung aller
historischen Vorgange friih zu dem Studium ihrer geographi-
schen und topographischen Bedingungen hingedrangt worden.
Durch die griechische Reise, auf der er starb, hatte er die
selbstandige und lebendige Anschauung dieser Bedingungen er-
ringen wollen.

Curtius stand wie im Lebensalter so personlich O. Mtiller
naher, als seinen beiden andern Lehrern. Er setzte da ein, wo
O. Miiller aufgehort. Durch Ritters tiefere Auffassung angeregt
und befestigt, steckte er sich hohere Ziele. Er suchte die Scene

zu begreifen, auf der sich die Geschichte des hellenischen Alter-
tums abgespielt, den schicksalvollen Zwang, den die Gestaltung
des heimatlichen Bodens auf die Menschen ausiibt, und die
Veranderungen, die die Menschenhand diesem Boden aufpragt.
Er durchdringt diese natiirlich gegebenen Bedingungen der geo-
graphischen Lage und der topographischen Gliederung mit der
scharfsten Beobachtung und phantasievoll nachempfindender An-
schauung und schildert die in der Structur der Erdrinde gege
benen Formen, ihre Gebirge, Meere, Fliisse und Ebenen mit
einer plastischen Kraft, mit einer hellen Klarheit, die ihres Gleichen
nicht gefunden hat. Wer je auch nur die ersten Blatter des
Werkes uber den Peloponnes gelesen, wo er die in das Mittel-
meer hineinragenden Halbinseln Spanien, Italien und Griechen-
land in ihrer Gleichartigkeit und in ihren Unterschieden der
Gestaltung vorfuhrt, kann sich iiber die ganz personliche Eigen-
art und iiber den gewaltigen Fortschritt, den sie gegen alles
friihere bezeichnet, nicht tauschen. Aus diesen naturlichen Be
dingungen pflegt er die Folgen fur das Menschenschicksal her-
auszulesen, am liebsten .bei den grossen Verhaltnissen des Welt-
verkehrs mit den hin und her rlutenden Volkerwanderungen und
bei ihrem Gegenbild, dem reichen Sonderleben einzelner Stadte
und Landschaften verweilend. Auf einem fest gegebenen
Boden, vor einem landschaftlichen Hintergrunde vollziehen sich
ihm alle religiosen Wandelungen, alle literarischen und kiinst-
lerischen Leistungen. Als Zeugen der Totalitat des griechischen
Lebens gelten ihm Literatur und Kunst, nicht als Einzelerschei-
nungen und er ist niemals darauf ausgegangen, die griechische
Kunst in eine andere Totalitat, die der allgemein menschlichen
Kunstgeschichte, einzuordnen. Eben so wenig hat er die grie
chische Kunst nur als einen Gegenstand asthetischen Genusses
angesehen. Er jubelte auf bei den herrlichen Funden der Nike

des Paonios und des praxitelischen Hermes. Aber er erklarte:
wir haben den Boden der Altis nicht in der Absicht geoffnet,
um lauter mustergultige Kunstwerke zu heben, sondern urn ein
Archiv der Geschichte aufzuschliessen. Ueberall suchte Curtius
den griechischen Sinn auf in jeder geschichtlich erreichbaren
Erscheinungsform und er fand diesen selben Sinn wieder in jeder
Art politischer, kriegerischer, religioser, literarischer oder kiinst-
lerischer Thatigkeit, in dem Wegebau der Griechen so gut 'wie
in den Miinzen, in der Anlage der Sta'dte und ihrer Markte, in
den gewaltigen Tempeln und ihren Bildwerken wie in jedem
Dreifuss, in jeder Inschrift, in jedem Grabstein. Er suchte nach
den Ausserungen jenes Geistes am Beginn wie am Ende der
Entwicklung, in den rohen kunstlosen Idolen, wie in dem letzten
Aufflackern der entarteten indo-griechischen Kunst. Er schrieb
seine griechische Geschichte nicht zu politischer Belehrung,
sondern um die Schicksale und die unvergleichlichen Leistungen
dieses Volksstammes vor unsern bewundernden Augen voriiber-
ziehen zu lassen. Alle politischen, literarischen, kunstlerischen
Gegensatze innerhalb des Griechentums schienen ihm unwichtig
gegeniiber dem lichtumflossenen Gesammtbild der griechischen
Cultur. Denn er lebte des festen Glaubens, dass das von den
edelsten Geistern Griechenlands Errungene ein fur alle Zukunft
unverlierbarer Besitz menschlicher Gesittung sei. Leben von
unserem Leben nannte er die noch unter der Erde ruhenden
Kunstwerke Olympias. »Die fortschreitende Wiederentdeckung
der alten Welt ist kein Sonderinteresse der Philologen und
Archaologen, sondern eine wissenschaftliche Aufgabe von all-
gemeinster Bedeutung. « » Der Geist des Altertums ist eine Macht
der Gegenwart, eine iiberall nahe und einflussreiche. Wir ahnen
es selbst kaum, wie die Perioden, in denen wir denken und
schreiben, die Bilder der Sprache, die wir anwenden, wie der

23 —

Massstab unserer Beurteilung geistiger Erzeugnisse, wie die
Formen der Gebaude und Gefasse, wie Kunst und Handwerk
unter dem Einflusse jenes Geistes stehen. So ist es allmahlich
dahin gekommen, dass kein Teil der Menschengeschichte uns
naher und innerlicher verwandt ist, als das klassische Altertum. «

Diese Ueberzeugungen sind dieselben, welche die Heroen
unserer classischen Literatur, Goethe, Schiller, W. von Humboldt
hegten. Sie stehen heute nicht mehr wie fruher tiber allem
Streit der Parteien, sondern sie sind in den leidenschaftlichen
und gehassigen Kampf herabgezogen liber das, was die wahrste
und echteste menschliche und nationale Bildung sei.

Curtius war durch seine in sich vollendete vornehme Per-
sonlichkeit der lebendige Beweis fur den Wert der am griechischen
Altertum genahrten Bildung.

Tauschen wir uns nicht! Ohne diese ihnen so wohl ver-
traut vor Augen stehende Verkorperung des edelsten classischen
Geistes wurden Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse und Kaiser Friedrich
weder fur Olympia noch fur Pergamon die Hand geriihrt haben.

Der Name von Ernst Curtius wird in der allgemeinen Ge-
schichte der Wissenschaft aufbewahrt bleiben, so lange noch an
irgend einer Stelle der Erde das griechische Altertum und die
griechische Kunst als ein wurdiger Gegenstand des Studiums
gelten wird. So lange noch Deutsche der hohen Heldengestalt
Kaiser Friedrichs, des unvergesslichen, gedenken und seinem
jugendlichen Wachstum liebevoll nachspuren werden, wird mit
dem geweiheten Namen Kaiser Friedrichs auch der Name Ernst
Gurtius genannt werden.

Berlin, Druck von Albert Damcke.

MEMORIAL ADDRESS

By PRESIDENT DWIGHT

yrofpssors M. & Mljifapg anb 3. |3, Bane

COMMEMORATIVE ADDRESS

BEFORE THE

GEADTJATES OF YALE UNIVERSITY

JUNE 23, 1895

By PRESIDENT DWIGHT

NEW HAVEN :

THE TUTTLE, MOREHOUSE & TAYLOR PRESS

1895

PROFESSORS DANA AND WHITNEY.

MEMORIAL ADDRESS DELIVERED IN BATTELL CHAPEL,
JUNE 23D, 1895, BY PRESIDENT DWIGHT.

A regretful, and yet a pleasant thought will arise in the
mind of every graduate and friend of our University who
returns to New Haven for this Commencement season, as he
recalls the name and personality of each of two honored men
whose long-continued service here has recently been termi
nated by death. William Dwight Whitney and Jarnes Dwight
Dana were known for forty years or more by all who knew
anything of the institution, as having their life within the
sphere of its life, and as giving forth for its life, from the
central forces of their own, rich and abundant influences for
good. They entered upon their work for its well-being, and
the well-being of its students, almost at the same time. They
devoted themselves to the duties pertaining to their different
departments of instruction and learning with a similar spirit of
faithfulness and with similar enthusiasm. They impressed
themselves in like measure on the academic community so soon
as they became recognized members of it, and the impression
was deepened as the community more fully recognized their
presence and power. The years moved forward, and the
results of them were discovered to be more and more affected
by what they were doing, or had done. Their fame, which
came to be wide-extended, not only in our own country but in
other lands as well, united itself with the fame of the institu
tion. What they were was felt by every one of its sons to be

— 4 —

a part of what it was for himself in the honor of his relation
ship to it or the scholarly inheritance which it secured for him.
They finished their work and passed away to other scenes and
larger life beyond the limits of onr earthly vision at so brief a
remove of time from one another, that they must be remem
bered in the future with a common remembrance — the loss of
the University in their removal from it being appreciated as,
after a peculiar manner, one great, though two-fold, loss.

It would seem to be especially fitting, in view of this com
mon sentiment and feeling, that we should open our Com
mencement season with some commemorative words which
may bear in themselves our regretful, yet pleasant thought
connected with their life-work and its end. Such commem
orative words, spoken of the two together, may fitly also, as it
would seem, have reference to what they accomplished in and
for the University, the love of which brings us to this place as
the season returns to us once more. We may leave the
biographical record, and the complete history of the entire life
of each of the two men, for others to tell the story at another
time. The record for us, at this hour, is the record of the life
in which we participated with them, and upon which our
thoughts now rest with peculiar and absorbing interest. What
were the two men in and for this life ?

Professor Whitney was elected to fill the chair which he
held in the University on the 10th of May, 1854. His term
of service, accordingly, may be regarded as having begun with
the opening of the academic year 1854-55. The election of
Professor Dana had taken place already four years earlier, in
August, 1850, but for special reasons he did not enter upon
the duties of instruction connected with his office until 1855.
The two men thus came into the sphere of the University life,
as active workers in it, as if at one and the same moment. It
is interesting to think of them as they were at this time, and

also to recall to mind, in some measure, what was the condition
of the institution.

Of the two men, Professor Dana was the elder by fourteen
years. He had already reached middle life, and had attained
a reputation which is rarely secured in early manhood. He
had had unusual opportunities, for that period, of cultivating
himself in the studies in which he was most deeply interested.
In his college days, and after his graduation, he had enjoyed
the privilege of association with the elder Professor Silliman,
whose inspiring influence as a teacher of Natural Science was
then more marked, perhaps, than at any other time during his
long and honorable career. In 1838, he had been called to act
as Geologist and Mineralogist in connection with the United
States Exploring Expedition which was sent by the govern
ment to the Pacific and Southern oceans. For four years he
was engaged in this service. With open mind and untiring
energy, he availed himself of all the remarkable advantages
afforded him in his visits to remote and interesting parts of the
world. He gained new knowledge at every stage of his
progress, as well as new stimulus for further effort and
advancement. On his return, in the latter part of the year
1842, he had already gathered abundant results of his investi
gations and observations, and had accomplished much in the
way of fitting himself for the larger work of his future life.
In the years which immediately followed, he gave himself
mainly, in connection with his duties to the government, to the
preparation of reports of what had been effected and realized
in the interests of science. These reports which he published,
and which were founded upon the most careful researches
made by him while engaged on the expedition, and upon the
thorough study of the material collected by him and brought
home, attracted attention at once. It was recognized by
scientific men, and by others, that a man of very uncommon
powers and attainments had appeared upon the stage — one

from whom much might be hoped in the coming time, and
one who would, as there was every reason to believe, render
jet greater service in the cause of science in our country. In
these years also, he carried forward other work with much
earnestness, and with rich results. His published volumes 011
Mineralogy were received with great favor, and new editions
were called for. His minor writings and essays were highly
appreciated by all who were familiar with the branches of
learning which they discussed. • In every way open to him he
was an unwearied worker — his studies and his labors contin
ually bearing fruit. Thus at the age of thirty-seven, when he
received from our Corporation the appointment as Professor
of Natural History, he had done a large work and had
earned for himself a well-established reputation. Few men,
who have ever been connected with our institution, have real
ized as great results or secured as gratifying recognition so
early in life. There could have been no doubt or questioning
on the part of the authorities of the institution when they
called him to engage in its service. They must have had full
assurance of what he would be, by reason of their knowledge
of what he was.

Professor Whitney at the time of his appointment to his
office, on the other hand, was only twenty-seven years old.
He was thus in the promise of youth, rather than in the realiza
tion of middle life. The ten years which separated him from
the age of Professor Dana at the date of the election of the
latter to his Professorship, or the fourteen years which divided
their ages when they entered upon the duties of their official
life in the University, are years in which promise turns into
reality, in a special degree and measure, in the case of such
men as they were, — that is, men of gifted minds, ardent
intellectual enthusiasm, large powers of acquisition and
accomplishment, and abundant energy. Professor Whitney
was in the sphere and era of promise at that time. But

— 7 —

the promise was full of hope and brightness. Those who
saw him and studied with him, when he first came to New
Haven as a young graduate of only four years' standing, per
ceived .at once that he had within him the scholarly faculty and
power which needed only time for the effecting of great results.
My own thought goes back oftentimes, as I think of him, to
the days soon after my graduation, when he first came into a
little class who were reading Greek authors with President
Woolsey, and I remember how we recognized his ability, his
thoroughness, ' his facility and skill, his clear-sighted apprehen
sion, his attainments already made, his spirit becoming the
honest student and characteristic of the true scholar. We felt
that he was no ordinary man, and that he would have in the
coming years an honorable and successful career. The thought
which we, who were his fellow-students for a few brief months,
had of him by reason of what we saw from day to day, was
confirmed for us, and for all in the higher circle of the aca
demic life, by the reports which were heard concerning him
after he left us to continue his studies abroad. He used the
far greater advantages which Germany then afforded, as com
pared with any tiling that could be offered in our own country,
with the same faithfulness, intelligence and ardor which had
marked his course at home. The scholars there recognized in
him a scholar of kindred aim and purpose with themselves.
They perceived that he had remarkable gifts, and they will
ingly bore witness to their high estimate of his powers and
their confident hopes respecting his future. It was not strange
that those within the company of teachers who were most
interested in the progress of scholarship in our institution, and
most far-seeing in their plans for it, should have kept their
thoughts upon him during the three years of his absence in
Europe. The presence of such a man, with the promise of
youth, in the growing University would be a power which
must be continually felt, a stimulus for every one who should

be susceptible to his influence. If the way could be opened
for securing for him a permanent position here, a service
would be rendered the beneficial effect of which would, no
doubt, become more and more manifest as time passed on.
Young men are the hope of an institution of learning, and
such a young man, it might well be felt, must not be forgotten
or by any means be lost. It was not strange also, that the
thought which had been turned thus towards him even from
the beginning of his residence abroad, should have turned into
action before his return home. The call to our institution
might well precede the call to another. The certainty of the
result might be secured by the timeliness of the movement
towards it.

It was with thoughts like these, no doubt — thoughts which
involved outlook upon the future, and were inspired by gener
ous interest in the advancement of learning here — that the
question of his becoming more permanently connected with
the college was presented to him as early as 1853. It was pre
sented by a friend, who was ready to make an affirmative
answer possible by the generous offering of a gift for the
foundation of a chair of instruction. When it was thus
answered, the way was opened for the subsequent action of
the authorities, which was taken with a unanimity most grati
fying to our whole community of scholars. Mr. Whitney
came to 'New Haven to enter upon his professorship in 1854,
full of hope for himself, and awakening earnest hopes in
others on his behalf.

Such — in some brief suggestions respecting them — were the
two men at the beginning of their work here. Let us look for
a few moments at the institution to which they came, as it then
was. The administration of President Woolsey was in the
ninth year of its progress. The influences and movements which
had been originated by him, especially in the development of
scholarship and the scholarly spirit, had thus had time, at least

— 9 —

in considerable measure, to make manifest their results. A
quickened life, befitting the age and growth of the college,
revealed itself to every observer. In this life there was inspira
tion for all the membership of the community, and particularly
for those whose minds wrere already stirred by enthusiasm for
learning. The outlook for the future, in this regard, was most
promising, because of the realization of the present. The past
years had borne fruit, and the future years must bear more and
richer fruit. It was an auspicious time. We may easily picture to
ourselves how auspicious it must have been to the thought of
these two teachers, who were just ready to bring their own
enthusiasm and scholarship into the new sphere of their activ
ity. The scholar is largely dependent on his surroundings ;
the teacher is even more so. When the atmosphere is health
ful ; when the stirrings of new life are manifest on every
side ; when the learner is responsive to the thought and effort
put forth in his behalf, by reason of the influences which
come upon him from the place in which he lives ; when all
things around him are living and moving and reaching forward,
and all men are full of aspiration, his own personal impulse and
enthusiasm are made vital with a vitality which in other circum
stances must be unknown.

At the beginning of Dr. Woolsey's official term a most impor
tant step, indicating the advance of learning, had been taken,
which was of moment both to the inward and outward life of
the institution. The Department of Philosophy and the Arts
had been established by the Corporation. The design of this
department, as stated at the time, was to furnish resident grad
uates and others with the opportunity of devoting themselves
to special branches of study, either not otherwise provided for,
or not pursued as far as individual students might desire. Pro
vision was thus made for two classes of persons for whom little
or nothing had been done before. The first of these two
classes was the class of resident graduates — that is, young men

— 10 —

who, having had their minds awakened during the college
course to special interest in particular lines of study, had a nat
ural and strong desire to follow out those lines still further and
with larger opportunities. A few such young graduates had,
in earlier days, remained for a year or more at the college.
But they had had little encouragement to do so, and they were
compelled, if they remained, to depend mainly on themselves
so far as their studies were concerned. They were scarcely
counted as at all within the citizenship of the institution. It
was felt by Dr. Woolsey and his most thoughtful associates,
that the time had arrived when the growing University should
grow in this direction, and when graduates, equally with under
graduates, should find opportunities as great as possible await
ing their presence here. The other class consisted of those
who, with or without the ordinary classical education of the
undergraduate courses of the time, might desire to pursue
Physical Science and its application to the Arts. Physical
Science wras beginning not only to draw to itself much greater
attention than had been the case in earlier times, but also to
demand for itself special facilities and provisions in the higher
educational institutions of the country. The fact that this
demand received such prompt and willing consideration from
the authorities of our college was most creditable to them. It
was due, no doubt, in no inconsiderable measure to the influ
ence, both direct and indirect, of the work which the elder
Professor Silliman had done in the field of science.

It may seem strange to the careless observer of the past who
looks from the standpoint of to-day, that the two classes wrere
included in one Department. But the men of half a century
ago had not the light of the present ; and if there be anything
to surprise us as connected with their action, it is to be found
in what they did, rather than in what they failed to do. They
created a Department of the institution for the classes referred
to. This is what they did — and it involved a foresight and

— 11 —

wisdom and large-mindedness which may call forth our admi
ration. They did more than this. They made the Depart
ment so comprehensive, and yet so simple, in its plan, that it
proved able, as time advanced, to develop and adjust itself
according to all the possibilities which have since arisen. Our
School of Science, which is as large in its number of students
as the entire University was at that time, and our Graduate
School, which has a hundred and forty in its membership, are
the results of what they included in their planning ; and
we see the University of to-day finding much of its success
and honor in these two schools. There is no event in the his
tory of the administration of that eminent scholar and Presi
dent, Dr. Woolsey, which will be more conspicuous in the
remembrance of it than this one which marked its very first
days.

In view of these two facts which have thus been briefly
mentioned, the institution, as we may say, had opened upon a
new era when the professors whom we commemorate began
their work. In many aspects of it, the former age was still
continuing in its characteristics and in its dominating spirit.
As compared with wrhat we observe about us at the present
day — when the methods of instruction have been improved,
and the facilities for study have been increased, and the elec
tive system has so greatly widened the field of vision and of
opportunity, and independent research and investigation are so
much more encouraged — it may sometimes seem as if there
were but little difference between the conditions of forty years
ago and those of a hundred years ago. But here — manifest
in all its reality and in all its possible consequences — is a great
change, an epoch-making change, which divided the second
half of the century from the first. The modern time, as we
may say, wras introduced by this change. These men came
here as the modern time was opening — in its earliest years —
and as it was opening for themselves in all hopefulness and

— 12 —

promise. It was the formative period for the new era, and as
such it must have furnished its own peculiar sources of satis
faction and of confidence for the future.

It is interesting to notice, as we think of the two men thus
undertaking the new work under the conditions of the new
time, that, while both alike were filled with the scholarly
inspiration which was moving the community, they had turned
in their studies into the two different lines for the better fol
lowing out of which provision had just been made in the
recently-established Department — the one of them having
given himself to science, and the other to the study of% lan
guage. It may seem to us, in this view of the matter, almost
as if the men were providentially fitted and sent hither for the
peculiar work of the era. Certainly no happier fortune could
have befallen the college, at this particular crisis in its history,
than that which was realized in the appearance within the
circle of its life of two such scholars, thoroughly prepared for
the two sections of the work which was to be done. Of the
two, Professor "Whitney alone was assigned his office in the
new Department. In the more strict sense of the words, he
was made a University Professor, as Professor Salisbury, his
predecessor and colleague, had already been for some years.
But the new Department may be said to have carried the idea
of the University, as contrasted with the- college, distinctly in
itself. In the subsequent history, certainly, the development
of the University has connected itself in no inconsiderable
measure with the existence and growth of this Department.
Professor Whitney's work, which was intended to be mainly
carried forward within the Department, was to be University
work. According to the arrangements of the plan, however,
and by reason of the necessities and limitations of the time,
instructors in other branches of the institution were brought
into close relation to this section also, and were included within
the membership of its Faculty. This was the case with ref-

— 13 —

ereiice to Professor Dana, whose chair belonged to the college
by the provisions of its endowment ; and in the very first year
of Professor Whitney's service the two names appear together
in the list of the officers of the Department of Philosophy
and the Arts. If we look forward from that earlier time to
the years that followed, and get a vision of the growth after
wards from the point of view of the beginning, we may see
how fitly they were thus put together at the first. When the
Department, under influences which those who organized it
could not foresee, divided itself, and in connection with the
division developed, as we may say, into two schools, these men,
like the associates who were joined with them, were ready in
their thoughts and sympathies, as well as with their efforts
and encouragement, to help forward in every way the greater
work which opened for the whole institution. They had seen
the beginnings in the days of small things. They were pre
pared intelligently and with a common sentiment to plan for,
and lay hold upon, the greater things and the new things.

When the Scientific School was more fully developed in the
form which it has now had for a long period, with its special
undergraduate course, it passed into a condition of parallelism, on
one side of its life, with the undergraduate Academical Depart
ment, while it still retained on another side its full share in the
Graduate section of the whole institution. To all who were
familiar with the progress of events at the time, and indeed to
all who carefully study the history of our University, it cannot
but be a matter awakening attention, and suggestive of inter
esting thought, that the one of the two scholars who was espe
cially devoted to linguistic and philological studies should have
become closely connected with the Scientific undergraduate
department, while the one most distinguished in science re
mained in the Academic college. Professor Whitney, as an
instructor in Modern Languages. — though still retaining his
prominent position as a teacher of graduate students in Sanskrit

— 14 —

and the higher sphere of linguistic studies, — became, from the
very beginning of the new movement, an efficient and most
valuable, as well as most earnest, member of the Scientific Faculty.
Professor Dana, on the other hand, continued always, as he was
at first, an Academical Professor. They were both, however,
large-minded scholars, and I cannot but think that it was a
happy thing for the entire institution that their activities were
turned just as they were. The presence of the linguistic scholar
in the Faculty of Science, and that of the scientific scholar in
the Faculty of Letters — both of them being men of such large
powers and attainments — tended to broaden the life of the
whole company of teachers who were assembled in the Univer
sity. Their union in the sphere of the school of graduate
instruction may naturally have tended also to widen and
enlarge their own sympathies, and to make them more ready
to give forth the best influences in the two undergraduate
schools.

The testimony of those who have been most intimately con
cerned with the interests and growth of the Sheffield Scientific
School, certainly is — and it is an emphatic and grateful testi
mony — that the sympathy and helpfulness and wisdom and
encouragement manifested by these two scholars, one working
within it and the other watchful near it, were for long years a
gift and blessing of greatest significance. A similar testimony
may well be borne by all who have been deeply interested in
the change and transformation of Yale College into Yale Uni
versity. This transformation was gradual and the result of
years. It had its causes both in the sphere of the life of the
institution itself, and in the sphere outside of that life. The
influences which co-operated in bringing it to its realization
were, many of them, peculiar to our own history. But among
the influences and causes may fitly be counted the coming of
two such scholars to the institution soon after the establish
ment of the Department of Philosophy and the Arts. And

— 15 —

among the influences, to speak yet more definitely, we may also
reckon the fact that the life and work of these two scholars
— moving as they did in the different lines of scholarship —
brought the two branches of thought and knowledge into sym
pathy. The harmony of scholars, each respecting the others
and each broad-minded enough to value and believe in what is
beyond his own sphere of working, is in itself suggestive of the
University idea. When realized and manifested in the pres
ence of all beholders, it is in itself no small part of the realiza
tion of the idea.

We may well find much that is suggestive of thought and
much to encourage our hope and confidence when we observe,
as we look back over our past history here, the way in which
different orders of men have worked together towards the one
great end. These two men, and those wTho were like them,
were pre-eminently scholars ; others who shared in the duties
connected with the carrying forward and upbuilding of the
institution were in a marked degree men of practical energy
and executive force. Both classes alike were essential, in view
of the work that was to be done. The two could not be inde
pendent of each other. Their co-operation was as necessary as
was their presence in the institution. Such co-operation has
most happily been realized in our academic community at all
times. The names of the late Professors Thacher and Hadley,
which are held in such affectionate remembrance by all who
knew them, will recall, whenever they are thought of, the
happy realization. They were scholars both of them, but
scholars who, by the impulse of nature, moved in the two
lines. They wrought in harmony, and in a way leading to
rich results for the common well-being. So was it with Pro
fessors Dana and Whitney, and the associates who worked with
them in the earlier years and the later years. They and the men
of kindred gifts were pre-eminently scholars. Associates who
were with them, though scholarly men, had also another out-

HIV I

oar .,.

— 16 —

look and turned largely to another effort. But they contributed
their share with heartiest sympathy, even as their associates con
tributed theirs — and as the result of all we have the privilege of
seeing, in these passing years, the change of the College into
the University accomplished, and the University entering upon
a career which we may believe will continue always. The
recalling of the influence which went forth after this manner,
during their life-time, from these two honored men — sympa
thizing as they did with every forward movement — may well
be, in our minds, an element of our pleasant thought concern
ing them to-day.

As for the two men in their individual work, they were so
well known that it may seem scarcely needful to speak of
them to friends who were closely related to the University
life. Their work as teachers was marked by distinctive
peculiarities. Professor Whitney, if I may bear witness from
my own limited experience with him as a student, was gifted
in the highest degree as a teacher of language and philology.
He was thorough, accurate in the extreme, clear in his insight,
skillful in detecting wrhat his pupils needed and in communi
cating to them what they desired to know. He was patient,
while he was exacting in his demands. He was earnestly
desirous to realize the largest results, and was ready for all
efforts on the student's behalf. He had an uncommon power
of making the student lay firm hold of what he wished him to
understand, and he had the gift of making the pathway for
the learner plain behind him and before him — so plain behind
him, that he could use all his energies for the moving on
towards that which was beyond. His powers as an instructor
were tested with classes in the Scientific School who were near
the beginnings in the study of modern languages, and who
were young in years and had had only the education of the
preparatory schools. They were tested also, and equally,
with students who had graduated from the best colleges and

- 17 —

were ready to enter enthusiastically on a higher order of
studies. But in both cases alike, he proved to be eminently
qualified and largely successful. All his pupils valued and
respected him. Those of them who penetrated farthest into
his scholarly attainments, and drew most fully upon his
resources, found in him what became an impulse for all their
subsequent learning, as well as a rich gift of knowledge which
they could never forget. He was an inspiration to his gradu
ate classes by reason of his own scholarly life.

Professor Dana, as a teacher, was is some respects different
from Professor Whitney. If we consider the latter in his
connection with the department of Modern Languages in the
Scientific School, the opportunities afforded him in meeting a
very considerable body of students, and in meeting them fre
quently, were larger than those which Professor Dana enjoyed.
The arrangement of the college curriculum in the Academical
Department allowed but a limited time for the subjects of
Mineralogy and Geology, during the main part of the period
of his active work as an instructor in those branches of study.
In the later years he gave instruction only in Geology. The
students were, however, glad to meet him when the privilege
was given them, and no man in the company of teachers stood
higher in their esteem both for character and attainments.
They felt, as they saw him, that they were in the presence of
a master in science, and of one who honored the institution
and themselves as he lived in the academic community. He
had the ardor of youth in his studies and in his instructions,
even to the latest period of his active service. Notwithstanding
the long-continued interruptions which he experienced by
reason of ill-health, he always returned to his work, even on
partial recovery, with full enthusiasm. His walks with
selected students in the country region about New Haven,
and the teaching which he gave as he moved from point to
point, will ever be remembered by those who shared in the

— 18 —

pleasant excursions. As a lecturer he was attractive. His
style was clear and impressive; his language admirably chosen ;
his manner adapted to his subject and material ; his whole
presentation of his thoughts and views thoroughly character
istic of a truly scientific man. He had a mingling of the poetic
element in his writing which gave an interest to what he said,
and at times he rose into eloquence. His lecture on Corals
and Coral Islands, which he often repeated at the earnest
desire of successive classes of students, will be long remem
bered with peculiar pleasure by all who listened to it.

But the influence of the two men, in the academic community,
was, by no means, limited to that which was exercised by them
in the recitation or lecture-room. The man who spends his
life in a college — as, indeed, he who spends his life anywhere
else — sends forth the power that is within himself upon others,
not merely by his speech, or his positive efforts as he meets
those about him, but by the manifestation of what he is in his
own personal living. A scholar is known and recognized in a
company of learners for what he is. A man of pure and
admirable character bears witness of himself by his very
presence, and without the utterance of a word. A powerful
influence goes out from the reality of the inner life. It was
so with these two scholarly men. No man came into our
community and lived here under the higher inspirations of
the place without being conscious that in these men was the
veritable life of learning. All felt that they carried within
them much of the spirit of the University — the spirit of
learning and science. The place was felt to be more truly a
home of learning because of their citizenship here. In this
fact was realized one of the greatest results of their long life
at Yale.

I cannot but think that, in this regard also, it was a happy
thing for our community that their studies moved along the
two different lines. When men saw such scholars — one in

— 19 —

science and one in language — they could not depreciate either
kind of knowledge. They could not place the one lower than
the other, or exclude either from the sphere of higher educa
tion. If we have had liberal views here of what education is.
and ought to be ; if we have grown to a deeper appreciation
of the large possibilities of education for ourselves or within
the University, it is in part because we have had manifested
before our thoughtful and serious minds the reality of educated
life as growing in different lines and from different beginnings.
The influence of the two men, and of the twro in equal measure,
has been also conspicuous as connected with the sincerity and
honesty of their scholarship. They were genuine seekers after
the truth — each in his own pathway of study and investigation.
The fact that they were so was understood and appreciated by
all. Such a fact, in the case of men as prominent as they
were, could not have been recognized for a period of forty
years without impressing itself upon the best thought and
purpose of the community. Say what we will about human
weakness, the nobler class of men, young or old, are affected
in their living by good examples — and there is an imitation,
conscious or unconscious, of the examples. We who are here —
the best among us ; may we not say, all of us — are going to
be more honest and sincere in our thinking and study in the
future years, because of what the best men whom we have
seen here, or who have gone before us, have been in their life.
The life of the place is better for the inspirations that are in
it. The inspirations come, how many of them, from the lives
which have been lived on these grounds.

Of the details of their personal work in the departments of
learning to which they gave themselves, others within the
circle of our community have already written or spoken with
fitness and full appreciation. It might well be regarded as
unsuitable for one whose studies and duties have been so far,
as my own have been, outside of the two spheres in which

— 20 —

their scholarly efforts were put forth to attempt to add any
thing to what has been already so well said by men who are
themselves proficient within those spheres. But as one who
has been for a long time a worker in the University, and has
stood for years near the center of it, I may call attention for
a moment to what the University gained from the fruits of
their scholarship. Their published writings commanded the
widest and most respectful attention from the highest order of
men. From the beginning to the end of their career, what
they wrote was read, and was always felt to carry in itself an
addition to thought and knowledge connected with the subject
which was treated. Whether essays or text-books — discussions
of scientific principles or records of what had been seen and
learned — great life-works, like that of the publication of the
Atharva-Veda, or the Manual of Geology in its successive
editions, or writings of smaller moment and intended to meet
some call or need of the passing time — their books and pam
phlets were demanded for the libraries of scholars and were
esteemed as the productions of the best order of scholarship.
During the latest years of his career, and even after his work
ing-force had been greatly limited by reason of ill-health,
Professor Whitney rendered a service to learning, which is
full of good for multitudes, in his office of Chief-Editor of
the Century Dictionary. Professor Dana, on the other hand,
was for half a century an editor of the American Journal of
Science. The long series of volumes of this periodical has
been fitly said to be a noble monument of the extent and
thoroughness of his labors as a naturalist. It may with
equal fitness be said to be a noble monument of his long-con
tinued and useful service to the country in the sphere of
science. The effect of the fame which these two men secured
for themselves by such service and such books became manifest
in the University life as the years moved on, and in different
ways. The fact that men of their attainments and learning,

-21 -

as evidenced by what they published, were in the University
was in itself an influence to draw students from all parts of
the country to its halls, and to lead them to prize the advan
tages offered by it. The honor which their names added to it
gave it power and dignity everywhere. The learning which
they possessed made a part of its learning, as recognized and
appreciated by all those who turned their thoughts towards its
life. The evidence of what its company of scholars could do,
and were doing — of what they could impart, and were impart
ing, to those who sought their instructions — was conspicuously
displayed in these books and writings published for all who
would read them. If we should remove from the record and
history of our institution the men who have written books
here in the past years and generations, and the books of which
they were the authors, that record and history would be far
different from what we now know. The glory of the Uni
versity, in which we ever arid always rejoice, would be far less
in its brightness than it is to-day. Among those who have
made the glory what it is by their writings, as well as their
learning, the two of whom we are speaking at this hour have
certainly a most prominent place.

One of the greatest blessings and privileges of a life spent
in a University is connected with the record and history to
which allusion has been made. The individual scholar and
teacher in this home of learning is not alone by himself—
moving forward under the power of his own personal inspi
rations, and dependent wholly upon the force within. He is
one of a community. This community reaches back in its
membership even to the earliest days. It has a living power
coming continuously into itself from the life and work of
every noble and true man who has ever been within it. Its
inheritances are vital forces. The dead past is alive for its
life. Its present associations are quickening influences for
the good of every individual who shares in its daily experi-

— 22 —

ence. The one man is multiplied in the best part of his
scholarly nature by the many men whom he knows, and by
the many of whom he has heard. There is no absolute pass
ing away of personal life as the generations move on, for we
are, to-day, in no small measure, what the fathers of the old
time have made us in our life and thought, and we know it
well. There is no absolute singleness and solitude for any one
of us, for the men around us are working into our minds and
souls through the outgoing forces of their own personality and
the ever-abiding sympathies of common work or duty.

As we arrest our thought to-day, and recall the long-time
service here of these two scholars — honored members of our
community, and full of our University spirit — we may fitly think
of them in the light of their relationship to ourselves. The
privilege of the scholarly life which we have enjoyed here on
these grounds and within these walls — some of us for forty
years, some of us for twenty years, some of us for ten or five
—how real a part of it has come to ourselves from their pres
ence with us and among us. We do not study the influences
of life, any of us, as we might. We are not more than half-
conscious — perchance not even conscious at all — of what
some or many of them are. But, when we think of the
matter, and of ourselves, we may know that we have not been
living near the thorough and profound and honest and truth
ful scholarship in science and language of these friends who
have now left us, without gaining much from the lesson of their
lives. We may rejoice in the consciousness that we have learned
from their truthfulness and honesty and enthusiasm, and that
the scholarly life is more and richer within us because of what
we saw so often and so long in them. The memory which we
who knew them best carry with us in our own minds for the
coming years — the revelation to our thought of what their
living here as scholars did for ourselves and for our whole
community in its scholarly living — in this memory and reve-

lation may. we find the most impressive testimony as to their
influence for the University and their life as men. They have
now passed on. to another sphere of living, and to the company
of those who had, in earlier years, carried forward their
earthly work and finished it in this place which we love so
well. The inheritance of the future generations here is, a
part of it, centered in what they were. The men of other days
—far beyond our present vision, and when all that is here shall
be far greater than it now is — will know in their experience
the blessings of the inheritance, though they may not know
the sources from which it came.

The closing years and days of the lives of these two scholars
and the manner of the ending were impressive in their lessons
for manhood, and full of suggestion for the thoughtful mind.
The two men were alike in the heroism of their struggle with
ill-health, though one of them was called to the struggle again
and again along the course of the years, while for the other it
was continuous during the last eight years of his life-time, and
attended by an ever recognized possibility of a sudden and
fatal ending. They were alike also in the peacefulness of the
final moments, though for the one the end came in the hour of
sleep after a fortnight's illness, and for the other it was a fall
ing asleep, almost without forewarning, and seemed more like
a change by translation than by death. The passing away of
the one was at the dawn of summer, twelve months ago. The
call came to the other and he followed it in the spring-time of
the present year, in the late evening of Easter Sunday. The
spring-time and the summer are suggestive of many thoughts,
as we look to the opening future for minds like theirs. The
evening hour of Easter Sunday was the hour, as we may well
remember, when the Lord Jesus spoke the wonderful words of
peace to His disciples.

And so I bring my brief commemorative words to an end.
They are spoken only that I may give utterance to our com
mon regretful, yet pleasant thought of the two friends who
have left us, in their relation to the academic community in
which we and they were part of the happy membership. It is
a thought which may interest us all, and a fact which may
well be called to mind, as we close the hour of our speaking
together, that the two men were alike secured for our Univer
sity — each of them at a time when, by reason of an emphatic
call elsewhere, he might almost as by a necessity have been
lost to its life — by the generous interposition of a friend of the
institution, one and the same friend, whose liberal gifts made
the remaining here possible for them, and caused their future
years to be happier and more useful than they could otherwise
have been. This friend, now in his serene old age, survives them
both, having witnessed, with deepest satisfaction, the rich fruits
of their work. His scholarly life within the University for many
years, and his benefactions bestowed during the long course of
half a century, have accomplished much for its well-being in
many ways. But the student of our history will ever recog
nize with a peculiarly grateful feeling, as he traces the pro
gress of the institution for the last forty years, the service
which was rendered by this benefactor when he gave these two
generous gifts, and the names of Professors Dana and Whitney
will be closely associated in his mind and memory with the
name of Professor Salisbury, their honored friend and ours.

In the ever-enduring life of the University, the men of one
generation enter into the inheritance of the generation that
went before. We who are here to-day know the good that
has come from the past gifts and the past lives. May it be
ours to give to the future the inheritance unimpaired in its
fullness, and even enlarged in its blessing.

TfMr*r

I '

DANIEL CADY EATON

A Sketch

Delivered before the Society of
Colonial Wars in the State of
Connecticut, June 4t J896, by
Professor Theodore Salisbury
Woolsey, New Haven, Conn.

DANIEL CADY EATON

A Sketch

|N A SECLUDED valley among
the Californian hills there stood
ten years ago the newly built cot
tage of a friend. It was bare and rough,
and scanty in its furnishing, not much more
than a wooden tent. A few years passed ;
the angel of death twice stopped at its
door ; a wife entered it ; children were born
in it ; and how differently one looks upon the
cottage now. Already it has a past ; it speaks
of the living and the dead. Associations,
subtly blended, have covered its walls, like
the network which the passion vine and the
ivy have thrown over them ; it is no longer
a mere house, it is a family home.

So is it with the fair structure of this society
of ours. Raw and untried and characterless
at first, the lives and labors and the death of

its

2 Daniel Cady Eaton.

its first and best are fast weaving about it a
web of memories, of sacrifices, of good works
patiently wrought, which shall endure. To
learn to appreciate these labors, to follow these
ideals, to make out of our organization some
thing which shall not merely minister to pride
of ancestry or set up a trivial distinction be
tween men, but which shall emphasize the
qualities of courage and honor, of patriotism
and high breeding, as we see them in our
fathers and as we need them in our civic and
social life, — such is the lesson we would gladly
learn from him whose memory and services we
recall to-day.

One of my earliest associations with Profes
sor Eaton was in the sport of archery. He
grew skillful at this and won the prizes of the
club and was its captain. And as I used to
watch him notch and draw and loose, to notice
his vigorous frame, his kindling eye, his strik
ing profile, to me he seemed the very type of
an old Saxon bowman. Is it too fanciful to
imagine that the traits of some far away ances
tor were really shadowed forth in him ever so
faintly ; that he was of the warrior type by
heredity as well as by enlisting under our ban
ner ; that the fathers of the seventeenth and

eighteenth

Daniel Cady Eaton. 3

eighteenth centuries who fought for faith and
fireside and life itself in the bloody Indian
Wars, and whose exploits are written on our
records, were but a connecting link between
this dim Saxon bowman of our fancy and his
descendant, who also knew how to strike for
righteousness, who could shoot and speak the
truth ?

We are all pedigree hunters in this society
of necessity, but for years, from love of the
pursuit, our late Governor had studied the his
tory of his race.

To this day the South of England has re
mained conservatively true to the traditions of
the past. Almost within sound of London
bells you may find quaint villages and old
manor houses where a hundred years seem but
as yesterday, while the bustling North country
has grown apace. That the Eatons should have
come from the South of England helps out
my fancy of the sturdy, conservative character
of the stock. The definite thread of connec
tion in England, however, was never found.
How elusive such searches are, we know too
well. But this much was proven, that the
emigrant ancestor of the Eatons had lived and
married in Dover, County Kent, and proba
bility

4 Daniel Cady Eaton.

bility points to a certain John Eaton of Dover
who was christened in 1611, received a small
bequest by his step-mother's will dated 1635,
and then disappeared, leaving no trace of his
death upon records otherwise complete. This,
or some other, John Eaton established himself
at Watertown and then in Dedham in the
Massachusetts Bay, and plays that important
role in every American family, of emigrant
ancestor. He appears first with certainty in
1636, and died in 1658. In the seventh gene
ration in descent from this John Eaton was
born Daniel Cady Eaton, on the i2th of Sep
tember, 1834, at Fort Gratiot, in Michigan.
From Massachuaetts Bay to Michigan ; this is
one little rill in the torrent of that migration
which has conquered this continent, the west
ward march of our race, irresistible and yearly
gathering strength until now it is culminating.
The grandson of the settler removed to Wood
stock, Ct. ; his grandson to Columbia County,
New York, and his grandson in turn — our
Governor's father — in the service of his coun
try pitched his tent in what was then the dis
tant West. Through these seven generations
run apparently the same characteristics of
sturdy common sense, of truthfulness, of patri
otic

Daniel Cady Eaton. 5

otic devotion to the State. One ancestor was
a Captain in the Revolutionary War, and in
after life a Deacon, a combination quite Puri
tan and entirely admirable. But, in the later
generations of the family, to these qualities
have been added another — the very marked
taste for scientific research. The grandfather
of Professor Eaton, Amos Eaton, a graduate
of Williams College in 1799, was a man of
genius and an early explorer in the field of
natural science. As early as 1810 he had pub
lished an elementary treatise upon Botany. Per
fecting himself in his chosen pursuits by study
at New Haven under Professor Silliman and
others, in 1817 he issued a Manual of Botany
which did very much to popularize and make
available knowledge in this science, Eight
editions and twenty-three years' labor ex
panded this work into an important volume
of " North American Botany," containing
descriptions of over 5000 species of plants.
His lectures at Williamstown, Northampton,
Albany and many other places, mark an epoch
in the scientific development of this country,
popularizing such knowledge and stimulating
the general interest in it. His range of study
and teaching included Chemistry, Geology,

Zoology

6 Daniel Cady Eaton.

Zoology and Engineering. He was the first to
organize popular scientific excursions to study
phenonema upon the spot. Serving as Pro
fessor of Natural History in the Medical
College at Castleton, Vt, in 1820, he also
engaged in several geological surveys in New
York State which involved the description and
determination of strata hitherto unclassified.
From 1824 until the close of his life in 1842,
he was Senior Professor in the Rensselaer
Polytechnic institute at Troy. He is described
as having a " large frame, somewhat portly and
dignified," with a striking person and intel
lectual face. His portrait indicated, in addi
tion, a lofty brow, picturesquely curling hair
and features of strength and character. His
scientific tastes were shared in remarkable
degree by his children. One son, an Assistant
Professor of Chemistry in Transylvania Uni
versity, was a scholar of promise, but died at
twenty-three. A daughter was a teacher of the
natural sciences in a Female Seminary in Illi
nois. Another son, entering the service of the
United States, was a man of decided scientific
attainment, and particularly versed in Botany.
He was the father of our Governor. To his
career I ask your attention for a few moments,

for

Daniel Cady Eaton. 7

for in him I seem to find accentuated the
family type. Born in 1806, he graduated at
West Point with credit in 1826, and served in
Florida, Maine and Louisiana and the unsur-
veyed region of the upper Mississippi as Sec
ond Lieutenant in the 2d Infantry. He was
preeminently a Christian soldier. With a sen
sitive conscience and keeping aloof from the
dissipations of army life " he was yet no milk
sop, but a robust man, full of all natural forces
and with the courage to do anything except
what was wrong." I quote from an obituary
notice written by Samuel Wilkeson. In 1831,
while stationed at Fort Niagara, Lieut. Eaton
married a sister of the two Judge Seldens of
Rochester, a leading family in central New
York. Then for thirty years, until the Civil
War, he served in every portion of this country.
In the Seminole War, in Florida, where, ac
cording to his biographer, " we catch a glimpse
of this soldier's passion for natural history, see
him busy and happy with the flora of the
region, and making a collection of sea shells.
* * * In the Everglades he began praying
and talking against human bondage in Amer
ica." He served in the Mexican War, being
Commissary of Subsistence on General Taylor's

staff,

8 Daniel Cady Eaton.

staff, and was brevetted Major for gallantry in
action in the battle of Buena Vista.

He served in California, as Chief of the
Commissariat of the Department of the Pacific,
for three years soon after the gold excitement
began, and was a power for order, for morality
and for religion in San Francisco. Then for
five years, with light duty in New York, he
lived in New Haven, intimate with the best
minds in the college, and indulging his passion
for Botany.

Then came the war, and for four years, as
purchasing Commissary, he fed the armies of
the Union. His labor was tremendous. He
expended over 58 millions of dollars, and
accounted for every penny. Entering the war
as Major, he came out of it Brigadier General
and Commissary General of Subsistence.

For ten years afterwards the duty was laid
upon him of examining and disposing of the
claims of loyal citizens for subsistence furnished
to the government, an enormous task calling for
high judicial capacity. Then he was retired,
travelled abroad, returned to New Haven and
died, not quite seventy-one years of age. Integ
rity, honor, courage, patriotism, such were the
qualities of the man ; from such qualities our
friend, his son, was sprung. The

Daniel Cady Eaton. 9

The wandering life of an army officer entails
many sacrifices ; not the least of these is that
separation from his children which their educa
tion demands. In Rochester, in Troy and in
New Haven at General Russell's school, young
Eaton got his preparatory training, and entered
Yale in 1853. From the first, the family pas
sion for Botany cropped out in him. As a
Junior in college, he published an article " On
three new ferns from California and Oregon,"
ferns which possibly his own father had gath
ered. There is to me something most attractive
in the record of so complete, so homogeneous
an intellectual life as that thus begun. One
overmastering taste, and that taste gratified;
one ambition, and that realized ; a simple life,
a happy life, a useful life — these are the features
of his career which impress the mind. Not
that he was a man with a single interest. He
had the widest sympathies in religion, in
politics, in literature. He foreshadowed the
athleticism of our day. He loved nature and
a life out of doors. He was a sportsman in
the truest sense.

This is not the time for a particularized
account of Professor Eaton's professional and
scientific career. Two sketches of his life

have

io Daniel Cady Eaton.

have been published by his colleagues, by
Professor Brewer in the American Journal of
Science, and Mr. Setchell in the Bulletin of
the Torrey Botanical Club, which give these
details. They show that he had the amplest
opportunities of training. For three years
after graduation in 1857, he studied under
Professor Gray of Harvard. During the Civil
War he worked with his father in New York
in the Commissary Department, but intimate
even there with botanists like Professor Torrey,
and never swerving in heart from his chosen
path. With peace came the realization of his
desires. Some friends of his father endowed
a chair in Botany in Yale College and he was
called to filled it. Amongst my father's papers
I have found his reply to this announcement.
" It is my most pleasant duty to acknowledge the
receipt of your letter notifying me of the action
of some friends of mine and of the College,
in reference to an appointment which I have
long hoped for, and have endeavored to pre
pare myself to fill with honor to both the
college and myself. I must also thank you
for the exceedingly kind and complimentary
tone of your letter. I accept the terms of the
offer, and will go abroad to study as soon as I

can

Daniel Cady Eaton. 1 1

can fairly leave my present place as chief clerk
to my father. * * * In the hope of future use
fulness, I am very respectfully yours, Daniel
C. Eaton."

He was first assigned to duty in the Sheffield
Scientific School, with which during his life he
was most closely connected, being a member
of its governing board ; later he was appointed
University Professor, and gave instruction in
both departments. u As a teacher," writes
Professor Brewer, who entered the service of
the College the same year, " he was intensely
conscientious, sympathetic, courteous, kind and
helpful in the extreme to those who wished to
learn." The students' idea of him is also given
us in this bit from one of the old College
magazines, extracted by Mr. Porter in his
" Sketches of Yale Life." A botanist in em
bryo is gossipping about his suburban rambles
when he recalls a water-lily and the flower
reminds him of our friend. " There is a name
connected with water-lilies and all pleasant
things, that cannot die with some men, I know.
A generous man with a generous enthusiasm
for flowers, and not only an enthusiasm for
flowers, but a skill and progress in botanical
science that has won encomiums from its mas
ters

1 2 Daniel Cady Eaton.

ters — a man of genial soul and a large heart.
He gave all of us our first lessons ; he breathed
into us something of his own spirit. Who
doesn't know Cady ? You would, if you had
seen him stalk proudly into a mill-pond to take
possession of a Nympha advena till the water
poured into his tin knapsack, as Balboa, ' clad
in complete steel/ long time ago waded into
the Pacific at Darien and claimed the billowy
sea for Spain and for the Cross. Were we
prophets we might predict the culmination of
his rising star. But the memory of his gener
ous good fellowship is written for all of us in

' Those bright mosaics that with storied beauty
The floor of Nature's temple tesselate.'"

A true lover of plants he was, and a lover of
his fellow men, and he knew both. The fam
ilies and species of each he catalogued with
accuracy and patient care. He had a genius
for orderliness. He became a great botanist,
and what is better, a loving botanist. But of
this I cannot speak now, of his great work on
ferns, of his many notices and reviews, of the
forty more formal publications, and of his work
as secretary of his class. It was through his
connection with this Society that we here
knew him best, and we must pass on to this,

the

Daniel Cady Eaton. 13

the closing chapter of his life. About twenty
years ago, Professor Eaton became interested
in the history of his own and allied families ;
in 1877, he published a short account of his
mother's stock, the Seldens, then he took up
the Batons, gathered much material for a
genealogy, was the mainspring of the Eaton
family association, and by natural transition
became an early member of the Connecticut
Society of the Colonial Wars and its Governor.
How painstaking and thoughtful and success
ful his work for it was, our records show. No
slovenly, inaccurate papers passed his criticism
unchallenged. Some descents he made out for
members himself. He set the example of a
strict adherence to rule. Our Constitution he
worked over with Dr. Ward, until that instru
ment has become a model, and other societies
have fashioned theirs after it, or copied it
entire. He gave us a character and a repu
tation. His addresses, with their happy phras
ing, his dignified, effective conduct of business,
did honor to the office which he held. Abroad
he made us favorably known. At home, with
wise counsel and clear judgment of men and
things, he marked out for this society the line
of successful development which it must follow.

Every

14 Daniel Cady Eaton.

Every line eft his correspondence on our busi
ness shows his conscientiousness and his com
mon sense.

There came a year of weakness and of suffer
ing, borne with the courage of a Christian and
a gentleman, and then the end. Shall we ever
forget his appearance, or the words he spoke,
too feeble to rise though he was, when he
accepted the flags for this society and explained
the fitness of their emblems. "The cross of
St. George is everywhere an appropriate em
blem of a Christian soldier." " The vine * * *
is the emblem of our state, chosen by the faith
of our forefathers that He who transplanted
will sustain." Then recalling the discovery of
Vinland the good, given in one of the sagas of
the Northmen, he went on " Just where Vin
land was, the geographers have never agreed.
Why may not we of Connecticut claim that it
was just here, where the valleys are still yellow
with corn and the purple clusters still hang on
the hillsides. Let us then have for our pecu
liar emblem the vine of Vinland the good, and
of Connecticut the trustful ; let us bear the
banner of St. George because we celebrate the
wars fought under its red cross ; and with it
let the stars and stripes float and shine in their

ever

Daniel Cady Eaton. 15

ever increasing glory." May I recall also his
final message to us, assembled for our annual
meeting of last year, in the language which he
loved and knew so well,

" Societas pia majorum veneratione condita in aeternum floreat."

On the last day of June he died. He had
fought a good fight; he had finished his
course ; he had kept the faith. There is much
that has been left unsaid. I had intended to
speak of his propositors in this society, those
sturdy old Indian fighters, John Clark, John
Beebe, William Pratt and Thomas Stanton, all
serving in the Pequot or King Philip Wars,
and of John Webster, a founder and Governor
of this colony. I had intended, too, to trace
the maternal strains of blood which brought
each its own contribution of trait or feature or
racial characteristic, towards the make up of
the man, the Cadys, the Beebes, the Seldens,
the Hurds, the Lords, the Lees, all of old Con
necticut stock. But my sketch has worked
out differently. The personality of our friend
has been too strong. As in a good portrait,
the background, the accessories, are felt rather
than seen, because so strictly subordinated to
the real features which live and glow on the

canvas ;

1 6 Daniel Cady Eaton.

canvas ; so it is here. We feel the shadowy
background of ancestral figures, but we see
and lovingly would study the strong and
kindly features of our first Governor. An
honest gentleman, an unselfish friend, a learned
man of science, true to his name, to himself,
to the duties laid upon him, to his God, he has
passed before us into the silent land,

" Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."

i. Five cents

Per Year, Fifty cents

little Sourness to
tbe Ibomes of (Boob
fIDen an& (Sreat :
Albert

(Beorgc EHot

New York and London : <3. IP

putnam'0 Sons *

New Rochelle, N. Y. The
Knickerbocker Press. *

Hnnouncement.

The publishers announce that LITTLE
JOURNEYS will be published monthly and
that each number will treat of recent visits
made by Mr. Elbert Hubbard to the homes
and haunts of various eminent persons. The
subjects for the coming twelve months have
been arranged as follows :

1. George Eliot 7. Victor Hugo

2. Thomas Carlyle 8. Wm. Wordsworth

3. John Ruskin 9. W. M. Thackeray

4. W. E. Gladstone 10. Charles Dickens

5. J. M. W. Turner u. Shakespeare

6. Jonathan Swift 12. Oliver Goldsmith

LITTLE JOURNEYS : Published Monthly,
50 cents a year. Single copies, 5 cents,
postage paid.

Entered at the Post Office, New Rochelle, N. Y., as
second class matter.

27 & 29 WEST 230 STREET, NEW YORK.

24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, LONDON.

THE KNICKERBOCKER PRESS, NEW ROCHELLE, N. Y.

GEORGE ELIOT

" May I reach

That purest heaven, be to other souls
The cup of strength in some great agony,
Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love,
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty —
Be the good presence of a good diffused,
And in diffusion ever more intense.
So shall I join the choir invisible
Whose music is the gladness of the world.*'

GEORGE ELIOT.

WARWICKSHIRE supplied to the
world Shakespeare. It also
gave Mary Ann Evans. No
one will question but that Shakespeare's
is the greatest name in English literature ;
and among writers living or dead, in Eng
land or out of it, no woman has ever
shown us power equal to that of George
Eliot in the subtle clairvoyance which di
vines the inmost play of passions, the
experience that shows the human ca
pacity for contradiction, and the indul
gence that is merciful because it under
stands.

Shakespeare lived three hundred years
ago. According to the records his father,
in 1563, owned a certain house in Henley
5

tbaunts ot

street, Stratford-on-Avon. Hence we infer
that William Shakespeare was born there.
And in all our knowledge of Shake
speare's early life (or later) we prefix the
words, " Hence we infer."

That the man knew all sciences of his
day, and had enough knowledge of each
of the learned professions so that all have
claimed him as their own, we know.

He evidently was acquainted with five
different languages and the range of his
intellect was world- wide, but where did he
get this vast erudition ? We do not know,
and we excuse ourselves by saying that
he lived three hundred years ago.

George Kliot lived — yesterday, and we
know no more about her youthful days
than we do of that other child of War
wickshire.

One biographer tells us that she was
born in 1819, another in 1820, and neither
state the day ; whereas a recent writer in
the Pall Mall Budget graciously bestows
onus the useful information that "Wil
liam Shakespeare was born on the 2ist
6

day of April, 1563, at fifteen minutes of
two on a stormy morning."

Concise statements of facts are always
valuable, but we have none such concern
ing the early life of George Eliot. There
is even a shadow over her parentage, for
no less an authority than the American
Cyclopedia Annual for 1880, boldly pro
claims that she was not a foundling and,
moreover, that she was not adopted by a
rich retired clergyman who gave her a
splendid schooling. Then the writer
dives into obscurity but presently reap
pears and adds that he does not know
where she got her education. For all of
which we are very grateful.

Shakespeare left five signatures, each
written in a different way, and now there
is a goodly crew who spell it " Bacon."

And likewise we do not know whether
it is Mary Ann Bvans, Mary Anne Evans,
or Marian Bvans, for she herself is said to
have used each form at various times.

William Winter — gentle critic, poet,
scholar — tells us that the Sonnets show a
7

Ibaunts ot

dark spot in Shakespeare's moral record.
And if I remember rightly similar things
have been hinted at in sewing circles con
cerning George Eliot. Then they each
found the dew and sunshine in London
that caused the flowers of genius to blos
som. The early productions of both were
published anonymously, and lastly they
both knew how to transmute thought
into gold, for they died rich.

Lady Godiva rode through the streets
of Coventry, but I walked — walked all
the way from Stratford, by way of War
wick (call it Warrick, please) and Kenil-
worth Castle.

I stopped over night at that quaint and
curious little inn just across from the
castle entrance. The good landlady gave
me the same apartment that was occupied
by Sir Walter Scott when he came here
and wrote the first chapter of Kenil-
worth.

The little room had pretty, white chintz
curtains tied with blue ribbon, and simi
lar stuff draped the mirror. The bed was
8

a big canopy affair — I had to stand on
a chair in order to dive off into its
feathery depths — everything was very
neat and clean, and the dainty linen had
a sweet smell of lavender. I took one
parting look out through the open win
dow at the ivy mantled towers of the
old castle, which were all sprinkled with
silver by the rising moon, and then I fell
into gentlest sleep.

I dreamed of playing " I-spy " through
Kenilworth Castle with Shakespeare,
Walter Scott, Mary Ann Evans, and a
youth I used to know in boyhood by the
name of Bill Hursey. We chased each
other across the drawbridge, through the
portcullis, down the slippery stones into
the donjon keep, around the moat, and
up the stone steps to the topmost turret
of the towers. Finally Shakespeare was
"it," but he got mad and refused to play.
Walter Scott said it was "no fair," and
Bill Hursey thrust out the knuckle of one
middle finger in a very threatening way
and offered to " do " the boy from Strat-
9

Gbe Ibaunts of

ford. Then Mary Ann rushed in to still
the tempest. There 's no telling what
would have happened had not the land
lady just then rapped at my door and
asked if I called. I awoke with a start
and with the guilty feeling that I had
been shouting in my sleep. I saw it was
morning. "No — that is, yes; my shav
ing water, please."

After breakfast the landlady's boy of
fered to take me in his donkey cart to the
birthplace of George Eliot for five shil
lings. He explained that the house was
just seven miles north ; but Balaam's ex
press is always slow, so I concluded to
walk. At Coventry a cab owner pro
posed to show me the house, which he
declared was near Kenilworth, for twelve
shillings. The advantages of seeing Ken
ilworth at the same time were dwelt upon
at great length by cabby, but I harkened
not to the voice of the siren. I got a
good lunch at the hotel, and asked the
innkeeper if he could tell me where
George Eliot was born. He did not
10

<3eorge Bliot

know, but said he could show me a house
around the corner where a family of Eliots
lived.

Then I walked on to Nuneaton. A
charming walk it was; past quaint old
houses, some with strawthatched roofs,
others tiled — roses clambering over the
doors and flowering hedge-rows white
with hawthorn flowers. Occasionally I
met a farmer's cart drawn by one of those
great, fat, gentle shire horses that George
Eliot has described so well. All spoke of
peace and plenty, quiet and rest. The
green fields and the flowers, the lark-song
and the sunshine, the dipping willows by
the stream and the arch of the old stone
bridge as I approached the village — all
these I had seen and known and felt be
fore from Mill on the Floss.

I found the house where they say the
novelist was born. A plain, whitewashed
stone structure, built two hundred years
ago ; two stories, the upper chambers
low, with gable windows ; a little garden
at the side bright with flowers, where sweet
ii

"fcaimts of

marjoram vied with onions and beets ; all
spoke of humble thrift and homely cares.
In front was a great chestnut tree, and in
the roadway near were two ancient elms
where saucy crows were building a nest.
Here, after her mother died, Mary Ann
Kvans was housekeeper. Little more
than a child — tall, timid, and far from
strong — she cooked and scrubbed and
washed, and was herself the mother to
brothers and sisters. Her father was a
carpenter by trade and agent for a rich
land owner. He was a stern man — or
derly, earnest, industrious, studious. On
rides about the country he would take
the tall hollow-eyed girl with him, and
at such times he would talk to her of the
great outside world where wondrous
things were done. The child toiled hard
but found time to read and question, and
there is always time to think. Soon she
had outgrown some of her good father's
beliefs, and this grieved him greatly ; so
much, indeed, that her extra loving
attention to his needs, in a hope to neu-
12

Blfot

tralize his displeasure, only irritated him
the more. And if there is soft subdued
sadness in much of George Eliot's writing
we can guess the reason. The onward
and upward march ever means sad sepa
ration.

When Mary Ann was blossoming into
womanhood her father moved over near
Coventry, and here the ambitious girl
first found companionship in her in
tellectual desires. Here she met men
and women, older than herself, who were
animated, earnest thinkers. They read
and then they discussed, and then they
spoke the things that they felt were true.
Those eight years at Coventry trans
formed the awkward country girl into a
woman of intellect and purpose. She
knew somewhat of all sciences, all phi
losophies, and she had become a proficient
scholar in German and French. How
did she acquire this knowledge ? How is
any education acquired if not through
effort prompted by desire ?

She had already translated Strauss's
13

Ibaunts of

Life of Jesus in a manner that was accept
able to the author, when Ralph Waldo
Emerson came to Coventry to lecture.
He was entertained at the same house
where Miss Evans was stopping. Her
brilliant conversation pleased him, and
when she questioned the wisdom of a
certain passage in one of his essays the
gentle philosopher turned, smiled, and
said that he had not seen it in that light
before ; perhaps she was right.

" What is your favorite book ? " asked
Emerson.

" Rousseau's Confessions" answered
Mary instantly.

It was Emerson's favorite, too ; but
such honesty from a young woman ! It
was queer.

Mr. Emerson never forgot Miss Evans
of Coventry, and ten years after, when
a zealous reviewer proclaimed her the
greatest novelist in England, the sage of
Concord said something that sounded
like "I told you so."

Miss Evans had made visits to London
14

Bliot

from time to time with her Coventry
friends. When twenty-eight years old,
after one such visit to London, she came
back to the country tired and weary, and
wrote this most womanly wish : ' ' My only
ardent desire is to find some feminine task
to discharge ; some possibility of devot
ing myself to some one and making
that one purely and calmly happy."

But now her father was dead and her
income was very scanty. She did trans
lating, and tried the magazines with
articles that generally came back respect
fully declined.

Then an offer came as sub-editor of the
Westminster Review. It was steady
work and plenty of it, and this was what
she desired. She went to I/ondon and
lived in the household of her employer,
Mr. Chapman. Here she had the oppor
tunity of meeting many brilliant people :
Carlyle, and his "Jeannie Welsh," the
Martineaus, Grote, Mr. and Mrs. Mill,
Huxley, Mazzini, I/ouis Blanc. Besides
these were two young men who must
15

Gbe 1>aunts of

not be left out when we sum up the
influences that evolved this woman's
genius.

She was attracted to Herbert Spencer at
once. He was about her age and their
admiration for each other was mutual.
Miss Bvans, writing to a friend in 1852,
says : " Spencer is kind, he is delightful,
and I always feel better after being with
him, and we have agreed together that
there is no reason why we should not see
each other as often as we wish." And
then later she again writes : " The bright
side of my life, after the affection for my
old friends, is the new and delightful
friendship which I have found in Herbert
Spencer. We see each other every day and
in everything we enjoy a delightful com
radeship. If it were not for him my life
would be singularly arid."

But about this time another man ap
peared on the scene, and were it not for
this other man, who was introduced to
Miss Evans by Spencer, the author of
Synthetic Philosophy might not now be
16

(Seorge Bliot

spoken of in the biographical dictionaries
as being "wedded to science."

It was not love at first sight, for George
Henry Lewes made a decidedly unfavora
ble impression on Miss Kvans at their
first meeting. He was small, his features
were insignificant, he had whiskers like
an anarchist and a mouthful of crooked
teeth ; his personal habits were far from
pleasant. It was this sort of thing, Dick
ens said, that caused his first wife to
desert him and finally drove her into
insanity.

But Lewes had a brilliant mind. He
was a linguist, a scientist, a novelist, a
poet, and a wit. He had written biogra
phy, philosophy, and a play. He had
been a journalist, a lecturer, and even an
actor. Thackeray declared that if he
should see Lewes perched on a white ele
phant in Piccadilly he should not be in
the least surprised.

After having met Miss Bvans several
times Mr. Lewes saw the calm depths
of her mind and he asked her to correct
17

Cbe Tbaunts of

proofs for him. She did so and discov
ered that there was merit in his work.
She corrected more proofs, and when a
woman begins to assist a man the danger
line is being approached. Close observ
ers noted that a change was coming over
the bohemian Lewes. He had his whisk
ers trimmed, his hair was combed, and
the bright yellow necktie had been dis
carded for a clean one of modest brown>
and, sometimes, his boots were blacked.
In July, 1854, Mr. Chapman received a let
ter from his sub-editor resigning her posi
tion, and Miss Bvans notified some of her
closest friends that hereafter she wished
to be considered the wife of Mr. Lewes.
She was then in her thirty-sixth year.

The couple disappeared, having gone to
Germany.

Many people were shocked. Some said
"we knew it all the time," and when
Herbert Spencer was informed of the fact
he exclaimed " Goodness me ! " and said
— nothing.

After six months spent in Weimar and
18

Bliot

other literary centres, Mr. and Mrs.
returned to England and began house
keeping at Richmond. Any one who
views their old quarters there will see
how very plainly and economically they
were forced to live. But they worked
hard, and at this time the future novel
ist's desire seemed only to assist her hus
band. That she developed the manly
side of his nature none can deny. They
were very happy, these two, as they
wrote, and copied, and studied, and
toiled.

Three years passed, and Mrs. I/ewes
wrote to a friend : "I am very happy;
happy with the greatest happiness that
life can give — the complete sympathy
and affection of a man whose mind stimu
lates mine and keeps up in me a whole
some activity."

Mr. Lewes knew the greatness of his
helpmeet. She herself did not. He
urged her to write a story ; she hesitated,
and at last attempted it. They read the
first chapter together and cried over it.
19

1baunt0 of

Then she wrote more and always read
her husband the chapters as they were
turned off. He corrected, encouraged,
and found a publisher. But why should
I tell about it here? It's all in the
Brittanica — how the gentle beauty and
sympathetic insight of her work touched
the hearts of great and lowly alike, and
of how riches began flowing in upon her.
For one book she received $40,000, and
her income after fortune smiled upon her
was never less than $10,000 a year.

Lewes was her secretary, her protector,
her slave, and her inspiration. He kept
at bay the public that would steal her
time, and put out of her reach, at her
request, all reviews, good or bad, and
shielded her from the interviewer, the
curiosity seeker, and the greedy finan
cier.

The reason why she at first wrote un
der a nom de plume is plain. To the
great wallowing world she was neither
Miss Bvans nor Mrs. Lewes, so she
dropped both names as far as title pages

(Seorge Bltot

were concerned and used a man's name
instead — hoping better to elude the pack.

When Adam Bede came out a resident
of Nuneaton purchased a copy and at
once discovered local ear-marks. The
scenes described, the flowers, the stone
walls, the bridges, the barns, the people
— all was Nuneaton. Who wrote it ? No
one knew, but it was surely some one in
Nuneaton. So they picked out a Mr.
Liggins, a solemn-faced preacher, who
was always about to do something great,
and they said " Liggins." Soon all Lon
don said "Liggins." As for Liggins,
he looked wise and smiled knowingly.
Then articles began to appear in the
periodicals purporting to have been
written by the author of Adam Bede.
A book came out called Adam J5ede,Jr.,
and to protect her publisher, the public,
and herself, George Eliot had to reveal
her identity.

Many men have written good books
and never tasted fame ; but few, like Lig
gins of Nuneaton, have become famous
21

Ibaunts of

by doing nothing. It only proves that
some things can be done as well as
others. This breed of men has long
dwelt in Warwickshire ; Shakespeare
had them in mind when he wrote :
' ' There be men who do a wilful stillness
entertain with purpose to be dressed in
an opinion of wisdom, gravity, and pro
found conceit . . . "

Lord Acton in an able article in the
Nineteenth Century makes this state
ment :

" George Eliot paid high for happiness
with Lewes. She forfeited freedom of
speech, the first place among English
women, and a tomb in Westminster
Abbey."

The original dedication in Adam
Bede reads thus: "To my dear hus
band, George Henry Lewes, I give the
manuscript of a work which would never
have been written but for the happiness
which his love has conferred on my life."

Lord Acton of course assumes that this
book would have been written, dedication
22

Bliot

and all, just the same had Miss Evans
never met Mr. Lewes.

Once there was a child called Romola.
She said to her father one day, as she sat
on his knee : " Papa, who would take care
of me — give me my bath and put me to
bed nights — if you had never happened to
meet Mamma ? "

The days I spent in Warwickshire were
very pleasant. The serene beauty of the
country and the kindly courtesy of the
people impressed me greatly. Having
seen the scenes of George Eliot's child
hood I desired to view the place where
her last days were spent. It was a fine
May-day when I took the little steamer
from Ivondon Bridge for Chelsea.

A bird call from the dingy brick build
ing where Turner died and two blocks
from the old home of Carlyle is Cheyne
Walk — a broad avenue facing the river.
The houses are old, but they have a look
of gracious gentility that speak of ease
and plenty. High iron fences are in
23

tlbe "fcaunts of

front, but they do not shut off from view
the climbing clematis and clusters of
roses that gather over the windows and
doors.

I stood at the gate of No. 4 Cheyne
Walk and admired the pretty flowers,
planted in such artistic carelessness as to
beds and rows, then I rang the bell ; an
old pull-out affair with polished knob.

Presently a butler opened the door — a
pompous, tall and awful butler, in serious
black and side whiskers. He approached ;
came down the walk swinging a bunch of
keys, looking me over as he came to see
what sort of wares I had to sell.

" Did George Eliot live here ? " I asked
through the bars.

"Mrs. Cross lived 'ere and died 'ere,
sir," came the solemn and rebuking an
swer.

" I mean Mrs. Cross," I added meekly ;
" I only wished to see the little garden
where she worked."

Jeemes was softened. As he unlocked
the gate he said : " We 'ave many wisit-
24

<3eorge Bliot

ers, sir ; a great bother, sir ; still, I always
knows a gentleman when I sees one.
P'r'aps you would like to see the 'ouse,
too, sir. The missus does not like it
much but I will take 'er your card, sir."

I gave him the card and slipped a shil
ling into his hand as he gave me a seat in
the hallway.

He disappeared upstairs and soon re
turned with the pleasing information
that I was to be shown the whole house
and garden. So I pardoned him the myth
about the missus, happening to know
that at that particular moment she was at
Brighton, sixty miles away.

A goodly, comfortable house, four
stories, well kept, and much fine old
carved oak in the dining-room and hall
ways ; fantastic ancient balusters, and a
peculiar bay-window in the second-story
rear that looked out over the little gar
den. Off to the north could be seen the
green of Kensington Gardens and wavy
suggestions of Hyde Park. This was
George Eliot's workshop. There was a
25

Ibaunts of

table in the centre of the room and three
low book-cases with pretty ornaments
above. In the bay-window was the most
conspicuous object in the room — a fine
marble bust of Goethe. This, I was as
sured, had been the property of Mrs.
Cross, as well as all the books and furni
ture in the room. In one corner was a
revolving case containing a set of the
Century Dictionary, which Jeemes as
sured me had been purchased by Mr.
Cross as a present for his wife a short
time before she died. This caused my
faith to waver a trifle and put to flight
a fine bit of literary frenzy that might
have found form soon in a sonnet.

In the front parlor I saw a portrait of
the former occupant that showed " the
face that looked like ahorse." But that
is better than to have the face of any
other animal of which I know. Surely
one would not want to look like a dog !
Shakespeare hated dogs, but spoke forty-
eight times in his plays in terms of re
spect and affection for a horse. Who
26

would not resent the imputation that
one's face was like that of a sheep or a
goat or an ox, and much gore has been
shed because men have referred to other
men as asses, but a horse ! God bless
you, yes.

No one has ever accused George BHot
of being handsome, but this portrait tells
of a woman of fifty : calm, gentle, and
the strong features speak of a soul in
which to confide.

At Highgate, by the side of the grave
of lyewes, rests the dust of this great and
loving woman. As the pilgrim enters
that famous old cemetery the first impos
ing monument seen is a pyramid of rare,
costly porphyry. As you draw near, you
read this inscription :

To the memory of

ANN JEWSON CRISP,

Who departed this life

Deeply lamented Jan. 20, 1889.

Also,
Her dog, Umperor.

Beneath these tender lines is a bas-

(Beorge Bliot

relief of as vicious a looking cur as ever
evaded the dog tax.

Continuing up the avenue, past this
monument just noted, the kind old gar
dener will show you another that stands
amid others much more pretentious. A
small gray granite column, and on it,
carved in small letters, you read :

" Of those immortal dead who live again in

minds made better by their presence."

Here rests the body of

" GEORGE EUOT,"

(MARY ANN CROSS),

Born 22 November, 1819.

Died 22 December, 1880.

" MY DAINTY ARIEL"

— Tempest.

Gbe Btiel Sbafcespeare

It would seem difficult to find place for
another edition of Shakespeare, but the
ARIEL edition will be found to differ in so
many respects from any other edition that it
is thought no justification will be needed for
its existence. The distinctive features of the
edition are as follows :

1. Each play is in a separate volume.

2. The size of the volume is 3% x 5 inches and about

a half inch in thickness — of comfortable bulk
for the pocket.

3. The page is clearly printed from an entirely new

font of brevier type.

4. The text is complete and unabridged^ and con

forms to the latest scholarly editions.

5. As illustrations, the charming designs by Frank

Howard (first published in 1833), five hundred
in all, have been effectively reproduced, making
a series of delicate outline plates.

Now complete in forty volumes, and issued
in four styles :
A. — Garnet cloth, each .... 40 cts.

Per set, 40 volumes, in box . . . $16.00
B.— Full leather, gilt top, each (in a box) . 75 cts.

Per set, 40 volumes, in box . _ . . $30.00
C. — 40 volumes bound in 20, cloth, in box.

Per set (sold in sets only) . . . $15.00
D. — 40 volumes bound in 20, half calf extra,

gilt tops, in box. Per set (sold in sets

only) $35-oo

*** Any volume or selection of volumes may be
purchased in styles A and B.

" For daintiness, beauty, and convenience, there is
nothing in the line of Shakespeariana to equal the
Ariel Shakespeare. Unstinted praise must be ac
corded to this edition." — Boston Times.

G. P. PUTNAM S SONS

New York & London

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JOHN MILLOTT ELLIS.

A TRIBUTE

TO THE MEMORY OF

JOHN MILLOTT ELLIS, D. Dv

PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN

OBERLIN COLLEGE.

From the Faculty to the Alumni of the College.

OBERLIN, OHIO:

PEARCE & RANDOLPH, PRINTERS.
1894.

MEMORIAL.

LIFE SKETCH.

JOHN MlLLOTT ELLIS was born on the 2/th of March, 1831,
on the hill-farm of his father, Seth Brittain Ellis, situated at the
foot of Mount Monadnock, near the village of Jaffrey, New
Hampshire. His infancy and early boyhood were spent amid
farm scenes and activities. Subsequently the home was changed
for a time to the village, and in 1840 the family, consisting of
parents, four sons, and five daughters, came to Oberlin, where
the colony and College were in the first stage of their struggle
for existence. Here young Ellis entered upon mingled work
and study. From the first the aim of his parents, in which he
fully sympathized, was that he should have a collegiate educa
tion, and whatever effort and sacrifice were necessary to this end
were cheerfully contributed. During his youth, and while pre
paring for college, he fulfilled the terms of a virtual apprentice
ship to a mechanical trade in his father's planing mill, which
was long a landmark of earlier Oberlin. This thorough manual
training proved of the greatest advantage in his subsequent life,
equipping him as it did for the practical service in connection
with the planning and construction of college buildings and the
public improvements in the town, which service so conspicuously
marked his busy life.

Entering Oberlin College in 1847, ne f°r the most part
supported himself during his collegiate course by teaching in the
district schools of the State and otherwise, and was graduated
in. 1851 with his class of seventeen, which included in its mem
bership General J. D. Cox, Charles G. Finney, Jr., Colonel Sam
uel F. Cooper, Rev. Lorenzo J. White, Professor L. F. Parker,
and Professor J. A. R. Rogers. For some months following his
graduation he was employed as teacher in the Academy at La-

peer, Michigan. From 1852 to 1855 he was Professor of Lan
guages in Mississippi College; during the next two years he
pursued his theological studies at Union and Oberlin Theological
Seminaries, graduating from the lattej with the class of 1857.
In 1858 he was appointed Professor of Greek in Oberlin Col
lege, serving in that capacity until 1866, when he was trans
ferred to the Chair of Mental Philosophy and Rhetoric, with
work also for several years in Evidences of Christianity, Polit
ical Economy, and English Literature. During the last twelve
years his work of instruction was confined to the field of Philos
ophy. From 1867 to 1874, in addition to his college duties,
he was associate pastor of the Second Congregational Church
of Oberlin, and during the entire period following his gradua
tion, he preached in many pulpits in his own and other States,
and was an influential member of very many of the ecclesiastical
conferences and conventions in Ohio and elsewhere.

Professor Ellis was ordained as a minister of the gospel in
1 865, and received from Oberlin College the degree of Doctor of
Divinity in 1893, being the first one upon whom that degree was
ever conferred by Oberlin. His versatility of talent and his many-
sided ability and forcefulness resulted in his being almost as
much a man of affairs as he was teacher and preacher. While
scrupulously refraining throughout his life from all connection
with secular business in his own interest, he was ever prominent
and serviceable in the business affairs of the College, and was
actively interested in whatever measures tended to promote the
welfare of the community and the country. During the civil
war, although he did not wear the military uniform, his work in
behalf of the Union cause, both in his own community and with
•the soldier at the front, was zealous, continuous, and most effi
cient. In 1861-62 he served a term as Mayor of the village, and
from first to last he was intelligently identified with all matters
•of local government and local improvement. In 1883 he made
an extended tour of central and southern Europe, and while
nominally resting from overwork, he did not fail to bring back

to the College valuable fruits of his careful studies in other lands.
In 1891 he was appointed by the United States Government a
commissioner to Europe in the interest of the World's Columbian
Exposition, and in this official capacity visited the capitals and
conferred with the government authorities of Great Britain, Ger
many, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and Russia.

On August 28, 1862, Professor Ellis was married to Minerva
E. Tenney, of Oberlin, who survives him, together with his two-
sisters, Mrs. C. H. Remington, of Takoma Park, D. C., and
Miss Josephine M. Ellis, of Oberlin, and the four sons, Albert,.
Theodore, John, and Luman. His decline in health dated from
a severe attack of the grip in 1891, while his fatal illness, ap
parently tuberculosis of the lungs with involvement of the heart,
definitely manifested itself about the first of January last, when
he was compelled to relinquish his work, and went with his wife
to Redlands in Southern California. There, at the hospitable
home of his classmate Colonel S. F. Cooper, and in the con
stant care and companionship of his wife, he spent two months
in perfect rest and comfort, enjoying the soft air, the sunshine,
and the cordial greetings and affectionate messages of friends,
but with no check to his progressing weakness. On the 2ist of
March they proceeded to Los Angeles, where a thorough ex
amination by a specialist resulted in finding the malady to be
what is known as Addison's disease — an incurable disease which
cannot be identified until it has reached an advanced stage,
when its presence is revealed mainly by a peculiar bronzing of
the skin. The case being obviously beyond cure or material re
lief, it was the sick man's own wish to start immediately home
ward, although frankly informed that there were many chances
against his surviving the trip. His weakness steadily increased
as the journey progressed, although he was uniformly comfort
able and free from pain, and in less than two hours after reach
ing Chicago he died in the invalids' room of the Santa Fe
terminal station. The party, consisting of Professor and Mrs. El
lis and their nephew, Bernard F. Tenney, were met at the train

by John T. Ellis, who was recognized by his father before final
unconsciousness supervened. Chicago friends kindly aided in
arrangements necessarily following the sad event, and on the
subsequent arrival at Oberlin the station was thronged by a mul
titude of sympathizing friends, including Faculty, students, and
town people.

Such is a colorless outline of one of the strongest and sweet
est lives that it is given to men to live. Through more than
thirty years of close fraternal intercourse, including all the vicis
situdes and exigencies that necessarily come with the middle
period of active lives, my regard for John Ellis and my admira
tion for his character have grown and deepened. His was pecu
liarly a well rounded, a balanced nature. A man of strong
convictions and pronounced opinions, he was the farthest possi
ble remove from bigotry or fanaticism. He was blessed with a
strong sense of the humorous, which was never permitted to
pass into levity. Profoundly and always impressed with the seri
ous and even solemn aspects of the life that he was living, as
well as of that upon which he has now entered, he carried with
him an atmosphere that was not only cheerful but joyous. With
almost a feminine purity of thought and instinct, he combined
a stalwart manliness that could never be misunderstood. To
me, at least, the departure of such a spirit gives to the world
-almost a tinge of loneliness.

A. B. NETTLETON.

SERVICES AT THE CHURCH.

The funeral services were held in the Second Church, Sunday
afternoon, April ist. A large audience filled the house to its
utmost capacity. As the casket was slowly borne into the church,
to the soft and solemn organ prelude, the congregation arose
and stood until it was placed in position. An impressive tribute
of flowers from friends far and near, spoke eloquently of the warm

place our dear friend held in hearts scattered all over this coun
try.

After the opening exercises, consisting of an anthem by the
choir, a passage of Scripture read by Professor Churchill, and
prayer by Dr. Tenney, PROFESSOR MONROE spoke substantially
as follows: —

Professor Ellis had a judicial mind, and was capable of
looking at a subject upon all sides. This implied that he was
free from personal feeling, from prejudice, and from bias, and
made his judgment of great value to us. This quality revealed
itself in all the relations which he sustained. It was appar
ent in the class-room and was appreciated by his pupils. It is
safe to venture the statement that no student of Professor Ellis
ever complained that he had been unfairly treated. He marked
fairly, judged fairly, both the ability and the character of his
pupils, and was quite capable of looking at things from their
standpoint. He respected the scholarship and good qualities of
his students. None of them ever left his recitation room with
out a sense of encouragement, without feeling that they could
do something in the world with the powers which they had.
His influence was always encouraging, never depressing to those
under his care. He taught them to respect their own powers
and to be hopeful as to the results of their future work.

The same quality showed itself in Faculty meetings. His
ability to look upon all sides of subjects and of characters was
there exceedingly useful. Some members of the Faculty used
to wait until Professor Ellis had spoken, when a question was
under debate, in order that they might be able to get a complete
view of the case, and make up their own minds as to how they
would vote. He had left a vacancy in the meetings of the Fac
ulty which it would be very difficult to fill.

The same fair-mindedness showed itself in the meetings of
the Second Church and in the management of its business. He
was there also relied upon for counsel and advice. His judg
ment was equally valued by citizens of the town, as shown in

meetings of the Council, in public meetings and in private con
sultation. It was not uncommon, when difficult questions were
under consideration, to hear citizens say, "Let us see Professor
Ellis and talk with him about it." A neighbor who wished to
consult him was always made welcome, and always found Pro
fessor Ellis at leisure to hear the case and give his judgment.

In former years he had invitations to leave Oberlin and ac
cept positions which many would have thought more desirable.
He never entertained these invitations any further than to con
sult with his brethren as to whether they would encourage him
to leave. But as he never got any such encouragement he never
left us. He had no desire to separate himself from the work
here. He was wholly devoted to Oberlin and its service. It
was said that he became a kind of Oberlin incarnate. He loved
the work here because he thought it the best means of making
his powers useful for the cause of Christ. No doubt this was
the way to make a great school, and it was also the way to make
a great man. Here Professor Ellis built his altar. He laid him
self upon it, and the answer came by fire from heaven. To-day
the offering has been consumed.

This spirit showed itself in other relations, but time would
not permit that they should be mentioned. To-day we all have
that profound sense of satisfaction which comes from feeling that
there is but one place, one home, to which the released spirit
can have gone. There was but one Presence in which a pur
pose so noble, a self-denial so complete, a consecration so per
fect, a temper so candid and fair, a life so absolutely devoted to
the work of Christ — there was but one Presence in which such
a spirit could be found and could be at home, to which it must
be drawn by its proper attractions; and that was the presence of
his Redeemer and his Lord.

PRESIDENT BALLANTINE spoke of the moral traits of Pro
fessor Ellis. His remarks were as follows: —

I have been asked to speak of the moral traits of Pro
fessor Ellis. And this is easy to do. Of all the men of your

1 1

acquaintance, you have known none more thoroughly than you
Jcnew John Ellis. His character was so transparent, so sincere,
so consistent, that it was soon understood; and once learned it
was always afterwards found to be the same.

In considering the moral purpose of the noble life now
ended, we are impressed with its unity, its comprehensiveness,
its unselfishness, and its loftiness. Professor Ellis was fortu
nate in early finding the place and sphere of his life work. For
fifty-four years he was a citizen of Oberlin; for thirty-six years
he was a professor in the College, during which long time he
was but two terms absent from his post.

He grasped with peculiar firmness the great thought of the
founders of Oberlin — a Christian community holding in its
bosom a Christian school — and to the realization of that idea his
life was devoted. A man of unusual activity, industry, and ef
ficiency, he labored from early morning until late at night, in
term time and in vacation, with but one thought — the prosper
ity of village and College.

There was nothing narrow in this concentration ; for the pur
pose was most comprehensive. There was no local pride or
prejudice. He valued Oberlin not as a local enterprise, but for
what it could do for the world. His supreme regard was for
the kingdom of God in all its breadth. Nor was he especially
interested in any single aspect of the work. Every need of the
community and institution engaged his attention. Progress in
every line, — sanitary, social, musical, political, educational, the
ological, religious, — he equally strove to promote.

The unselfishness of his life was most remarkable. There
are different degrees of unselfishness. There are good men who
are willing to devote themselves to a great cause if they may
choose the part of the work that suits them. Professor Ellis
had no choice; all that he asked to know was that the service
was needed. It might be to oversee the repair of a leaking roof,
or of a walk across the campus; it might be the erection of a
building, the care of the College investments, the appointment

of a new professor, a public address, a sermon, the instruction of
a class in Greek or Philosophy. It might be to admonish a way
ward student, to visit the sick, or to conduct a village funeral.
Wherever practical sense and a great Christian heart were re
quired, he was ready for the task.

He never thought of the gratification of his own literary
taste, or the making of a reputation, or the accumulation even of
a competence. It never occurred to him to ask whether he had
not worked as many hours as he was paid for. After all these
years of unremitting toil, he died a poor man. The frugal sup
port of his family was all the earthly reward he had ever contem
plated.

No life can have a loftier purpose than this one had. It
was to do the utmost for others. Here was a genial sympathy
that took in every person and every interest of this whole com
munity. Professor Ellis was peculiarly a man of the people.
No consciousness of professorial dignity lifted him away from
his neighbors. He was a " great commoner." And he was
equally near to the students. No member of the Faculty knew
so well just how the boys felt. He was interested not in the
cause of learning in the abstract, but in developing Christian
character in the living men and women around him and through
out the world. A great man is always greater than any one of
his actions. The greatest service Professor Ellis has rendered to
Oberlin has been in letting us all see the sublime unity and un
selfishness of his life. He has been a living example of the type
of character which this community was founded to produce.

Dear friends of the village and College, shall we not to-day,
looking for the last time upon this beloved face, mutually pledge
ourselves to live more devotedly for this same high purpose?
Shall not the spirit of Professor Ellis live in a multitude of lives
here and shine out from a multitude effaces in all the years to
come ?

DR. TENNEY spoke of the relation of Professor Ellis to the
Second Church: —

The death of Professor Ellis comes as a severe personal
bereavement, in which our tears flow in sorrowing sympathy
with his immediate family.

His connection with the Second Church dates from its or
ganization. During more than half of the thirty-four years of
its history it has been served in the pastoral office by professors
in the College, and of this service Professor Ellis has borne a
large part. And more fully than any of its installed pastors he
has entered into the details of its varied life and work. When
not officially an acting pastor, he has been more to its pastors
than a pastor's assistant could be. Everything that has been of
interest to the Church has been of interest to him. Into the
erection of this house of worship his thought and effort largely
entered. Always, in stated supply, in occasional services, and in
pastoral vacations, his pulpit ministrations have been abundant,
instructive, and spiritually quickening and inspiring. Rarely has
his place been vacant in the prayer circle, and seldom have we
missed his voice in counsel and in prayer. In the business of the
Church and in pleading for its benevolences, he has been our
natural spokesman and our representative in the meetings of the
conferences of the churches.

No one has entered more cordially and sympathetically into
the family life of our members, and no one has been more heart
ily welcomed in our homes. In times of sorrow, and on funeral
occasions, it has been to Professor Ellis that we have naturally
turned. Had the service of his life been limited to the work
which he has wrought in connection with the Second Church, it
would have been a noble life work.

After the chorus, "Happy and blest," from the oratorio
St. Paul, was sung by the choir, PROFESSOR G. FREDERICK
WRIGHT spoke of the relation of Professor Ellis to the com
munity. He said in substance: —

The intimate relations in Oberlin of the College and the
community are of priceless value to all concerned. No small part
of the practical efficiency of the education here given, depends

upon the harmony and closeness of these relations. The dis
tribution of our students in households loyal to the College,
scattered throughout the whole village, prevents much of that
separation from ordinary society which is the great bane of uni
versity life.

While the whole organization of the College and colony in
Oberlin has favored the intimate and harmonious relations of
the two, the results attained have not been secured merely by
the existence of propitious circumstances, but largely through
the capacity and character of the persons entering into the part
nership. Probably all would be united in saying, that, through
out the last thirty years. Professor Ellis, more than anyone else,
has combined in himself the qualities which have both promoted
and represented the totality of Oberlin interests.

The record of his unrequited work in promoting the general
welfare of the community would fill a volume, and be an object
lesson of the greatest value to the theoretical students of social
science, illustrating to them the fact that the highest interests of
society are promoted not so much by the forms of the social
organization, as by the wisdom and the unselfish devotion of its
members.

Time after time in the years of darkness and conflict, during
the civil war, it was Professor Ellis' duty and privilege as
chairman of the local committee to secure volunteers, to protect
Oberlin from the draft. Through his efficient service, money
was raised for bounties in sufficient quantity to secure the filling
of Oberlin's quota by voluntary enlistments, and his sympathy
and interest followed the soldiers everywhere, from beginning to
end. He visited them in their lonely camps, and cheered them
by his commanding presence and his words of sympathy and
encouragement.

In conclusion, we have but to say that the commanding
form of Professor Ellis was a true index of the commanding
ability which was so generally recognized by every interest in
our community, and by the whole Oberlin constituency. We

follow him to the grave with a depressing sense of a loss which
cannot easily be replaced.

PRESIDENT FAIRCHILD spoke as follows:—

My friends, you will not expect many words from me to
day. I would prefer to sit in silence with the mourners. But
I cannot permit the form of our friend to be buried from our
sight without bringing my personal tribute of grateful remem
brance.

Professor Ellis came to Oberlin, a child in his father's fam
ily, nine years of age, in 1840. I was then a student in the
ology. Our acquaintance began early, and has become more in
timate, with every passing year, through the fifty years. It was
not mainly a friendship of sentiment, although it could not be
entirely lacking in this element; but rather a friendship of sym
pathy and co-operation in a common work.

In 1858, after having completed the course in College and
in the Seminary, and having taught three years as Professor of
Languages in a Southern college, he was elected Professor of
Greek at Oberlin; and from that day to this, we have been in
timately associated in all the work and business affairs of the
College. I was not President until some years later, but many
matters of administration fell to me as chairman of the Faculty,
and I soon found in Professor Ellis such an adviser and helper
as I needed. From the beginning of his official connection with
the College, he took its interests on his heart, and never laid
them off until he laid off all earthly care. It was never with him
a question of its bearing upon his personal interest or advan
tage. There was a great work to be done, and if he could do it,
it was his to do. He was a self-forgetful worker. We have had
many such at Oberlin ; no such enterprise was ever carried on
without them. Professor Ellis has been prominent among them
all. It was natural for him to lead, but he led in work, not
merely in setting others to work. He was early appointed on
the Prudential Committee, and from that time on became famil
iar with all the business affairs of the College. The time and

strength and wisdom which he has given to these affairs have
been an essential contribution to the prosperity which has at
tended the work. Not an important movement has been made
which has not had the benefit of his clear discernment, and his
effective executive force. He was good to plan and equally
good to perform. We often had to say to him as Pharaoh said
to Joseph, "Since the Lord hath shown thee all this, there is
none so good to execute the plan as thou art." He never de
clined such service to save himself from burdensome work. That
it needed to be done, was sufficient for him, whether it was the
location of a sewer, or the repairing of a roof; the collection of
funds for completing Council Hall, or for the endowment of a
professorship. His varied natural gifts, and his earlier and
later training, qualified him for all these duties. One who has
carefully traced the outward changes of the last thirty years and
more, can see in every walk, in every building, traces of his work
and thought.

But the life and strength of Professor Ellis have not been
chiefly occupied with these outward material things. These
have been but incidents, mere symbols of what was more real
to him, though invisible. As a teacher, he has impressed his
thought and life upon the hundreds who have come under his
forming hand. The intellectual and moral force of his charac
ter and life have entered largely into the tide of helpful influ
ence which has been sustained here in the College and the com
munity through all the years, which has lifted and borne on to
a higher plane of life and service the thousands that have sought
their education here. In this great work he has not stood alone.
No one can accomplish such a work alone, but we are permit
ted to assign to him to-day a large undivided share in the grand
result. He never claimed much for himself. He had a gener
ous appreciation of the work of his associates, and was content
to be one among them. I do not think that any unkind or un
generous criticism of his co-workers ever fell from his lips. He

rejoiced in the good work they were able to do, and gave it a
generous appreciation.

In a work so varied and extended as he has accomplished,
it is difficult to analyze and discriminate the various forms of
helpfulness; but I cannot forbear to mention his contribution to
the work of clear thinking and lucid statement of truth at Ober-
lin, in which the fathers gave us the lead, and which has been
continued with more or less of success to our day. Professor
Ellis has not left us any permanent and visible record in the form
of books. Perhaps if ten years more had been added to his
life, the book might have appeared. But this is scarcely a serious
matter. Books are easily neglected and forgotten; but the im
pressions made upon a living soul have a permanency and vital
power which no skill of the printer can impart. In this form
and with this power, his work will remain and extend. It would
not be difficult, if this were the time and place, to specify some
of the contributions which he has made to the common treasure
of Oberlin thought and teaching. But we have these treasures
in possession, and they will be transmitted and diffused though
all men forget out of whose store-house they came.

A large vacancy is left among us by Professor Ellis' depar
ture, and this will not be filled. We shall miss his stately form
as the years come on. We shall sometimes wish that he were
here to continue or complete his work. No one can take his
place; others will come in their own places and do their work,
not his, and the building will go forward under the eye and hand
of the great Master-builder, whose we are and whom we serve.

After President Fairchild's remarks, prayer was offered by
Dr. Brand, and an opportunity was given to look once more on
the face of our beloved friend, after which the casket was re
moved to its final resting place, in Westwood.

JOHN MILLOTT ELLIS.

When Nature planned this man she said of him,
" Be his the kindly heart, the beaming eye,
The ear to hear, to heed the humblest cry — -
The fate to toil in lowliest ways and dim;

To be no slave to mean caprice or whim,

To walk serene enwrapt in thoughts that lie
Within the depths of God's unfathomed sky,
Finding his life enclosed in duty's rim."

Obedience his — true child of Oberlin !

When this behest into his soul was borne,

No doubt e'er dwelt that patient heart within;
Nor was his life thereby of gladness shorn,

But filled with peace amid life's hurrying din.

Such was thy son — mourn, Alma Mater, mourn !

—Ellen Bartlett Currier

RESOLUTIONS ADOPTED BY THE FACULTY, APRIL 23, 1894.

Whereas, God in his providence has removed from his
earthly sphere, after many years of devoted and successful labor,
our honored and beloved associate, John Millott Ellis, we bow
in reverent submission to his will, and, while mourning the loss,
gratefully acknowledge the noble results which have been ac
complished by the life and labors of our brother. We desire to
put on record our high appreciation of his marked executive
ability, of his symmetrical development of mind and character,
of his unselfish devotion to the interests of the church of Christ,
and especially of Oberlin College and community, of his un
wearied attention to the welfare of the great number of students
who have come under his care, and of the heroism with which
he has endured the trials of life and met the ordeal of death.
Therefore,

Resolved, that we extend to his family and immediate rel
atives our heartfelt sympathy, and that, with the great number
of his pupils and friends scattered over the world, we unite in
the prayer that the mantle of our departed friend may fall on

those of us who remain, enabling us to take up successfully the

work which he has now laid down.

FENELON B. RICE,
G. FREDERICK WRIGHT,
WILLIAM B. CHAMBERLAIN,
MRS. A. A. F. JOHNSTON,
A. A. WRIGHT,

Committee*
RESOLUTIONS ADOPTED BY THE THEOLOGICAL ALUMNI,

MAY 10, 1894.

In connection with this annual gathering, the absence of
our friend and brother, Professor John M. Ellis, brings to us all
a sense of loss which demands expression. During the thirty-
seven years of his membership in this Association, his unfailing
presence at our annual meetings and his helpful counsels and
suggestions have contributed greatly to the interest and effective
ness of our work. Although his strength was given more di
rectly to another department of the College work, yet all the
interests of the Seminary rested upon his heart, almost as if he
had been one of its professors. Himself an able and effective
preacher, the preaching of the gospel seemed to him the great
work, and the training of young men for such service, of supreme
importance. Theological thought and study never ceased to be
attractive to him, and his strong common sense and clear philo
sophical discernment have contributed not a little to the com-
pleter statement of the Oberlin Theology.

While we keenly feel the loss of our departed friend, we
would not fail to express our gratitude to God for the gift to the
Oberlin work, during these many years, of a life so full of help
ful service.

To Mrs. Ellis and the bereaved family we tender our Chris
tian sympathy and love.

JAMES H. FAIRCHILD,
G. FREDERICK WRIGHT,
HOLLAND B. FRY,

Committee..

RESOLUTIONS ADOPTED BY THE OBERLIN ALUMNI ASSOCIATION

OF WESTERN PENNSYLVANIA AT PITTSBURG, PA.,

APRIL 28, 1894.

The Oberlin Alumni Association of Western Pennsylvania
has learned with deep regret of the recent death of Professor
John M. Ellis, and would place on record its sense of his great
worth and of the loss sustained by his decease.

Its members recall with unalloyed pleasure their acquaint
ance with him during College days, in the class-room, in social
and church life, and in private intercourse. They gladly bear
testimony to his exalted character and bearing in all these rela
tions.

In the class-room he was an able and inspiring teacher,
enthusiastic and unbiased in his search for truth, clear and fair
in his expositions and his defence of it, and greatly interested in
the successful attainment of it by his pupils.

In social life he was uniformly courteous in his demeanor,
and considerate of the feelings and the welfare of all.

In church and Christian life, as a preacher of the gospel and
as a follower of the Divine Master, he presented a noble illus
tration of loyalty to his Lord, of devotion to His teachings, and
of love to His disciples.

In private intercourse with his pupils, few teachers ever
manifested more fully the unselfishness and large-heartedness of
a generous and thoughtful nature intent on imparting blessing
to others. His presence was always stimulating towards every
thing that is lofty and good, and his influence helpful in encour
aging every holy purpose. We recognize now, as we look back
upon the years when his voice and his commanding form were
familiar to us, how large a part he had in impressing upon us
his own noble conceptions of life and truth and duty. We shall
cherish through our coming years the inspiring memory of his
•character as teacher, Christian, and friend.

T. H. ROBINSON, '50.
ALICE I. JONES, '91.

Committee.

RESOLUTIONS ADOPTED BY THE OBERLIN COLLEGE ALUMNI
ASSOCIATION, AT CHICAGO, ILL., MAY 25, 1894.

Whereas, on March 29, 1894, the life of Professor John M.
Ellis came to an untimely end in this city while en roiite for
Oberlin:

Resolved, that we are rendered peculiarly mindful of the
great loss of our teacher and friend by his sudden death in our
midst.

Resolved, that we spread on our records and send to his
family these minutes expressive of our sympathy for them, in
their bereavement, and of our recognition of his great usefulness
to the College.

As student, instructor, and professor he had for more than
forty years been connected with Oberlin College. He had ab
sorbed and become inspired by the spirit of the founders, and
did much to preserve their ideal through all the changes of time.

He exerted a vigorous influence for good in the affairs of
the town, in the work of the church, and in every department of
the College. He was a public-spirited man who gave freely of
his time, his strength, his thought, and his means for the man
ifold needs of the growing institution. His life was inseparably
interwoven with the history of the College, and, so long as it
continues, his memory will be kept green.

Resolved., that through his devotion to the college of which
we are members, we have become the beneficiaries of a debt
v/hich we can never repay to him. But that our return must be
made to the school which he loved and to the principles which
it teaches.

We therefore here resolve that it is the privilege of us who
are spared to carry forward the work to which his life and that
of his predecessors were so nobly given; that we so improve our
privilege that they shall not have sacrificed in vain; and that we
here anew devote ourselves to the promotion of that union of
learning and labor, of ptain living and high thinking, of culture,
patriotism, and true religion which they, and he, held dear.

RESOLUTIONS ADOPTED BY THE MEDINA CONFERENCE, AT ITS

ANNUAL MEETING, OBERLIN, APRIL 26, 1894.
God in his infinite wisdom has removed from our midst
our honored and beloved brother, Professor J. M. Ellis. We,
as members of the Medina Conference of Congregational
Churches, desire to put on record our sense of personal loss and
bereavement in the death of this brother. Professor Ellis was
a valued and useful member of this Conference. His interest in
the meetings of our churches and all that pertained to their wel
fare and upbuilding was not merely official and honorary, but
real, vital, and personal. He was uniformly present at our meet
ings and helpful in all our counsels. We desire to extend to
this Second Church of Oberlin, of which he was a most valued
member, and to his bereaved family, our heartfelt sympathy, and
we join in commending them to the loving care of Him who
doeth all things well.

TRIBUTE OF THE PRESS.

Professor John M. Ellis, who for thirty-six years had been a professor
in Oberlin College, and had lived in the town from early boyhood, was
throughout life one of the truest and most characteristic products of the
spirit, life and culture of Oberlin ; of the Oberlin College which can never
be thought of apart from the Oberlin Town. His identification all these
years was as perfect with the life of the town as with that of the college.
With the utmost simplicity of motive, it was remarkable how many-sided
were his living interests ; arid his interests in any matter were always of the
most practical, often of the most pragmatical, nature. He had no cant, no
pretense, no hobbies, and very few prejudices. If not accounted brilliant, his
candor and fair-mindedness made the action of his mind not only sane and
clear, but luminous in its perception and practical judgments. His depart
ment of instruction was that of Greek, and later that of Philosophy ; but from
first to last he was wholly devoted to Oberlin, and to the whole of Oberlin.
He was indeed one of the most wholesome of men. No life could have a
nobler purpose than his, to do the utmost in his power for others. As Pres
ident Ballantine says of him, the greatest service he rendered to Oberlin was
in letting all see the sublime unity and unselfishness of his life— a living ex
ample of the type of character which that community was founded to pro
duce. As Professor G. F. Wright remarked, for thirty years he combined in
himself more perhaps than anyone else the qualities which both promoted
and represented the totality of Oberlin interests. No students, says Professor

Monroe, ever left his recitation room without "a sense of encouragement,"
without feeling that they could do something in the world with the powers
they had. And so, better than a dozen lectureships on applied Christianity
was the incessant instructiveness of his own personality and life, so vigilant
and so instant in response wherever practical sagacity and a great heart with
aptitude for all kinds of affairs were wanted. In this respect, pertinent to
him would have been the remark of Emerson, " I cannot hear your words
your actions speak so loud." No amount of talk about "civics" and "soci
ology" and so on could have had such influence over the thousands of Ober-
lin students as the factual witness day after day of this man along with his
like-minded associates, matching the activities of each day with its own op
portunity. For, he was exactly the same in the town-meeting as in the
class-room ; and as sure to be at the one as at the other. When Mayor of
the town nobody thought of asking whether or not he would enforce the laws.
As Chief of the Oberlin Fire Department he was an expert. And then, a
crowning grace of his unselfishness, as of all the qualities which made his
scholarship, his ministry, his citizenship, was the unconsciousness of it all
which left him "at leisure from himself" to go on unhindered in doing the
needed thing at the right time.

And thus it was that, both as fact and continuing factor, at once as per
sonal resultant and in turn producing cause, according to his measure and in
all his relations to the community, the college, the church, the common
wealth and the country, Professor Ellis notably illustrated the qualities,
rather the combination and adjustment of qualities, which the peculiar con
ditions and still aching problems of modern society are so anxiously calling
for. — Editorial by the Rev. Simeon Gilbert, D. D.y in The Advance for
April 12, 1894.

One of the original and most honored members of Oberlin's Faculty is
dead. A few months ago Professor Ellis went with his wife to California, a
very sick man, but hopeful. The change did not benefit him, and when
told there was no hope of recovery, he desired to start immediately for home.
He died in Chicago Thursday morning.

Professor Ellis studied at the College in its infancy; pursued the theo
logical course, graduated from it with high honors and accepted a professor
ship of the Greek language. He had been connected with the College in
various capacities for half a century, and has discharged every duty devolved
upon him with ability and distinction. He was a fitting representative of
Oberlin theology, and that class of noble men who built Oberlin College in
the wilderness, from nothing to its present high and world-wide reputation.
Highly respected and esteemed by all whose good fortune it was to know him
as a teacher, adviser or citizen, he will always be remembered as a man of
noble character, rare intelligence and scholarly attainments. As a professor
of the dead languages, he will be remembered throughout the world. Pro
fessor Ellis visited Grand Rapids several times in the interests of Oberlin

College, and while here called on his former pupils and preached several
sermons in the Park Congregational Church. Many of our citizens will re
member him. We testify our respect for his memory, our admiration for
his virtues, and our belief in the constant honest purposes of his life. That
his genial courtesy and quiet dignity will be long remembered among us,
and his untiring energy in promoting the interests of his pupils be worthy of
emulation throughout the entire country, we have no doubt. We tender to
the family of Professor Ellis our heartfelt sympathy in this their sad afflic
tion, still aware that wounded hearts cannot be healed by human sympathy
alone. His life work is done — but well done. His crowning characteristics
were those of faith and Christian living. He lives in death. — C. G. Swens-
berg in the Grand Rapids {Mich,} Herald for April 8,

In the death of Professor Ellis, Oberlin College loses one of its best
friends; one of its most devoted teachers; one of the men who, putting the
work of more than a generation into it, has brought it up to its present com
manding position. None knew him but to respect and honor him. His ideals
of duty were lofty. In the service of his Master he counted no sacrifice too
great. The writer of these words will not soon forget the work he did among
the soldiers in the armies of the Potomac and the James, and at Richmond
just after the surrender, nor the interest he took in the social questions which
even then were just beginning to press for a solution. He was one of the
men who believed in the adequacy of the principles of the gospel for the
settlement of all difficulties.— The Congregationalist, April j,

The sudden death at Chicago yesterday of Professor J. M. Ellis of Ober
lin College will be felt as a personal affliction by very many residents of
Cleveland, who have known and esteemed him as a teacher and friend in
years that are past. Professor Ellis has been connected with Oberlin Col
lege as pupil, tutor and professor nearly forty years. His life has been de
voted to good works and the memory of his deeds and influence will be
abiding. — The Cleveland Plain Dealer, March jo, 1894..

MESSAGES OF SYMPATHY.

The following are extracts from a few of the many letters
received by Mrs, Ellis from friends at a distance: —

CINCINNATI, April 11, 1894.

My affection and admiration for John has never lessened from the high
measure it had with me when I first knew him as a classmate in 1846. It
needed the intimacy of boys preparing for college to give the truest idea of
his mental lucidity and easy grasp of every study which made the student's
work easy to him, and made high rank in a class seem so natural that no one
wondered at it. So far from seeking to show superior excellence, he had
from the beginning a contempt for exhibition that made him rather hide his

power, under a natural modesty that treated it as nothing but what was a
matter of course, and least of all to be proud of. I think those boyish esti
mates are the truest and best. We knew him through arid through, and
consequently knew how honest, how pure, how unselfish, how strong he was.

If we all have sometimes wished he had not so many cares and so varied
duties thrust upon him, so that by narrowing his field he might have made
his great powers more dominant in some single line of thought and world-
teaching, I am sure his sense of duty was a better guide, and in doing what
ever the College needed he has left his impress more durably upon it and
upon generations of students yet to come than he could have done in any
other way.

Sympathizing deeply and earnestly with you in your great present grief
as I do, I yet cannot indulge in mere grief— I am led to think of him as of a
character so high and so safe in the list of true worthies, that I involuntarily
yield to the impulse to admire rather than to weep — to thank God for the life
he lived rather than bewail the close of it. Is it not a precious fruit of such
a life that the satisfaction we all must feel in. its full and rounded perform
ance of duty softens even our mourning, and gives a reality to the immortal
part of him that makes even his death seem unreal in the comparison ?

You have the unspeakable comfort of knowing all this better than any
of us, and we can only help to assuage your natural sorrowing by reminding
you how much there is in the last thirty years to glory and rejoice in, and
how slight the break will hereafter seem in a holy and everlasting comrade
ship.

J. D. Cox.

BOSTON, April 3, 1894.

No one in Oberlin save President Fairchild was so intimately associated
with my life while a member of the Faculty ; and I can hardly think what
Oberlin will be without Professor Ellis. The College, the Prudential Com
mittee, the Alumni, the Church, the Town, the Conference, Forest Street ;
how he will be missed in them all.

JUDSON SMITH.

MARCH 31, 1894.

Professor Ellis was so staunch and upright! He was good to lean upon.
I can never cease to remember with keen gratitude the patient kindness, and
the calm good judgment with which he upheld me when I was fainting under

the deepest trouble and perplexity of my life.

MARTHA E. FRENCH.

CLEVELAND, OHIO, April i, 1894.
To Mrs. J. M. Ellis, Oberlin, Ohio:

DEAR MADAM: — The Session arid members of the Euclid Avenue Pres
byterian Church send to you a message of sympathy in your hour of trial.
While we have no right to penetrate the inner sanctuary of your grief, we

give our prayers with your own to the end that holy and true consolation may
come to you even in this supreme sorrow.

The ministrations of Professor Ellis to this congregation during a period
of transition and anxiety were helpful and most wise. He gave us of that
wisdom and prudence, of that hope in the future, with which God had so
conspicuously endowed him, His honored servant. The memory of our friend
is sacred within these walls where his voice has so often resounded.

May we not send back to you that passage of Holy Scripture which he
himself declared to one of our members to have been " especially helpful "
to him — Isaiah 1. 10: "Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obey-
eth the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light? let
him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God."
Respectfully,

JAS. HANDYSIDE,

Clerk of Session.

MT. HOLYOKE COLLEGE,
SOUTH HADLEY, MASS., April 5, 1894.

There was not the shadow of an unrighteous thought in him— pure and
true, devoted to duty and truth; the friend of everybody, unselfish in deed
•as in thought. Everybody trusted and loved him. I rejoice that I ever knew
him, and that my children knew him, and felt the force of his strong char
acter.

ELIZABETH S. MEAD.

YORK, NEB., April 5, 1894.

Professor Ellis had been our teacher and friend, and his Christ-like spirit
endeared him to us all. The great student world will mourn his loss, and
Oberlin College will greatly miss him as a teacher, manager, and a Christian
light.

E. H. BAKER.

SOUTHOLD, N. Y., April 15, 1894.

It was such a true and beautiful life, that there can now be only sorrow,
and no sting, for those who are left. And we can bear sorrow. It must be
such a happy thought for you that he influenced and inspired so many lives,
and opened up to them such new and helpful avenues of thought, that all
their after life cannot but be changed and bettered and broadened.

LOUISE C. POND.

DENVER, COLO., April 5, 1894.

I cannot but be glad that my college days came in his time, and that
among many precious memories I have that of his kindly face and cheery
words.

KATE COWAN JAMES, '89 O. C.

OAK PARK, ILL., April i, 1894.

We all remember with much gratitude your husband's devotion to each
of our college interests. I enjoyed especially my work with him in the Evi
dences of Christianity; and it is satisfactory to recall how clear his convic
tions and understanding of the great truths of Christianity always were.
Memories of his life will strengthen the lives of many of his students, I am
sure.

ANGINETTE B. HEMINGWAY.

MINNEAPOLIS, MINN., March 30, 1894.

A good man has gone. He will be greatly missed. He has done a large
and useful work, and a work which will go on and on without ceasing.
Thirty years ago last fall I began my acquaintance with him, when, in the
late fall of '63, I went to Oberhn carrying a letter of introduction to him.
He received me cordially, and counseled me wisely. We have always been
good friends since, and our friendship has grown. I often went to him for
advice, and always got good counsel. It would have been better for me had
I always followed his advice. And I am only one of a great number who
can and will testify the same thing. Only God can measure the good he has
done in his quiet, unselfish, wise, energetic life in Oberlin.

S. V. S. FISHER.

ALLEGHENY, PA., April 30, 1894.

When I think of him it is not of his position in the College, of his schol
arship, or any of his public relations. I did not know him much in these.
It is of his large and open heartedness, the honesty and guilelessness and
unselfishness of his nature I knew him as a friend and brother. We were
not in the same class, and so had not the bond of classmates. Our lives were
soon thrown apart. We seldom met. We were in different churches and
each loved his own church, so that it has been somewhat contrary to cus
tom if not to nature, that our friendship should live on. . . . From the
days when we sat beside each other in the choir and sang in serenades and in
concerts, we continued to think of each other. I shall hold him in hearty
memory for the rest of my days. He was the one in Oberlin that most
strongly drew me there.

T. H. ROBINSON.

ST. PAUL, MINN., April 17, 1894.

He was a friend of my boyhood. I well remember the day he became a
Christian and the powerful influence his decision had upon my conscience.
He at once became an ideal to me, and for fifty years I have drawn from his
consecrated and scholarly manhood deeper inspiration. It has not been my
privilege to often meet him, but my thoughts of Oberlin have always included
him as a part of its pure and exalted life.

EDWARD P. INGERSOLL.

LAKE ERIE SEMINARY,
PAINESVILLE, OHIO, April 14, 1894.

The tributes from the associates of Professor Ellis are beautiful and
true, especially those words of Professor Monroe: "A purpose so noble, a
•self-denial so complete, a consecration so perfect, a temper so candid and
fair, a life so absolutely devoted to the work of Christ." And the words of
Dr. Fairchild, coming straight from his heart out of an experience of fifty
years. There must have been great comfort for you in such words, and the

comfort will remain.

MARY EVANS.

REDLANDS, CAL., March 30, 1894.

I can never forget the Professor's kindness to me in his father's home
while I was a student in the Seminary. He was a constant helper and in-
spirer in that work. We went to Oberlin, strangers, but through him we
found home and friends. And then his brotherly interest in all these years
— his hearty welcome to his own model home— and not the least his kindly
interest in our children as they went to Oberlin, make this event one of pecu
liar tenderness and sorrow.

O. H. SPOOR.

GRINNELL, IOWA, April i, 1894.

The past is rich in happy, honorable memories; the future radiant with
the hopes inspired by the faith he cherished. We can change nothing; in
finite love infinitely wise has done just what is best.

L. F. PARKER.

HINSDALE, MASS., April 2, 1894.

I have known him long and have loved him better every year. Such a
clear head is not always with such a warm heart. Such manly independence
of thought does not in most men find it so easy to co-operate with fellow-
workers.

J. H. LAIRD.

NEW YORK, March 30, 1894.
New York Oberlin Alumni offer warmest sympathy and love and mourn

with you.

R. T. HALL.

NEW YORK, April 13, 1894.

DEAR MRS. ELLIS: — The knowledge of your husband's death was first
received by most of the New York Alumni at the annual meeting of the New
York Association recently held. His presence with us two years ago was
still so fresh in the recollection of most of us, and the love and reverence
which we, in common with all those who have learned from him, had for him,
was so strong that our hearts went out in sympathy for you and your chil-

dren who have suffered such unspeakable loss. It was the unanimous desire
of those present to express this sympathy, and the Secretary was therefore
directed t'o convey such expression.

It is in obedience to this expressed wish that I write and tell you, what
you already know, that we, his former pupils, feel that we have suffered loss
with you, and grieve with you.

WILLIAM M. BENNETT,

Secretary.

GRAND RAPIDS, MICH., April 5, 1894.

He was a friend to me, and helped me long before I realized it. He was
a noble, stalwart figure, toward whose dimensions I unconsciously aspired.
He was a preacher of righteousness, not only in the pulpit and in the class
room, but in his majestic character and life; and long before any of us came
to know his teachings, we felt the power and the uplift of John Ellis, and
this was true not only of me, but of my brother Dwight before me. In-<
stinctively we had turned to this man as one who represented all that was
manly and honest and noble. . . .

It will be strange to think of Oberlin without Professor Ellis. In the
dark days of Oberlin in the '/o's, when the outlook was discouraging and the
means limited, and the buildings were shabby, it was the hearty, cheerful
courage of Professor Ellis that made all happy in the feeling that brighter
days were to come.

DAN F. BRADLEY.

RIPON COLLEGE,
RIPON, Wis., April 9, 1894.

I have always regarded Professor Ellis as one of the remarkable men
among the superior leaders at Oberlin. His great breadth and solidity of
judgment, his genuine and wide charity, his Christian simplicity and con
stant faith, made him a man of extraordinary influence over all with whom
he had any personal relations. Other leaders in Oberlin may have been
more brilliant than he, but on the whole I doubt whether any of them have
been more grandly intelligent. An uncommon, loving man. He will be a
.great loss to Oberlin College and to the State of Ohio.

EDWARD H. MERRELL.

NEW YORK, April 7, 1894.

He was one of God's noblemen. His heart was well adjusted to his
manly frame. His deep religious experience, his clear insight into God's
word, his tireless devotion to the interests of his Master's kingdom, his un
faltering love for the College, which owes so much of its life and growth to
him, his warm welcome to his friends, his fatherly affection for the great
multitude of young people continually passing through Oberlin College and
Seminary, give him a very warm place in a multitude of hearts. He will be
greatly missed in Oberlin. If I apprehend rightly, no man has done more to

3°

build up that College than he. It is the best monument he or any other man
could have as a memorial of a most faithful and devoted life service.

L. H. COBB.

CHICAGO, March 29, 1894.

His strong positive character counted as a force with every one of his
scholars— one that they never can forget. His prudence never spared; his
charity never wasted. He loved all. He helped all. We feel like a great
host of children. We feel as though we had lost our leader.

MERRITT STARR.

MARIETTA COLLEGE,
MARIETTA, OHIO, April 10, 1894.

He was one of my best and closest friends, our friendship beginning
while we were classmates in the Theological Seminary at Oberlin, and con
tinued throughout our lives.

When we were together at Oberlin a mutual friend, now Rev. Dr. Me-
Kinley, was wont to say of him ("John Ellis," as we all called him), that he
was the ripest and best fruit of Oberlin culture. I was glad to agree with
that judgment. He has done a most useful, important, and honorable work
for education and religion at Oberlin and for Oberlin. I doubt if any man
has done more than he to make Oberlin College and Oberlin village what
they are to-day.

X. J. MORRISON.

HARTFORD, CONN., April 3, 1894.

We have not lost that blessed soul, that prince among men, that friend
whose affection was so deep and tender. Even those of us who had him for
a dear friend were unspeakably rich; but how much richer you and your
dear children, who had him for your very own. We are all rich still, and if
our hearts are heavy, we will let the God of all comfort, who knows how to
comfort us in all our trials, comfort us with His peace.

JOHN A. R. ROGERS.

WASHINGTON, D. C., March 31, 1894.

Having known him so long and so well, and loved and admired him so-
much, we cannot but feel that we too are personally bereft, and that the
College, the Church, and the world have met with a loss that cannot be filled..
WThile mourning his death, we can but thank God for such lives, and such
men, whose influence can never die. And the good they have done will ever
live.

MR. AND MRS. C. H. BUXTON.

CHICAGO, April 2, 1894.

More than once when I was in need of help, he gave it to me as no one
else could have done. Hundreds will write or think just such words.

ELIZABETH K. CLARK.

NEW YORK, March 30, 1894.

His life and character will ever he a bright and beautiful thing in our
memory, and his loving friendship one of the most precious possessions that

has ever come into our lives.

WILLIAM KINCAID.

ROME, ITALY, April 21, 1894.

I feel very thankful that I had the privilege of studying under Professor
Ellis and knowing him as a friend, and I hope I may never fall below the
ideals which he taught me, not so much by word as by his life. I think of
him now as I used so often to see him in chapel offer his chair to some be
lated young lady. It was an act of thoughtfulness and gallantry, a little
thing to speak of, perhaps, but it was just one of the many things which made
him so loved by his students. Many young men in New York have told me,
since I graduated, that after they left college, the Professor who remained in
their memories as the most esteemed and as having most influenced their
Jives for good, was Professor Ellis. This is my testimony too.

AGNES E. WARNER.

DENVER, COLO., April 28, 1894.

Professor Ellis' place in the hearts of the Oberlin people and students
was indeed a large one. How much dear President Fairchild will miss him!
He was so close to him and in sympathy with him. We remember with
great pleasure our meeting him abroad and the kindly attention and service
he rendered us. He was the noble Christian gentleman, that we sometimes
fail to find in all places. But we cannot doubt that through his unselfish ex
ample others have been won to the better life, and his influence will never
cease to exist.

IONE M. HANNA.

FRIEDENAU BEI BERLIN, April 17, 1894.

I can hardly make it seem at all possible that Professor Ellis is really
gone from among us. I had come so to revere and love him that it seems to
me in an unusual degree a personal loss. Not many men could have proved
so considerate as he, in the position of an older associate in a department.
His kindness and ready co-operation have been constant. I can never forget
his high and unselfish spirit. I have never known him to fail to respond
sympathetically to any high appeal in any thing. No other vacancy has
meant to me what this means.

HENRY C. KING.

HONOLULU, April 18, 1894.

I enjoyed his sermons as much or more than those of any one else in
Oberlin. His death was a great shock to me.

MARY CASTLE.

ROLLINS COLLEGE,

WINTER PARK, FLORIDA, April 2, 1894.

I cannot tell you how my heart aches for you. Nor can I tell you how
much I have learned to love and respect Professor Ellis. In more than one
place of most unusual stress he bore himself so nobly, so bravely, so unsel
fishly. Such a life is a permanent possession for us all. Death cannot touch it.

CHARLES G. FAIRCHILD.

PACIFIC GROVE, CAL., March 30, 1894.

He was an Oberlin man. He never knew how to spare himself. He saw
duty only to do it. We all hoped that his life might be prolonged for other
years of work and counsel and, not least, for further companionship with our
dear old President; but we have many compensating thoughts of the good
man and all he has been to the College and the church and the town and the
state and the world,— and to his friends, his children, and to you.

We can only say, as President Fairchild has said to us so often and taught
us to believe, "Our Father makes no mistakes."

MR. AND MRS. EDWIN SIDNEY WILLIAMS.

Los ANGELES, CAL., April 3, 1894.

It is very pleasant to think of him in our home, lying upon the lounge or
sitting by the window in the sunshine. He was so quiet and patient, so little
trouble, and so interested in our conversation about old friends and ac
quaintances, although he was so ill. But best of all, he was so perfectly re
signed to all that was before him, whether it was life or death, and when he
learned that it was surely death, so calm and undisturbed. It was wonderful.
His presence here was like a benediction upon our home.

MR. AND MRS. HENDERSON JUDD.

REDLANDS, CAL., March 31, 1894.

I cannot tell you what sacred joy will ever be the memory of the days
and hours given us to minister to his comfort and happiness while under our
roof here. His presence was a constant blessing and benediction for which

we shall always be profoundly thankful.

SAMUEL F. COOPER.

Vol. II. No. i. Five cents.

Per Year. Fifty cents

little Journey
to tbe Tbomes of
Hmerlcan Hutbors

GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS

New York and London : <5. p.

Putnam'* Sons

New Rochelle, N. Y. The
Knickerbocker Press.

Xittle Journey

SERIES FOR 1896

ILtttle Journeys to tbe 1bomc0 ot
Bmertcan Butbors

The papers below specified, were, with the
exception of that contributed by the editor,
Mr. Hubbard, originally issued by the late
G. P. Putnam, in 1853, in a series entitled
Homes of American Authors. It is now
nearly half a century since this series (which
won for itself at the time a very noteworthy
prestige) was brought before the public ; and
the present publishers feel that no apology is
needed in presenting to a new generation of
American readers papers of such distinctive
biographical interest and literary value.

No. i, Emerson, by Geo. W. Curtis.

2, Bryant, by Caroline M. Kirkland.

3, Prescott, by Geo. S. Hillard.

4, Lowell, by Charles F. Briggs.

5, Simms, by Wm. Cullen Bryant.

6, Walt Whitman, by Elbert Hubbard.

7, Hawthorne, by Geo. Wm. Curtis.

8, Audubon, by Parke Godwin.

9, Irving, by H. T. Tuckerman.

10, Longfellow by Geo. Wm. Curtis,
ir, Everett, by Geo. S. Hillard.
12, Bancroft, by Geo. W. Greene.

The above papers, which will form the
series of Little Journeys for the year 1896,
will be issued monthly, beginning January,
in the same general style as the series of
1895, at sects, a year. Single copies, 5 cts.,
postage paid.

Entered at the Post Office. New Rochelle, N. Y.,
as second class matter

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

27 A 29 WEST 230 STREET, NEW YORK

24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, LONDON

THE KNICKERBOCKER PRESS, NEW ROCHKLLE, N. Y.

PUBLISHERS' NOTE.

In 1853, the late G. P. Putnam pub
lished, under the title of Homes of Ameri
can Authors," a collection of papers
which had been written for this work by
a group of the younger writers of the
day, and which were devoted to studies
and descriptions of the homes and of the
work of certain representative American
authors of the time. The plan of the
series originated, we understand, with the
publisher, while it is probable that its
editorial direction rested either with
Henry T. Tuckennan or Charles F.
Briggs ("Harry Franco"), who was at
the time editor of Putnam's Monthly.
Among the contributors were several
writers whose work has since made for
itself a place in the enduring literature
of the century. Of these contributors (a
list of whom will be found on the pre-
ceeding page) but two, Parke Godwin
and Edward Everett Hale, are still (De
cember, 1895) surviving.

The successors of G. P. Putnam have
thought that the generation which has
grown up since the first publication of
this book would be interested in reading
these literary studies of half a century
back. It has, therefore, been decided to
reprint the papers as the second group of
the series of Little Journey rs, the publi
cation of which has been initiated with
the twelve papers of Mr. Blbert Hubbard
issued in 1895.

These papers of 1853 are printed as
originally written for Mr. Putnam's vol
ume, and as a matter of justice to authors
who, like Mr. Curtis and Mr. Godwin, have
since written more comprehensively on
the same subjects, the date of the original
publication has in each case been speci
fied. There is a certain literary interest in
having again before us the point of view
of these writers of 1853, even although in
certain cases their final conclusions may
have been somewhat modified, or their
maturer literary judgment may have ar
rived at some different form of literary
expression.

EMERSON

His goodness seems better than our goodness,
his nature finer, his temptations less. Every
thing that is his,— his name, his form, his dress,
books, and instruments,— fancy enhances.

Essay on Friendship.

FOREWORD

They are gone — writer and subject-
gone. The dust of Emerson rests in
" Sleepy Hollow " : a great unhewn
bowlder marks the spot. He died in
1882 ; Curtis followed ten years later.
But their works live after them : for beau
tiful lives and great thoughts endure.
They make that sweet minor chord in
the choir invisible, whose music is the
gladness of the world. Curtis was in his
twenty-ninth year when he wrote this
sketch ; Emerson was fifty — his fame
secure. No living writer, no matter how
richly gifted, could write so precious a
monograph as this on the same theme ;
't would lack that quaint old flavor and
fragrance, as of lavender and thyme.

E. H.

EMERSON.

BY GEORGE WIWJAM CURTIS.*

THE village of Concord, Massachu
setts, lies an hour's ride from Bos
ton. It is one of those quiet New
England towns whose few white houses,
grouped upon the plain, make but a
slight impression upon the mind of the
busy traveller hurrying to or from the
city. As the conductor calls " Concord ! "
the tourist has scarcely time to recall
" Concord, Lexington, and Bunker Hill,"
before the place has vanished, and he is
darting through woods and fields as soli
tary as those he has just left in New

* Written in 1853 for Putnam's Homes of Ameri
can Authors.

Bmerson

Hampshire. Yet, as it vanishes, he may
chance to see two or three spires, and as
they rush behind the trees his eyes fall
upon a gleaming sheet of water. It is
Walden Pond, — or Wai den Water, as Or
phic Alcott used to call it, — whose virgin
seclusion was a just image of that of the
little village until one afternoon, some
half-dozen or more years since, a shriek,
sharper than any that had rung from
Walden woods since the last war-whoop
of the last Indians of Musketaquid, an
nounced to astonished Concord, drowsing
in the river meadows, that the nineteenth
century had overtaken it. Yet long be
fore the material force of the age bound
the town to the rest of the world, the
spiritual force of a single mind in it had
attracted attention to it, and made its
lonely plains as dear to many widely-
scattered minds as the groves of the Acad
emy or the vineyards of Vaucluse.

Except in causing the erection of the
railway buildings and several dwellings
near it, steam has not much changed
6

Emerson

Concord. It is yet one of the quiet coun
try towns whose charm is incredible to
all but those who by loving it have found
it worthy of love. The shire-town of the
great agricultural county of Middlesex, it
is not disturbed by the feverish throb of
factories, nor by any roar of inexorable
toil but the few puffs of the locomo
tive. One day, during the autumn, it is
thronged by the neighboring farmers,
who hold their high festival — the annual
cattle-show — there. But the calm tenor
of Concord life is not varied even on that
day by anything more exciting than fat
oxen and the cud-chewing eloquence of
the agricultural dinner. The population
of the region is composed of sturdy, ster
ling men, worthy representatives of the
ancestors who sowed along the Concord
shores, with their seed-corn and rye, the
germs of a prodigious national greatness.
At intervals every day the rattle, roar, and
whistle of the swift shuttle darting to
and from the metropolitan heart of New
England, weaving prosperity upon the
7

Smerson

land, remind those farmers in their silent
fields that the great world yet wags and
wrestles. And the farmer-boy, sweeping
with flashing scythe through the river
meadows, whose coarse grass glitters, apt
for mowing, in the early June morning,
pauses as the whistle dies into the dis
tance, and, wiping his brow and whetting
his blade anew, questions the country-
smitten citizen, the amateur farmer
struggling with imperfect stroke be
hind him of the mystic romance of city
life.

The sluggish repose of the little river
images the farmer-boy's life. He bullies
his oxen and trembles at the locomotive.
His wonder and fancy stretch toward the
great world beyond the barn-yard and
the village church, as the torpid stream
tends toward the ocean. The river, in
fact, seems the thread upon which all
the beads of that rustic life are strung, —
the clew to its tranquil character. If it
were an impetuous stream, dashing along
as if it claimed and required the career to
8

Bmcrson

which every American river is entitled,
— a career it would have. Wheels, fac
tories, shops, traders, factory-girls, boards
of directors, dreary white lines of board
ing-houses, all the signs that indicate the
spirit of the age, and of the American
age, would arise upon its margin. Some
shaven magician from State Street would
run up by rail, and, from proposals, maps,
schedules of stock, etc., educe a spacious
factory as easily as Aladdin's palace arose
from nothing. Instead of a dreaming,
pastoral poet of a village, Concord would
be a rushing, whirling, bustling manu
facturer of a town, like its thrifty neigh
bor I/owell. Many a fine equipage,
flashing along city ways ; many an
Elizabethan-Gothic-Grecian rural retreat,
in which State Street woos Pan and grows
Arcadian in summer, would be reduced,
in the last analysis, to the Concord mills.
Yet if these broad river meadows grew
factories instead of corn, they might, per
haps, lack another harvest, of which the
poet's thought is the sickle, • ;

Emerson

One harvest from your field
Homeward brought the oxen strong,

Another crop your acres yield,
Which I gather in a song,

sings 'Btnerson ; and again, as the after
noon light strikes pensive across his
memory, as over the fields below him,

Knows he who tills this lonely field,

To reap its scanty corn,
What mystic crops his acres yield

At midnight and at morn ?

The Concord River — upon whose wind
ing shores the town has scattered its few
houses, as if, loitering over the plain
some fervent day, it had fallen asleep
obedient to the slumberous spell, and
had not since awakened — is a languid,
shallow stream, that loiters through
broad meadows, which fringe it with
rushes and long grasses. Its sluggish
current scarcely moves the autumn leaves
showered upon it by a few maples that
lean over the Assabeth — as one of its
branches is named. Yellow lily-buds
and leathery lily-pads tessellate its sur
face, and the white water-lilies — pale,
10

;6mer0on

proud ladies of Shalott — bare their bo
soms to the sun in the seclusion of its
distant reaches. Clustering vines of wild
grape hang its wooded shores with a
tapestry of the South and the Rhine.
The pickerel-weed marks with blue
spikes of flowers the points where small
tributary brooks flow in, and along the
dusky winding of those brooks, cardinal-
flowers with a scarlet splendor paint the
Tropics upon New England's green. All
summer long, from founts unknown, in
the upper counties, from some anony
mous pond, or wooded hillside moist with
springs, steals the gentle river through
the plain, spreading at one point above
the town into a little lake, called by the
farmers "Fairhaven Bay," as if all its
lesser names must share the sunny sig
nificance of Concord. Then, shrinking
again, alarmed at its own boldness, it
dreams on toward the Merrimac and the
sea.

The absence of factories has already
implied its shallowness and slowness. In
II

Emerson

truth it is a very slow river, belonging
much more to the Indian than to the
Yankee ; so much so, indeed, that until
a very few years there was an annual
visit to its shores from a few sad heirs of
its old masters, who pitched a group of
tents in the meadows, and wove their
tidy baskets and strung their beads in
unsmiling silence. It was the same
thing that I saw in Jerusalem among
the Jews. Bvery Friday they repair to
the remains of the old Temple wall, and
pray and wail, kneeling upon the pave
ment and kissing the stones. But that
passionate Oriental regret was not more
impressive than this silent homage of a
waning race, who, as they beheld the
unchanged river, knew that, unlike it,
the last drops of their existence were
gradually flowing away, and that for their
tribes there shall be no ingathering.

So shallow is the stream that the ama
teur Corydons who embark at morning
to explore its remoter shores will not
infrequently, in midsummer, find their

Emerson

boat as suddenly tranquil and motionless
as the river, having placidly grounded
upon its oozy bottom. Or, returning at
evening, they may lean over the edge as
they lie at length in the boat, and float
with the almost imperceptible current,
brushing the tips of the long water-grass
and reeds below them in the stream — a
river jungle, in which lurk pickerel and
trout — with the sensation of a bird drift
ing upon soft evening air over the tree-
tops. No available or profitable craft
navigate these waters, and animated
gentlemen from the city, who run up for
"a mouthful of fresh air,'* cannot possi
bly detect the final cause of such a river.
Yet the dreaming idler has place on maps
and a name in history.

Near the town it is crossed by three or
four bridges. One is a massive structure
to help the railroad over. The stern,
strong pile readily betrays that it is part
of good, solid stock owned in the right
quarter. Close by it is a little arched
stone bridge, auxiliary to a great road
13

leading to some vague region of the
world called Acton upon guideposts and
on maps. Just beyond these bridges the
river bends, and forgets the railroad, but
is grateful to the graceful arch of the
little stone bridge for making its curve
more picturesque ; and, as it muses toward
the Old Manse, listlessly brushing the
lilies, it wonders if Ellery Channing, who
lives beyond, upon a hillside sloping to
the shore, wrote his poem of The Bridge
to that particular one. There are two or
three wooden bridges also, always com
bining well with the landscape, always
making and suggesting pictures.

The Concord, as I said, has a name in
history. Near one of the wooden bridges
you turn aside from the main road, close
by the " Old Manse," — whose mosses of
mystic hue were gathered by Hawthorne,
who lived there for three years, — and a
few steps bring you to the river, and to a
small monument upon its brink. It is
a narrow, grassy way ; not a field nor a
meadow, but of that shape and charac-
14

jEmerson

ter which would perplex the animated
stranger from the city, who would see,
also, its unfitness for a building-lot. The
narrow, grassy way is the old road which,
in the mouth of April, 1775, led to a
bridge that crossed the stream at this
spot. And upon the river's margin, upon
the bridge and the shore beyond, took
place the sharp struggle between the
Middlesex farmers and the scarlet British
soldiers, known in tradition as " The
Concord fight."

The small monument records the day
and the event. When it was erected,
Emerson wrote the following hymn for
the ceremony :

APRIL 19, 1836.

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,

Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept ;

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps ;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept "' *

Down the dark stream that seaward creeps.

Bmerson

On this green bank, by this soft stream,

We see to-day a votive stone,
That memory may their deed redeem,

When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit that made these heroes dare
To die, or leave their children free,

Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and Thee.

Close under the rough stone wall at
the left, which separates it from the
grassy orchard of the Manse, is a small
mound of turf and a broken stone. Grave
and headstone shrink from sight amid
the grass and under the wall, but they
mark the earthly bed of the first victims
of that first fight. A few large trees
overhang the ground, which Hawthorne
thinks have been planted since that day,
and he says that in the river he has seen
mossy timbers of the old bridge, and on
the farther bank, half-hidden, the crum
bling stone abutments that supported it.
In an old house upon the main road,
nearly opposite the entrance to this
grassy way, I knew a hale old woman
16

who well remembered the gay advance
of the flashing soldiers, the terrible ring
and crack of firearms, and the panic-
stricken retreat of the regulars, black
ened and bloody. But the placid river
has long since overborne it all. The
alarm, the struggle, the retreat, are
swallowed up in its supreme tranquillity.
The summers of more than seventy years
have obliterated every trace of the road
with thick grass, which seeks to bury the
graves as earth buried the victims.

Let the sweet ministry of summer
avail. Let its mild iteration even sap
the monument and conceal its stones as
it hides the abutment in foliage ; for,
still on the sunny slopes, white with the
May blossoming of apple-orchards, and in
the broad fields, golden to the marge of
the river, and tilled in security and peace,
survives the imperishable remembrance
of that day and its results.

The river is thus the main feature of
the Concord landscape. It is surrounded
by a wide plain, from which rise only
17

Bmerson

three or four low hills. One is a wooded
cliff over Fairhaven Bay, a mile from the
town ; one separates the main river from
the Assabeth ; and just beyond the battle
ground another rises, rich with orchards,
to a fine wood which crowns its summit.
The river meadows blend with broad,
lonely fields. A wide horizon, like that
of the prairie or the sea, is the grand
charm of Concord. At night the stars are
seen from the roads crossing the plain, as
from a ship at sea. The landscape would
be called tame by those who think no
scenery grand but that of mountains or
the sea-coast. But the wide solitude of
that region is not so accounted by those
who live there. To them it is rich and
suggestive, as Bmerson shows in the
Essay on Nature : " My house stands in
low land, with limited outlook, and on the
skirt of the village. But I go with my
friend to the shore of our little river, and
with one stroke of the paddle I leave the
village politics and personalities — yes,
and the world of villages and personali-
18

Emerson

ties — behind, and pass into a delicate
realm of sunset and moonlight, too bright
almost for spotted man to enter without
novitiate and probation. We penetrate
bodily this incredible beauty ; we dip our
hands in this painted element ; our eyes
are bathed in these lights and forms.
A holiday, a royal revel, the proudest,
most heart-rejoicing festival that valor
and beauty, power and taste ever decked
and enjoyed, establishes itself upon the
instant. . . . In every landscape the point
of astonishment is the meeting of the sky
and the earth, and that is seen from the
first hillock, as well as from the top of
the Alleghanies. The stars stoop down
over the brownest, homeliest common,
with all the spiritual magnificence which
they shed on the Campagna or on the
marble deserts of Egypt."

He is speaking here, of course, of the
spiritual excitement of beauty, which
crops up everywhere in Nature, like
gold in a rich region ; but the quality of
the imagery indicates the character of
19

J6mer0on

the scenery in which the essay was
written.

Concord is too far from Boston to rival
in garden cultivation its neighbors, West
Cambridge, Lexington, and Waltham; nor
can it boast, with Brookline, Dorchester,
and Cambridge, the handsome summer
homes of city wealth. But it surpasses
them all, perhaps, in a genuine country
freshness and feeling derived from its
loneliness. If not touched by city ele
gance, neither is it infected by city mere-
triciousness— it is sweet, wholesome coun
try. By climbing one of the hills, your
eye sweeps a wide, wide landscape, until it
rests upon graceful Wachuset, or, farther
and mistier, Monadnoc, the lofty outpost
of New Hampshire hills. Level scenery
is not tame. The ocean, the prairie, the
desert are not tame, although of monoto
nous surface. The gentle undulations
which mark certain scenes, — a rippling
landscape, in which all sense of space,
of breadth, and of height is lost, — that is
tame. It may be made beautiful by ex-

JBmerson

quisite cultivation, as it often is in Eng
land and on parts of the Hudson shores,
but it is, at best, rather pleasing than
inspiring. For a permanent view the eye
craves large and simple forms, as the
body requires plain food for its best
nourishment.

The town of Concord is built mainly
upon one side of the river. In its centre
is a large open square shaded by fine
elms. A white wooden church, in the
most classical style of Yankee-Greek,
stands upon the square. At the Court-
House, in the days when I knew Concord,
many conventions were held for humane
as well as political objects. One summer
day I especially remember, when I did
not envy Athens its Forum, for Emerson
and William Ellery Channing spoke.
In the speech of both burned the sacred
fire of eloquence, but in Emerson it
was light, and in Channing , heat.

From this square diverge four roads,
like highways from a forum. One leads
by the Court-House and under stately
21

Bmerson

sycamores to the Old Manse and the
battle-ground, another goes directly to
the river, and a third is the main avenue
of the town. After passing the shops
this third divides, and one branch forms
a fair and noble street, spacious, and
loftily arched with elms, the houses
standing liberally apart, each with its
garden-plot in front. The fourth avenue
is the old Boston road, also dividing, at
the edge of the village, into the direct
route to the metropolis and the Lexington
turnpike.

The house of Mr. Emerson stands
opposite this junction. It is a plain,
square, white dwelling-house, yet it has a
city air, and could not be mistaken for a
farm-house. A quiet merchant, you would
say, unostentatious and simple, has here
hidden himself from town. But a thick
grove of pine and fir trees, almost brush
ing the two windows upon the right of
the door, and occupying the space be
tween them and the road, suggests at
least a peculiar taste in the retired mer-

Emerson

chant, or hints the possibility that he
may have sold his place to a poet or
philosopher, — or to some old Bast India
sea-captain, perhaps, who cannot sleep
without the sound of waves, and so plants
pines to rustle, surf-like, against his
chamber-window.

The fact, strangely enough, partly sup
ports your theory. In the year 1828 Mr.
C. Coolidge, a brother of J. Templeman
Coolidge, a merchant of repute in Boston,
and grandson of Joseph Coolidge, a patri
archal denizen of Bowdoin Square in that
city, came to Concord and built this
house. Gratefully remembering the lofty
horse-chestnuts which shaded the city
square, and which, perhaps, first inspired
him with the wish to be a nearer neigh
bor of woods and fields, he planted a row
of them along his lot, which this year
ripen their twenty-fifth harvest. With
the liberal hospitality of a New England
merchant, he did not forget the spacious
cellars of the city, and, as Mr. Kmer-
son writes, " he built the only good
23

J6mcr0on

cellar that had then been built in Con
cord."

Mr. Kmerson bought the house in the
year 1835. He found it a plain, conven
ient, and thoroughly-built country resi
dence. An amiable neighbor of Mr.
Coolidge had placed a miserable old barn
irregularly upon the edge of that gentle
man's lot, which, for the sake of comeli
ness, he was forced to buy and set straight
and smooth into a decent dependence of
the mansion-house. The estate, upon
passing into Mr. Emerson's hands, com
prised the house, barn, and two acres of
land. He enlarged the house and barn,
and the two acres have grown to nine.
Our author is no farmer, except as every
country gentleman is, yet the kindly
slope from the rear of the house to a little
brook, which, passing to the calm Con
cord beyond, washes the edge of his land,
yields him at least occasional beans and
peas ; or some friend, agriculturally en
thusiastic, and an original Brook Farmer,
experiments with guano in the garden,
24

Bmerson

and produces melons and other vines with
a success that relieves Brook Farm from
every slur of inadequate practical genius.
Mr. Emerson has shaded his originally
bare land with trees, and counts near a
hundred apple and pear trees in his or
chard. The whole estate is quite level,
inclining only toward the little brook,
and is well watered and convenient.

The Orphic Alcott,— or Plato Skimpole,
as Margaret Fuller called him,— well-
known in the transcendental history of
New England, designed and with his own
hands erected a summer-house, which
gracefully adorns the lawn, if I may so
call the smooth grass-plot at the side of
the house. Unhappily, this edifice prom
ises no long duration, not being " techni
cally based and pointed." This is not a
strange, although a disagreeable fact to
Mr. Emerson, who has been always the
most faithful and appreciating of the
lovers of Mr. Alcott. It is natural that
the Orphic Alcott should build graceful
summer-houses. There are even people
25

who declare that he has covered the pleas
ant but somewhat misty lawns of ethical
speculation with a thousand such edifices,
which need only to be a little more
"technically based and pointed" to be
quite perfect. At present, they whisper,
the wind blows clean through them, and
no figures of flesh and blood are ever
seen there, but only pallid phantoms with
large, calm eyes, eating uncooked grain
out of baskets, and discoursing in a sub
lime shibboleth of which mortals have no
key. But how could Plato Skimpole, who
goes down to Hingham on the sea, in a
New England January, clad only in a
suit of linen, hope to build immortal
summer-houses ?

Mr. Bmerson's library is the room at
the right of the door upon entering the
house. It is a simple square room, not
walled with books like the den of a lit
erary grub, nor merely elegant like the
ornamental retreat of a dilettante. The
books are arranged upon plain shelves,
not in architectural bookcases, and the
26

room is hung with a few choice engrav
ings of the greatest men. There was a
fair copy of Michael Angelo's Fates,
which, properly enough, imparted that
grave serenity to the ornament of the
room which is always apparent in what is
written there. It is the study of a scholar.
All our author's published writings, the
essays, orations, and poems, date from
this room, as much as they date from any
place or moment. The villagers, indeed,
fancy their philosophic neighbor affected
by the novelist James's constancy of com
position. They relate, with wide eyes,
that he has a huge manuscript book, in
which he incessantly records the ends of
thoughts, bits of observation and experi
ence, and facts of all kinds, — a kind of
intellectual and scientific rag-bag, into
which all shreds and remnants of con
versations and reminiscences of wayside
reveries are incontinently thrust. This
work goes on, they aver, day and night ;
and when he travels, the rag-bag travels
too, and grows more plethoric with each
27

Bmerson

mile of the journey. And a story, which
will one day be a tradition, is perpetuated,
that one night, before his wife had be
come completely accustomed to his habits,
she awoke suddenly, and hearing him
groping about the room, inquired anx-
ously :

" My dear, are you ill ? "

" No, my love, only an idea."

The library is not only the study of a

scholar, it is the bower of a poet. The

pines lean against the windows, and to

the student deeply sunk in learned lore,

or soaring upon the daring speculations

of an intrepid philosophy, they whisper

a secret beyond that of the philosopher's

stone, and sing of the springs of poetry.

The site of the house is not memorable.

There is no reasonable ground to suppose

that so much as an Indian wigwam ever

occupied the spot ; nor has Henry Tho-

reau, a very faithful friend of Mr. Kmer-

son's, and of the woods and waters of

his native Concord, ever found an Indian

arrowhead upon the premises. Henry's

Bmerson

instinct is as sure toward the facts of na
ture as the witch-hazel toward treasure.
If every quiet country town in New Eng
land had a son who, with a lore like
Selbourne's, and an eye like Buffon's,
had watched and studied its landscape
and history, and then published the re
sult, as Thoreau has done, in a book as
redolent of genuine and perceptive sym
pathy with nature as a clover-field of
honey, New England would seem as
poetic and beautiful as Greece. Thoreau
lives in a blackberry pasture upon a
bank over Walden pond, in a little house
of his own building. One pleasant sum
mer afternoon a small party of us helped
him raise it, — a bit of life as Arcadian as
any at Brook Farm. Elsewhere in the
village he turns up arrowheads abun
dantly, and Hawthorne mentions that
Thoreau initiated him into the mystery
of finding them. But neither the In
dians, nor Nature, nor Thoreau can in
vest the quiet residence of our author
with the dignity, or even the suspicion,
29

Bmerson

of a legend. History stops short in that
direction with Charles Coolidge, Bsq.,
and the year 1828.

There is little prospect from the house.
Directly opposite, a low bluff overhangs
the Boston road and obstructs the view.
Upon the other sides the level land
stretches away. Toward Lexington it is
a broad, half-marshy region, and between
the brook behind and the river, good
farms lie upon the outskirts of the town.
Pilgrims drawn to Concord by the desire
of conversing with the man whose writ
ten or spoken eloquence has so pro
foundly charmed them, and who have
placed him in some pavilion of fancy,
some peculiar residence, find him in no
porch of philosophy nor academic grove,
but in a plain white house by the way
side, ready to entertain every coiner as an
ambassador from some remote Cathay of
speculation whence the stars are more
nearly seen.

But the familiar reader of our author
will not be surprised to find the poet
30

Bmerson

simply sheltered, and the endless experi
menter, with no past at his back, housed
without ornament. Such a reader will
have felt the Spartan severity of this in
tellect, and have noticed that the realm
of this imagination is rather sculptur
esque than pictorial, more Greek than
Italian. Therefore he will be pleased to
alight at the gate, and hear the breezy
welcome of the pines, and the no less cor
dial salutation of their owner. For if the
visitor knows what he is about, he has
come to this plain for bracing mountain
air. These serious Concord reaches are
no vale of Cashmere. Where Plato
Skimpole is architect of the summer-
house, you may imagine what is to be
expected in the mansion itself. It is
always morning within those doors. If
you have nothing to say, — if you are
really not an envoy from some kingdom
or colony of thought, and cannot cast a
gem upon the heaped pile,— you had better
pass by on the other side. For it is the
peculiarity of Bmerson's mind to be al-

ways on the alert. He eats no lotus, but
forever quaffs the waters which engender
immortal thirst.

If the memorabilia of his house could
find their proper Xenophon, the want
of antecedent arrowheads upon the prem
ises would not prove very disastrous to
the interest of the history. The fame of
the philosopher attracts admiring friends
and enthusiasts from every quarter, and
the scholarly grace and urbane hospitality
of the gentleman send them charmed
away= Friendly foes, who altogether
differ from Krnerson, come to break a
lance with him upon the level pastures
of Concord, with all the cheerful and ap
preciative zeal of those who longed

To drink delight of battle with their peers
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.

It is not hazardous to say that the
greatest questions of our day and of all
days, have been nowhere more amply
discussed with more poetic insight or
profound conviction than in the comely,
32

Emerson

square white house upon the edge of the
Ivexington turnpike. There have even
been attempts at something more formal
and club-like than the chance conversa
tions of occasional guests, one of which
will certainly be nowhere recorded but
upon these pages.

It was in the year 1845 tnat a circle of
persons of various ages, and differing very
much in everything but sympathy, found
themselves in Concord. Toward the end
of the autumn Mr. Bmerson suggested
that they should meet every Monday
evening through the winter in his li
brary. "Monsieur Aubepine," "Miles
Coverdale," and other phantoms, since
generally known as Nathaniel Haw
thorne, who then occupied the Old
Manse ; the inflexible Henry Thoreau,
a scholastic and pastoral Orson, then
living among the blackberry pastures of
Walden pond ; Plato Skimpole, then sub
limely meditating impossible summer-
houses in a little house upon the Boston
road ; the enthusiastic agriculturist and
33

Brook Farmer already mentioned, then
an inmate of Mr. Emerson's house, who
added the genial cultivation of a scholar
to the amenities of the natural gentle
man ; a sturdy farmer neighbor, who had
bravely fought his weary way through
inherited embarrassments to the small
success of a New England husbandman,
and whose faithful wife had seven times
merited well of her country ; two city
youths, ready for the fragments from the
feast of wit and wisdom, and the host
himself composed this Club. Ellery
Channing, who had that winter harnessed
his Pegasus to the New York Tribune,
was a kind of corresponding member.
The news of the world was to be trans
mitted through his eminently practical
genius, as the Club deemed itself compe
tent to take charge of tidings from all
other spheres.

I went the first Monday evening, very

much as Ixion may have gone to his

banquet. The philosophers sat dignified

and erect. There was a constrained, but

Emerson

very amiable, silence, which had the im
pertinence of a tacit inquiry, seeming to
ask : " Who will now proceed to say the
finest thing that has ever been said ? " It
was quite voluntary and unavoidable,
for the members lacked that fluent social
genius without which a club is impossible.
It was a congress of oracles on the one
hand, and of curious listeners upon the
other. I vaguely remember that the
Orphic Alcott invaded the Sahara of si
lence with a solemn "saying," to which,
after due pause, the honorable member
for Blackberry Pastures responded by
some keen and graphic observation ; while
the Olympian host, anxious that so much
good material should be spun into some
thing, beamed smiling encouragement
upon all parties.

But the conversation became more and
more staccato. Miles Coverdale, a statue
of night and silence, sat, a little removed,
under a portrait of Dante, gazing imper-
turbably upon the group ; and as he sat
in the shadow, his dark hair and eyes
35

Bmerson

and suit of sables made him, in that soci
ety, the black thread of mystery which
he weaves into his stories, while the shift
ing presence of the Brook Farmer played
like heat-lightning around the room.

I recall little else but a grave eating of
russet apples by the erect philosophers,
and a solemn disappearance into the
night. The Club struggled through three
Monday evenings. Plato was perpetually
putting apples of gold in pictures of
silver ; for such was the rich ore of his
thoughts, coined by the deep melody of
his voice. Orson charmed us with the
secrets won from his interviews with Pan
in the Walden woods — while Bmerson,
with the zeal of an engineer trying to
dam wild waters, sought to bind the
wide-flying embroidery of discourse into
a web of clear, sweet sense. But still in
vain. The oracular sayings were the un
alloyed saccharine element ; and every
chemist knows how much else goes to
practical food ; how much coarse, rough,
woody fibre is essential.
36

Bmerson

The Club struggled on valiantly, dis
coursing celestially, eating apples, and
disappearing in the dark, until the third
evening it vanished altogether. Yet I
have since known clubs of fifty times
that number, whose collective genius was
not more than of either one of the Dii
Majores of our Concord coterie. The
fault was its too great concentration. It
was not relaxation, as a club should be,
but tension. Society is a play, a game, a
tournament ; not a battle. It is the easy
grace of undress ; not an intellectual,
full-dress parade.

I have already hinted this unbending
intellectual alacrity of our author. His
sport is serious — his humor is earnest.
He stands like a sentinel. His look and
manner and habit of thought cry ; " Who
goes there? " and if he does not hear the
countersign, he brings the intruder to a
halt. It is for this surprising fidelity and
integrity that his influence has been so
deep, and sure, and permanent, upon the
intellectual life of the young men of New
37

Emerson

England ; and of Old England, too,
where in Manchester there were reg
ular weekly meetings at which his works
were read. What he said long ago
in his preface to the American edition
of Carlyle's Miscellanies , that they were
papers which had spoken to the young
men of the time " with an emphasis that
hindered them from sleep," is strikingly
true of his own writings. His first slim,
anonymous duodecimo, Nature, was
as fair and fascinating to the royal young
minds who met it in the course of their
reading, as Bgeria to Numa wandering in
the grove. The essays, orations, and
poems followed, developing and elaborat
ing the same spiritual and heroic philoso
phy, applying it to life, history, and
literature, with a vigor and richness so
supreme, that not only do many account
him our truest philosopher, but others
acknowledge him as our most character
istic poet.

It would be a curious inquiry how

Emerson

much and what kind of influence the
placid scenery of Concord has exercised
upon his mind. " I chide society, I em
brace solitude " he says ; "and yet I am
not so ungrateful as not to see the wise,
the lovely, and the noble minded, as from
time to time they pass my gate." It is
not difficult to understand his fondness
for the spot. He has been always famil
iar with it, always more or less a resident
of the village.

Born in Boston, upon the spot where
the Chauncey Place Church now stands,
part of his youth was passed in the Old
Manse, which was built by his grand
father, and in which his father was born ;
and there he wrote Nature. From the
magnificent admiration of ancestral Eng
land, he was glad to return to quiet
Concord, and to acres which will not
yield a single arrowhead.

The Swiss sigh for their mountains ;

but the Nubians pine for their desert

plains. Those who are born by the sea

long annually to return, and to rest their

Emerson

eyes upon its living horizon. Is it be
cause the earliest impressions, made
when the mind is most plastic, are most
durable, or because youth is that golden
age bounding the confines of memory,
and floating forever an alluring mirage
as we recede farther from it?

The imagination of the man who roams
the solitary pastures of Concord, or floats
dreamily down its river, will easily see
its landscape upon Emerson's pages.
' ' That country is fairest, ' ' he says, " which
is inhabited by the noblest minds."

And although that idler upon the river
may have leaned over the Mediterranean
from Genoese and Neapolitan villas, or
have glanced down the steep, green
valley of Sicilian Bnna, or walked the
shores where Cleopatra and Helen walked,
yet the charm of a landscape which is
felt, rather than seen, will be imperish
able. " Travelling is a Fool's Paradise,"
says Emerson. But he passed Concord's
gates to learn that lesson. His writings,
however, have no imported air. If there
40

JSmerson

be something Oriental in his philosophy
and tropical in his imagination, they
have yet the strong flavor of his Mother
Earth, the underived sweetness of the
open Concord sky, and the spacious
breadth of the Concord horizon.

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THE CAREER OF

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THE CAREER OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

A PAPER

READ BEFORE THE

AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY,

PHILADELPHIA, MAY 25, 1893,

CELEBRATION OF THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTIETH

ANNIVERSARY OF ITS FORMATION

IN THAT CITY.

SAMUEL ABBOTT GREEN, M.D.,

BOSTON.

PHILADELPHIA,

1893.

AT this anniversary meeting of the American Philosophical Soci
ety the name of the founder readily suggests itself; and for
that reason I have taken as the subject of my paper the career of
Benjamin Franklin, who was during his lifetime, with possibly a
single exception, the most conspicuous character in American his
tory.

Whether considered as a printer, a patriot, or a philosopher,
Franklin challenges our highest regard and our deepest admiration.
Taking him for all in all, in his moral and intellectual proportions,
he is the most symmetrically developed man that this country has
produced. In popular phrase he was a great all-round man, able
to meet any emergency and ever ready to cope with any situation.
In many ways he has left behind him the imprint of his mind and
of his work on the activities of the present day, to an extent that
is unparalleled. To a large degree he had a knack of doing the
right thing at the right time, which is epitomized by the American
people as horse sense,— a quality which justly assigns him to a high
place among men of worldly wisdom. He had a faculty of per
forming the most arduous labors on the most momentous occasions
in such a quiet way that even his nearest friends often were entirely
ignorant of his agency in the matter; and little did he care whether
the credit of the deed came to him or went elsewhere. He seemed to
turn off work of the highest order as easily as the sun shines or the rain
falls, and just as unconsciously. A marked peculiarity with him was
doing his whole duty on all occasions, without making a fuss about it.
An estimate of his father's character, given in Franklin's own
words, would apply equally well to himself: " His great excellence
was his sound understanding, and his solid judgment in prudential
matters, both in private and public affairs."

In order to trace some of these qualities towards their source, it
is necessary to examine the causes at work during Franklin's early

REPRINTED DEC. 1, 1893, FROM PROC. AMER. PHILOS. SOC., VOL. XXXII.

life, and even to go back still further and learn what influences had
been brought to bear on his ancestors; since the influence of hered
ity must in this, as in every such case, be considered. It has been
wittily said by a writer — so distinguished in many ways that I
hardly know whether to speak of him as a poet or a physician, but
whom all will recognize as " the Autocrat of the Breakfast Table "
— that a man's education begins a hundred years before he is born.
I am almost tempted to add that even then he is putting on only
the finishing touches of his training, A man is a composite being,
both in body and soul, with a long line of ancestry whose begin
ning it is impossible to trace ; and every succeeding generation only
helps to bind and weld together the various and innumerable quali
ties which make up his personality, though they be modified by
countless circumstances that form his later education, and for which
he alone is responsible. Of Franklin it may be said that he came
of sturdy stock, none better in New England, poor in this world's
goods, but rich in faith and the hope of immortality. On both
sides of the family his ancestors, as far back as the records go, were
pious folk, hard-working and God-fearing. They knew the value of
time and money, and they also placed a high estimate on learning
and wisdom. From such a source it fell to his lot to inherit life,
and his heritage was better than silver or gold.

Benjamin Franklin was born on January 6, 1706, — according to
the old style of reckoning time, — in a modest dwelling near the head
of Milk street, Boston. Just across the way was the South Meet
ing-house, belonging to the Third Church of Christ, of which
Franklin's parents were members, and at its services were constant
attendants. In this sanctuary the little infant, on the day of his
birth, was baptized by Samuel Willard, the minister, who duly en
tered the fact in the church record. With our modern ideas of
sanitary precaution, it might now seem to us somewhat imprudent to
take into the open air, even for a very short distance, a delicate
neonatus, whose earthly pilgrimage was spanned by an existence of
only a few hours, and to carry him to an unwarmed meeting-house,
in the midst of a New England winter, even for the purpose of re
ceiving the rite of Christian baptism; but our pious forefathers
thought otherwise. At the same time, prayers were offered up for
the speedy recovery of the mother; and the knowledge of this fact
was a source of great comfort and consolation to the family house
hold.

Benjamin's father, Josiah Franklin, was English-born, — coming
from Northamptonshire, where the family had lived for many gene
rations; the same county from which also the family of George
Washington came. For a long period the men had been rigorous
toilers, earning their livelihood by the sweat of their brow, and
many of them were blacksmiths. Benjamin's mother, Abiah Folger,
was a native of the island of Nantucket, and his father's second
wife. Her father, Peter Folger, was a man of such distinguished
probity that when he was acting as one of five commissioners ap
pointed to measure and lay out the land on that island, it was de
creed that any three out of the five might do the business provided
he was one of them. What a commentary on his integrity, and
what a tribute to his personal worth ! The resemblance between
the philosopher and Peter Folger, a later kinsman, as seen in his
portrait, is very striking ; and it may well have been said by his
neighbors that in his younger days Benjamin favored his mother's
family in looks.

Franklin's father owned a few books, mostly theological, and on
these the lad used to browse, and pick up whatever he could in
order to satisfy his inquiring mind, though he found it dry picking.
There is no better exercise for a bright boy than to turn him loose
in a library, and let him run, day after day and week after week,
nibbling here and tasting there, as whim or fancy dictates.

Franklin's early surroundings were of a humble character, and
his chances of brilliant success in life, as seen from a worldly point
of view, were slim and discouraging. As a boy he played in the
street, went barefooted in summer, fished from the wharves at flood
tide, and snow-balled on the Common in winter; and he got into
petty scrapes, just as other youngsters of that period did, and just
as they ever will do, so long as boys are boys, because boyhood is
brimful of human nature. He was no exception to the general run
of youthful humanity, any further than that he was a bright, clever lad,
with a good memory, and that he was fond of reading and always
hated shams. He would never have been picked out of a group of
urchins as one ordained to help mold the destiny of a new nation, or
as one likely to stand before kings. But is it not written, "Seest
thou a man diligent in business? he shall stand before kings" ?

Early accustomed to habits of strict frugality, Franklin also im
bibed those peculiar notions which laid the foundation of a remark
able and distinguished career. Brought up to work, he was not

afraid of labor when apprenticed as a boy in the printing-office of
his brother James, the owner and editor of The New-England Cou-
rant, where he often did a man's stint. His early advantages at
school were very limited, being confined to a period of less than
two years, and that, too, before he was eleven years of age. An
apprenticeship in a printing office at any time is a good school of
instruction, though one hundred and seventy-five years ago Franklin
did not find it an agreeable one. His experience at that time, how
ever, stood him in good stead on many later occasions.

The question naturally comes up, " What special influences were
brought to bear on the young apprentice during the plastic period
of his life which made him afterward the great philosopher and the
sagacious statesman, and above all the apostle of common sense?"

This is answered in part by himself in his charming Autobiography,
where he speaks of his fondness for reading, and of the difficulty he
experienced during his younger days in getting the right kind of
books. He mentions by title Defoe's Essays on Projects, and Cot
ton Mather's Essays to do Good, otherwise called Bonifacius, as two
works which had a lasting influence on his after-life, Defoe's book
is a very rare work, so rare, indeed, that its very existence has been
doubted, and it has been even asserted positively that no such book
was ever written ; but the assertion is wrong. It has been said, too,
that Franklin had in mind, when he wrote this part of his Autobi
ography, Defoe's Complete English Tradesman, and that he was
then thinking of this work ; but it was not so. The great printer
in his younger days had handled too much type to make a mistake
in the title of a book. Eight or nine years before his birth An
Essay upon Projects was published in London, written by the same
author who afterward wrote that prose epic Robinson Crusoe, which
charmed us all so much in our boyhood. In the introduction to
the Essay the author terms the age in which he wrote " the project
ing age," and in the body of the work he refers to many schemes
which have since crystallized into practical projects, and are now con
sidered necessary institutions of the present age. Besides other
subjects he refers to Banks, Highways, Assurances, Pension Offices
or Savings Banks, Friendly Societies, and Academies, all which
to-day are recognized as actual problems in business life. In his
chapter on " Assurances " is found the origin of modern Fire Insur
ance companies ; and in that on " Fools," or Idiots, there is more
than a suggestion of Insane Asylums and other institutions for the

care and comfort of persons who are mentally unsound. The Essay,
or collection of Essays, is well written, and in style furnished a good
model for the readers of that century, although now it would
hardly be considered an attractive book for boys. It may be as
serted, in the light of Franklin's statement, that this work gave
the young philosopher a turn of thought which ever afterward he
followed. In the treatment of the various subjects of the different
chapters there is a decided flavor of practical wisdom for everyday
use, which seems to have clung to Franklin during his whole life.

The other little book mentioned in the Autobiography was first
published in the year 1710; and, as the author was settled as a
colleague pastor over the church where the Franklin family was
then attending worship, it seems natural that the work should
have been introduced at an early period into the Franklin house
hold, where it surely found eager readers. The book is scarcely
ever looked at nowadays, much less is it ever read ; but it contains
some grains of wheat scattered through the chaff. The following
extracts from its pages are quite Franklinesque in their character :

Take a Catalogue of all your more BtStattt
Think ; Wherein may I pursue the Good of such a Relative (page 72)?

Have alwayes lying by you, a List of the Poor in your Neighbour
hood (page 75).

You must not think of making the Good you do, a pouring of
Water into a Pump, to draw out something for your selves (page 78).

Do Good\n\\.v those Neighbours, who will Speak ///of you, after
you have done it (page 80).

Often mention the Condition of the Poor, in your Conversation
with the Rich (page 100).

The Wind feeds no body, yet it may turn the Mill, which will
grind the Corn, that may Feed \h&Poor (page 101).

To Bear Evil is to Do Good (page 103).

One Small Man, thus Nicking the Time for it, may do wonders
(page 179)!

At a very early period in his life Franklin had acquired a great
mastery of language, and an excellent style in writing. It was clear
and terse, and left no doubt as to the meaning he intended to con
vey. This high art is rare, and more easily recognized than de
scribed. In many ways it is the man himself, and shows him off
from every point of view. It is never learned by rote, but comes
largely by practice, and also by familiarity with the works of good

writers. Franklin was a close reader, and in his boyhood devoured
everything in the shape of a book within the reach of his limited
means. He studied Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding, —
a work to which many a man has acknowledged a debt of gratitude
for its help in mental training. He had also read Bunyan's Pil
grim s Progress, and a stray volume of The Spectator, both excellent
models for a young man to copy. In one of his Almanacks,
Franklin says that Addison's " writings have contributed more to
the improvement of the minds of the British nation, and polishing
their manners, than those of any other English pen whatever."
While yet a printer's apprentice he wrote articles for his brother's
newspaper, the authorship of which was at first unknown to the
editor ; and he also wrote doggerel rhymes, in those days often
called " varses," which he hawked about the streets of Boston and
sold for a trifle. In this modest way he earned a few extra shillings
and laid the foundation of a brilliant career. Who can say now
that his success in after-life was not in some manner connected with
the narrow circumstances of the young ballad-maker ?

As at that time the drama was not regarded with favor by the
good people of Boston, I have often wondered if Franklin in his
boyhood had ever read any of Shakespeare's plays. The original
settlers of Massachusetts abhorred playwrights, and looked with
distrust upon everything connected with the theatrical stage. Even
in his boyhood Franklin had such a keen appreciation of what
is great and grand, and such a lively concern for all things human,
that it would be of interest now to know that he, too, had paid
silent homage at the shrine of the " sweet swan of Avon." In The
New-England Courant of July 2, 1722, there is a bare allusion to
" Shakespear's Works," which is probably the first time that the
name of the great dramatist is mentioned in New England litera
ture. It occurs in a list of books made by an anonymous corre
spondent, as belonging to himself, which would come handy "in
writing on Subjects Natural, Moral, and Divine, and in cultivating
those which seem the most Barren." The whole communication
reads not unlike the effusions of the young printer, and may have
been written by him.

The circumstances under which Franklin left home are too well
known to be repeated here. Youthful indiscretions can never be
defended successfully, but they may be forgotten, or passed over in
silence.

From his native town Franklin went to Philadelphia, with no
recommendations and an utter stranger ; but fortunately before
leaving home he had learned to set type. The knowledge of this
art gave the friendless boy a self-reliance that proved to be of prac
tical help, and laid the foundation of his future fame. During a
long life he never forgot the fact that he was a printer first, and
Minister Plenipotentiary from the United States of America to the
Court of France afterward ; and still later President of the State of
Pennsylvania. In his last will and testament he sets forth these
distinctive titles in the order given here; and in his own epitaph,
which he wrote as a young man, he styles himself simply " Printer."
This epitaph is a celebrated bit of literature, quaint and full of
figurative expression, and has often been re-printed. It bears a
remote resemblance to some lines at the end of a Funeral Elegy on
John Foster, a graduate of Harvard College and the pioneer printer
of Boston, who died on September 9, 1681. The Elegy was written
by Joseph Capen, then a recent graduate of the same institution,
and was first published as a broadside. Perhaps the lines suggested
to Franklin his own epitaph. As a bright boy with an inquisitive
turn of mind, he was familiar with the main incidents in the life of
Foster, who had set up the first printing-press in Boston, and was
probably the earliest engraver in New England.

After Franklin had become fairly domiciled at his new home in
Philadelphia, one of his chief aims was to make himself useful not
only to his fellow-artisans, but to the community at large. In divers
ways he stro/e to raise the condition of young men, and to impress
upon them the responsibilities of life and the duty they owed to
others.

In the year 1732 Franklin began to publish Poor Richard* s Al
manack, which not only put money in his purse but made his name
a household word throughout the land. It soon reached a wide
circulation, and was kept up by him for twenty- five years. It was
largely read by the people of the middle colonies and had great
influence over the masses. From every available source he selected
shrewd and homely maxims, and scattered them through the pages
of the publication. So popular did these sayings become that they
were reprinted on sheets, under the title of " The Way to Wealth,"
and circulated in England as well as in this country, and were even
translated into French and sold in the streets of Paris. They are
not so highly thought of now as they once were ; and the more the

pity. The present age likes show and style better than quiet ease
and domestic comfort, and is sometimes called the gilded age, to
distinguish it from one that is not veneered. The pseudonym of
authorship on the title-page of the Almanack was Richard Saunders,
and in quoting these maxims the public often used the expression,
"as Poor Richard says," referring to the pseudonym; and in this
way the name of Poor Richard has become inseparably connected
with that of Franklin. During the latter part of the seventeenth
century there had been printed in London an almanack by Rich
ard Saunders, and Franklin, doubtless, there found the name. In
fact his own title-page begins, " Poor Richard improved ;" show
ing that it had some reference to a previous publication.

A curious circumstance, connected with the translation of these
proverbs into French, may be worth narrating. The translator
found a difficulty in rendering "Poor Richard" into his vernac-.
ular tongue, as Richard in French means a rich man ; and to
give a poor rich man as the author of the sayings was an absurdity
on the face of it. So the translator compromised by rendering
the name of the author as " Bonhomme Richard ;" and Paul Jones's
famous ship was so called in honor of the Boston printer and the
Philadelphia philosopher.

Franklin never accepted results without carefully examining rea
sons, and even as a boy was slow to take statements on trust,
always wanting to know the why and wherefore of things. By
temperament he was a doubter ; but in the end such persons make
the best believers. Once drive away the mist of unbelief from
their minds, and the whole heavens become clear. With the eye
of faith they then see what has previously been denied to them.
Franklin did not set up for a saint, or pretend to be what he was
not; and his friends have never claimed that he was free from
human failings. They have always looked with regret at his
youthful errors, and would willingly blot them out ; but he himself
has freely confessed them all. It is on his own testimony alone
that the world knows his worst faults. " To err is human, to forgive
divine."

Franklin was a voluminous writer on a large variety of subjects,
but of all his works the Autobiography has been the most widely
circulated. This book was first published soon after his death, and
has since passed through many editions. It has been translated
into numerous languages and been read throughout Christendom,

where it has charmed both the old and the young; and the demand
for it still continues. For close, compact style and for general
interest it has become almost a classic work in the English lan
guage. The bibliographical history of the book is somewhat pecu
liar, and makes a story worth telling.

Presumably an Autobiography, published after the death of the
writer, would remain substantially unchanged ; but it was not so
with Franklin's. At four different times there have appeared in
English four versions of the Autobiography, each one varying from
the others, — though they have not always covered the same period
of time, — thus making great and decided changes throughout the
book. The explanation of this anomaly may be found in the fol
lowing statement. The narrative was written at various times and
places, and the author has given some of the circumstances under
which it was prepared. The first part, coming down to his mar
riage in the year 1730, was written at Tvvyford, England, in 1771,
while he was visiting at the house of his friend, Dr. Jonathan Ship
ley, Bishop of Saint Asaph, with whom he was on terms of close
intimacy. It was begun for the gratification of his own family, and
intended for them alone ; but afterward it took a wider scope, and
was then evidently meant for putdication. He did not resume
work upon it until 1784; but in the meantime the incomplete
sketch had been shown to some of his friends, who urged him
strongly to go on with it. The second part of these memoirs,
written while Franklin was living at Passy, near Paris, is short and
made up largely of his ideas on life rather than by the recital of
events. When he began this portion of the narrative, he did not
have the former part with him, which accounts for a break in the
thread of the story. The third part was begun in August, 1788,
while Franklin was in Philadelphia, and is brought down to the
year 1757. This portion ended the Autobiography, as formerly
printed in English. About a year after Franklin's death there was
published in Paris a French translation of the first part of the
memoirs. It is a little singular that the principal portion of the
Autobiography, which was destined to have so great a popularity,
should have been printed first in a foreign land and in a foreign
tongue ; and it has never been satisfactorily explained why this was
so, nor is it known with certainty who made the translation from
the English into the French.

In 1793, two >"ears after the appearance of the Paris edition, two

separate and distinct translations were made from it and published
in London, — the one by the Messrs. Robinson, and the other by
Mr. J. Parsons. Both editions appeared about the same time ; and
probably some rivalry between two publishing firms was at the
bottom of it. They were English translations from a French
translation of the original English ; and yet, with the drawback
of all these changes, the book has proved to be as charming as a
novel.

In 1818 William Temple Franklin, while editing his grand
father's works, brought out another edition of the Autobiography,
which seemed to have the mark of genuineness; and for half a
century this version was the accepted one. But in 1868 even
this edition had to yield to a fourth version, which gave the ipsis-
sima verba of the great philosopher. During that year another
edition was published from Franklin's original manuscript, which
a short time previously had fallen into the hands of the Hon.
John Bigelow, while he was United States Minister at the French
Court; and by him it was carefully and critically annotated. This
version now forms the standard edition of the Autobiography, and
easily supersedes all former versions. It contains, moreover, six or
eight additional pages of printed matter from Franklin's pen,
which had never before appeared in English. It is also a curious
fact in the history of the book that there are no less than five
editions in French, all distinct and different translations.

The limits of this paper will not allow me to follow Franklin in
his various wanderings either back to his native town or across the
ocean to London, where he worked as a journeyman printer. Nor
can I even mention the different projects he devised for improving
the condition of all classes of mankind, from the highest to the
lowest, and thereby adding to the comforts and pleasures of life.
The recollection of his own narrow circumstances during his
younger days always prompted him to help others similarly placed ;
and the famous line of Terence applied to him as truthfully as to
any other man of the last century. In brief, it is enough to say
that on all occasions and at all times his sympathies were with the
people. In the great political contest which really began on the
passage of the Stamp Act, and did not end until the Declaration of
Peace in 1783, he was from the first on the side of the Colonists,
and one of their main supports. During the War of the Revolu-

tion he was a venerable man, the senior of General Washington by
more than twenty-five years, and the leaders all looked up to him
for advice. In such an emergency it is young men for action, but old
men for counsel ; and on all occasions he was a wise counselor.

Franklin's services in Europe as one of the Commissioners of
the United States were as essential to the success of the patriots as
those of any military commander at home; and he gave as much
time and thought to the public cause, and with as marked results,
as if he had led legions of men on the battlefield. The pen is
mightier than the sword, and the triumphs of diplomacy are equally
important with those of generals who lead armies on to victory.

I regret that the space of time allowed forbids me to dwell, as I
should like to do, on Franklin's brilliant career as a philosopher.
From early boyhood his inquiring mind had led him to study the
lessons of Nature and to learn the hidden meaning of her myste
ries. It is easy to understand how, while yet a young man, his
youthful imagination became excited over the wonders of the
heavens, when the lightning flashed and the thunder pealed ; and
how he burned to find out the causes of the phenomena. By his
ingenious experiments in the investigation of these matters, and by
his brilliant discoveries made before he had reached the middle
period of his life, he acquired throughout Europe a reputation as a
philosopher; and the results of his labors were widely published in
France and Germany, as well as in England. In his memoirs he
gives a brief account of the way he was drawn into scientific stud
ies, and how the seed was sown which brought forth the ripened
fruit ; but the preparation of the soil in which the seed was planted
dates back to his childhood, when he was reading Defoe, Mather,
and other writers, or even to an earlier period. For a full quarter
of a century before the Revolutionary War broke out, he had
gained such fame in Europe for his attainments, and was so widely
known for his fairness, that, when acting as a diplomatist during
the political troubles of the Colonies, great weight was always given
to his opinions.

By the help of that subtle power which Franklin's genius first
described, audible speech is now conveyed to far distant places,
messages are sent instantaneously across the continent and under
the seas, and the words of Puck have become a reality :

" I'll put a girdle round about the earth
In forty minutes."

Through the aid of this mysterious agency, dwellings and thor
oughfares are illuminated, and means of transit multiplied in the
streets of crowded cities, where it is made to take the place of the
horse; and yet to-day mankind stands only on the threshold of
its possibilities.

Whether the career of the practical printer or of the sagacious
statesman or of the profound philosopher be considered, Franklin's
life was certainly a remarkable one. It would be difficult, if not
impossible, to name another man so distinguished in a triple char
acter and so fully equipped in all his parts. By dint of genius
alone, he arose to high eminence, and took his place with the great
men of the age, where he was easily their peer, and where he main
tained his rank until the day of his death.

One of Franklin's early acts, fraught with great benefit to schol
arship, was the founding, one hundred and fifty years ago, of the
American Philosophical Society, the oldest scientific body in
America and one of the oldest in any country, — whose numerous
publications, covering a broad variety of subjects and extending
over a period of nearly its whole existence, have won for it a
proud eminence, and given it high rank among the learned societies
of the world.

On this interesting anniversary it falls to my lot to bring to you
the felicitations of the Massachusetts Historical Society, which was
founded in Franklin's native town and is the oldest association of
its kind in the United States. The younger sister on this occasion
sends her warmest greetings, and instructs me to express the hope
that the same success and prosperity which have followed your
growth during a long life of honor and usefulness may continue to
abide with you, undiminished and unabated, for long generations
to come.

Sociological Series, Whole Number,

10. (Oct. ir>, isi»o.) :?:{.

O (1 e r n cience

nee_|ssaiM,

Popular Evolution Essays and Lectures.

Fortnightly. Ten Cents.

(Subscriptions, 10 Numbers, $1.00; 20 Numbers, $2.00, postpaid.)

CONTENTS OF TUTS NlIMKEll:

ASA GRAY: HIS LIFE AND WORK

MRS. MARY TREAT

AUTHOR OF "HOME STUDIES IN NATURE," " MY GARDEN
A MICROSCOPE," ETC.

The eye reads omens where it goes,
And speaks all languages the rose ;
And, striving to be man, the worm
Mounts through all the spires of form.

— Nature, ?'., 7.

THE fossil strata show us that Nature began with rudimental forms, and rose
to the more complex as fast as the earth was fit for their dwelling-place ; and
that the lower perish as the higher appear. Very few of our race can be said to
be yet finished men. We still carry sticking to us some remains of the preced
ing inferior quadruped organization. . . The age of the quadruped is to go out,
— the age of the brain and of the heart is to come in. And if one shall read the
future of the race hinted in the organic effort of Nature to mount and melior
ate, and the corresponding impulse to the Better in the human being, we shall
dare affirm that there is nothing he will not overcome and convert, until at last
culture shall absorb the chaos and gehenna. He will convert the Furies into
Muses and the hells into benefit.— Culture.

—RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

BOSTON :

JAMES H. WEST, PUBLISHER
196 SUMMER STREET

Kntrrcd at Post-office, Boston, for mailing at second-class postal rates.

muff Mm.

1203 MARKET STREET.
Opp. Oity tS.mll. S.E?.

JAJVTES H- WEST, Publisher, Boston.

COMMENTS FROM PRIVATE SCIENTIFIC SOURCES.

"It is a book not to be lightly passed over, — indicating almost a
new epoch in the evolution propaganda."

" The book is A BOOK. It is unique. I do not believe there is any
other such book, nor that there will be. It will universally take.
Only a few glances at it are required, and then the expressions of
astonishment and interest follow.'1'1

[From HERBERT SPENCER.]

"The mode of presentation seems to me admirably adapted for
popularizing Evolution views."

[From JOHN FISKE.]

"I think your schedule attractive and valuable.''

EVOLUTION:

POPULAR LECTURES AND DISCUSSIONS BEFORE THE
BROOKLYN ETHICAL ASSOCIATION.

"A collection of essays, exhibiting the doctrine of Evolution as applied to
religious, scientific and social matters, by well-read and cultivated gentlemen.
Scholarly and instructive ; we commend the book." — New York Sun.

" Among all these papers there is not one that is weak, commonplace or un
interesting. They are all full of thought, presented in clear language, and in
an admirable spirit." — Iteligio- Philosophical Journal.

"Extremely entertaining and instructive, . . . the book is especially in
tended to spread a knowledge of the views of the masters of the Evolution
theory, making a smooth, even path for the ordinary mind to move forward
on, so that the general comprehension of the subject may be made easy." —
Brooklyn Citizen.

o ITT L rxi: o r c oy TJENTS .•

Herbert Spencer : His life, writings, and philosophy.

Daniel Greenleaf Thompson.
Charles Robert Darwin : His life, works, and influence.

Rev. John AV. Chadwick.
Solar and Planetary Evolution How suns and worlds come into being.

Garrett P. Serviss.

Evolution of the Earth : The story of geology. Dr. Lewis G. Janes.

Evolution of Vegetal Life : How life begins. William Potts.

Evolution of Animal Life : Rossiter W. Raymond, Ph.D.

The Descent of Man : His origin, antiquity, growth. E. D. Cope, Ph.D.

Evolution of Mind : Its nature, and development. Dr. Robert G. Eccles.

Evolution of Society : Families, tribes, states, classes. James A. Skilton.

Evolution of Theology : Development of religious beliefs. Z. Sidney Sampson.
Evolution of Morals: Egoism, altruism, utilitarianism, etc.

Dr. Lewis G. Janes.

Proofs of Evolution : The eight main scientific arguments. Nelson C. Parshall.
Evolution as Related to Religious Thought. Rev. John W. Chadwick.

The Philosophy of Evolution : Its relation to prevailing svstems.

Starr H. Nichols.
The Effects of Evolution on the Coming Civilization. Rev. Minot J. Savage.

ONE VOLUME, Fine Cloth, 408 Pages.
ILLUSTRATED. Complete Index. $2.00, postpaid.

"SOCIOLOGICAL -EVOLUTION*

XVI.

Brooklyn Ethical Associ
ation Lectures.

ASA GRAY: HIS LIFE AND WORK

AUTHOR OF

MRS. MARY TREAT

j>
HOME STUDIES IN NATURE," "MY GARDEN PETS,

"THROUGH A MICROSCOPE," ETC.

BOSTON :
JAMES H. WEST, PUBLISHED

196 SUMMER STREET
1890

COLLATERAL READINGS SUGGESTED.

"In Memoriam — Asa Gray "(University Press, 1888); "Sketch
of Asa Gray," in Am. Journal of Science, Vol. 35, March, 1888;
Article, "Asa Gray," in " Appleton's Cyclopedia of Biography,"
also article in "American Cyclopaedia."

(338)

ASA GRAY: HIS LIFE AND WORK.*

Now and then a man arises whose life and works are of
such magnitude that he shapes the intellectual growth of a
nation or a civilization, moulding and turning thought into
a new channel. Charles Darwin,*like Copernicus, advanced
such revolutionary doctrines. As Copernicus taught the
world the now received system of astronomy, so Darwin
has taught the origin of species by Natural Selection.
Before Copernicus the world did not move — it was per
manent, fixed, central. So before Darwin the species which
exist on the earth were regarded as permanent and fixed,
each having been produced by a special creation. But
this belief is fast disappearing, and we are living to see
Darwin's teachings recognized — not by the slow process
by which the Copernican system came to be accepted, but
with rapid strides due to the advanced thinkers of our time,
who see and grasp the "new thought" as men could not
do in the time of Copernicus.

Copernicus drew upon himself and his theory the con
demnation of the Church of Borne, which was not ob-
litrrated until 1821, two hundred and eighty-seven years
after it was issued ! And Galileo, who followed Copernicus
a century later, was imprisoned in the cells of the Inquisi
tion for teaching the heretical doctrine that the earth
moves. Surely the world has advanced during the past
four centuries, so that in our time "heresy" simply meets
with disapproval and ridicule.

It is not so many years since the Darwinian theory was
first promulgated, that we cannot remember the fierce
opposition and ridicule with which it was received, both by
the pulpit and the press. Then, it needed courage and
boldness to be its advocate. In this country, one of its
earliest disciples was Asa Gray, who bravely stepped to the
front of the battle and made havoc in the ranks of Darwin's

*COPYHIGHT, 1890, by James H. West.

340 Asa Gray: His Life and Work.

opposers, until, largely through, his influence, there came
to be a wide-spread recognition of the doctrine of Evolu
tion among the leading representatives of biological science.
Indeed, we may say that at the present time this recogni
tion is practically universal.

Asa Gray was born on the 18th of November, 1810, in
Oneida County, New York, a few miles south from Utica.
He was the eldest of eight children, and from his earliest
years a wide-awake, active child, energetic and studious,
winning the prize of a spelling-book before he was three
years of age. When six and seven years old he was the
champion speller in the% district school. Following him
along in his boyhood we learn that, when eleven years of
age, having exhausted the district-school at home, he was
sent to a grammar-school in Clinton, where he staid two
years, and then entered Fail-field Academy, where he
remained until his father desired him to leave the Academy
and enter the Fail-field Medical School. This was in the
winter of 1826-27. He finished his medical course and
received his degree of Doctor of Medicine in the spring of
1831.

While in this Medical School — in the winter of 1827-28
— his attention was aroused in botany by reading an article
in the "Edinborougli Encyclopaedia." He soon obtained
Eaton's Botany, which he studied with increasing interest
through the Winter, and longed for Spring that he might
test his knowledge in consulting the flora around him.
When Spring came we can imagine something of the delight
with which he hailed his first treasure, the little Claytonia
Virginica, which he found no difficulty in assigning to its
proper place. A new world was now opened around him,
and from this time on he saw not as others see. Things
were revealed to him that were blindly passed by the world
at large. So he became eyes to the blind and a medium of
knowledge to many loving followers.

Although he received his degree of Doctor of Medicine,
and no doubt would have been a shining light in the world
of medical science had he chosen the career of physician,
his heart was not there ; it was set on the trees and flowers,
the growing things around him, and his far-reaching mind
grasped the hidden secrets of Nature which he unveiled to
countless numbers of disciples.

In 1834 he became connected with Dr. John Torrey,

Asa Gray : His Life and Work. 341

which resulted in a close relationship and a life-long friend
ship. For a time lie studied botany under Dr. Torrey, but
he soon made such rapid strides that he was no longer
under but with him in united labor. Together they
botanized in northern New York and in the Pine-barrens of
New Jersey. In the same year he became Dr. Torrey's
assistant in the Chemical Laboratory in the College of
Physicians and Surgeons in New York City. But he
remained in this Medical School only a year or so, as it was
not on a sufficiently flourishing financial basis to warrant
Dr. Torrey in continuing to employ an assistant. Torrey
was instrumental, however, in securing for him the appoint
ment of Curator in the Lyceum of Natural History in
New York, so that his botanical work was continued under
the inspiring influence of Dr. Torrey for the next four or
five years.

In his twenty-fifth year he issued two volumes on the
grasses and sedges, each describing a hundred species, and
illustrated by dried specimens. Among the grasses was
one new to science, Pancicum Xanthophysum, which was the
first of the thousands of unknown species afterward named
by him. In 1836 he began his contributions to the
American Journal of Science, which he continued for more
than fifty years, and he also became one of the editors of
this journal, which place he filled for thirty-five years.
About this time (1835-36) he commenced the preparation
of the "Elements of Botany," which he published in 1836.
This work was characterized by such a vigorous style and
breadth of treatment that it at once attracted the attention
of scientists, and paved the way for universal recognition
by the great botanists of Europe whom he visited in
1838. This visit was made necessary to enable him
to go on with the "North American Flora," of which
he was, at that early age, joint author with Dr. Torrey.
Young as he was, hearts were opened and hands held out
to him by such men as Robert Brown, De Candolle, the
elder Hooker, Lambert, Bentham and Lindley, at that time
the leading botanists of Europe. He also met the younger
Hooker, then a medical student in Glasgow, and here the
foundation was laid for their life-long friendship. Hooker,
no less than Gray, was destined to become one of the
leading scientists of his time — a great explorer and author,
and President of the Koyal Society. He also followed

342 Asa Gray: His Life and Work.

his illustrious father as Director of the Royal Gardens at
Kew, which position he still holds.

In this brief sketch it will be impossible to follow Dr.
Gray closely in his travels, or to enumerate the great men
he met during the year he remained abroad. But he
returned home full of inspiration, with enlarged views, and
well equipped for the work he had in hand. In the
American Journal of Science (April, 1841) he published a
very interesting article, giving an account of the herbaria
he examined during this visit, commencing with that of
Linnaeus, which is told in such a happy manner that it
cannot fail to interest all lovers of good reading. In. 1842,
the Fellows of Harvard College offered him the Fisher
Professorship of Natural History, which had just then
been founded under the will of Dr. Fisher. At the time
of Dr. Gray's appointment there was no botanical library
and no herbarium in the College, and the botanical garden
was hardly more than a name. What are they to-day —
the magnificent library, the great herbarium, and the
garden ! Had Dr. Gray done nothing more for the
advancement of science than the building up of these, this
alone would have made him immortal.

The same year that he was made Professor in the
College he published his botanical text-book, " Structural
and Systematic Botany," which was by far the most
comprehensive and valuable work 011 botany that had
appeared in our country. It has passed through six
editions, each improved and almost wholly re-written. The
last edition, published in 1879, was entirely re-written. In
1848 his "Manual of the Botany of the Northern United
States " was printed. For more than thirty years this book
has been without a rival. It has been the text-book for all
botanists in the Eastern, Middle, and Northern States east
of the Mississippi. It is so plain and simple in its
language that anyone with a natural love of plants needs
no other instructor to enable him to become well-versed in
the flora of these regions. The influence that this book
has wrought in schools and among the people, in arousing
an interest in botany, is beyond calculation. It has passed
through five editions and several issues. In the first
edition he expresses his gratitude to Dr. Torrey in the
following inscription :

Asa Gray: His Life and Work. 343

JOHN TORRE Y, M.D.,
Corresponding member of the Linnaean Society, Ac.,

THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED BY THE AUTIIOIt,

In grateful acknowledgment of the friendship which has honored

and the counsel which has aided him
from the commencement of his hotanical pursuits.

The last edition was published in 1867. This also bears
testimony of his continued love and hearty friendship for
Dr. Torrey, in the following dedicatory note :

JOHN TORREY, L.L.D.

Almost twenty years have passed since the first edition of this
work was dedicated to you, — more than thirty, since, as your
pupil, I began to enjoy the advantage of being associated with
you in botanical pursuits, and in a lasting friendship. The flow
of time has only deepened the sense of gratitude due to you from
your attached friend, ASA GKAY.

CAMBRIDGE, May 30, 1867.

This was characteristic of Asa Gray — lie was a steadfast
friend, giving and winning affection wherever he went,
always acknowledging the helpfulness of others, and often
magnifying such assistance.

His "Field, Forest, and Garden Botany," published in
1868, is an admirable guide for the beginner for determin
ing the common cultivated plants as well as the native ones.
In order to bring it within the compass of a common-school
text-book, it was necessary to condense the descriptions of
the wild plants, and to leave out altogether the most rare
and obscure ones. This is no detriment to the beginner,—
rather an advantage, when lie has the Manual to follow.
Even with all its condensation it contains descriptions of
2650 species, belonging to 947 genera. And the "Lessons
in Botany and Vegetable Physiology," which preceded it,
with over three hundred original illustrations from Nature
by Isaac Sprague, has often been re-written and improved
until made so perfect that seemingly no other book could
be made that would be so admirably adapted to our needs.

We must not overlook two other charming little books,
"How Plants Grow," first published in 1858, and "How
Plants Behave," in 1872. These were written for young
people; but many grown people have greatly enjoyed them
and drawn inspiration from their pages.

344 Asa Gray : His Life and Work.

But the greatest of all of Dr. Gray's botanical works is
his "Synoptical Flora of North America," two parts of
which have been published, — "the first in 1878, being the
first part of Vol. II., Gamopetalse after Compositse, that is,
the portion immediately following the second volume of
the < Flora' of Torrey and Gray; and the second, in 1884,
covering the ground (Caprifoliaceae to Compositse inclusive)
of the second volume of Torrey and Gray's ' Flora.' The
middle half of the entire Flora is thus completed. These
volumes contain eight hundred and fifty closely printed
pages, and it required ten years of excessive and hardly
interrupted labor to complete them. They are master
pieces of clear and concise arrangement and of compact
ness and beauty of method. There will hardly be found
in any work of descriptive botany a greater display of
learning, clearness of vision and analytical powers ; and
few works of systematic botany have ever treated of a
broader field." *

When we consider how much of the work 011 nearly all
of these educational books — with the exception of the
" Flora" — was accomplished while Dr. Gray scrupulously
performed all of his college duties, we get some idea of the
magnitude of the man.

His writings and influence have done as much toward
the advancement of general science, and especially toward
the growth of the doctrine of Evolution, as his text-books
have done for the advancement of botany. One of his
earliest papers, showing the tendency of his mind in the
direction of evolution, was his observations upon the
"Relations of the Japanese Flora to that of North.
America." I will quote what his colleague, Professor C. S.
Sargent, says of this work :

In 1854 he published the "Botany of the Wilkes Exploring Ex
pedition," a large quarto volume, accompanied by a folio atlas
containing a hundred magnificent plates ; and in 1859 he read his
paper, afterward published in the "Memoirs of the American
Academy of Arts and Sciences," upon the "Diagnostic Characters
of Certain New Species of Plants, collected in Japan by Charles
Wright, with observations upon the Kelations of the Japanese
Flora to that of North America, and of other parts of the northern
temperate zone."

This is Professor Gray's most remarkable contribution to science.
It at once raised him to the very highest rank among philosophi-

* From a sketch of Dr. Gray in the New York Sun of January 3, 188G, by
Professor C. S. Sargent.

Asa Gray: Ills Life and Work. 345

cal naturalists, and attracted to him the attention of the whole
scientific world. In this paper he first points out the similarity
between the floras of Eastern North America and Japan, a fact
he had long suspected, and then explains the peculiar distribution
of plants through the Northern Hemisphere, by tracing their
direct descent through geological periods from ancestors which
flourished when there was a tertiary vegetation. This theory of
geographical distribution, now generally adopted by all naturalists,
was further elaborated in his lecture upon "Sequoia and its
History," delivered in 1872 before the American Association for
the Advancement of Science, and still later in a lecture entitled
"Forest Geography and Archaeology," delivered in 1878 before
the Harvard Natural History Society.

These studies of the flora of Japan had doubtless greatly mod
ified Professor Gray's opinion upon the origin of species, a subject
which was just then beginning to deeply interest the intellectual
world. He, like the younger De Candolle and Hooker, was now
ready to admit the doctrine of the local origin of vegetable
species, and to discard the hypothesis of a double or multiple
origin, at that time and long afterward adhered to by many
botanists. That is, he believed that two similar or closely allied
species of plants, the one, for example, growing in New England
and the other in Japan, were descended from one common
although remote ancestor, and that they were not, as Schouw and
Agassiz insisted, created separately and independently in the
regions where they now exist.

Dr. Gray more than any other man in America has made
the doctrine of Evolution what it is to-day ; and he has
made Darwin better understood and appreciated than all
other writers combined. And yet he did not wholly agree
with Darwin in some particulars. In a letter to Dr. Gray,
Mr. Darwin says, " I grieve to say that I cannot go as far
as you do about design. I cannot think the world as we see
it is the result of chance, and yet I cannot look at each
separate thing as the result of design." But Dr. Gray was
so deeply grounded in the Christian faith that nothing
could swerve him. He believed that the Darwinian theory
of the origin of species was entirely reconcilable with the
conception of a Divine Power governing the universe. He
believed "that each variation has been specially ordained
or led along a beneficial line."

In the closing paragraph of an address delivered before
the American Association for the Advancement of Science,
in 1872, on " Sequoia and its History," he touches the key
note of his religious belief. After quoting Miss Frances
Power Cobbe's regrets that we no sooner find out how any
thing is done, than our first thought is that God did not do

346 Asa Gray: His Life and Work.

it, he agrees with her that this conclusion is unworthy — •
"nay more, deplorable." Then follows these brief, vivid
words : " Through what faults or infirmities of dogmatism
on the one hand and skepticism on the other it came to be
so thought, we need not here consider. Let us hope, and I
confidently expect, that it is not to last ; that the religious
faith which survived without a shock the notion of the
fixity of the earth itself, may equally outlast the notion of
the fixity of the species which inhabit it ; that in the
future even more than in the past faith in an order which
is the basis of science will not — as it cannot reasonably —
be dissevered from faith in an Ordainer, which is the basis
of religion."

In 1876 Dr. Gray brought together his various papers on
Evolution and kindred subjects, which had appeared in the
American Journal of Science^ the Nation, and the Atlantic
Monthly, and published them in a book, under the title of
"Darwiniana." In the preface to this book he defines his
religious belief in a short, clear passage, where it stands to
remind us that one of the greatest men of the age found
no difficulty in harmonizing the "new thought," or Evolu
tion, with Christianity: "I am scientifically and in my
own fashion a Darwinian, philosophically a convinced
theist, and religiously an acceptor of the creed commonly
called the Kicene, as the exponent of the Christian faith."

His contributions to Evolution, and his views on the
subject, are better known to the world at large than "his
rank and position as a teacher of natural science." He
was a born teacher. He drew students to him by his
kindly, genial nature. His interest in their work was a
remarkable trait in his character. His correspondents felt
his friendly influence permeating their lives, giving them
fresh impulse and inspiration in their work. Even students
whom he had never met were cordially and most heartily
given any assistance in his power, in the way of suggestion
and even in mapping out methods of work for them to
follow. During all the years of his busy life, helpful,
suggestive letters were written with his own hand, encour
aging students to go on with their work and publish its
results. But for him, the work of many a botanical
student would never have been known.

Having access to some of his letters to a correspondent,
I have been looking them over with a view to giving a few

Asa Gray: His Life and Work. 347

extracts to illustrate his manner of guiding and instructing.
The correspondent had a little plat of ground under
observation, which had never been disturbed by man
further than in the cutting away of the underbrush and
part of the trees ; Dr. Gray was given a list of the herba
ceous plants that were growing on the spot, and here is his
reply:

Your letter of the 12th, so full of interest, was followed this
evening by the box, which I wait for daylight before opening.
But I will not delay most hearty thanks for your very kind atten
tion to my requests. I am dreadfully pressed with work now,
being on the eve of completing a new lecture-room and cabinet,
laboratory, etc., here in the Garden, and many things and various
workmen have to be looked after, so that I cannot sit down till
night, and then am tired enough. . . .

Your lawn flora is very interesting. Now, you would do a
good thing if you would keep a record of this, and next year note
any changes — i. e., any overcome, or any new-comers. And so
on year after year. I anticipate many changes. But as it is, it
illustrates Darwin's remark upon the advantages of diversity.
You have vastly more vegetation on the space than could be if
restricted to one or few species.

There are a good many plants on your lawn which I would
gladly have in our Garden. . . .

No, I have not Xeropliyllum, nor the lovely Pyxidanthera. I
tried both once, and lost them, but I long to try again. Will you
help me to them in early Spring ? What did your Penii Yan friend
do to make Pyxidanthera grow ?

Writing of these plants brings back most vividly my pine-
barren botanizing of 30 to 35 years ago ! . . .

The above letter was soon followed by another, showing
his interest in the correspondent's observations on Drosera.
It was understood between Dr. Gray and his correspondent
that either could ™_se what the other had written about
Drosera and other plants. In one of the letters before me
Dr. Gray says, "You can use anything that I say about
Drosera for publication, and I want the same privilege."

. . . About the Drosera lonyifolia (which the species you describe
certainly is). The folding of the blade of the leaf itself around
the insect, which I understand you to describe, is very interesting,
and I have copied your statement for publication. . . .
I wish I had a pencil-sketch of this fly-catching. . . .
I am preparing a new edition of "How Plants Grow," — with
three new chapters, — r/z.,

How Plants move, climb, and take positions.
How Plants employ Insects to work for them.
How certain Plants capture Insects.

348 Asa Gray : His Life and Work.

This leads me to ask, Have you any butterflies or moths with
orchid pollen-masses attached to head or eye ? . . .

Platanthera Cillaris, — how I wanted it last Summer ! If you
could find it now — roots, even, would delight me. . . .

More than a year after the above letter was penned, we
find his interest still continued in Drosera :

Thanks for the plants which came in nice order. . . .

In Spring, as soon as they can be found, I want some bulbs of
Drosera jiliformis, and that you should also make some observa
tions which Darwin wants to be made. But he will write to you.

Two years later he writes about another insectivorous
plant :

Thanks for yours of Dec. 2. ...

The Tribune will be glad to have your article about Bladderwort,
pending. As usual, Darwin is ahead of you. But he has pub
lished nothing yet, only hints have appeared — and he will be
pleased that you have hit on it. If you prepare an article for the
Tribune I would have some drawings made to show the bladders
in wood-cuts.

Always call on me, if I can aid in any way. Dear Dr. Hooker
(Kew) has lost his wife suddenly.

Still later, he is interested in the Florida Pinguiculas, and
Avrites under date of March 6, 1S77 :

Those Pingwculas around you are such nice things for their way
of cross-fertilizing that I hope you are studying them and seeing
what insects do it. . . .

Again on March 16, 1877 :

Well, if that little Hymenopter is the right one, his tongue will
be long enough to reach from the top of the spur (bottom of sac)
down to the nectar. Please catch and send me one or two, or
more, and I will find his name.

Pray work up an article on these Pinguiculn.

A bee would fertilize much better than a butterfly, if he could
get in — as you will see on looking.

What do you say? Shall I send you the "Darwiniana" book,
or wait till you come North ? . . .

On May 14th of the same year this paragraph occurs in
another letter: "As to Pinguicula, I have had Sprague
make good outline-sketches and dissections to show the
most, and have laid them up for future use — yours and
perhaps mine. . . . The printer keeps me awfully busy.'7

Interested as he was in these insectivorous plants, and
especially in Darwin's work, helping him by directing

Asa Gray: His Life and Work. 349

observations 011 this side of the water and furnishing him
directly with material for his forthcoming work on "In
sectivorous Plants/' yet when the book appeared he was for
a long time too busy to read it, :

Herbarium of Harvard University,
Botanic Garden, Cambridge, Mass., 29 July, 1875.
You will hardly credit it — that I have had Darwin's book for a
fortnight and have not yet found time to read over twenty or
thirty pages. That shows you how busy I am, and with much less
interesting work — but work that is both necessary and pressing.

We can now better understand why Asa Gray was so
universally honored and loved by such a wide circle of
students and botanists, as well as by many distinguished men
in other departments of science. With all his multifarious
work, he was ever the kind helper and teacher. Professor
Sargent tells us that "he was a foreign member of -the
Royal Society of London ; he was a foreign member also
of the Institute of France, one of the 'immortal eight';
and long ago he was welcomed into all the less exclusive
bodies of European savants. He served the American
Academy of Arts and Sciences as its President, presided
over the American Association for the Advancement of
Science, and was a regent of the Smithsonian Institution."
On his seventy-fifth birthday the botanists of our country
united in sending him messages of affection and esteem,
accompanied by a silver vase. The Botanical Gazette of
December, 1885, tells the story of the presentation, and
gives a description of the vase as follows :

The vase "is about eleven inches high, exclusive of the ebony
pedestal, which is surrounded by a hoop of hammered silver,
bearing the inscription,

1810 November eighteenth, 1885

ASA GRAY

in token of the universal esteem
of American Botanists.

"The lower part of the vase is fluted and the upper part cov
ered with flowers. The place of honor on one side is held by
Grayia Polyyaloides, and on the other by Shortia galacifolia. On
the Grayia side of the prominent plants are Aquilegia Canadensis,
Centaurea Americana, Jeffersonia diphylla, Rudbeckia speciosa, and
Mitchella repens. On the Shortia side there are Lilium Grayi,
Aster Bigelomi, Solidago serotina and Epif/caa repens. The lower
part of the handles runs into a cluster of Dionwa leaves, which
clasps the body of the vase, and their upper parts are covered with.

350 Asa Gray : His Life and Work.

Notholozna Grayi. Adlumia cirrhosa trails over the whole back
ground, and its leaves and flowers crop out here and there. The
entire surface is ' oxidized,' which gives greater relief to the
decorations. The vase was designed by L. E. Jenks, and the
chasing was done by Win. J. Austin, both with Bigelow, Kennard
<fe Co. The heartiest praise has been bestowed upon tho design
and the workmanship by all who have seen it.

uBy the request of the committee, greetings in the form of
cards and letters had been sent by those who gave the vase. These
were placed on a simple but elegant silver plate and accompanied
the gift. The inscription on the plate reads :

Bearing the Greetings of

One hundred and eighty Botanists

of North America, to

ASA GRAY,

On his Seventy-fifth Birthday,
November 18th, 1885.

"The expressions of affection and respect which are contained
in letters to the committee as well as those which were presented
to the good Doctor, together with the united and hearty response
to the Committee's suggestion, all testify how universal is the
esteem and how deep is the affection for this genial man, whom
we have thus delighted to honor."

The following response was sent by Dr. Gray :

Herbarium of Harvard University,

Cambridge, Mass., November 19, 1885.

To J. C. Arthur, C. R. Barnes, J. M. Coulter, Committee, and to
the numerous Botanical Brotherhood represented by them :

As I am quite unable to convey to you in words any adequate
idea of the gratification I received on the morning of the 18th
inst., from the wealth of congratulations and expressions of
esteem and affection which welcomed my seventy-fifth birthday,
I can do no more than to render to each and all my heartiest
thanks. Among fellow-botanists, more pleasantly connected than
in any other pursuit by mutual giving and receiving, some recog
nition of a rather uncommon anniversary might naturally be
expected. But this full flow of benediction from the whole length
and breadth of the land, whose flora is a common study and a
common delight, was as unexpected as it is touching and mem
orable. Equally so is the exquisite vase which accompanied the
messages of congratulation and is to commemorate them, and
iipon which not a few of the flowers associated with my name or
with my special studies are so deftly wrought by art that of them
one may almost say, "The art itself is nature."

The gift is gratefully received, and it will preserve the memory
to those who come after us of a day made by you, dear brethren
and sisters, a very happy one to

Yours affectionately, ASA GIIAY.

Asa Gray : His Life and Work. 351

Dr. Gray's correspondence with Darwin dates from 18.55,
commencing with a request of Darwin for a list of Amer
ican Alpine plants. From this time on their correspondence
continued, and their friendship was close and intimate
until Mr. Darwin's death, as is shown in "Darwin's Life
and Letters," and also in Dr. Gray's printed writings.

In 1885, Dr. Gray's portrait was made in bronze by St.
Gandens, and presented to Harvard University. But one
of the best pictures that has been left to us was taken
while he was on a botanical excursion in tlie Rocky
Mountains. It represents a group of botanists in camp on
Yeta Pass, 9000 feet above the sea. Dr. Gray sits 011 the
ground beneath the trees, with uncovered head, holding
evidences of his work in a well-filled botanical press. Sir
Joseph Hooker is by his side, with freshly gathered plants
in his hand. Mrs. Gray is at the table dispensing tea to
Dr. Hay den, Dr. Lamborn, Stevenson, and other dis
tinguished members of the party. It is a vivid, life-like
scene — a picture cherished by many.

But Asa Gray's memory will be perpetuated and cherished
without the aid of pictures, — it is forever associated
with natural objects more enduring than the monumental
shaft. The loftiest peak of the Rocky Mountains bears
his name, and many lowly plants in the vales com
memorate it, breathing it anew in their annual resurrec
tion. These will keep his memory fresh through the
ages to come. His work and deeds can never die. Our
own poet of Nature has said of Truth, "The eternal years
of God are hers." All the labors and all the thoughts of
Asa Gray were consecrated to the discovery and service of
the Truth — and by this loving constancy of devotion they
are assured an immortality of beneficent influence.

3o2 Asa Gray: His Life and Work.

ABSTRACT OF THE DISCUSSION.

Miss ELIZA A. YOUMANS : —

Ix Mrs. Treat's admirable account of Prof. Gray's intellectual
career she lias given the simple facts concerning the times at which
his various works were published, and the exalted estimate put
upon them both at home and abroad. The "North American
Flora," however, she pronounces his most important work, and
her account of his labors upon it seems to require further expla
nation. The first volume, she says, appeared in 1840, the second
in 1843, and the next instalment not until 1878, after an interval
of thirty-live years. As its discontinuance dates from the time of
his acceptance of the Fisher Professorship of Natural History in
Harvard College, and its resumption immediately followed his
release from official duties, which, I learn, took place in 1873,
giving him five years for the preparation of the volume of 1878,
the quite natural inference would be that his official work left
him no time to give to the preparation of the "Flora." But we are
debarred from this conclusion by the detailed and emphatic
statements of Mrs. Treat concerning the vast amount of labor he
did outside his college duties. His text-books and manuals were
all done in the evening, and at odd hours; and his labors as a
critic consumed a great deal of time. He was so familiar with all
sides of the scientific questions bearing upon his specialty, so just
and discriminating and candid, that his opinions, criticisms and
advice were eagerly sought for. His Reviews, Book-notices, and
Biographical sketches are almost endless.

In the introduction to the two volumes of the "Scientific
Papers of Asa Gray, selected by Charles Sprague Sargent," the
compiler says: "The selection of articles of his for re-publication
has been an embarassing and difficult task. The amount of
material at my disposal has been overwhelming; and desirable as
it plight be to republish it all, it has not been possible to do so
within reasonable limits. More than eleven hundred bibliograph
ical notices and longer reviews were published by Prof. Gray in
different periodicals, and it was necessary to exclude a number of
papers of nearly as great interest as those which are chosen."
Clearly, then, it was not lack of time that kept Dr. Gray from
going on with the "Flora." Why then, in the name of Botanical
science if not of common sense, did not Prof. Gray, during these
years, spend the time saved from official duties in carrying on the
great wrork on which his heart was set; which he alone of all men
was by nature and culture so fitted to execute, and which was so
strenuously called for by the world of science ? Why was its
resumption postponed till the later years of life, so that his eyes
were not permitted to behold its final accomplishment? Accord
ing to Mrs. Treat, "he had carried it on to the conclusion of the
middle half of the entire Flora," and there it is left for other
hands to finish. Or, may we not reasonably ask, why was it

Asa Gray : His Life and Work. 353

postponed at all ? It was evidently not in the plan of Mrs. Treat's
paper to raise questions or to answer them. But I have in my
possession an explanation of this seeming difficulty. It was given
by that great scientific explorer and life-long friend of Prof. Gray,
Sir Joseph Hooker, and it furnishes matter for serious reflection.
In the summer of 1871, just two years before Prof. Gray was
relieved from college duties, and while men of science were
impatient and, aggravated at his situation, Mr. E. L. Youmans,
who was then in London busy in establishing the "International
Scientific Series," received a note from Dr. llooker asking him to
come over to Kew and dine with him, as he was quite alone. Mr.
Youmans was on the lookout for eminent scientists to write books
for the series, and while at dinner the talk ran upon men of this
class. The next day Mr. Youmans gave an account of his visit in
a letter to his New York correspondent, and the pertinence to this
subject of Dr. Hooker's remarks, as reported in this letter, will,
I think, justify the liberty I take in repeating them here.

The allusion to Prof. Gray's situation was suggested by the talk
concerning Mr. Spencer. Dr. Hooker and Mr. Youmans had been
discussing one and another great man, when Dr. Hooker said:
"Spencer is the mighty thinker among them; and he is all right
now. The recognition of hi > genius is complete. What a lucky
thing it was that he failed in getting an official appointment when
lie began his philosophy. Had he succeeded we never should
have heard of the philosophy. The things are absolutely incom
patible. No man can do great original work and be hampered
with the cares of a position. The thing is impossible. The work
must have the whole man. That is why I have tried to get Gray
free. You Americans don't know how much of a man Gray is;
but he is hampered with students' work and is not able to keep
an assistant. When you were working for Spencer on the other
side, I was working for Gray here. I thought I had got it
arranged. I obtained a promise from Peabody to give money
enough to relieve Gray and let him go on with original work ; but
when he got over there, they worked at him and defeated all the
good of the plan."

Happily, two years later, Gray was made free, and began again
his "North American Flora," which is at every step and in all its
details a work of original research. There is only now and then
a man who is capable of carrying 011 original investigations in any
branch of science. Successful research implies an accurate
acquaintance with pre-existing knowledge in the field to be
explored. It demands keen logic and cool judgment, and not
these alone. People with great learning, fine reasoning powers
and high judicial faculty are not so very rare. But the original
investigator, the discoverer of principles and of laws, must have,
joined with these weighty elements, the gift of a lively imagina
tion. Prof. Gray was such a man, and Dr. Hooker and Mr.
Bentham, along with him — the great leaders and originators in
botanical science in our day — are men of this order. Let me
give you an example of the estimate put upon this faculty by a
botanist who knows.

Prof. Sachs, in his masterly sketch of the development of botany
from 1530 to 1860, says: "I have made it my chief object to

354 Asa Gray: His Life and Work.

discover the first dawning of scientific ideas, and to follow them
as they developed into comprehensive theories. But the task is a
very difficult one, for it is only with great labor that the historian
of Botany succeeds in picking the real thread of scientific thought
out of an incredible chaos of empirical material. It has always
been the chief hindrance to a rapid advance in Botany that the
majority of writers simply collected facts, or if they attempted
to apply them to theoretical purposes, did so very imperfectly. I
have therefore singled out those men as the true heroes of science,
of, our story, who not only established new facts, but made a
speculative use of empirical material"; and he describes this
speculative process in gifted minds as "an ever-deepening insight
into the relationship of all plants to one another; into their outer
form and inner organization, and into the physiological processes
dependent on these conditions."

Prof. Gray's original work proves him to have been one of these
true heroes of the botanical story. He was a scientific theorizer.
He could make a speculative use of facts. Pie was a deep thinker
seeking always for the most comprehensive points of view. For
instance, Mrs. Treat says that his most remarkable contribution
to science was a paper prepared in 1859 upon the "Diagnostic
characters of certain new species of plants collected in Japan by
Charles Wright; with observations upon the relations of the
Japanese Flora to that of North America and other parts of the
northern temperate zone." "This paper," she says, "at once
raised him to the very highest rank among philosophical natural
ists, and attracted to him the attention of the whole scientific
world."

Here, certainly, was very different work from that required in
making text-books and teaching college students. It called into
action his highest powers. He was dealing with the relationships
of widely separated patches of our North American Flora and
the Flora of eastern Asia, between which he had discovered an
unaccountable likeness. And then he also found a likeness
between these existing Floras and that of the Tertiary epoch.
Think of the vast stores of accurate knowledge required to
establish these relationships ! But the man of imagination does
not stop with the facts. The why and the how are ever pressing
for answers, and here comes in the scientific imagination. Mrs.
Treat says: "He explained the peculiar distribution of plants
through the Northern hemisphere by tracing their descent through
geological periods from common ancestors that flourished in the
Tertiary epoch in high latitudes." And this was done before
Darwin. No wonder that men of science abroad were impatient
at the sight of this mental giant grinding in the class-room and
spending his precious leisure in editorial drudgery or the manu
facture of text-books, however perfect.

There is another aspect of the situation which makes it seem
still more aggravating. This man's work had been accumulating
for a hundred years. Not only had he come to an unexplored
continent, but the principles by which its Flora could be naturally
classed were not established" until his time; and he had an
important hand in their establishment. From the time of
Linnaeus, thinking Botanists had been bewildered and defeated

Asa Gray : His Life and Work. 355

by the contradiction between the dogma of the fixity of species
and the aspects presented by the discovered facts of the vegetal
world. Such natural groups of plants as mosses, ferns, Coniferae,
Umbiliferffi, Composite), Labiatje, Papilionaceae, were recognized.
These groups were seen and felt, as we see and feel the groups
of birds, reptiles, etc., in the animal world. Even Linnasus
believed in a natural system of classification founded on con
stitutional resemblances. Here and there, while artificial classifi
cation held the field, a few European botanists of deeper insight
pondered over the natural relationships of plants, and by the
comparative study of mature forms arrived at the science of
morphology, which was soon greatly advanced by the microscope ;
and the anatomy and physiology of plants were also studied with
effect. A long series of relationships among plants was worked
out with great clearness, but they were all characterized by that
mysterious word " affinity," and here thought mostly ended. The
idea of the symmetry of plants was reached by these deeper
students; and mingling metaphysics with objective studies, the
notion of types in the vegetal world was conceived. By the help
of theological conceptions, the plan of creation, it was thought,
had been discovered by Naturalists, who readily took the next
step of regarding the objects of Nature as the thoughts of the
Creator — a view made familiar to us thirty or forty years ago by
Prof. Agassiz.

Owing to this state of things philosophical botany made slow
progress, and only the most gifted minds could evolve correct
principles available in classification. Prof. Torrey was a man of
the required stamp, but he came a little too soon. Prof. Gray's
study of Japanese vegetation brought him to conclusions concern
ing the fixity of species that made him one of Darwin's most able
advisers in the years preceding the issue of the "Origin of Species."
With the Flora of a continent to be studied in the light of recent
discovery it seems doubly deplorable that the thirty-five most
productive years of Prof. Gray's life should not have been spent
in original research under the most favorable conditions.

Prof. Gray's case is only one of many in which men of great
powers, anxiously seeking to use them to the world's advantage,
have been compelled to spend their lives in drudgery, and to die
with their great work unaccomplished. The world must continue
to suffer the loss of such knowledge as Asa Gray might have
added to its stock. And the need of some method of discovering
master-minds, and presenting them as candidates for support to
those who are anxious to contribute to the advance of knowledge,
is forcibly suggested by this history.

-
DR. LEWIS G. JANES : —

The nature of Dr. Gray's contribution to the doctrine of Evolu
tion may perhaps be best understood by taking a single example,
explanatory of his theory of the geographical distribution of plants.
It is found that the nearest extant relations of the great sequoias,
or red-wood trees, — two varieties of which are now found in
California, and nowhere else in the world, — are the southern
cypress, found in the swamps and everglades of our Southern
Atlantic States, and a similar tree of the cypress family, now

356 Ana Gray: His Life and JJW/.1.

found only in Northern China and Japan. A species of yew, the
Torreya, has also a similar distribution, the members of its family
being found only in the red-wood districts of California, in the
swamps of Florida, and in Northern China. The old theory was
that these trees were created, or originated in the neighborhood
of their present habitats, thus constituting several independent
stocks. Dr. Gray maintained, however, that these trees originated
from a single stock, in Arctic Latitudes, when the climate was
warmer and the continents were not separated as now by wide
expanses of sea. By glacial action, or otherwise, they were
pushed southward in different localities, and the hardiest, most
adaptable stocks survived in the localities where they are now
found. This theory, now generally accepted by botanists, was
subsequently confirmed by the discovery of fossil red-wood trees
in the Arctic regions.

Dr. Gray held that the doctrine of Evolution was compatible
with the belief that Nature — the material universe — is the
outcome of mind rather than that mind is the product of material
conditions. He held that the whole process of organic evolution
involved the idea of design, was an adaptation of means to ends.
He did not think, however, that it wTas necessary for the believer
in Christianity to assume the responsibility of attempting to
harmonize evolution with the natural science of Genesis. "With
the rise and development of astronomy, physics, geology, and
later of biological science," he said, "the tables were turned; and
now many religious beliefs — or what were taken for such — are
controlled and modified by scientific beliefs, none more so than in
the matter of 'Biblical Creation.' The result, I suppose, is that
no sensible person now believes what the most sensible persons
believed formerly." On the ground of natural science, he held,
"Scientific belief must needs control the religious."* He thought,
however, that modern natural science, in any of its demonstrated
results or well-established beliefs, wras not necessarily antagonistic
to the Christian religion.

Dr. Janes also spoke of Dr. Gray's kindness of heart and
friendship for children, mentioning some instances.

MR. JAMES A. SKILTO^ : —

The essay of the evening and its discussion by Miss Youmans
have given me the unique experience of uniting the interest and
enjoyment of this present moment with the remembered fascina
tions of a sort of pre-adamite or ante-deluviau age, speaking in
regard to the evolution of botanical science.

It wTas my privilege, before I was half through my teens, in an
interval of rest from over-study, and between the preparatory
school and the university, to earn the degree of Bachelor of
Natural Science in the first institution established in the United
States for the especial study of Botany and the other Natural
Sciences — and thereupon to practically almost abandon the
further pursuit of those sciences; only taking them up again in
the most general way as required from time to time while watching
the development of the new science and philosophy since the
publication of the "Origin of Species" in 1859. The botanical
system taught in that institution was that of Linna3us. So it

* Discussion before "Evangelical Alliance," Sept. 11, 1882.

Asa Gray: His Life and Work: 357

comes about that I am able to speak to you from personal experi
ence and observations of the state of scientific knowledge as
taught in the clays before the coming of the flood of light which
we are now enjoying, and also of one of the early teachers of
Professor Gray, his life and methods.

In May, 1810, at Catskill, N. Y., Professor Amos Eaton, a
graduate of Williams College of 1799, made, it is believed, the
first attempt in this country to deliver a popular course of lectures
on botany, compiling a small elementary treatise for the use of his
class, in what he called "The Botanical Institution," the first
botanical text-book in English published in this country; those
previously used being in the Latin language. In 1817 he delivered
lectures on botany, mineralogy and geology to volunteer classes of
the students of Williams College, at Williamstown, Mass. The
first edition of his Manual of Botany was published by graduates
of Williams College in 1817, and gave a great impulse to the study
of botany in New England and New York. The eighth and last
edition of this work was published in 1840, under the title of
" North American Botany," a large octavo volume of 625 pages,
and containing descriptions of 5207 species of plants.

Between 1817 and 1834, Professor Eaton also delivered courses
of lectures on branches of natural history, but particularly on
botany, before the Members of the Legislature at Albany, on the
special invitation of Governor De Witt Clinton ; in the Lenox
Academy, Mass. ; at Northampton under the patronage of Gov
ernor Strong of Massachusetts ; in the Medical College at Castleton,
Vermont, in which he was appointed Professor of Natural History
in 1820; in the City of Troy, N. Y., and in many other places.
His lectures in Albany resulted in the initiation of that great work,
"The Natural History of New York," the naturalists engaged in
which were largely his pupils — among them James Hall and
Ebenezer Eminons. That work has not only been the pattern for
the scientific surveys of other States, but men who studied under
him have been engaged in such surveys in many of the States. In
1818 he first published his "Index to the Geology of the Northern
States," which was the first attempt at a general arrangement of
the geological strata of North America. In 1818-19 the City of
Troy — then little more than a village, but settled by the advance
guard of that New England emigration which has since covered
the Western States — had a Lyceum of Natural History and the
most extensive collection of American geological specimens to be
found in this country. With Albany, it contained a notable
number of leaders in science. Among them were Professor
Henry, the Becks, and many more, but in the early clays Professor
Eaton was easily the leader in all branches.

In 1824 Professor Eaton, by the aid of the Patroon, Stephen Van
Keiisselaer, of Albany — a man of broad views and public spirit —
established in the City of Troy a School of Science then called
the Rensselaer School, which eventually became a school of all
branches of engineering, is now known as the Ilensselacr Poly
technic Institute, was the model at some remove of the Brooklyn
Polytechnic Institute, and* has turned out, as its biographical
record shows, a larger number of the successful working sci
entific men and engineers of our day and generation engaged
in applying science in the work of the world than any other
institution "in the country, possibly more than all the literary

358 Asa Gray : His Life and Work.

colleges put together; among whose names are to be found those
of the men who designed and built the Brooklyn Bridge, and of
many others who are now engaged in the great engineering works
of the country. From 1824 to May 6, 1842, the day of his death,
Professor Eaton was at the head of this institution. And between.
1S10 and 1841 in addition to other labors, he wrote various wrorks
on botany, chemistry, zoology, geology, and kindred topics, to the
number, including the different editions, of about forty publica
tions in all.

His biography has never been more than sketched in outline,
but it is to be doubted whether any single American has, through
his work, his pupils, his methods, and the stimulus he directly
gave to others, done more for the cause of science, and of com
bined science and practice in the United States, than Professor
Eaton did. Neither, owing to circumstances which there is no time
here to explain, has adequate justice been done to the methods by
and through which he produced the marked effects to be traced to
him, except in the minds of a few. Those methods, in a word,
consisted in bringing the student into direct contact with the
actual thing to be studied, in relegating the text-book to a secondary
position, and in bringing the minds and hands of teacher and
pupil into immediate co-operative relations. He divided his
classes into sections of eight, with the most competent member as
its captain or leader. The pupils assisted in preparing and
arranging the objects and mechanisms to be employed, whereupon
the Professor lectured to the entire class ; in chemistry performing
all the experiments, and in all the other branches going through
with all the manipulations and illustrations with the actual objects
in hand; whereupon the subject was taken up in turn by each
section and by every member of each section, all of them, with
the other members, constituting a critical audience, lecturing
upon it in turn and going through all the necessary manipulations,
experiments, demonstrations and illustrations. After the lecture
on botany the class was usually dismissed with the direction to
start for the fields with botanical cans, and incited to find and
bring back the greatest possible number of new plants. Through
the long list of years, I still vividly recall the eager joy of that
work, and remember how, from hill-tops and other points of
vantage, I planned botanical campaigns, studied typography,
habitat and environment, and thereby sought to discover the
hiding-places of particular plants we wished to capture; and how
we scorned fatigue, obstacles and laggards in their pursuit. The
students were expected on their return, after the first few lessons-
had been given, to find for themselves the genus and species of the
plants they brought in. Where they found themselves puzzled
and could not be helped out by their fellows, they were expected
to rely upon the Professor for the names of genus and species.

The principle of the fixity of species was of course formally
taught. But the total teaching — that is, the teaching of the
Professors, the books, and that of the fields and the plants them
selves included — resulted, not simply in the relaxing of our belief
in it, nor simply in the acceptance of the convenient word
"variation" as expressive of the actual differences found in
specimens evidently of the same gentio. but not answering to all
the details of description given in the books for any particular
species. Although a mere child I distinctly remember that

Asa Gray: Ills Lift*. <n>d Work. 359

notwithstanding the reiterated declarations of the Professors and
of the text-books, my own mind would not accept the doctrine of
the fixity of species. For, my experience was that in attempting
to find the genus and the species of the plant in hand, the case

was a rare and exceptional one where the entire description of any
species would everywhere fit any specimen; and I well remember
that when compelled to resort to the Professor — for that reason,

and because I attempted to adhere to the principle of the fixity of
species — something like heat, if not indignation, would Hash
through me when the Professor gave me a specific name over
which I had long puzzled in vain and which I had perhaps rejected
because of the defective description. From that time, the Summer
of 1845, till the publication of the "Origin of Species," I carried
a skeptical mind on the subject, and when that book was published,
although I could only get access, in the South, through brief
reviews, through the information contained in newspaper scraps,
and — I may say — through orthodox sermons and their struggles
with the "monkey problem," to what it contained, I promptly
accepted the principle taught by Darwin in that book, basing
that acceptance largely upon the facts of my long past experience,
and upon the satisfactory explanation offered by him of my early
difficulties in the study of botany. It is to be remembered, we
had Lamarck, and the " Vestiges of Creation," and that discussion
was active and had already undermined many old theories.

Further, in the home into which I was born, geological and
palseontological specimens were everywhere and to a large extent
the playthings of my childhood. The more recent tracing of the
history of plant-life from fossil forms down to living forms by
Professor Gray has been mentioned in the essay of the evening.
Botany as well as geology and paleontology were constant topics
in that household as far back as I can remember; and as early as
1845 certainly, probably before, I distinctly remember tracing the
genus Equisetum back as far as its gigantic fossiliferous forms
found in the Coal Measures. Perhaps I may be permitted to go a
step further. By this time of day I suppose I am recognized in
this Association as a thorough believer in Evolution as taught by
both Darwin and Spencer. I first learned of Spencer by taking
up one of his books of essays in a bookstore in Albany in the
Winter of 1802-63, not long after Professor Youmans had brought
about his introduction to America. Before the first page was
finished my mind was caught. As I read on — still standing — I
soon began to hear my mind saying: Here he is at last — the
thinker, philosopher and leader for whom I have looked so long in
vain ! Seeing other books bearing his name on the same table, I
rapidly glanced through them, and soon found the programme of
the system of Philosophy he was to write and the list of what he
had already written. Among these was the title of his essay on
Population, printed in a Westminst&i' Revieiv of 1852. Being
myself already an anti-Malthusian, I immediately concluded that
an examination of that essay would establish his position as a
thinker, for me. It was not yet an hour since I had picked up the
essays. Proceeding directly to the State Library I obtained the
copy of the Beview, and found my hopes and expectations con
firmed in the first sentence. From that day I have been an earnest
Spencerian. And that I have been so, I believe is due primarily to
Professor Eaton, to the Keiisselaer Institute established by him,

360 Asa Gray: His Life and Work.

to Professor George H. Cook, now of New Jersey, his successor,
to the Troy Lyceum, to my own father, who was my constant
teacher in natural and biological science, and to the combination
of all these that had been brought to bear upon me as early as the
Summer of 1845, if not before, and certainly before the work of
Professor Gray had much of it been done oi1 become much known.

From these statements it will appear that the ideas now
dominant in the scientific world, as to the unfixity of species,
were in the air, or coming, so to speak, long before Darwin or
Gray had either written, published or reached their final conclu
sions. While, then, I would not minify the magnificent achieve
ments of such men as Darwin, Gray, and other modern lights, I
do not believe it just, and for myself I do not propose, to be
guilty of ignoring the laborious workers in natural science, in
this country, on whose work recent builders have built as upon a
foundation. Now when we are celebrating the praises of Professor
Gray, I ask you not to forget the labors of such pioneers as
Professor Amos Eaton. Mrs. Treat says, you will remember, that
after reading the article in the "Edinburgh Encyclopedia," it was
Eaton's Botany he first obtained and studied with interest, and
that by its aid the little Claytonia Virginica was the first treasure
he captured and identified in the early Spring. How many of us
can understand and enter into his earnest welcome of that cheerful
flower !

I am glad to be able to say that in an early number the Popular
Science Monthly will do for Professor Eaton what it has done for
so many other scientific men, in preserving their names and labors
from threatened oblivion.

Doubtless, if Professor Gray could have been with us to-night
he would have stood in my place to say, much better than I have
done or can do, words of cordial recognition and appreciation oil
behalf of his old teacher, Professor Amos Eaton.

Mu. WILLIAM POTTS : —

I desire merely to take this occasion to emphasize the fact, so
well illustrated by the experience of Dr. Gray, that the minute
and scientific study of botany in no way interferes with the
natural love of flowers and plants for their beauty. On the
contrary, the more we know about flowers, the more we study
them scientifically, the more we love them and appreciate their
beauty. The contrary idea, sometimes expressed by those ignorant
of the facts, is entirely false, and should be condemned by us.

DR. EGBERT G. ECCLES : —

Dr. Eccles said he had first been introduced to Professor Gray
about ten years ago, by Professor E. L. Youmans, in D. Appleton
& Co.'s office. His last meeting with him was at McGill College,
Montreal, during the meetings of the American Association for the
Advancement of Science. On an excursion to Ottawa at the same
time a favorable opportunity was presented of studying Professor
Gray's disposition and learning from him how he harmonized his
religion with evolution. At several points visited all the guests
were asked to register. While men with one title invariably

Asa Gray: His Life and Work. 361

affixed that to their names, Professor Gray with characteristic
modesty signed his name simply " Asa Gray," although he could
almost have iilled the page with the initials of his honorary and
other degrees as well as those of the learned Societies to which
he belonged.

When questioned in the most elementary facts of botany by
people not familiar with that science, he would patiently explain
the matter to them with evident pleasure. The contrast between
him and a number of other prominent members of the Associa
tion, who had been seen by Dr. Eccles snubbing honest but ill-
posted inquirers after facts, was pronounced and startling.
During the trip to Ottawa he disclosed how he reconciled his
Presbyterianism and Evolution, the subject being raised by
reference to a discussion on Darwinism the day preceding in the
Biological Section. He pointed out that in the growth of a plant
or tree from its seed to full maturity a struggle for existence
among its cells, buds, leaves, branches, flowers, etc., is incessantly
going on. In spite of this warfare every seed produces a tree or
herb after its kind. Like playing with loaded dice that must turn
up the proper sides every time in spite of shaking, in the
molecular warfare the winning party is invariably pre-destined
in its very structure. In. the warfare among organisms and in
society the same conditions are found. "Fitness" may be
diabolical, or it may be beneficent. Somehow in the great average
it always comes out beneficent. Evolution is God's will made
manifest in matter. The side championed by right and good
always wins in the end.

Dr. Gray was a most voluminous writer. A list of the titles
and headings of his books and magazine contributions has been
published, and forms a pretty large octavo volume in itself.
Darwin was indebted for much, and perhaps for a majority of his
most telling botanical facts, to Dr. Gray. A great deal of the
material in his "Climbing Plants," was the work of the latter.
The Composite are the most difficult plants a botanist can study.
Here Gray was monarch and peerless. In his contributions to
plant distribution he showed himself at once a master botanist, a
philosopher and a naturalist. Others had walked blindly over
the same facts and fields and did not see that every flower told
the tale of its own past history, and the history of its kind, by the
place where it is found. Where plants of a common or kindred
kind are now, tells of their past wanderings when the facts are
all considered. Dr. Gray made this discovery. To Gray Darwin
first imparted his idea of Natural Selection. Dr. Eccles thought
it strange that the essayist of the evening forgot to mention this,
the most important fact in a course of lectures on Evolution in
connection with his life. Especially important is it because of its
bearings on the history of the doctrine of Natural Selection.
Darwin and Wallace each claimed priority in advocating this
principle, and these rival claims were forever set to rest by a
letter from Darwin to Gray that was read at a meeting of the
LinnaBan Society when the two champions first gave forth their
ideas publicly. This was on July 1st, 1858. Darwin's letter was
written a year before. But even this celebrated epistle was not
the first. On July 20th, 1856, Darwin wrote to Gray : —

362 Asa Gray : His Life and Work.

"I have come to the heterodox conclusion that there are no
such things as independently created species, that species are only
strongly denned varieties. ... I assume that species arise like
our domestic varieties with much extinction."

This is the first word ever known to have been penned in this
world on the now well-known principle of "survival of the
fittest."

While Gray treated this doctrine fairly from the first, it was
not to be expected that he would immediately give adherence
thereto. His friends, Agassiz and Dana, bitterly opposed it,
while he held his mind in the true scientific attitude of suspended
judgment. His heart from the first told him there must be
something in it. In 1880 he had so far transcended his scruples
that at New Haven he publicly said : "Natural selection by itself
is not a hypothesis nor even a theory. It is a truth, a catena of
facts and direct inferences from facts." It is a sad pity that he
did not live to complete some of the work he had begun. The
"Synoptic Flora" lies incomplete, to the sorrow of many a
botanist

At the banquet on his seventy-fifth birthday, when the silver
vase was presented to him, every botanist in America felt that,
like the great Rocky Mountain peak bearing his name, here was
one who transcended them all in the knowledge of their favorite
Science. It was then Lowell wrote of him :

"Just fate! prolong his life, well spent,

Whose indefatigable hours
Have been as gaily innocent
And fragrant as his flowers."

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'These sermons have solid worth for all who can appreciate the most thoroughly
thoughtful preaching on the great problems of life, — both those raised in every gen
eration, and those seemingly peculiar to our own.' — Literary World,

Ethical Religion.

A volume of lectures given, for the most part, before the Society for
Ethical Culture, Chicago. By WM. M. SALTER. $1.50.

There is here, in glowing, suggestive epitome, the essence of true human being and

oing.— The New /fieri?. Another proof that ideas as well as dollars are current in

America.— German Review. The chapter on Darwinism in Ethics is a particularly

able discussion of that topic, and it is filled with high and noble conceptions of man's
responsibility to the law which says, Thou shalt do right or perish.— The Jieacon.

Character and Love.

Responsive readings for Sunday-schools and the home. Also especial
ly adapted for "pulpit-readings." Compiled and arranged by
REV. ALFRED W. MARTIN, from the Religious and Moral Writings
of all Lands and Times. Fine Cloth. Single Copy, postpaid, 50 cts.
Topics : Brotherhood, True Worship, Character, Holy Living, Selflessness, Diligence,
Integrity, Duty, Loyalty to Truth, God, Tolerance, Manhood, Nature, Justice, Humility,
Obedience, Life, Fraternity of Religions, "Jesus, Prophets and Sages, Prayer, The Com
monwealth of Man, Autumn, Christmas, Easter, Summer, In Memoriam. Accompanied
by Twenty -four Hymns of national TlioinjJif.

" An attempt to satisfy a deeply-felt need where a progressive Liberalism is espoused
and set forth."— Preface.

*** Sent postpaid, on receipt of price, by JAMKS H. WEST, Publisher, Boston.

JAMES H- WEST, Publisher, Boston.

EVOLUTION ESSAYS, — SECOND SERIES.

"Deserve the attention of readers of popular science. They include, so far,
excellent lectures." — Literary World.

"One of the most systematic, concise, and comprehensive presentations in
popular form of the foundation and theory of evolution. Excellent, . . suc-
cint, . . interesting."— Pnhlic Opinion.

SOCIOLOQY:

POPULAR LECTURES AND DISCUSSIONS BEFORE THE
BROOKLYN ETHICAL ASSOCIATION.

The Scope and Principles of the Evolution Philosophy, Dr. Lewis G. Janes.
The Relativity of Knowledge, Dr. Robert G. Eccles.

Primitive Man, Z. Sidney Sampson.

Growth of the Marriage Relation, C. Staniland Wake.

Evolution of the State, John A. Taylor.

Evolution of Law, Prof. Rufus Sheldon.

Evolution of Medical Science, Dr. Robert G. Eccles.

Evolution of Arms and Armor, Rev. John C. Kimball.

Evolution of the Mechanic Arts, James A. Skilton.

Evolution of the Wages System, Prof. George Gunton.

Education as a Factor in Civilization, Miss Caroline B. Le Row.

Evolution and Social Reform: 1. The Theological Method,

Rev. John W. Chadwick.

Evolution and Social Reform : 2. The Socialistic Method, William Potts.
Evolution and Social Reform : 3. The Anarchistic Method,

Hugh O. Pentecost.
Evolution and Social Reform : 4. The Scientific Method,

Daniel Greenleaf Thompson.

A sa ( J ray , ~ Mrs . M ary Treat .

Edward Livingston Youmans, Prof. John Fiske.

Any of the above Essays sent, postpaid, on receipt of price.
EACH NUMBER, TEN CENTS.

P UBLISHER ' S ANNO UNCEMENT.

^O^ In response to a demand for the above Sociological Essays
in a bound volume, uniform with "EVOLUTION," the Seventeen
Lectures above enumerated will be at once reprinted, with Com
plete Index, finely bound in cloth. Pages, 400 ; price, postpaid,
$2.00. (The two volumes, "EVOLUTION" and "SOCIOLOGY," to
one address, postpaid, $3.50.) .=^2

Address JAMES II. WEST, Publisher,

196 Summer Street, BOSTON.

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Full text of "In memoriam. George William Curtis. Papers read before Starr King Fraternity, Oakland, September 16, 1892; annual meeting of Unitarian Club, San Francisco, September 26, 1892"

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