CAMBRIDGE SKETCHES

[Illustration: CHARLES SUMNER]

CAMBRIDGE SKETCHES

BY

FRANK PRESTON STEARNS

AUTHOR OF "TRUE REPUBLICANISM, " "LIFE OF PRINCE OTTO VON BISMARCK, ""SKETCHES FROM CONCORD AND APPLEDORE, " ETC. 

1905

PREFACE

It has never been my practice to introduce myself to distinguishedpersons, or to attempt in any way to attract their attention, and I nowregret that I did not embrace some opportunities which occurred to me inearly life for doing so; but at the time I knew the men whom I havedescribed in the present volume I had no expectation that I should everwrite about them. My acquaintance with them, however, has served to giveme a more elevated idea of human nature than I otherwise might haveacquired in the ordinary course of mundane affairs, and it is with thehope of transmitting this impression to my readers that I publish thepresent account. Some of them have a world-wide celebrity, and others whowere distinguished in their own time seem likely now to be forgotten; butthey all deserve well of the republic of humanity and of the age in whichthey lived. 

THE EVERGREENS, JANUARY 4, 1905. 

CONTENTS

 * * * * *

THE CLOSE OF THE WAR

FRANCIS J. CHILD

LONGFELLOW

LOWELL

C. P. CRANCH

T. G. APPLETON

DOCTOR HOLMES

FRANK BIRD AND THE BIRD CLUB

SUMNER

CHEVALIER HOWE

THE WAR GOVERNOR

THE COLORED REGIMENTS

EMERSON'S TRIBUTE TO GEORGE L. STEARNS

ELIZUR WRIGHT

DR. W. T. G. MORTON

LEAVES FROM A ROMAN DIARY

CENTENNIAL CONTRIBUTIONS

 * * * * *

THE CLOSE OF THE WAR

 Never before hast thou shone So beautifully upon the Thebans; O, eye of golden day:

 --_Antigone of Sophocles_. 

One bright morning in April, 1865, Hawthorne's son and the writer werecoming forth together from the further door-way of Stoughton Hall atHarvard College, when, as the last reverberations of the prayer-bell weresounding, a classmate called to us across the yard: "General Lee hassurrendered!" There was a busy hum of voices where the three converginglines of students met in front of Appleton Chapel, and when we enteredthe building there was President Hill seated in the recess between thetwo pulpits, and old Doctor Peabody at his desk, with his face beaminglike that of a saint in an old religious painting. His prayer wasexceptionally fervid and serious. He asked a blessing on the Americanpeople; on all those who had suffered from the war; on the government ofthe United States; and on our defeated enemies. When the short servicehad ended, Doctor Hill came forward and said: "It is not fitting that anycollege tasks or exercises should take place until another sun has arisenafter this glorious morning. Let us all celebrate this fortunate event. "

On leaving the chapel we found that Flavius Josephus Cook, afterwardsRev. Joseph Cook of the Monday Lectureship, had collected the members ofthe Christian Brethren about him, and they were all singing a hymn ofthanksgiving in a very vigorous manner. 

There were some, however, who recollected on their way to breakfast thesad procession that had passed through the college-yard six monthsbefore, --the military funeral of James Russell Lowell's nephews, killedin General Sheridan's victory at Cedar Run. There were no recentgraduates of Harvard more universally beloved than Charles and JamesLowell; and none of whom better things were expected. To Lowell himself, who had no other children, except a daughter, they were almost like hisown sons, and the ode he wrote on this occasion touches a depth of pathosnot to be met with elsewhere in his poetry. There was not at that timeanother family in Cambridge or Boston which contained two such brightintellects, two such fine characters. It did not seem right that theyshould both have left their mother, who was bereaved already by afaithless husband, to fight the battles of their country, however muchthey were needed for this. Even in the most despotic period of Europeanhistory the only son of a widow was exempt from conscription. Then tolose them both in a single day! Mrs. Lowell became the saint of QuincyStreet, and none were so hardened or self-absorbed as not to do herreverence. 

But now the terrible past was eclipsed by the joy and pride of victory. The great heroic struggle was over; young men could look forward to thepractice of peaceable professions, and old men had no longer to think ofthe exhausting drain upon their resources. Fond mothers could now countupon the survival of their sons, and young wives no longer feared tobecome widows in a night. Everywhere there was joy and exhilaration. Tomany it was the happiest day they had ever known. 

President Hill was seen holding a long and earnest conversation withAgassiz on the path towards his house. The professors threw aside theircontemplated work. Every man went to drink a glass of wine with his bestfriend, and to discuss the fortunes of the republic. The ball-players setoff for the Delta, where Memorial Hall now stands, to organize a fullmatch game; the billiard experts started a tournament on Mr. Lyon's newtables; and the rowing men set off for a three-hours' pull down Bostonharbor. Others collected in groups and discussed the future of theircountry with the natural precocity of youthful minds. "Here, " said aBoston cousin of the two young Lowells, to a pink-faced, sandy-hairedball-player, "you are opposed to capital punishment; do you think Jeff. Davis ought to be hung?" "Just at present, " replied the latter, "I ammore in favor of suspending Jeff. Davis than of suspending the law, "--anopinion that was greeted with laughter and applause. The generalsentiment of the crowd was in favor of permitting General Lee to retirein peace to private life; but in regard to the president of the SouthernConfederacy the feeling was more vindictive. 

We can now consider it fortunate that no such retaliatory measures weretaken by the government. Much better that Jefferson Davis, and hisconfederates in the secession movement, should have lived to witnessevery day the consequences of that gigantic blunder. The fact that theyadopted a name for their newly-organized nation which did not differessentially from the one which they had discarded; that their form ofgovernment, with its constitution and laws, differed so slightly fromthose of the United States, is sufficient to indicate that theirseparation was not to be permanent, and that it only required theabolition of slavery to bring the Southern States back to their formerposition in the Union. If men and nations did what was for their trueinterests, this would be a different world. 

 * * * * *

At that time the college proper consisted of three recitation buildings, and four or five dormitories, besides Appleton Chapel, and little oldHolden Chapel of the seventeenth century, which still remains the bestarchitecture on the grounds. The buildings were mostly old, plain, andhomely, and the rooms of the students simply furnished. In every classthere were twelve or fifteen dandies, who dressed in somewhat above theheight of the fashion, but they served to make the place more picturesqueand were not so likely to be mischievous as some of the rougher countryboys. It was a time of plain, sensible living. To hire a man to makefires in winter, and black the boots, was considered a great luxury. Amajority of the students blacked their own boots, although they foundthis very disagreeable. The college pump was a venerable institution, aleveller of all distinctions; and many a pleasant conversation took placeabout its wooden trough. No student thought of owning an equipage, and aRussell or a Longworth would as soon have hired a sedan chair as a horseand buggy, when he might have gone on foot. Good pedestrianism was thepride of the Harvard student; and an honest, wholesome pride it was. There was also some good running. Both Julian Hawthorne and Thomas W. Ward ran to Concord, a distance of sixteen miles, without stopping, Ibelieve, by the way. William Blaikie, the stroke of the University crew, walked to New York during the Thanksgiving recess--six days in all. 

The undergraduates had not yet become acquainted with tennis, the mostdelightful of light exercises, and foot-ball had not yet been regulatedaccording to the rules of Rugby and Harrow. The last of the perniciousfoot-ball fights between Sophomores and Freshmen took place in September, 1863, and commenced in quite a sanguinary manner. A Sophomore namedWright knocked over Ellis, the captain of the Freshman side, withoutreason or provocation, and was himself immediately laid prostrate by ared-headed Scotch boy named Roderick Dhu Coe, who seemed to have come tocollege for the purpose, for he soon afterwards disappeared and was neverseen there again. With the help of Coe and a few similar spirits, theFreshmen won the game. It was the first of President Hill's reforms toabolish this brutal and unseemly custom. 

The New York game of base-ball, which has since assumed such mammothproportions, was first introduced in our colleges by Wright and Flagg, ofthe Class of '66; and the first game, which the Cambridge ladiesattended, was played on the Delta in May of that year with theTrimountain Club of Boston. Flagg was the finest catcher in New Englandat that time; and, although he was never chosen captain, he was the mostskillful manager of the game. It was he who invented the double-playwhich can sometimes be accomplished by muffing a fly-catch between thebases. He caught without mask or gloves and was several times wounded bythe ball. 

Let us retrace the steps of time and take a look at the old Delta on abright June evening, when the shadows of the elms are lengthening acrossthe grass. There are from fifty to a hundred students, and perhaps threeor four professors, watching the Harvard nine practise in preparation forits match with the formidable Lowell nine of Boston. Who is that slenderyouth at second base, --with the long nose and good-humored twinkle in hiseye, --who never allows a ball to pass by him? Will he ever become theDean of the Harvard Law School? And that tall, olive-complexioned fellowin the outfield, six feet two in his ball-shoes, --who would suppose thathe is destined to go to Congress and serve his country as Minister toSpain! There is another dark-eyed youth leaning against the fence andwatching the ball as it passes to and fro. Is he destined to becomeGovernor of Massachusetts? And that sturdy-looking first-baseman, --willhe enter the ministry and preach sermons in Appleton Chapel? These youngmen all live quiet, sensible lives, and trouble themselves littleconcerning class honors and secret societies. If they have acharacteristic in common it is that they always keep their mental balanceand never go to extremes; but neither they nor others have any suspicionof their several destinies. Could they return and fill their formerplaces on the ground, how strangely they would feel! But the grounditself is gone; their youth is gone, and the honors that have come tothem seem less important than the welfare of their families and kindred. 

Misdemeanors, great and small, on the part of the students were morecommon formerly than they have been in recent years, for the good reasonthat the chances of detection were very much less. Some of the practicaljokes were of a much too serious character. The college Bible wasabstracted from the Chapel and sent to Yale; the communion wine wasstolen; a paper bombshell was exploded behind a curtain in the Greekrecitation-room; and Professor Pierce discovered one morning that all hisblack-boards had been painted white. All the copies of Cooke's ChemicalPhysics suddenly disappeared one afternoon, and next morning the bestscholars in the Junior Class were obliged to say, "Not prepared. "

A society called the Med. Fac. Was chiefly responsible for theseperformances; but so secret was it in its membership and proceedings thatneither the college faculty nor the great majority of the students reallyknew whether there was such a society in existence or not. A judge of theUnited States Circuit Court, who had belonged to it in his time, was notaware that his own son was a member of it. 

Some of the members of this society turned out well, and others badly;but generally an inclination for such high pranks shows a levity ofnature that bodes ill for the future. A college class is a wonderfulstudy in human nature, from the time it enters until its members havearrived at forty or fifty years of age. There was one young man atHarvard in those days who was so evidently marked out by destiny for agreat public career that when he was elected to Congress in 1876 hisclassmates were only surprised because it seemed so natural that thisshould happen. Another was of so depraved a character that it seemed asif he was intended to illustrate the bad boy in a Sunday-school book. Hewas so untrustworthy that very soon no one was willing to associate withhim. He stole from his father, and, after graduating, went to prison forforgery and finally was killed by a tornado. There was still another, agreat fat fellow, who always seemed to be half asleep, and was veryshortly run over and killed by a locomotive. Yet if we could know thewhole truth in regard to these persons it might be difficult to decidehow much of their good and evil fortune was owing to themselves and howmuch to hereditary tendencies and early influences. The sad fact remainsthat it is much easier to spoil a bright boy than to educate a dull one. 

The undergraduates were too much absorbed in their own small affairs topay much attention to politics, even in those exciting times. For themost part there was no discrimination against either the Trojans orTyrians; but abolitionists were not quite so well liked as others, especially after the close of the war; and it was noticed that the sonsof pro-slavery families commonly seemed to have lacked the good moraltraining (and the respect for industry) which is youth's surestprotection against the pitfalls of life. The larger proportion ofsuspended students belonged to this class. 

During the war period Cambridge social life was regulated by a coterie often or twelve young ladies who had grown up together and who weregenerally known as the "Spree, "--not because they were given to romping, for none kept more strictly within the bounds of a decorous propriety, but because they were accustomed to go off together in the summer to theWhite Mountains or to some other rustic resort, where they were supposedto have a perfectly splendid time; and this they probably did, for itrequires cultivation and refinement of feeling to appreciate nature aswell as art. They decided what students and other young ladies should beinvited to the assemblies in Lyceum Hall, and they arranged their ownprivate entertainments over the heads of their fathers and mothers; andit should be added that they exercised their authority with a very goodgrace. They had their friends and admirers among the collegians, but noyoung man of good manners and pleasing address, and above all who was agood dancer, needed to beg for an invitation. The good dancers, however, were in a decided minority, and many who considered themselves so intheir own habitats found themselves much below the standard in Cambridge. 

Mrs. James Russell Lowell was one of the lady patronesses of theassemblies, and her husband sometimes came to them for an hour or sobefore escorting her home. He watched the performance with a poet's eyefor whatever is graceful and charming, but sometimes also with a humoroussmile playing upon his face. There were some very good dancers among theladies who skimmed the floor almost like swallows; but the finest waltzerin Cambridge or Boston was Theodore Colburn, who had graduated ten yearspreviously, and with the advantage of a youthful figure, had kept up thepastime ever since. The present writer has never seen anywhere anotherman who could waltz with such consummate ease and unconscious grace. Lowell's eyes followed him continually; but it is also said that Colburnwould willingly dispense with the talent for better success in hisprofession. Next to him comes the tall ball-player, already referred to, and it is delightful to see the skill with which he adapts his unusualheight to the most _petite_ damsel on the floor. Here the "Spree" isomnipotent, but it does not like Class Day, for then Boston and itssuburbs pour forth their torrent of beauty and fashion, and Cambridge forthe time being is left somewhat in the shade. 

Henry James in his "International Episode" speaks as if New York dancerswere the best in the world, and they are certainly more light-footed thanEnglish men and women; but a New York lady, with whom Mr. James is wellacquainted, says that Bostonians and Austrians are the finest dancers. The true Bostonian cultivates a sober reserve in his waltzing which, ifnot too serious, adds to the grace of his movement. Yet, when the germanis over, we remember the warning of the wealthy Corinthian who refusedhis daughter to the son of Tisander on the ground that he was too much ofa dancer and acrobat. 

 * * * * *

From 1840 to 1860 Harvard University practically stagnated. The worldabout it progressed, but the college remained unchanged. Its presidentswere excellent men, but they had lived too long under the academic shade. They lacked practical experience in the great world. There were fewlectures in the college course, and the recitations were a mere routine. The text-books on philosophical subjects were narrow and prejudiced. Modern languages were sadly neglected; and the tradition that a Frenchinstructor once entertained his class by telling them his dreams, if nottrue, was at least characteristic. The sons of wealthy Bostonians wereaccustomed to brag that they had gone through college without doing anyreal studying. To the college faculty politics only meant the success ofWebster and the great Whig party. The anti-slavery agitation wasconsidered inconvenient and therefore prejudicial. During the strugglefor free institutions in Kansas, the president of Harvard Collegeundertook to debate the question in a public meeting, but he displayedsuch lamentable ignorance that he was soon obliged to retire inconfusion. 

The war for the Union, however, waked up the slumbering university, as itdid all other institutions and persons. Rev. Thomas Hill was chosenpresident in 1861, and was the first anti-slavery president of thecollege since Josiah Quincy; and this of itself indicated that he was inaccord with the times, --had not set his face obstinately against them. Hewas not so practical a man as President Quincy, but he was one of thebest scholars in America. His administration has not been looked upon asa success, but he served to break the ice and to open the way for futurenavigation. He accepted the position with definite ideas of reform; buthe lacked skill in the adaptation of means to ends. He was determined toshow no favoritism to wealth and social position, and he went perhaps toofar in the opposite direction. One day when the workmen were digging thecellar of Gray's Hall, President Hill threw off his coat, seized ashovel, and used it vigorously for half an hour or more. This wasintended as an example to teach the students the dignity of labor; butthey did not understand it so. At the faculty meetings he carriedinformality of manner to an excess. He depended too much on personalinfluence, which, as George Washington said formerly, "cannot becomegovernment. " He wrote letters to the Sophomores exhorting them not tohaze the Freshmen, and, as a consequence, the Freshmen were hazed moreseverely than ever. Then he suspended the Sophomores in a wholesalemanner, many of them for slight offences. However, he stopped the foot-ball fights, and made the examinations much more strict than they hadbeen previously. He endeavored to inculcate the true spirit ofscholarship among the students, --not to study for rank but from a genuinelove of the subject. The opposition that his reforms excited made himunpopular, and Freshmen came to college so prejudiced against him thatall his kindness and good will were wasted upon them. 

"There goes the greatest man in this country, " said a fashionable Bostonyouth, one day in the spring of 1866. It was Louis Agassiz returning froma call on President Hill. Such a statement shows that the speakerbelonged to a class of people called Tories, in 1776, and who mightproperly be called so still. As a matter of fact, Agassiz had long sincepassed the meridian of his reputation, and his sun was now not far fromsetting. He had returned from his expedition to South America with avaluable collection of fishes and other scientific materials; but histheory of glaciers; which he went there to substantiate, had not beenproven. Darwin's "Origin of Species" had already swept his nicely-constructed plans of original types into the fire of futile speculation. Yet Agassiz was a great man in his way, and his importance wasuniversally recognized. He had given a vigorous and much-needed impetusto the study of geology in America, and as a compendium of all thedifferent branches of natural history there was nobody like him. In hislifelong single-minded devotion to science he had few equals and nosuperiors. He cared not for money except so far as it helped theadvancement of his studies. For many years Madam Agassiz taught a selectschool for young ladies (to which Emerson, among others, sent hisdaughters), in order to provide funds for her husband to carry on hiswork. It is to be feared that the Commonwealth of Massachusetts wasrather stingy to him. Edward Everett once made an eloquent address in hisbehalf to the legislature, but it had no effect. Louis Napoleon'smunificent offers could not induce him to return to Paris, for hebelieved that more important work was to be done in the new world, --which, by the way, he considered the oldest portion of the globe. 

In height and figure Agassiz was so much like Doctor Hill that when thetwo were together this was very noticeable. They were both broad-shouldered, deep-chested men, and of about the same height, with large, well-rounded heads; but Agassiz had an elastic French step, whereasDoctor Hill walked with something of a shuffle. One might even imagineAgassiz dancing a waltz. Lowell said of him that he was "emphatically aman, and that wherever he went he made a friend. " His broad foreheadseemed to smile upon you while he was talking, and from his simple-hearted and genial manners you felt that he would be a friend wheneveryou wanted one. He was the busiest and at the same time one of the mostaccessible persons in the university. 

On one occasion, happening to meet a number of students at the corner ofUniversity Building, one of them was bold enough to say to him: "Prof. Agassiz, would you be so good as to explain to us the difference betweenthe stone of this building and that of Boylston Hall? We know that theyare both granite, but they do not look alike. " Agassiz was delighted, andentertained them with a brief lecture on primeval rocks and the crust ofthe earth's surface. He told them that Boylston Hall was made of syenite;that most of the stone called granite in New England was syenite, and ifthey wanted to see genuine granite they should go to the tops of theWhite Mountains. Then looking at his watch he said: "Ah, I see I am late!Good day, my friends; and I hope we shall all meet again. " So off hewent, leaving each of his hearers with the embryonic germ of a scientificinterest in his mind. 

Longfellow tells in his diary how Agassiz came to him when his healthbroke down and wept. "I cannot work any longer, " he said; and when hecould not work he was miserable. The trouble that afflicted him wascongestion of the base of the brain, a disorder that is not caused sofrequently by overwork as by mental emotion. His cure by Dr. Edward H. Clarke, by the use of bromides and the application of ice, was considereda remarkable one at the time; but five years later the disorder returnedagain and cost him his life. 

He believed that the Laurentian Mountains, north of the St. LawrenceRiver, was the first land which showed itself above the waste of waterswith which the earth was originally surmounted. 

Perhaps the most picturesque figure on the college grounds was the oldGreek professor, Evangelinus Apostolides Sophocles; a genuine importationfrom Athens, whom the more imaginative sort of people liked to believewas descended from the Greek poet Sophocles of the Periclean age. He wasmuch too honest himself to give countenance to this rumor, and if youinquired of him concerning it, he would say that he should like very wellto believe it, and it was not impossible, although there were no surnamesin ancient Greece before the time of Constantine; he had not found anyevidence in favor of it. He was a short, thick-set man with a large headand white Medusa-like hair; but such an eye as his was never seen in anAnglo-Saxon face. It reminded you at once of Byron's Corsair, andsuggested contingencies such as find no place in quiet, law-abiding NewEngland, --the possibility of sudden and terrible concentration. Hisclothing had been long since out of fashion, and he always wore a fadedcloth cap, such as no student would dare to put on. He lived like ahermit in No. 3 Holworthy, where he prepared his own meals rather thanencounter strange faces at a boarding-house table. Once he invited thepresident of the college to supper; and the president went, not withoutsome misgivings as to what his entertainment might be. He found, however, a simple but well-served repast, including a French roll and a cup ofblack coffee with the grounds in it. The coffee loosened Sophocles'susually reticent tongue, and after that, as the president himselfexpressed it, they had a delightful conversation. Everybody respectedSophocles in spite of his eccentric mode of life, and the Freshmen wereas much afraid of him as if he had been the Minotaur of Crete. 

The reason for his economy did not become apparent until after his death. When he first came to the university he made friends with a gentleman inCambridge to whom he was much attached, but who, at the time we write of, had long since been dead. It was to support the daughters of his friend, who would have otherwise been obliged to earn their own living, that hesaved his money; and in his will he left them a competency of fiftythousand dollars or more. 

On one occasion a Freshman was sent to him to receive a privateadmonition for writing profane language on a settee; but the Freshmandenied the accusation. Sophocles's eyes twinkled. "Did you not, " said he, "write the letters d-a-m-n?" "No, " said the boy, laughing; "it must havebeen somebody else. " Sophocles laughed and said he would report the caseback to the college faculty. A few days later he stopped the youth in thecollege yard and, merely saying "I have had your private admonitionrevoked, " passed on. Professor Sophocles was right. If the Freshman hadtried to deceive him he would not have laughed but looked grave. 

The morning in April, 1861, after President Lincoln had issued his callfor 75, 000 troops, a Harvard Senior mentioned it to Sophocles, who saidto him: "What can the government accomplish with 75, 000 soldiers? It isgoing to take half a million of men to suppress this rebellion. "

He was a good instructor in his way, but dry and methodical. ProfessorGoodwin's recitations were much more interesting. Sophocles did notcredit the tradition of Homer's wandering about blind and poor to recitehis two great epics. He believed that Homer was a prince, or even a king, like the psalmist David, and asserted that this could be proved or atleast rendered probable by internal evidence. This much is morallycertain, that if Homer became blind it must have been after middle life. To describe ancient battle-scenes so vividly he must have taken part inthem; and his knowledge of anatomy is very remarkable. He does not makesuch mistakes in that line as bringing Desdemona to life after she hasbeen smothered. 

How can we do justice to such a great-hearted man as Dr. Andrew P. Peabody? He was not intended by nature for a revolutionary character, andin that sense he was unsuited, like Everett, for the time in which helived. If he had been chosen president of the university after theresignation of Doctor Hill, as George S. Hillard and other prominentgraduates desired, the great broadening and liberalizing of theuniversity, which has taken place since, would have been deferred for thenext fifteen years. He had little sympathy with the anti-slaverymovement, and was decidedly opposed to the religious liberalism of histime; but Doctor Peabody's interest lay in the salvation of human souls, and in this direction he had no equal. He felt a personal regard in everyhuman being with whom he was acquainted, and this seemed more importantto him than abstract schemes for the improvement of the race in general. He was a man of peace and wished all others to be at peace; the confusionand irritation that accompanies reform was most disagreeable to him. Manya Harvard student who trembled on the brink of an abyss, far from homeand left to his own devices, afterwards looked back to Doctor Peabody'shelping hand as to the hand of a beneficent providence held out to savehim from destruction; and those whom he was unable to save thought of himno less gratefully. 

In the autumn of 1864 a strange sort of student joined the Sophomoreclass. He soon proved that he was one of the best scholars in it; but tojudge from his recitations it was long since he had been to school orreceived any regular instruction. He lived chiefly on bread and milk, andseemed not to have learned how to take exercise. It is feared that hesuffered much from loneliness in that busy hive, where everyone has somany small affairs of his own to attend to. Just before the annualexaminations he was seized with brain-fever and died. Doctor Peabodyconducted the funeral services at the boarding-house of the unfortunateyouth, and the plainness of the surroundings heightened the eloquence ofhis address. His prayer on that occasion was so much above the averagecharacter of his religious discourses that it seemed to come from asecret fountain of the man's nature, which could only be drawn upon forgreat occasions. 

With all his tenderness of feeling Doctor Peabody could be a veryvigorous debater. He once carried on a newspaper argument with Rev. Dr. Minor, of Boston, on the temperance question, in which he took the groundthat drinking wine and beer did not necessarily lead to intemperance, --which, rightly considered, indicates a lack of self-control; and he madethis point in what his friends, at least, considered a satisfactory andconclusive manner. 

It is pleasant to think that such a man should have met with unusualprosperity in his old age--and the person to whom he owed thisimprovement of his affairs was Nathaniel Thayer, of Boston. Mr. Thayertook charge of Doctor Peabody's property and trebled or quadrupled it invalue. Mr. Thayer was very fond of doing such kindnesses to his friends, especially to clergymen. He liked the society of clergymen, and certainlyin this he showed excellent judgment. During the last ten years of hislife he spent his summers at the Isles of Shoals, and generally with oneor more reverend gentlemen in his company. He was besides a mostmunificent patron of the university. He provided the means for Agassiz togo on his expedition to South America, and in conjunction with DoctorHill reëstablished commons for the students--a reform, as he once stated, as advantageous to their morals as to their purses. He afterwards builtthe dormitory which is known by his name. He was so kind-hearted, that hewas said to have given up banking because he was not hard-hearted enoughfor the profession. After his death his family received letters uponletters from persons of whom they had never heard, but who wished toexpress their gratitude for his generosity. 

Prof. Benjamin Pierce, the mathematician, was rather an awe-inspiringfigure as he strolled through the college grounds, recognizing few andspeaking to none--apparently oblivious to everything except the internallife which he led in the "functions of curves" and "celestial mechanics. "He was a fine-looking man, with his ashen-gray hair and beard, his widebrow and features more than usually regular. When he was observedconversing with President Hill the fine scholars shook their heads wiselyas if something remarkable was taking place. The president had said inone of his addresses to the Freshmen that it would require a wholegeneration to utilize Professor Pierce's discoveries in algebra; and Ibelieve, at last accounts, they have not been utilized yet. He wouldoften be seen in the horse-cars making figures on scraps of paper, whichhe carried with him for the purpose, oblivious as ever to what was takingplace about him. To "have a head like old Benny Pierce" has become aproverb in Boston and Cambridge. 

Neither did he lack independence of character. In his later years he notunfrequently attended the meetings of the Radical Club, or ChestnutStreet Club, at Mrs. John T. Sargent's, in Boston, a place looked uponwith pious horror by good Doctor Peabody, and equally discredited by theyoung positivists whom President Eliot had introduced in the collegefaculty. His remarks on such occasions were fresh, original, and veryinteresting; and once he brought down the house with laughter andapplause by explaining the mental process which prevented him fromappreciating a joke until after all others had done so. This naiveconfession made his audience like him. 

It is a curious geneological fact that Professor Pierce had a son namedafter him who would seem to have been born in mirth, to have lived incomedy, and died in a jest. He was a college Yorick who produced roars oflaughter in the Dicky and Hasty Pudding clubs. Another son, calledaffectionately by the students "Jimmy Mills, " was also noted for his wit, and much respected as an admirable instructor. 

Doctor Holmes says, in Parson Turell's Legacy:

 "Know old Cambridge? Hope you do, -- Born there? Don't say so! I was too. Born in a house with a gambrel-roof, -- Standing still, if you must have proof. --

 * * * * *

 --Nicest place that ever was seen, -- Colleges red and Common green, Sidewalks brownish with trees between. "

This describes Cambridge as it was forty years since. In spite of itstimid conservatism and rather donnish society, as Professor Child termedit, it was one of the pleasantest places to live in on this side theAtlantic. It was a community of a refined and elegant industry, in whichevery one had a definite work to do, and seemed to be exactly fitted tohis or her place, --not without some great figures, too, to give itexceptional interest. There was peace and repose under the academicshade, and the obliviousness of its inhabitants to the outside world onlyrendered this more restful. 

How changed is it now! The old Holmes house has been long since pulleddown to make way for the new Law-School building. Red-gravel pathshave been replaced by brick sidewalks; huge buildings rise beforethe eye; electric cars whiz in every direction; a tall, bristlingiron fence surrounds the college yard; and an enormous clock on thetower of Memorial Hall detonates the hours in a manner which is by nomeans conducive to the sleep of the just and the rest of the weary. Theelderly graduate, returning to the dreamland of his youth, finds that ithas actually become a dreamland and still exists only in his imagination. 

The university has broadened and extended itself wonderfully under thepresent management, but the simple classic charm of the olden time isgone forever. 

FRANCIS J. CHILD

Fifty years ago it was the fashion at Harvard, as well as at othercolleges, for professors to cultivate an austere dignity of manner forthe purpose of preserving order and decorum in the recitation-room; butthis frequently resulted in having the opposite effect and served as atemptation to the students to play practical jokes on their instructors. The habitual dryness of the college exercises in Latin, Greek, andmathematics became still more wearisome from the manner in which thesewere conducted. The youthful mind thirsting for knowledge found the roadto it for the most part a dull and dreary pilgrimage. 

Professor Francis J. Child would seem to have been the first to breakdown this barrier and establish more friendly relations with his classes. He was naturally well adapted to this. Perfectly frank and fearless inhis dealings with all men, he hated unnecessary conventionality, and atthe same time possessed the rare art of preserving his dignity whileassociating with his subordinates on friendly terms. Always kindly andeven sympathetic to the worst scapegraces in the division, he couldassert the superiority of his position with a quickness that oftenstartled those who were inclined to impose on him. He did not call outthe names of his class as if they were exceptions to a rule in Latingrammar, but addressed each one of them as if he felt a personal interestin the man; so that they felt encouraged to speak out what they knew andeven remembered their lessons so much the better. As a consequence he wasuniversally respected, and there were many who felt an affection for himsuch as he could never have imagined. His cordial manner was sufficientof itself to make his instruction effective. 

Francis J. Child was the first scholar in his class at the Boston LatinSchool, and afterwards at Harvard. That first scholars do not come tomuch good in the world is an illusion of the envious. It is true thatthey sometimes break down their health by too strenuous an effort, butthis may happen to an ambitious person in any undertaking. In ProfessorChild's case, as in many another, it proved the making of his fortune, for which he did not possess any exceptional advantages. Being of anamiable disposition and good address, he was offered a tutorship ongraduation, and rose from one position in the university to another untilhe became the first authority on the English language in America. Hiswhole life was spent at Harvard College, with the exception of a fewshort expeditions to Europe; and his influence there steadily increaseduntil it became a power that was universally recognized. 

He was a short, thick-set man, like Sophocles, but as different aspossible in general aspect. Sophocles was always slow and measured, butProfessor Child was quick and lively in all his movements; and his facewore an habitual cheerfulness which plainly showed the sunny spiritwithin. Most characteristic in his appearance was the short curly yellowhair, so light in color that when it changed with age, his friendsscarcely noticed the difference. 

During his academic years he created a sensation by declining to join theHasty Pudding Club. This was looked upon as a piece of inordinate self-conceit; whereas, the true reason for it was that he had little money andpreferred to spend it in going to the theatre. He said afterwards, inregard to this, that he was not sorry to have done it, for "the studentsplaced too much importance on such matters. "

Through his interest in fine acting, he became one of the best judges oforatory, and it was always interesting to listen to him on that subject. He considered Wendell Phillips the perfection of form and delivery, andsometimes very brilliant, but much too rash in his statements. Everettwas also good, but lacked warmth and earnestness. Choate was purely alegal pleader, and outside of the court-room not very effective. Hethought Webster one of the greatest of orators, fully equal to Cicero;but they both lacked the poetical element. Sumner's sentences were floridand his delivery rather mechanical, but he made a strong impression owingto the evident purity of his motives. The general public, however, hadbecome suspicious of oratory, so that it was no longer as serviceable asformerly. 

"After all, " he would say, "the main point for a speaker is to have agood cause. Then, if he is thoroughly in earnest, we enjoy hearing him. "He once illustrated his subject by the story of a Union general who triedto rally the fugitives at Pittsburg Landing, and said, waving his swordin the air: "In the name of the Declaration of Independence, I command, Iexhort you, " etc. , while a private soldier leaning against a tree, with aquid of tobacco in his mouth, remarked, "That man can make a goodspeech, " but showed no intentions of moving. This summary, however, givesno adequate idea of the brightness of Professor Child's conversation. Hewas an animated talker, full of wit and originality. 

When the classes at Harvard were smaller than at present, he wouldarrange them in University Hall for declamation, so as to cover as muchspace as possible. They did not understand this until he said, "Now wehave a larger audience, if not more numerous;" and this placed every onein the best of humor. 

Besides his regular college duties, Professor Child had three distinctinterests to which he devoted himself in leisure hours with all theenergy of an ardent nature. The first of these, editing a completeedition of the old English ballads, was the labor of his life, and withit his name will always be associated, for it is a work that can neitherbe superseded nor excelled. He was the first to arouse English scholarsto the importance of this, as may be read in the dedication of a partialedition taken from the Percy manuscripts and published in London in 1861. He recognized in them the true foundation of the finest literature of themodern world, and he considered them so much the better from the factthat they were not composed to be printed, but to be recited or sung. Matthew Arnold wrote in a letter from America: "After lecturing atTaunton, I came to Boston with Professor Child of Harvard, a verypleasant man, who is a great authority on ballad poetry, " very warmpraise, considering the source whence it came. Late in life ProfessorChild edited separate versions in modern English of some curious oldballads, and sent them as Christmas presents to his friends. It is notsurprising that he should have been interested as well in the rude songsof the British sailors, which he heard on crossing the ocean. He wasmightily amused at their simple refrain:

 "Haul in the bowlin', long-tailed bowlin', Haul in the bowlin' Kitty, O, my darlin'. "

"That rude couplet, " he said, "contains all the original elements ofpoetry. Firstly, the anthropomorphic element; the sailor imagines hisbowline as if it had life. Secondly, the humorous element, for thebowline is all tail. Thirdly, the reflective element; the monotonousmotion makes him think of home, --of his wife or sweetheart, --and he endsthe second line with 'Kitty, O, my darlin'. ' I like such primitive versesmuch better than the 'Pike County Ballads, ' a mixture of sentiment andprofanity. "

Then he went on to say: "I want my children, when they grow up, to readthe classics. My boy will go to college, of course; and he will translateHomer and Virgil, and Horace, --I think very highly of Horace; but theliteral meaning is a different thing from understanding the poetry. Thenmy daughters will learn French and German, and I shall expect them toread Schiller and Goethe, Moliere and Racine, as well as Shakespeare andMilton. After that they can read what they like, but they will have astandard by which to judge other authors. " He was afraid that thestudents wasted too much time in painting play-bills and other similarexercises of ingenuity, which lead to nothing in the end. 

He gave some excellent advice to a young lady who was about visitingEurope for the first time, who doubted if she could properly appreciatethe works of art and other fine things that she would be called upon toadmire. "Don't be afraid of that, " said Professor Child; "you willprobably like best just those sights which you do not expect to; but ifyou do not like them, say so, and let that be the end of it. Now, I am sounfortunate as not to appreciate Michel Angelo. His great horned Moses isnothing more to me than a Silenus in a garden. The fact does not troubleme much, for I find enough to interest me as it is, and I can enjoy lifewithout the Moses. "

After mentioning a number of desirable expeditions, he added: "You willgo to Dresden, of course, to see Raphael's Madonna and Titian's 'TributeMoney'; and then there are the Green Vaults. I have known the GreenVaults to have an excellent effect on some ladies of my acquaintance. They did not care one-quarter as much for a diamond ring as they didbefore they went into the Green Vaults. You will see a jewelled fireplacethere which is worth more than all I own in the world. " The young ladylooked, however, as if it would take more than the Green Vaults to cureher love for jewelry. 

 * * * * *

Professor Child's second important interest was politics, and as a rulehe much preferred talking on this to literary subjects. 

Josiah Quincy was the most distinguished president that Harvard Collegehas had, unless we except President Eliot; and his admirers have beenaccustomed to refer to his administration as "Consule Planco. " Hispolitics did not differ widely from those of John Quincy Adams, who wasthe earliest statesman of the anti-slavery struggle, and a true hero inhis way. After Quincy, the presidents of the university became more andmore conservative, until Felton, who was a pronounced pro-slavery Whig, and even attempted to defend the invasion of Kansas in a public meeting. The professors and tutors naturally followed in the train of thepresident, while a majority of the sons of wealthy men among theundergraduates always took the southern side. The son of an abolitionistwho wished to go through Harvard in those days found it a penitentialpilgrimage. He was certain to suffer an extra amount of hazing, and toendure a kind of social ostracism throughout the course. 

For many years before the election of Lincoln, Professors Child, Lowell, and Jennison were the only pronounced anti-slavery members of thefaculty; and this left Francis J. Child to hear the brunt of it almostalone, for Lowell's connection with the university was semi-detached, andalthough he was always prepared to face the enemy in an honest argument, he was not often on the ground to do so. 

Now that the most potent cause of political agitation resides in the far-off problem of the Philippine Islands it is difficult to realize thepopular excitement of those times, when both parties believed that thevery existence of the nation depended on the result of the elections. Professor Child was not the least of an alarmist, and deprecated allunnecessary controversy. In 1861 he even cautioned Wendell PhillipsGarrison against introducing too strong an appeal for emancipation in hiscommencement address; but he was as firm as a granite rock on anyquestion of principle, and when he considered a protest in order he wascertain to make one. He did not trust party newspapers for hisinformation, but obtained it from persons who were in a position to know, and his facts were so well supported by the quick sallies of his wit thatthose who interfered with him once rarely attempted it again. Moreover, as we all see now, he had the right on his side. 

[Illustration: PROFESSOR FRANCIS J. CHILD]

He was proud of having voted twice for Abraham Lincoln. What he thoughtof John Brown, at the time of the Harper's Ferry raid, is uncertain; butmany years later, when one of his friends published a small book invindication of Brown against the attack of Lincoln's two secretaries, hewrote to him:

"I congratulate you on the success of your statement, which I have readwith very great interest. John Brown was like a star and still shines inthe firmament. We could not have done without him. "

He considered Governor Andrew's approbation of John Brown as moreimportant than anything that would be written about him in the future. 

He did not trouble himself much in regard to Lincoln's second election, for he saw that it was a foregone conclusion; but after Andrew Johnson'streachery in 1866, he felt there was a need of unusual exertion. When theNovember elections arrived, he told his classes: "Next Tuesday I shallhave to serve my country and there will be no recitations. " When Tuesdaycame we found him on the sidewalk distributing Republican ballots andsoliciting votes; and there he remained until the polls closed in theafternoon. He had little patience with educated men who neglected theirpolitical duties. "Why are you discouraged?" he would ask. "Times willchange. Remember the Free-soil movement!" He attended caucuses asregularly as the meetings of the faculty, and served as a delegate to anumber of conventions. More than once he aroused the good citizens ofCambridge to the danger of insidious plots by low demagogues against thepublic welfare. The poet Longfellow took notice of this and spoke of himas an invaluable man. 

On another occasion Professor Child was discoursing to his class onoratory and mentioned the fact that Webster and Choate both came fromDartmouth; that Wendell Phillips graduated at Harvard, but the universityhad not seen much of him since. At the mention of Wendell Phillips someof the boys from pro-slavery families began to sneer. Professor Childraised himself up and said determinedly, "Wendell Phillips is as good anorator as either of them!" He was chagrined, however, at Phillips's laterpublic course, --his support of Socialism and General Butler. Neither didhe like Phillips's Phi Beta Kappa oration, in which he advocated thedagger and dynamite for tyrants. "A tyrant, " said Professor Child, "iswhat anyone chooses to imagine. My hired man may consider me a tyrant andblow me up according to Mr. Phillips's principle. " The assassins ofGarfield and McKinley evidently supposed that they were ridding the earthof two of the worst tyrants that ever existed. Professor Child wasexceptionally liberal. He even supported Woman Suffrage for a time, buthe held Socialism in a kind of holy horror, --such as one feels of aperson who is always making blunders. 

In 1878 Professor Child and some other political reformers were electedto a Congressional convention and went with the hope of securing acandidate who would represent the educated classes, --the incumbent atthat time being a shoe manufacturer. They argued and worked hard all day, but without success. Late in the afternoon the shoe manufacturer, aworthy man but very ignorant, who afterwards became governor of theState, was renominated; and when it was proposed to make the nominationunanimous Professor Child called out such an emphatic No that it seemedto shake the whole assembly. Not content with this he entered a protestnext day in the Boston _Advertiser_. He was so much used up by theexertion that he was unable to attend to his classes. Some years later heenjoyed the satisfaction of seeing his candidate, Theodore Lyman, nominated and elected. 

Emerson once delivered a lecture in Boston on university life in which hemade the rather bold statement that "in the course of twenty years therank-list is likely to become inverted. " One of Professor Child's classparaphrased this lecture for a theme, and against the sentence abovequoted the Professor wrote: "A statement frequently made, but what is thefact?" I do not think he liked Emerson quite so well after this, and hecan hardly be blamed for feeling so. It was not only a disparagement ofgood scholarship but like a personal slight upon himself. That Emersongraduated near the foot of his class ought not to prove that an idlecollege life is a sign of genius. 

Professor Child talked freely in regard to the meetings of the collegefaculty, for he believed that graduates had a right to know about them. He quoted some amusing anecdotes of a certain professor who led theopposition against President Eliot and praised the dignified manner withwhich Eliot regarded him. In 1879 he said one day:

"We are in the half-way stage between a college and a university, andthere is consequently great confusion. If we once became a university, pure and simple, all that would be over; but the difficulty is that thematerial which comes to us is so poor. I do not mean that the young menare lacking in intelligence, but the great majority of them do not bracethemselves to the work. As Doctor Hedge says, the heart of the college isin the boating and ball-playing and not in its studies. "

His third occupation and chief recreation was his rose-garden. The wholespace between his front piazza and Kirkland Street was filled with rose-bushes which he tended himself, from the first loosening of the earth inspring until the straw sheaf-caps were tied about them in November. Whatmore delightful occupation for a scholar than working in a rose-garden!There his friends were most likely to find him in suitable weather, andwhen June came they were sure to receive a share of the bountifulblossoms; nor did he ever forget the sick and suffering. 

He was greatly interested to hear of a German doctor at Munich who had arose-garden with more than a hundred varieties in it. "I should like toknow that man, " he said; "wouldn't we have a good talk together?" Hecomplained that although everybody liked roses few were sufficientlyinterested in them to distinguish the different kinds. Naturally rose-bugs were his special detestation. "Saving your presence, " he said toPresident Felton's daughter, "I will crush this insect;" to which sheaptly replied, "I certainly would not have my presence save him. " When heheard of the Buffalo-bug he exclaimed: "Are we going to have another pestto contend with? I think it is a serious question whether the insectworld is not going to get the better of us. "

After his painful death at the Massachusetts Hospital in September, 1896, the president and fellows of the university voted to set apart littleHolden Chapel, the oldest building on the college grounds, and yet one ofthe most dignified, for an English library dedicated to the memory ofFrancis J. Child. Such an honor had never been decreed for president orprofessor before; and it gives him the distinction that we all feel hedeserved. It is much more appropriate to him, and satisfactory than amarble statue in Saunders Theatre would have been, or a stained-glasswindow in Memorial Hall. Yet his presence still lingers in the memory ofhis friends, like the fragrance of his own roses, after the petals havefallen from their stems. 

LONGFELLOW

It has been estimated that there were four hundred poets in England inthe time of Shakespeare, and in the century during which Dante livedEurope fairly swarmed with poets, many of them of high excellence. Frederick II. Of Germany and Richard I. Of England were both good poets, and were as proud of their verses as they were of their militaryexploits. Frederick II. May be said to have founded the vernacular inwhich Dante wrote; and Longfellow rendered into English a poem ofRichard's which he composed during his cruel imprisonment in Austria. Aknight who could not compose a song and sing it to the guitar was as rareas a modern gentleman of fashion who cannot play golf. When James RussellLowell resigned the chair of poetry at Harvard no one could be found whocould exactly fill his place, and it was much the same at Oxford afterMatthew Arnold retired. 

The difference between then and now would seem to reside in the fact, that poetry is more easily remembered than prose. From the time of Homeruntil long after the invention of printing, not only were ballad-singersand harpers in good demand, but the recital of poetry was also a favoritemeans of livelihood to indigent scholars and others, who wandered aboutlike the minstrels. The "article, " as Tom Moore called it, was in activerequest. Poetry was recited in the camp of Alexander, in the Roman baths, in the castles on the Rhine, and English hostelries. Now it is replacedby novel-reading, and there are few who know how much pleasure can bederived on a winter's evening by impromptu poetic recitations. If apopular interest in poetry should revive again, I have no doubt thathundreds of poets would spring up, as it were, out of the ground and fillthe air with their pleasant harmonies. The editor of the _Atlantic_informed Professor Child that he had a whole barrelful of poetry in hishouse, much of it excellent, but that there was no use he could make ofit. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was as irrepressible a rhymer as John Wattshimself, and fortunately he had a father who recognized the value of histalent and assisted him in a judicious manner, instead of placingobstacles in his way, as the father of Watts is supposed to have done. The account that Rev. Samuel Longfellow has given us of the youth of hisbrother is highly instructive, and ought to be of service to all youngmen who fancy they are destined by nature for a poetic career. He tellsus how Henry published his first poem in the Portland _Gazette_, andhow his boyish exultation was dashed with cold water the same evening byJudge ----, who said of it in his presence: "Stiff, remarkably stiff, andall the figures are borrowed. "

The "Fight at Lovell's Pond" would not have been a remarkable poem for ayouth of nineteen, but it showed very good promise for the age at whichit was written. Few boys at that age can write anything that will hangtogether as a poem. Young Longfellow was a better poet at thirteen thanhis father's friend, the Judge, was a critic. His verses were by no meansstiff, but on the contrary showed indications of that natural grace andfacility of expression for which he became afterwards distinguished. Asfor the originality of his comparisons it is doubtful also if the Judgecould have proved his point on that question. They were original toHenry, if to nobody else. 

Fortunately for Henry he was also a fine scholar. The following year sawhim enter as a Freshman at Bowdoin College, which was equal to enteringHarvard at the age of fifteen. Look out for the youngest members of acollege class! They may not distinguish themselves at the university, butthey are the ones who, if they live, outstrip all others. But Longfellowdid distinguish himself. In his Junior year he composed seventeen poemswhich were published, then and afterwards, in the _United StatesLiterary Gazette_, where his name appeared beside that of WilliamCullen Bryant. This was quite exceptional in the history of Americanliterature, and as the editor of the _Literary Gazette_ stated it:"A young tree which puts forth so many blossoms is likely to bear goodfruits. "

With the close of his college course came the important question ofLongfellow's future occupation. His father, with good practical judgment, foresaw that poetry alone would not serve to make his son self-supportingand independent; but the boy hated to give this up for a more prosaicemployment. While the discussion was going on between them, theauthorities of Bowdoin solved the problem for them both by offering youngLongfellow a professorship of modern languages on condition that he wouldspend two years in Europe preparing himself for the position. He hadgraduated fourth in his class. 

Does not this prove the advantage of good scholarship? Was the rank listinverted in Longfellow's case? I think not. He had lived a virtuous andindustrious life, not studying for rank or honor, but because he enjoyeddoing what was right and fit for a young man to do; and now the rewardhad come to him, like the sun breaking through the clouds which seemed toobscure his future prospects. Still, there was a hard road before him. Itis very pleasant to travel rapidly through foreign countries, seeing thebest that is in them and to return home with a multitude of freshimpressions; but living and working a long time in another country seemstoo much like exile. The loneliness of the situation becomes a wearyburden, and it is dangerous from its very loneliness. Many have died orlost their health under such conditions (in fact Longfellow came nearlosing his life from Roman fever), and he wrote from Paris: "Here one cankeep evil at a distance as well as elsewhere, though, to be sure, temptations are multiplied a thousand-fold if he is willing to enter intothem. " A young man's first experience in London or Paris is a dangeroussense of freedom; for all the customary restraints of his daily life havebeen removed. 

Mrs. Stowe says of her beautiful character, "Eva St. Clair, " that all badinfluences rolled off from her like dew from a cabbage leaf, and it wasthe same with Longfellow throughout. He lived in France, Spain, Italy, and Germany, and then returned to Portland, the same true American aswhen he left there, without foreign ways or modes of thinking, and withno more than the slight aroma of a foreign air upon him. Longfellow andhis whole family were natural cosmopolitans. There was nothing of theproverbial Yankee in their composition. 

Whittier was a Quaker by creed, but he was also much of a Yankee in styleand manner. Emerson looked like a Yankee, and possessed the cool Yankeeshrewdness. Lowell's "Biglow Papers" testified to the fundamental Yankee;but the Longfellows were endowed with a peculiar refinement and puritywhich seemed to distinguish them as much in Cambridge or London as it didin Portland, where there has always been a rather superior sort ofsociety. It was like French refinement without being Gallic. No wonderthat a famous poet should emanate from such a family. 

What we notice especially in the Longfellow Letters during this Europeansojourn is the admonition of Henry's father, that German literature wasmore important than Italian, --and the poet was always largely influencedby this afterwards; that Henry did not find Paris particularlyattractive, and on the whole preferred the Spanish character to theFrench on account of its deeper under-currents; that he did not seem torealize the danger that menaced him from Spanish brigands, in spite ofthe black crosses by the roadside; and that he was not vividly impressedby the famous works of art in the Louvre gallery. He only notices thatone of Correggio's figures resembles a young lady in Portland. 

Longfellow would seem to have been always the same in regard to hisappreciation of art. When he was in Italy, in 1869, he visited all thepicture galleries and evidently enjoyed doing so; but it was easy to seethat his brother, Rev. Samuel Longfellow, felt a much livelier interestin the subject than he did; and injured frescos or mutilated statues, like the Torso of the Belvidere, were objects of aversion to him. Poetsand musical composers see more with their ears than they do with theireyes. 

The single work of art that attracted him strongly at this time was astatue of Venus, by Canova, which he compares to the Venus de' Medici, and his brother Samuel remarks that he was always more attracted bysculpture than painting. Canova was a genius very similar to Longfellowhimself, as nearly as an Italian could be made to match an American, andhe was then at the height of his reputation. 

In 1829 Longfellow returned to Portland and was immediately chosen aprofessor at Bowdoin College, where he remained for the next seven years. When, in 1836, Professor Ticknor retired from his position as instructorof modern languages at Harvard, his place was offered to Longfellow andaccepted. This brought him into the literary centre of New England, andone of the first acquaintances he made there was Charles Sumner, who waslecturing before the Harvard Law-School. 

The friendship between these two great men commenced at once and onlyceased at Sumner's death in 1874, when Longfellow wrote one of the finestof his shorter poems in tribute to Sumner's memory. It was as poetic afriendship as that between Emerson and Carlyle; but whereas Emerson andCarlyle had differences of opinion, Sumner and Longfellow were always ofone mind. When Sumner made his Fanueil Hall speech against the fugitiveslave law, which was simply fighting revolution with revolution, andHarvard College and the whole of Cambridge turned against him, Longfellowstood firm; and it may be suspected that he had many an unpleasantdiscussion with his aristocratic acquaintances on this point. It wasconsidered bad enough to support Garrison, but supporting Sumner was agreat deal worse, for Sumner was an orator who wielded a power onlyinferior to Webster. Fortunately for Longfellow, his connection with theuniversity ceased not long after Sumner's election to the Senate; and theunpleasantness of his position may have been the leading cause of hisretirement. 

Sumner was the best friend Longfellow had, and perhaps the best that hecould have had. There was Emerson, of course, and Longfellow was alwayson friendly terms with him; but Emerson had a habit of catechising hiscompanions which some of them did not altogether like; and this may havebeen the case with Longfellow, for they never became very intimate. Sumner, on the contrary, had always a large stock of information todispense, not only concerning American affairs but those of othernations, in which Longfellow never lost his interest. More important tohim even than this is the fact that Sumner's statements were always to betrusted. It may be surmised that it was not so much similarity of opinionas the purity of their motives that brought the poet and statesmantogether. 

As soon as Sumner returned from Washington, in spring or summer, he wouldgo out to call on Longfellow; and it was a pleasant sight to see themwalking together on a June evening beneath the overarching elms ofhistoric Brattle Street. They were a pair of majestic-looking men; andthough Longfellow was nearly a head shorter than Sumner, his broadshoulders gave him an appearance of strength, as his capacious head andstrong, finely cut features evidently denoted an exceptional intellect. He wore his hair poetically long, almost to his coat collar; and yetthere was not the slightest air of the Bohemian about him. They seemed tobe oblivious of everything except their conversation; and if this couldhave been recorded it might prove to be as interesting as the poetry ofthe one and the orations of the other. They were evidently talking ongreat subjects, and the earnestness on Sumner's face was reflected onLongfellow's as in a mirror. 

Hawthorne was a classmate of Longfellow, and in the biography of thelatter there are a number of letters from one to the other which arealways friendly, --but never more than that on Hawthorne's side, --with oneexception, where he thanks Longfellow for a complimentary review of"Twice-Told Tales" in the _North American_. At that time the_North American_ was considered an authority which could make orunmake an author's reputation; and Longfellow may be said to have openedthe door for Hawthorne into the great world. Hawthorne's friendship forPresident Pierce proved an advantage to him financially, but it alsobecame a barrier between him and the other literary men of his time. Ofcourse he believed what his friend Pierce told him concerning publicaffairs, and when he found that his other friends had not the same faithin Pierce's veracity he became more strongly a partisan of the pro-slavery cause on that account. Longfellow frankly admitted that he didnot understand Hawthorne, and he did not believe that anyone at BowdoinCollege understood him. He was the most secretive man that he ever knew;but so far as genius was concerned, he believed that Hawthorne wouldoutlive every other writer of his time. He had the will of a greatconqueror. 

Goethe has been called the pampered child of genius, of fortune, and themuse; but if Goethe had greater celebrity he never enjoyed half theworldly prosperity of Longfellow. While Emerson was earning a hardlivelihood by lecturing in the West, and Whittier was dwelling in acountry farm-house, Longfellow occupied one of the most desirableresidences in or about Boston, and had all the means at his command thata modest man could wish for. The Craigie House was, and still remains, the finest residence in Cambridge, --"formerly the head-quarters ofWashington, and afterwards of the Muses. " Good architecture never becomesantiquated, and the Craigie House is not only spacious within, butdignified without. 

One could best realize Longfellow's opulence by walking through hislibrary adjacent to the eastern piazza, and gazing at the magnificenteditions of foreign authors which had been presented to him by hisfriends and admirers; especially the fine set of Chateaubriand's works, in all respects worthy of a royal collection. There is no ornament in ahouse that testifies to the quality of the owner like a handsome library. 

Byron would seem to have been the only other poet that has enjoyed suchprosperity, although Bryant, as editor of a popular newspaper, may haveapproached it closely; but a city house, with windows on only two sides, is not like a handsome suburban residence. Longfellow could look acrossthe Cambridge marshes and see the sunsets reflected in the water of theCharles River. 

Here he lived from 1843, when he married Miss Appleton, a daughter of oneof the wealthiest merchant-bankers of Boston, until his death bypneumonia in March, 1882. The situation seemed suited to him, and healways remained a true poet and devoted to the muses:

 Integer vitae scelerisque purus. 

He did not believe in a luxurious life except so far as luxury added torefinement, and everything in the way of fashionable show was verydistasteful to him. His brother Samuel once said, "I cannot imagineanything more disagreeable than to ride in a public procession;" and thetwo men were more alike than brothers often are. We notice in the poet'sdiary that he abstains from going to a certain dinner in Boston for fearof being called upon to make a speech. Craigie House gave Longfellow theopportunity in which he most delighted, --of entertaining his friends anddistinguished foreign guests in a handsome manner; but conventionaldinner parties, with their fourteen plates half surrounded by wine-glasses, were not often seen there. He much preferred a smaller number ofguests with the larger freedom of discourse which accompanies a selectgathering. Many such occasions are referred to in his diary, --as if hedid not wish to forget them. 

He was the finest host and story-teller in the country. His genialcourtesy was simply another expression of that mental grace which madehis reputation as a poet, and his manner of reciting an incident, otherwise trivial, would give it the same additional quality as in hisverses on Springfield Arsenal and the crooked Songo River, which withoutLongfellow would be little or nothing. Then his fund of information waswhat might be expected from a man who had lived in all the countries ofwestern Europe. 

He had humble and unfortunate friends whom he seemed to think as much ofas though they were distinguished. He recognized fine traits ofcharacter, perhaps real greatness of character, in out-of-the-wayplaces, --men whose chief happiness was their acquaintance withLongfellow. It was something much better than charity; and ProfessorChild spoke of it on the day of Emerson's funeral as the finest flower inthe poet's wreath. 

Longfellow was one of the kindest friends that the Hungarian exiles foundwhen they came to Boston in 1852. Longfellow helped Kossuth, subscribedto Kalapka's riding-school, and entertained a number of them at hishouse. Afterwards, when one of the exiles set up a business in Hungarianwines, Longfellow made a large purchase of him, which he spoke of twentyyears later with much satisfaction. He liked Tokay, and also the whitewine of Capri, which he regretted could not be obtained in America. 

Those who supposed that Longfellow was easily imposed upon made a greatmistake. He had the reputation among his publishers of understandingbusiness affairs better than any author in New England; but he was almosttoo kind-hearted. Somewhere about 1859 a photographer made an excellentpicture of his daughters--indeed, it was a charming group--and the manbegged Mr. Longfellow for permission to sell copies of it as it would beof great advantage to him. Longfellow complied and the consequence wasthat in 1860 one could hardly open a photograph album anywhere withoutfinding Longfellow's daughters in it. Then a vulgar story originated thatthe youngest daughter had only one arm, because her left arm was hiddenbehind her sister. It is to be hoped that Longfellow never heard of this, for if he did it must have caused him a good deal of pain, in return forhis kindness; but that is what one gets. Fortunately the photographs havelong since faded out. 

Much in the same line was his interest in the children of the poor. Aragged urchin seemed to attract him much more than one that was nicelydressed. Perhaps they seemed more poetic to him, and he could see moredeeply into the joys and sorrows of their lives. 

Where the Episcopal Theological School now stands on Brattle Street therewas formerly a sort of tenement-house; and one day, as we were taking astroll before dinner, we noticed three small boys with dirty facesstanding at the corner of the building; and just then one of them criedout: "Oh, see; here he comes!" And immediately Longfellow appearedleaving the gate of Craigie House. We passed him before he reached thechildren, but on looking back we saw that he had stopped to speak withthem. They evidently knew him very well. 

It is remarkable how the impression should have been circulated thatLongfellow was not much of a pedestrian. On the contrary, there was noone who was seen more frequently on the streets of Cambridge. He walkedwith a springy step and a very slight swing of the shoulders, whichshowed that he enjoyed it. He may not have walked such long distances asHawthorne, or so rapidly as Dickens, but he was a good walker. 

His sister, Mrs. Greenleaf, built a memorial chapel in North Cambridgefor the Episcopal society there, and from this Longfellow formed thehabit of walking in that direction by way of the Botanic Garden. Somewhere in the cross streets he became acquainted with two children, the son and daughter of a small shop-keeper. They, of course, told theirmother about their white-haired acquaintance, and with the fate ofCharlie Ross before her eyes, their mother warned them to keep out of hisway. He might be a tramp, and tramps were dangerous!

However, it was not long before the children met their white-hairedfriend again, and the boy asked him: "Are you a tramp? Mother thinksyou're a tramp, and she wants to know what your name is. " It may bepresumed that Mr. Longfellow laughed heartily at this misconception, buthe said: "I think I may call myself a tramp. I tramp a good deal; but youmay tell your mother that my name is Henry W. Longfellow. " He afterwardscalled on the mother in order to explain himself, and to congratulate heron having such fine children. 

When the Saturday Club, popularly known as the Atlantic Club, wasorganized, one of the first subjects of discussion that came up was thequestion of autographs. Emerson said that was the way in which heobtained his postage stamps; but Longfellow confessed that he had givenaway a large number of them. And so it continued to the end. "Why shouldI not do it, " he would say, "if it gives them pleasure?" Emerson lookedon such matters from the stoical point of view as an encouragement tovanity; but he would have been more politic to have gratified hiscurious, or sentimental admirers; for every autograph he gave would havemade a purchaser for his publishers. 

Harmony did not always prevail in the Saturday Club, for politics was theall-embracing subject in those days and its members represented everyshade of political opinion. Emerson, Longfellow, and Lowell were stronglyanti-slavery, but they differed in regard to methods. Lowell was what wasthen called a Seward man, and differed with Emerson in regard to JohnBrown, and with Longfellow in regard to Sumner. Holmes was still moreconservative; and Agassiz was a McClellan Democrat. William Hunt, thepainter, believed that the war was caused by the ambition of the leadingpoliticians in the North and South. Longfellow had the advantage of moredirect information than the others, and enjoyed the continued successesof the Republican party. 

In the spring of 1866 a number of Southerners came to Boston to borrowfunds in order to rehabilitate their plantations, and were introduced atthe Union League Club. Finding themselves there in a congenial elementthey made speeches strongly tinged with secession doctrines. Sumner, ofcourse, could not let this pass without making some protest against it, and for this he was hissed. The incident was everywhere talked of, andcame under discussion at the next meeting of the Saturday Club. OttoDresel, a German pianist, who had small reason for being there, said, "Itwas not Mr. Sumner's politics but his bad manners that were hissed. "Longfellow set his glass down with emphasis, and replied: "If goodmanners could not say it, thank heaven bad manners did;" and Lowellsupported this with some pretty severe criticism of the Union LeagueClub. In justice to the Union League Club, however, it ought to be saidthat there was applause as well as hisses for Sumner. 

Longfellow had a leonine face, but it was that of a very mild lion; onethat had never learned the use of teeth and claws. Yet those who knew himfelt that he could roar on occasion, if occasion required it. Once atLongfellow's own table the conversation chanced upon Goethe, and agentleman present remarked that Goethe was in the habit of drinking threebottles of hock a day. "Who said he did?" inquired the poet. "It is inLewes's biography, " said the gentleman. "I do not believe it, " repliedLongfellow, "unless, " he added with a laugh, "they were very smallbottles. " A few days afterwards Prof. William James remarked in regard tothis incident that the story was quite incredible. 

In his youth Longfellow seems to have taken to guns and fishing-rods moreregularly than some boys do, but pity for his small victims soon inducedhim to relinquish the sport. His eldest son, Charles, also took to gunsvery naturally, and in spite of a severe wound which he received from theexplosion of a badly loaded piece, he finally became one of the mostexpert pigeon-shooters in the State. At the intercession of his father, who considered the game too cruel, he afterwards relinquished this fortarget-shooting, in which he succeeded equally well. I was talking oneday with him on this subject and remarked that I had recently shot twocrows with my rifle. "What did you do it for?" interposed his father, ina deprecatory tone. So I explained to him that crows were outside of thepale of the law; that they not only were a pest to the farmers butdestroyed the eggs and young of singing birds, --in fact, they were bold, black robbers, whose livery betokened their evil deeds. This evidentlyinterested him, and he finally said with a laugh: "If that is the case, we will give you and Charlie a commission to exterminate them. "

There was a story that when young Nicholas Longworth came to HarvardCollege in the autumn of 1862 and called on Mr. Longfellow, who had beenentertained at his father's house in Cincinnati, the poet said to him:"It is _worth_ that makes the man; the want of it the _fellow_"--a compliment that almost dumfounded his young acquaintance. It iscertain that Longfellow addressed a poem to Mrs. Longworth which will befound in the collection of his minor poems, and in which he speaks of heras--

 "The Queen of the West in her garden dressed, By the banks of the beautiful river. "

In the midst of this unrivalled prosperity, this distinction of genius, and public and private honor, on the ninth of July, 1861, there came oneof the most harrowing tragedies that has ever befallen a man's domesticlife. Longfellow was widowed for the second time, and five children wereleft without a mother. It seemed as if Providence had set a limit beyondwhich human happiness could not pass. It was after this calamity thatLongfellow undertook his metrical translation of Dante's "DivinaCommedia, " a much more difficult and laborious work than writing originalpoetry. As his brother said, "He required an absorbing occupation toprevent him from thinking of the past. "

No wonder that in later years he said, in his exquisite verses on theMountain of the Holy Cross in Colorado, these pathetic words, "On myheart also there is a cross of snow. " In Longfellow's diary we meet withthe names of many books that he read, and these as well as the pertinentcomments on them tell much more of his intellectual life than we derivefrom his letters. "Adam Bede, " which took the world by storm, did notmake so much of an impression on him as Hawthorne's "Marble Faun, " whichhe read through in a day and calls a wonderful book. Of "Adam Bede" hesays: "It is too feminine for a man; too masculine for a woman. " He saysof Dickens, after reading "Barnaby Rudge": "He is always prodigal andample, but what a set of vagabonds he contrives to introduce us to!""Barnaby Rudge" is certainly the most bohemian and esoteric of Dickens'snovels. He liked much better Miss Muloch's "John Halifax, "--a popularbook in its time, but not read very much since. He calls Charles Reade aclever and amusing writer. We find nothing concerning Disraeli, Trollope, or Wilkie Collins. Neither do we hear of critical and historical writerslike Ruskin, Matthew Arnold, Carlyle, and Froude. He went, however, tocall on Carlyle in England, and was greatly impressed by hisconversation. The scope of Longfellow's reading does not compare withthat of Emerson or Marian Evans; but the doctors say that "every man offorty knows the food that is good for him, " and this is true mentally aswell as physically. 

He refers more frequently to Tennyson than to any other writer, andalways in a generous, cordial manner. Of the "Idyls of the King" he saysthat the first and third Idyls could only have come from a great poet, but that the second and fourth are not quite equal to the others. 

Once, at his sister's house, he held out a book in his hand and said:"Here is some of the finest dramatic poetry that I have ever read. " Itwas Tennyson's "Queen Mary;" but there were many who would not haveagreed with his estimate of it. Rev. Samuel Longfellow considered thestatement very doubtful. 

In the summer of 1868 Longfellow went to Europe with his family to seewhat Henry James calls "the best of it. " Rev. Samuel Longfellow and T. G. Appleton accompanied the party, which, with the addition of ErnestLongfellow's beautiful bride, made a strong impression wherever they wereseen. In fact their tour was like a triumphal procession. 

Longfellow was everywhere treated with the distinction of a famous poet;and his fine appearance and dignified bearing increased the reputationwhich had already preceded him. His meeting with Tennyson was consideredas important as the visit of the King of Prussia to Napoleon III. , andmuch less dangerous to the peace of Europe. It was talked of fromEdinburgh to Rome. 

Longfellow, however, hated lionizing in all its forms, and he avoidedceremonious receptions as much as possible. He enjoyed the entertainmentof meeting distinguished people, but he evidently preferred to meet themin an unconventional manner, and to have them as much to himself aspossible. Princes and savants called on him, but he declined everyinvitation that might tend to give him publicity. 

His facility in the different languages was much marvelled at. While hewas in Florence a delegation from the mountain towns of Tuscany waitedupon him and he conversed with them in their own dialect, greatly totheir surprise and satisfaction. 

From a number of incidents in this journey, related by Rev. SamuelLongfellow, the following has a permanent interest:

When the party came to Verona in May, 1869, they found Ruskin elevated ona ladder, from which he was examining the sculpture on a monument. Assoon as he heard that the Longfellow party was below, he came down andgreeted them very cordially. He was glad that they had stopped at Verona, which was so interesting and so often overlooked; he wanted them toobserve the sculptures on the monument, --the softly-flowing draperieswhich seemed more as if they had been moulded with hands than cut with achisel. He then spoke in grievous terms of the recent devastation by thefloods in Switzerland, which had also caused much damage in the plains ofLombardy. He thought that reservoirs ought to be constructed on the sidesof the mountains, which would stay the force of the torrents, and holdthe water until it could be made useful. He wished that the Alpine Clubwould take an interest in the matter. After enjoying so much inSwitzerland it would be only fair for them to do something for thebenefit of the country. Mr. Appleton then said: "That is a work forgovernment to do;" to which Ruskin replied: "Governments do nothing butfill their pockets, and issue this, "--taking out a handful of Italianpaper currency, which was then much below par. 

Everyone has his or her favorite poet or poets, and it is a commonpractice with young critics to disparage one in order to elevate another. Longfellow was the most popular American poet of his time, but there wereothers besides Edgar A. Poe who pretended to disdain him. I have met moresuch critics in Cambridge than in England, Germany, or Italy; and thereason was chiefly a political one. At a distance Longfellow's politicsattracted little attention, but in Cambridge they could not help beingfelt. In 1862 a strong movement emanated from the Harvard Law-School todefeat Sumner and Andrew, and the lines became drawn pretty sharply. Asit happened, the prominent conservatives with one or two exceptions alllived to the east and north of the college grounds, while Longfellow, Lowell, Doctor Francis (who baptized Longfellow's children), Prof. AsaGray, and other liberals lived at the west end; and the local divisionmade the contest more acrimonious. The conservatives afterwards felt thebitterness of defeat, and it was many years before they recovered fromthis. A resident graduate of Harvard, who was accustomed to converse onsuch subjects as the metaphysics of Hamilton's quaternions, once saidthat Longfellow was the paragon of schoolgirls, because he wrote whatthey would like to so much better than they could. This was contemptibleenough; but how can one expect a man who discourses on the metaphysics ofHamilton's quaternions to appreciate Longfellow's art, or any art pureand simple. "Evangeline, " which is perhaps the finest of Longfellow'spoems, is not a favorite with youthful readers. 

He was greater as a man, perhaps, than as a poet. Future ages will haveto determine this; but he was certainly one of the best poets of histime. Professor Hedge, one of our foremost literary critics, spoke of himas the one American poet whose verses sing themselves; and with theexception of Bryant's "Robert of Lincoln, " and Poe's "Raven, " and a fewother pieces, this may be taken as a judicious statement. 

Longfellow's unconsciousness is charming, even when it seems childlike. As a master of verse he has no English rival since Spenser. The trochaicmeter in which "Hiawatha" is written would seem to have been his owninvention; [Footnote: At least I can remember no other long poem composedin it. ] and is a very agreeable change from the perpetual iambics ofByron and Wordsworth. "Evangeline" is perhaps the most successfulinstance of Greek and Latin hexameter being grafted on to an Englishstem. Matthew Arnold considered it too dactylic, but the lightness of itsmovement personifies the grace of the heroine herself. Lines likeVirgil's

 "Illi inter sese multa vi brachia tollunt In numerum, versantque tenaci forcipe massam, "

would not have been suited to the subject. 

It has often been said that "Hiawatha" does not represent the red man ashe really is, and this is true. Neither does Tennyson represent theknights of King Arthur's court as they were in the sixth century A. D. They are more like modern English gentlemen, and when we read the GermanNeibelungen we recognize this difference. Virgil's Aeneid does not belongto the period of the Trojan war, but this does not prevent the Aeneidfrom being very fine poetry. The American Indian is not without hispoetic side, as is proved by the squaw who knelt down on a floweryBrussels carpet, and smoothing it with her hands, said: "Hahnsome!hahnsome! heaven no hahnsomer!" There is true poetry in this; and sothere is in the Indian cradle-song:

 "The poor little bee that lives in the tree; The poor little bee that lives in the tree; Has but one arrow in his quiver. "

Either of these incidents is sufficient to testify to Longfellow's"Hiawatha. "

The best poetry is that which forces itself upon our memories, so that itbecomes part of our life without the least effort of recollection. Suchare Emerson's "Problem, " Whittier's "Barbara Frietchie, " and Longfellow's"Santa Filomena. "

 "Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, Our hearts in glad surprise To higher levels rise. "

Those are fortunate in this life who feel the glad surprise ofLongfellow. 

"Hiawatha" is equally universal in its application to modern life. Thequestions of the Indian boy and the replies of his nurse, the goodNikomis, are not confined to the life of the aborigines. Every spiritedboy is a Hiawatha, and in one form or another goes through the sameexperiences that Longfellow has represented with such consummate art inhis American epic-idyl. 

LOWELL

The Lowell family of Boston crossed over from England towards the middleof the seventeenth century. One of their number afterwards founded thecity of Lowell, by establishing manufactures on the Merrimac River, latein the eighteenth century; and in more recent times two members of thefamily have held the position of judge in the Supreme Court ofMassachusetts. They are a family of refined intellectual tastes, as wellas of good business and professional ability, but of a retiringdisposition and not often conspicuous in public life, --a family ofgeneral good qualities, nicely balanced between liberal and conservative, and with a poetic vein running through it for the past hundred years ormore. In the Class of 1867 there was an Edward J. Lowell who was chosenclass odist, and who wrote poetry nearly, if not quite, as good as thatof his distinguished relative at the same period of life. 

James Russell Lowell was born at Elmwood, as it is now called, onWashington's birthday in 1819, --as if to make a good staunch patriot ofhim; and, what is even more exceptional in American life, he lived anddied in the same house in which he was born. It was not such a house asthe Craigie mansion, but still spacious and dignified, and denoted veryfair prosperity for those times. 

Elmwood itself extends for some thirty rods on Brattle Street, but theentrance to the house is on a cross-road which runs down to the marshes. Beyond Elmwood there is a stonecutter's establishment, and next to thatMount Auburn Cemetery, which, however, was a fine piece of woodland inLowell's youth, called Sweet Auburn by the Harvard students, muchfrequented by love-sick swains and strolling parties of youths andmaidens. 

The Lowell residence was well into the country at that time. There werefew houses near it, and Boston could only be reached by a long detour ina stage; so that an expedition to the city exhausted the better part of aday. It was practically further in the country than Concord is atpresent; and it was here that Lowell enjoyed that repose of mind which isessential to vigorous mental development, and could find such interestsin external nature as the poet requires for the embellishment of hisverse. 

He went to college at the age of fifteen, two years older than EdwardEverett, but sufficiently young to prove himself a precocious student. Cambridge boys of good families have always been noted at Harvard fortheir gentlemanly deportment. Besides this, Lowell had an immense fund ofwit and good spirits, and the two together served to make him verypopular--perhaps too much so for his immediate good. His father hadgreat hopes of his promising son, --that he would prove a fine scholar andtake a prominent part in the commencement exercises. He even offered theboy a reward of two hundred dollars in case this should happen; but theattractions of student and social life proved too strong for James. Hewas quick at languages, but slow in mathematics, and as for Butler'sanalogy he cannot be blamed for the aversion with which he regarded it. He writes a letter in which he confesses to peeping over the professor'sshoulder to see what marks have been given for his recitations, so thathis father's exhortation would seem at one time to have been seriouslyfelt by him; but the effort did not last long, and we find him repeatedlyreprimanded for neglect of college duties. 

He did not live the life of a roaring blade, but more like the humming-bird that darts from one plant to another, and gathers sweetness fromevery flower in the garden. Finally he was rusticated, just after he hadbeen elected poet of his class, with directions not to return untilcommencement. We recognize the Puritanic severity of President Quincy inthis sentence, which robbed young Lowell of the pleasantest term ofcollege life, as well as the honor of appearing on the stage on ClassDay. That his poem should have been read by another to the assembledfamilies of his classmates, served to make his absence more conspicuous. Nor can we discover any sufficient reason for such hard statement. 

At the same age that Longfellow was writing for the _United StatesLiterary Gazette_, Lowell was scribbling verses for an undergraduates'periodical called _Harvardiana_. They were not very seriousproductions, and might all be included under the head of bric-a-brac; butthere was a-plenty of them. While Longfellow's verse at nineteen wasremarkable for its perfection of form, Lowell's suffered chiefly from alack of this. He had an idea that poetry ought to be an inspiration ofthe moment; a good foundation to begin with, but which he foundafterwards it was necessary to modify. 

In the preface to one of his Biglow Papers he speaks of his life inConcord as being

 "As lazy as the bream Which only thinks to head up stream. "

The men whom he chiefly associated with there were named Barziliai andEbenezer, and the hoar frost of the Concord meadows would seem to havehad a chilling effect on Lowell's naturally tolerant and amiabledisposition. He was not attracted by Emerson at this time, but, on thecontrary, would seem to have felt an aversion to him. The following linesin his class poem could not have referred to anyone else:

 "Woe for Religion, too, when men who claim To place a 'Reverend' before their name Ascend the Lord's own holy place to preach In strains that Kneeland had been proud to reach; And which, if measured by Judge Thatcher's scale, Had doomed their author to the county jail! Alas that _Christian ministers_ should dare To preach the views of Gibbon and Voltaire!"

To confound the strong spiritual assertion of Emerson with the purelynegative attitude of the French satirist was a common mistake in thosedays, and the Lowell of 1838 needs small excuse for it. He must have beenin a biting humor at this time, for there is a cut all round in his classpoem, although it is the most vigorous and highly-finished production ofhis academic years. 

After college came the law, in which he succeeded as well as youthfulattorneys commonly do; and at the age of twenty-five he entered into theholy bonds of matrimony. 

The union of James Russell Lowell to Maria White, of Watertown, was themost poetic marriage of the nineteenth century, and can only be comparedto that of Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning. Miss White was herselfa poetess, and full of poetical impulse to the brim. Maria would seem tohave been born in the White family as Albinos appear in Africa, --for thesake of contrast. She shone like a single star in a cloudy sky, --a pale, slender, graceful girl, with eyes, to use Herrick's expression, "like acrystal glasse. " A child was born where she did not belong, and Lowellwas the chivalrous knight who rescued her. 

It must have been Maria White who made an Emersonian of him. MargaretFuller had stirred up the intellectual life of New England women to adegree never known before or since, and Miss White was one of those whocame within the scope of her influence. [Footnote: Lowell himself speaksof her as being "considered transcendental. "] She studied German, andtranslated poems from Uhland, who might be called the German Longfellow. Certain it is that from the time of their marriage his opinions not onlychanged from what they had been previously, but his ideas of poetry, philosophy, and religion became more consistent and clearly defined. Thepath that she pointed out to him, or perhaps which they discoveredtogether, was the one that he followed all through life; so that in oneof his later poems, he said, half seriously, that he was ready to adoptEmerson's creed if anyone could tell him just what it was. 

The life they lived together was a poem in itself, and reminds one ofGoethe's saying, that "he who is sufficiently provided for within hasneed of little from without. " They were poor in worldly goods, but richin affection, in fine thoughts, and courageous endeavor. It is said thatwhen they were married Lowell had but five hundred dollars of his own. They went to New York and Philadelphia, and soon discovering that theyhad spent more than half of it, they concluded to return home. 

The next ten years of Lowell's life might be called the making of theman. He worked hard and lived economically; earning what he could by thelaw, and what he could not by magazine writing, which paid poorly enough. Publishers had not then discovered that what the general public desiresis not literature, but information on current topics, and this is thelast thing which the true man of letters is able to provide. A magazinearticle, or a campaign biography of General Grant, could be written in afew weeks, but a solid historical biography of him, with a criticalexamination of his campaigns, has not yet been written, and perhaps neverwill be. A literary venture of Lowell and his friends in 1843, to found afirst-rate literary magazine, proved a failure; and it is to be fearedthat he lost money by it. [Footnote: See Scudder's Life of Lowell, iii. 109. ]

However the world might use him he was sure of comfort and happiness athis own fireside, where he read Shelley, and Keats, and Lessing, whileMrs. Lowell studied upon her German translations. The sympathy of a true-hearted woman is always valuable, even when she does not quite understandthe grievance in question, but the sympathy that Maria Lowell could giveher husband was of a rare sort. She could sympathize with him wholly inheart and intellect. She encouraged him to fresh endeavors and continualimprovement. Thus he went on year by year broadening his mind, strengthening his faculties, and improving his reputation. The days offrolicsome gaiety were over. He now lived in a more serious vein, andfelt a deeper, more satisfying happiness. It was much more the ideal lifeof a poet than that of Thoreau, paddling up and down Concord River insearch of the inspiration which only comes when we do not think of it. 

It may be suspected that he read more literature than law during theseyears, and we notice that he did not go, like Emerson, to the greatfountain-heads of poetry, --to Homer or Dante, Shakespeare or Goethe, --butcourted the muse rather among such tributaries as Virgil, Moliere, Chaucer, Keats, and Lessing. It may have been better for him that hebegan in this manner; but a remark that Scudder attributes to him inregard to Lessing gives us an insight into the deeper mechanism of hismind. "Shelley's poetry, " he said, "was like the transient radiance ofSt. Elmo's fire, but Lessing was wholly a poet. " This is exactly theopposite of the view he held during his college life, for Lessing workedin a methodical and painstaking manner and finished what he wrote withthe greatest care. 

More than this, Lessing was as Lowell realized afterwards, too criticaland polemical to be wholly a poet. His "Emilia Galotti" still holds ahigh position on the German stage and has fine poetic qualities, but itis written in prose. His "Nathan the Wise" was written in verse, but didnot prove a success as a drama. In one he attacked the tyranny of theGerman petty princes, and in the other the intolerance of the EstablishedChurch. We may assume that is the reason why Lowell admired them; butLowell was also too critical and polemic to be wholly a poet, --except oncertain occasions. In 1847 he published the "Fable for Critics, " thekeenest piece of poetical satire since Byron's "English Bards and ScotchReviewers, "--keen and even saucy, but perfectly good-humored. About thesame time he commenced his "Biglow Papers, " which did not wholly ceaseuntil 1866, and were the most incisive and aggressive anti-slaveryliterature of that period. Soon afterwards he wrote "The Vision of SirLaunfal, " which has become the most widely known of all his poems, andwhich contains passages of the purest a priori verse. Goethe, whoexercised so powerful an influence on Emerson, does not appear to haveinterested Lowell at all. 

The most plaintive of Beethoven scherzos, --that in the Moonlight Sonata, --says as if it were spoken in words:

 "Once we were happy, now I am forlorn; Fortune has darkened, and happiness gone. "

Lowell's poetic marriage did not last quite ten years. Maria White wasalways frail and delicate, and she became more so continually. Longfellow's clear foresight noticed the danger she was in years beforeher death, which took place in the autumn of 1853. She left one child, Mabel Lowell, slender and pale like herself, and with poetical lines inher face, too, but fortunately endowed with her father's goodconstitution. Only ten years! But such ten years, worth ten centuries ofthe life of a girl of fashion, who thinks she is happy because she haseverything she wants. If the truth were known we might find that in thetwilight of his life Lowell thought more of these ten years with MariaWhite than of the six years when he was Ambassador to England, --withtwenty-nine dinner-parties in the month of June. 

What would poets do without war? The Trojan war, or some similarconflict, served as the ground-work of Homer's mighty epic; Virgilfollowed in similar lines; Dante would never have been famous but for theGuelph and Ghibeline struggle. Shakespeare's plays are full of war andfighting; and the wars of Napoleon stimulated Byron, Schiller, and Goetheto the best efforts of their lives. In dealing with men like Emerson, Longfellow, and Lowell, who were the intellectual leaders of their time, it is impossible to escape their influence in the anti-slavery movement, and its influence upon them, unpopular as that subject is at present. That was the heroic age of American history, and the truth concerning ithas not yet been written. It was as heroic to the South as to the North, for, as Sumner said, the slaveholders would never have made theirdesperate attack on the Government of this country if they had not beenthemselves the slaves of their own social organization. 

It was the solution of a great historical problem, like that ofConstitutional Government _versus_ the Stuarts, and it ought to betreated from a national and not a sectional stand-point. 

The live men of that time became abolitionists as inevitably as theirforefathers became supporters of the Declaration of Independence. IfWebster and Everett had been born twenty years later, they must needshave become anti-slavery, too. Those of Lowell's friends, like George S. Hillard and George B. Loring, who for social or political reasons tookthe opposite side, afterwards found themselves left in the lurch by anadverse public opinion. 

It was the Mexican war that first aroused Lowell to the seriousness ofthe extension of slavery, and it was meeting a recruiting officer in thestreets of Boston, "covered all over with brass let alone that whichnature had set on his countenance, " which inspired his writing thefirst of the "Biglow Papers. " They were hastily and carelessly written, and Lowell himself held them in slight estimation as literature; but theybecame immediately popular, as no poetry had that he had publishedpreviously. Their freshness and directness appealed to the manliness andgood sense of the average New Englander, and the whole communityresponded to them with repeated applause. There is, after all, muchpoetry in the Biglow Papers, the more genuine because unintentional; butthey are full of the keenest wit and a proverbial philosophy which, ifless profound than Emerson's, is more capable of a practical application. 

The vernacular in which they are written must have been learned atConcord, --perhaps on the front stoop of the Middlesex Hotel, --whileLowell was listening to the pithy conversation of Yankee farmers, notonly about their crops and cattle, but also discussing church affairs andpolitics, local and national. It was the grandfathers of these men whodrove the British back from Concord bridge, and it was their sons whofought their way from the Rapidan to Richmond. With the help of countrylawyers they sent Sumner and Wilson to the Senate, and knew what theywere about when they did this. For wit, humor, and repartee, --and, it maybe added, for decent conversation, --there is no class of men like them. Both Lowell and Emerson have testified to their intrinsic worth. 

On one occasion a Concord farmer was driving a cow past Sanborn's school-house, when an impudent boy called out, "The calf always follows thecow. " "Why aren't you behind here, then?" retorted the man, with a lookthat went home like the stroke of a cane. If Lowell had been present hewould have been delighted. 

The Yankee dialect which he makes use of as a vehicle in these verses isnot always as clear-cut as it might be. He says, for instance, "Pleasure doos make us Yankee kind of winch As if it was something paid for by the inch. "

The true New England countryman never flattens a vowel; if he changes ithe always makes it sharp. He would be more likely to say: "Pleasure doesmake us Yankee kind er winch, as if 'twas suthin' paid for by the inch. "There are other instances of similar sort; but, nevertheless, if theprimitive Yankee should become extinct, as now seems very probable, Lowell's masterly portrait of him will remain, and future generations canreconstruct him from it, as Agassiz reconstructed an extinct species ofmammal from fossil bones. 

Lowell did not join the Free-soilers, who were now bearing the brunt ofthe anti-slavery conflict, but attached himself to the more aristocraticwing of the old abolitionists, which was led by Edmund Quincy, MariaChapman, and L. Maria Child. Lowell was far from being a non-resistant. In fact, he might be called a fighting-man, although he disapproved ofduelling; and this served to keep him at a distance from Garrison, ofwhom he wisely remarked that "the nearer public opinion approached to himthe further he retreated into the isolation of his own private opinions. "He wrote regularly for the _Anti-Slavery Standard_ until 1851, whenthe death of his father-in-law supplied the long-desired means for ajourney to Italy, --more desired perhaps for his wife's health than forhis own gratification. It may be the fault of his biographers, but Icannot discover that Lowell took any share in the opposition to theFugitive Slave bill, or in the election of Sumner, which was the signalevent that followed it. In his whole life Lowell never made theacquaintance of a practical statesman, while Whittier was in constantcommunication with prominent members of the Free-soil and Republicanparties. Sumner went to hear Lowell's lecture on Milton, and praised itas a work of genius. 

I have heard the "Vision of Sir Launfal" spoken of more frequently thanany other of Lowell's poems. Some of the descriptive passages in it wouldseem to have flowed from his pen as readily as ink from a quill; andthere are others which appear to have been evolved with much thought andingenuity. One cannot help feeling the sudden change from a June morningat Elmwood to a mediaeval castle in Europe as somewhat abrupt; but whenwe think of it subjectively as a poetic vision which came to Lowellhimself seated on his own door-step, this disillusion vanishes, and wesympathize heartily with the writer. There is no place in the world whereJune seems so beautiful as in New England, on account of the dismal, cutthroat weather in the months that precede it. Perhaps it is so inreality; for what nature makes us suffer from at one time she commonlyatones for it another. 

The "Fable for Critics" is written in an easy, nonchalant manner, whichhelps to mitigate its severity. Thoreau could not have liked very wellbeing called an imitator of Emerson; but the wit of it is inimitable. "T. Never purloins the apples from Emerson's trees; it is only the windfallsthat he carries off and passes for his own fruit. " Emerson remarked onthis, that Thoreau was sufficiently original in his own way; and healways spoke of Lowell in a friendly and appreciative manner. The wholepoem is filled with such homely comparisons, which hit the nail exactlyon the head. The most subtle piece of analysis, however, is Lowell'scomparison between Emerson and Carlyle:

 "There are persons, mole-blind to the soul's make and style, Who insist on a likeness 'twixt him and Carlyle; To compare him with Plato would be vastly fairer, Carlyle's the more burly, but E. Is the rarer; He sees fewer objects, but clearlier, truelier, If C. 's as original, E. 's more peculiar; That he's more of a man you might say of the one, Of the other he's more of an Emerson; C. 's the Titan, as shaggy of mind as of limb, -- E. The clear-eyed Olympian, rapid and slim; The one's two-thirds Norseman, the other half Greek, Where the one's most abounding, the other's to seek. "

It was the fashion in England at that time to disparage Emerson as animitator of Carlyle; and this was Lowell's reply to it. 

He told Professor Hedge an amusing incident that happened during hisfirst visit to Rome. Lowell and his wife took lodgings with a respectableelderly Italian woman whose husband was in a sickly condition. Onemorning she met him in the passageway with tearful eyes and said: "_Ungran' disgrazie_ happened last night, --my poor husband went toheaven. " Lowell wondered why there was a pope in Rome if going to heavenwas considered a disgrace there. 

Longfellow's resignation of his professorship at Harvard was a rare pieceof good fortune for Lowell; for it was the only position of the kind thathe could have obtained there or anywhere else. In fact, it was a questionwhether the appointment would be confirmed on account of histranscendental tendencies, and his connection with the _Anti-slaveryStandard_; but Longfellow threw the whole weight of his influence inLowell's favor, and this would seem to have decided it. From this timetill 1873 Lowell was more of a prose-writer than a poet, and his essayson Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, and other English poets are the best oftheir kind, --not brilliant, but appreciative, penetrating, and well-considered. Wasson said of him that no other critic in the English tonguecame so near to expressing the inexpressible as Lowell. 

One could wish that his studies in Shakespeare had been more extended. Hetreats the subject as if he felt it was too great for him; but he was thefirst to take notice that the play of Richard III. Indicated in itsmain extent a different hand, and it is now generally admitted to havebeen the work of Fletcher. With the keenest insight he noticed that themagician Prospero was an impersonation of Shakespeare himself; and GeorgeBrandes, the most thoroughgoing of Shakespearean scholars, afterwardscame to the same conclusion. 

Lowell was the gentlemanly instructor. He appealed to the gentleman inthe students who sat before him, and he rarely appealed in vain. LikeLongfellow he carried an atmosphere of politeness about him, which wassufficient to protect him from everything rude and common. He would sayto his class in Italian: "I shall not mark you if you are tardy, but Ihope you will all be here on time. " This was a safer procedure with asmall division of Juniors than it would have been with a large divisionof Freshmen or Sophomores. Neither did he take much personal interest inhis classes. He always invited them to an entertainment at Elmwood inJune, but two or three years later he could not remember their facesunless they remained in or about Cambridge. In regard to his efficiencyas an instructor and lecturer there was a difference of opinion. 

He attended the meetings of the college faculty quite regularlyconsidering the distance of Elmwood from the college grounds; and he wasonce heard to say that there seemed to be more bad weather on Mondaynights than at any other time in the week. His presence might have beendispensed with for the most part. He rarely spoke in conclave, and whenthe question came up in regard to the suspension of students he oftendeclined to vote. His decorum was perfect, but now and then a humorouslook could be observed in his eyes, and it may be suspected that he had aquiet laugh all to himself on the way homeward. On one occasion, beforethe meeting had been called to order, Professor Cutler said to him: "Doyou not dread B. 's forthcoming translation of the Iliad?" But Lowell, seeing that he was watched, replied: "Oh, no, not at all, " at the sametime nodding to Cutler with his brows. 

He was always well-dressed, and pretty close to the conventional in hisways, --noted specially for the nicety of his gloves. This was a kind ofsafeguard to him. Insidious persons suggested that he perfumed his beard, but I do not believe it. He does not appear to have been fond of walking, for we never met him in any part of Cambridge except on the direct roadfrom Elmwood to the college gate. He had a characteristic gait of hisown--walking slowly in rather a dreamy manner, and keeping time to themovement of his feet with his arms and shoulders. He was not, however, lost in contemplation, for he often scrutinized those who passed him asclosely as a portrait painter might. 

If one could meet Lowell in a fairly empty horse-car, he would be quitesociable and entertaining; but if the horse-car filled up, he wouldbecome reticent again. He clung to his old friends, his classmates, andothers with whom he had grown up, and did not easily make new ones. Themodesty of his ambition is conspicuous in the fact that he was quitesatisfied with the small salary paid him by the college, --at first onlytwelve hundred dollars. He evidently did not care for luxury. 

Lowell's second marriage was as simple and inevitable as the first. MissDunlap was not an ordinary housekeeper, but the sister of one of MariaLowell's most intimate friends, and she was such a pleasant, attractivelady that the wonder is rather he should have waited four years beforeconcluding to offer himself. She was compared to the Greek bust calledClyte, because her hair grew so low down upon her forehead, and this wasconsidered an additional charm. 

Louisa Alcott had a story that at first she refused Lowell's offer onaccount of what people might say; and that then he composed a poemanswering her objections in the form of an allegory, and that thisfinally convinced her. If he had considered material interests he wouldhave married differently. 

In November, 1857, the firm of Phillips & Sampson issued the first numberof the _Atlantic Monthly_ in the cause of high-minded literature, --acause which ultimately proved to be their ruin. Lowell accepted theposition of editor, and such a periodical as it proved to be under hisguidance could not have been found in England, and perhaps not in thewhole of Europe; but it could not be made to pay, and two years laterPhillips & Sampson failed, --partly on that account, and partially thevictims of a piratical opposition. 

Lowell published Emerson's "Brahma" in spite of the shallow ridicule withwhich he foresaw it would be greeted; but when Emerson sent him his "Songof Nature" he returned it on account of the single stanza:

 "One in a Judaean manger, And one by Avon stream, One over against the mouths of Nile, And one in the Academe. "

which he declared was more than the _Atlantic_ could be heldresponsible for. Emerson, who really knew little as to what the publicthought of him, was for once indignant. He said: "I did not know who hadconstituted Mr. Lowell my censor, and I carried the verses to MissCaroline Hoar, who read them and said, that she considered those fourlines the best in the piece. " He permitted Lowell, however, to publishthe poem without them, as may be seen by examining the pages of the_Atlantic_, and afterwards published the original copy in his "MayDay. "

Lowell's editorship of the _North American Review_, which followedafter this, was not so successful. It was chiefly a political magazine atthat time, and to understand politics in a large way--that is, sufficiently to write on the subject--one must not only be a closeobserver of public affairs, but also a profound student of history; andLowell was neither. He was not acquainted with prominent men in publiclife, and depended too much on information derived at dinner-parties, orsimilar occasions. During the war period Sumner, Wilson, and Andrew werealmost omnipotent in Massachusetts, for the three worked together in acommon cause; but power always engenders envy and so an inside oppositiongrew up within the Republican party to which Lowell lent his assistancewithout being aware of its true character. His articles in the _NorthAmerican_ on public affairs were severely criticised by Andrew andWilson, while Frank W. Bird frankly called them "giving aid and comfortto the enemy. " It was certainly a doubtful course to pursue at such acritical juncture--when all patriots should have been united--and itoffended a good many Republicans without conciliating the opposition. Lowell's successor in this editorial chair was an old Webster Whig whohad become a Democrat. 

In 1873 he resigned his professorship and went to Italy for a holiday. Hesaid to some friends whom he met in Florence: "I am tired of being calledProfessor Lowell, and I want to be plain Mr. Lowell again. Eliot wantedto keep my name on the catalogue for the honor of the university, but Idid not like the idea. " This was true republicanism and worthy of a poet. 

Lowell was little known on the continent, and he travelled in a quiet, unostentatious manner. He went to dine with his old friends, but avoidedintroductions, and remained at Florence nearly two months after otherAmericans had departed for Rome. The reason he alleged for this was thatRome was a mouldy place and the ruins made him feel melancholy; also, because he preferred oil paintings to frescos. He had just come fromVenice, and spoke with enthusiasm of the mighty works of Tintoretto, --especially his small painting of the Visitation, above the landing of thestaircase in the Scuola of San Rocco. He did not like the easel-paintingsof Raphael on account of their hard outlines; those in the Vatican didhim better justice. This idea he may have derived from William MorrisHunt, the Boston portrait-painter. He considered the action of the Niobegroup too strenuous to be represented in marble. 

Miss Mary Felton liked the Niobe statues; so Lowell said, "Now come backwith me, and I will sit on you. " Accordingly we all returned to the Niobehall, where Lowell lectured us on the statues without, however, entirelyconvincing Miss Felton. Then we went to the hall in the Uffizi Palace, which is called the _Tribune_. Mrs. Lowell had never been in the_Tribune_, where the Venus de' Medici is enshrined; so her husbandopened the door wide and said, "Now go in"--as if he were opening thegates of Paradise. 

At Bologna he wished to make an excursion into the mountains, but the100 veturino charged about twice the usual price, and though the manafterwards reduced his demand to a reasonable figure Lowell would not gowith him at all, and told him that such practices made Americans dislikethe Italian people. It is to be feared that a strange Italian might farejust as badly in America. 

Readers of Lowell's "Fireside Travels" will have noticed that the firstof them is addressed to the "Edelmann Storg" in Rome. The true translationof this expression is "Nobleman Story;" that is, William W. Story, the sculptor, who modelled the statue of Edward Everett in the Bostonpublic garden. Lowell's biographer, however, does not appear to havebeen aware of the full significance of this paraphrase of Story's name. 

When King Bomba II. Was expelled from Naples by Garibaldi he retired toRome with his private possessions, including a large number of oilpaintings. Wishing to dispose of some of these, and being aware thatAmericans paid good prices, he applied to William Story to transact thebusiness for him. This the sculptor did in a satisfactory manner;whereupon King Bomba, instead of rewarding Story with a cheque, conferredon him a patent of nobility. It seems equally strange that Story shouldhave accepted such a dubious honor, and that Lowell should recognize it. 

On his return to Cambridge the following year, Lowell found himself agrandfather, his daughter having married a gentleman farmer in Worcestercounty. He was greatly delighted, and wrote to E. L. Godkin, editor of_The Nation_:

"If you wish to taste the real bouquet of life, I advise you to procureyourself a grandson, whether by adoption or theft. . . . Get one, and the_Nation_ will no longer offend anybody. " [Footnote: Scudder'sbiography, ii. , 186. ]

This was a pretty broad hint, but E. L. Godkin was not the man to paymuch attention to the advice of Lowell or anybody. In fact, he seems tohave won Lowell over after this to his own way of thinking. 

Lowell certainly became more conservative with age. He did not supportthe movement for negro citizenship, and had separated himself in a mannerfrom the other New England poets. After 1872 Longfellow saw little ofhim, except on state occasions. In 1876 he made a political address thatshowed that if he had not already gone over to the Democratic party hewas very close upon the line. Charles Francis Adams had already gone overto Tilden, and had carried the _North American Review_ with him. Itwould not do to lose Lowell also, so the Republican leaders hit upon theshrewd device of nominating him as a presidential elector, an honor whichhe could not very well decline. When the disputed election of Hayes andTilden came, Godkin proposed that, in order to prevent "Mexicanizing thegovernment, " one of the Hayes electors should cast his vote for GeneralBristow, which would throw the election of President into the House ofRepresentatives; and he endeavored to persuade Lowell to do this. Lowellwent so far as to take legal advice on the subject, but his counsellorinformed him that since the election of John Quincy Adams it had beenvirtually decided that an elector must cast his vote according to theticket on which he was chosen. When the electors met at the Parker Housein January, 1877, Lowell deposited his ballot for Hayes and Wheeler, andthe slight applause that followed showed that his colleagues wereconscious of the position he had assumed. 

When President Hayes appointed Lowell to be Minister to Spain, Lowellremarked that he did not see why it should have come to him. It reallycame to him through his friend E. E. Hoar, of Concord, who was brother-in-law to Secretary Evarts. His friends wondered that he should acceptthe position, but the truth was that Lowell at this time wascomparatively poor. His taxes had increased, and his income haddiminished. He complained to C. P. Cranch that the whole profit from thesale of his books during the preceding year was less than a hundreddollars, and he thought there ought to be a law for the protection ofauthors. The real trouble was hard times. 

He did not like Madrid, and at the end of a year wrote that it seemedimpossible for him to endure the life there any longer. Evarts gave him avacation, and at the end of the second year Hayes promoted him to theCourt of St. James. 

Such an appointment would have been dangerous enough in 1861, but at thetime it was made the relations between the United States and GreatBritain were sufficiently peaceable to warrant it. Lowell represented hiscountry in a highly creditable manner. The only difficulty he experiencedwas with the Fenian agitation, and he managed that with such diplomatictact that no one has yet been able to discover whether he was in favor ofhome rule for Ireland or not. 

He made a number of excellent addresses in England, besides a multitudeof after-dinner speeches. Perhaps the best of them was his address at theColeridge celebration, in which he levelled an attack on the Englishcanonization of what they call "common sense, " but which is really a newname for dogmatism. Lowell, if not a transcendentalist, was always anidealist, and he knew that ideality was as necessary to Cromwell andCanning as it was to Shakespeare and Scott. 

He was certainly more popular in England than he had ever been inAmerica, and he openly admitted that he disliked to resign his position. Professor Child said, in 1882: "Lowell's conversation is witty, with abasis of literary cramming; and that seems to be what the English like. He went to twenty-nine dinner parties in the month of June, and made aspeech at each one of them. "

In the last years of his life he was greatly infested with imitators who, as he said of Emerson in the "Fable for Critics, " stole his fruit andthen brought it back to him on their own dishes. Some of them were tooinfluential to be easily disposed of, and others did not know when theywere rebuffed. An old man, failing in strength and vigor, he had toendure them as best he could. 

The story of Lowell's visions rests on a single authority, and if therewas any truth in it, it seems probable that he would have confided thefact to more intimate friends. There are well-authenticated instances ofvisions seen by persons in a waking condition--this always happens, forinstance, in _delirium tremens_--but they are sure to indicatenervous derangement, and are commonly followed by death. If there wasever a poet with a sound mind and a sound body, it was James RussellLowell. 

Edwin Arnold considered him the best of American poets, while MatthewArnold did not like him at all. Emerson, in his last years, preferred himto Longfellow, but it is doubtful if he always did so. The strong pointof his poetry is its intelligent manliness, --the absence of affectationand all sentimentality; but it lacks the musical element. He composedneither songs nor ballads, --nothing to match Hiawatha, or Gray's famousElegy. America still awaits a poet who shall combine the _savoirfaire_ of Lowell with the force of Emerson and the grace and purity ofLongfellow. 

Emerson had an advantage over his literary contemporaries in the vigorouslife he lived. You feel in his writing the energy of necessity. Theacademic shade is not favorable to the cultivation of genius, and Lowellreclined under it too much. His best work was already performed before hebecame a professor. What he lacks as a poet, however, he compensates foras a wit. He is the best of American humorists--there are few who will beinclined to dispute that--even though we regret occasional cynicisms, like his jest on Milton's blindness in "Fireside Travels. "

[Illustration: C. P. CRANCH]

CRANCH. 

Christopher Pearce Cranch was born March 9, 1813, at Alexandria, Virginia, and was the son of Judge William Cranch, of the United StatesCircuit Court. His father came originally from Weymouth, Massachusetts, and had been appointed to his position through the influence of JohnQuincy Adams. His mother, Anna Greenleaf, belonged to a well known Bostonfamily. Pearce, as he was always called by his relatives, indicated atalent for the fine arts, as commonly happens, at an early age, andunited with this a lively interest in music, singing and playing on theflute. These side issues may have prevented him from entering college soearly as he might otherwise have done. He graduated at Columbia College, in 1832, after a three-year course. He wished to make a profession ofpainting, but Judge Cranch was aware how precarious this would be as ameans of livelihood, and advised him to study for the ministry, --forwhich his quiet ways and grave demeanor seemed to have adapted him. Heaccordingly entered the Harvard Divinity-School, and was ordained as aUnitarian clergyman. 

For the next six years Cranch lived the life of an itinerant preacher. Hepreached all over New England, making friends everywhere, and receivingnumerous calls without, however, settling down to a fixed habitation. This would seem to have been a peculiarity of his temperament; forin 1875 George William Curtis wrote to Mr. And Mrs. Cranch a letter whichbegan with "O ye Bedouins"; and it is true that until that time he canhardly be said to have had a habitation of his own. He extended hismigration as minister-at-large from Bangor, Maine, to Louisville, Kentucky. His varied accomplishments made him attractive to the youngermembers of the parishes for which he preached, but he never remained longenough in one place for their interest to take root. 

The wave of German thought and literary interest was now sweeping overEngland and America. Repelled by doctors of divinity and the older classof scholars, it was seized upon with avidity by the more susceptiblenatures of the younger generation. Its influence was destined to be feltall through the coming period of American literature. C. P. Cranch wasaffected by it, as Emerson, Longfellow and even Hawthorne, were affectedby it. This, however, did not take place at once, and when Emerson's"Nature" was published, Cranch was at first repelled by the peculiarityof its style. At the house of Rev. James Freeman Clark, in Cincinnati, hedrew some innocently satirical illustrations of it. One was of a man withan enormous eye under which he wrote: "I became one great transparenteye-ball"; and another was a pumpkin with a human face, beneath which waswritten: "We expand and grow in the sunshine. " In another sketch Emersonand Margaret Fuller were represented driving "over hill and dale" in arockaway. 

[Footnote: Sanborn's Life of Alcott. ]

He would make these humorous sketches to entertain his friends at anytime, seizing on a half-sheet of paper, or whatever might be at hand; buthe did not long continue to caricature Emerson. His first volume ofpoetry, published in 1844, was dedicated to Emerson, and in Dwight's"Translations from Goethe and Schiller, " there are a number of shortpieces by Cranch, almost perfect in their rendering from German toEnglish. Among these the celebrated ballad of "The Fisher" is translatedso beautifully as to be slightly, if at all, inferior to the original. The stanza, "The water in dreamy motion kept, As he sat in a dreamy mood, A wave hove up, and a damsel stept All dripping from the flood, "

may have appealed strongly to Cranch at this time; for we find that inOctober, 1841, he was married at Fishkill-on-the-Hudson to a young ladyof an old Knickerbocker family, Miss Elizabeth De Windt. If she did notcome to him out of the Hudson, there can be no doubt that he courted herby the banks of the most beautiful river in North America. 

Cranch had given up the clerical profession six months before this, andhad adopted that of a landscape painter, for which he would seem to havestudied with some artist in New York City, --unknown to fame, and longsince forgotten. He continued to sketch and paint, and write prose andverse on the Hudson until 1846, when he embarked with his wife on asailing packet for Marseilles. He had the good fortune to find a fellow-passenger in George William Curtis, and during the voyage of seven weeks, a lifelong friendship grew up between these two highly gifted men. 

The volume of poems which he published in 1844 is now exceedingly rare;yet many of the pieces belong to a high order of excellence. In ease andgrace of versification they resemble Longfellow, but in thought they aremore like Emerson or Goethe. Consider this opening from "The Riddle":

 "Ye bards, ye prophets, ye sages, Read to me, if ye can, That which hath been the riddle of ages, Read me the riddle of _Man_. 

 Then came the bard with his lyre, And the sage with his pen and scroll, And the prophet with his eye of fire, To unriddle a human soul. 

 But the soul stood up in its might; Its stature they could not scan; And it rayed out a dazzling mystic light, And shamed their wisest plan. 

 Yet sweetly the bard did sing, And learnedly talked the sage, And the seer flashed by with his lightning wing, Soaring beyond his age. "

This is sonorous. It has a majesty of expression and a greatness ofthought which makes Longfellow's "Psalm of Life" seem weak and evencommon-place. The whole poem is pitched in the same key, and Cranch neverequalled it again, excepting once, and then in a very different manner. Rev. Gideon Arch, a Hungarian scholar, philologist, and exile of 1849, said of his "Endymion" that there were Endymions in all languages, butthat Cranch's was the best. To resuscitate it from the oblivion intowhich it has fallen, it is given entire:

 "Yes, it is the queenly moon Walking through her starred saloon, Silvering all she looks upon: I am her Endymion; For by night she comes to me, -- O, I love her wondrously. 

 She into my window looks, As I sit with lamp and books, And the night-breeze stirs the leaves, And the dew drips down the eaves; O'er my shoulder peepeth she, O, she loves me royally!

 Then she tells me many a tale, With her smile, so sheeny pale, Till my soul is overcast With such dream-light of the past, That I saddened needs must be, And I love her mournfully. 

 Oft I gaze up in her eyes, Raying light through winter skies; Far away she saileth on; I am no Endymion; O, she is too bright for me, And I love her hopelessly!

 Now she comes to me again, And we mingle joy and pain, Now she walks no more afar, Regal with train-bearing star, But she bends and kisses me-- O, we love now mutually!"

This has the very sheen of moonlight upon it, and certainly is to bepreferred to Dr. Johnson's scholastic "Endymion":

 "Diana, huntress chaste and fair, Now thy hounds have gone to sleep, "--

If Cranch had continued in this line, and perhaps have improved upon it, he would surely have become one of the foremost American poets, but apoet cannot live by verse alone, and after he began to be thoroughly inearnest with his painting, his rhythmic genius fell into the background. From Marseilles George W. Curtis proceeded to Egypt, where he wrote hiswell known book of Nile travels, while Cranch set out for Rome to perfecthis art. 

He studied there at a night-school, painting in water colors from nudemodels and arrangements of drapery, but not taking lessons from anyregular instructor. He never applied himself much to figure-painting, however. He sold his paintings chiefly to American travellers, and whenthe Revolution broke out in 1848, he returned to Sorrento, where hissecond child, Mrs. Leonora Scott, was born. His first child was born theyear previous, in Rome, but afterwards died. In 1851, he returned to NewYork and Fishkill, but not meeting with such good appreciation there ashe had in Italy, he went to Europe again in the autumn of 1853, andresided in Paris. One cause of this may have been the unfriendliness ofhis brother-in-law, who was a leading art critic in New York City, andwho disliked Cranch on account of his wife, and never neglected anopportunity of disparaging his work. 

One of his early landscapes is now before me. I think it must have beenpainted anterior to his sojourn in Rome, owing to the coldness of thecoloring. It represents a scene on the Hudson near Fishkill, with somecattle in the foreground, and a rather bold-looking mountain on theopposite side of the river. The clouds above the mountain are light andfleecy; the foliage soft and graceful; the cattle also are fine, but theeffect is like a chilly spring day when one requires a winter overcoat. An allegorical piece, illustrating Heine's fir-tree dreaming of the palm, has a much pleasanter effect, although it represents a wintry scene. 

His art improved greatly in Paris, and he also wrote a number of shortpoems which his friend, James Russell Lowell, published in the_Atlantic Monthly_. In 1856 George L. Stearns sent him an order fora painting, which Cranch executed the following year, and wrote Mr. Stearns this explanation concerning it, in a very interesting letterdated Paris, March 18, 1857:

"Your picture is done and is quite a favorite with those who have seenit. In fact, I think so well of it that I shall probably send it to theExposition, which opens soon. After that it shall be sent to you. It isan oak and a sunset--a warm and low-toned picture--and I am sure youwill like it. "

This landscape represents two vigorous oak trees by the bank of a river, with a sunset seen through the branches, and reflected in the water. Thescene is remarkably like a similar one on Concord River, about twohundred yards below the spot where Hawthorne and Channing discovered thebody of the schoolmistress who drowned herself, as Hawthorne supposed, from lack of sympathy. It seems as if the original sketch must have beenmade at that point. It is of a deep rich coloring, smoothly anddelicately finished, --a painting that no one has yet been able to findfault with. Rev. Samuel Longfellow, who knew almost every picture in thegalleries of Europe, considered it equal to a Ruysdael, and he liked itbetter than a Ruysdael. 

In the letter above referred to Cranch also writes:

"Since your letter (a long time ago) I have written you a good manyepistles (in a kind of invisible ink of my invention) which probably youhave never received. 

"The truth is, I am a distinguished case of total depravity in the matterof correspondence. Letters ought to flow from one as easily andspontaneously as spoken words. But then one must write all the time andreport life continuously, as one does in speech. A letter does nothingbut give some little detached morsel of one's life--and we say toourselves what is the use of holding up to a friend three thousand milesoff such unsatisfactory statements, such dribblings and droppings? 'Writewhat is uppermost, ' says one at your elbow. Ah, if we could only say whatis uppermost; as I sit down for instance to write (say this letter) I amcaught into a sort of whirl of thoughts, in which it is impossible to sayexactly what is foremost and what is hindmost. Then if I only attempt tonarrate events, where am I to begin--so you see (I am theorizing aboutletters) a letter must be a sort of epitome of a friend's being and lifeor else nothing. Applying the theory to myself, finding myself unable toshut my genie in a box and carry him on my shoulders, I simply go andstate that there is such a box with a genie supposed to be in it, lyingat the custom-house, and here is the roughest sort of sketch of it, " etc. 

This is characteristic of the man. He lived largely in an atmosphere ofpoetic pleasantry, which served as an alleviation to his cares and as anattraction to his friends. 

Cranch did not always succeed so well. He never became a mannerist, butthere was too much similarity in his subjects, and the treatment toooften bordered on the commonplace. Tintoretto said: "Colors can be boughtat the paint-shop, but good designs are only obtained by sleepless nightsand much reflection. " It is doubtful if Cranch ever laid awake over hiswork, either in poetry or painting. He had a dreamy, phlegmaticdisposition, which seemed to carry him through life without much effortof the will. He once confessed that when he was a boy he would never firea gun for fear it might kick him over, and when he was at Hampton beachin 1875 he was in the habit of going out to sketch at a certain hour withprosaic regularity. He did not seem to be on the watch, as an artistshould, for rare effects of light and scenery, and he talked of art withvery little enthusiasm. Yet he lived the true life of his profession, enjoying his work, contented with little praise, and without envy ofthose who were more fortunate. What is called _odium artisticum_ wasunknown to him. 

He was an unpretending, courteous American gentleman. His disposition wasperfect, and no one could remember having seen him out of temper. Hispleasant flow of wit and humor, together with his varied accomplishments, made him a very brilliant man in society, and he counted among hisfriends the finest _literati_ in Rome, London, and the UnitedStates. He knew Thackeray as he knew Curtis and Lowell, and was oncedining with him in a London chop-house, when Thackeray said: "Have youread the last number of The Newcombs?--if not, I will read it to you. "Accordingly he gave the waiter a shilling to obtain the document, andread it aloud to Cranch and a friend who was with him. 

[Footnote: Both mentioned in Hawthorne's Notebook. ]

Cranch could never understand this, for it was the last thing he wouldhave done himself without an invitation; but he enjoyed the reading, andoften referred to it. 

When he returned to America in 1863 he went to live on Staten Island inorder to be near George William Curtis, who cared for him as Damon didfor Pythias, and who served to counteract the ill-omened influence ofCranch's brother-in-law. The Century Club purchased one of his pictures, an allegorical subject, which I believe still hangs in their halls. From1873 to 1877 Lowell would seem to have frequented Cranch's house inpreference to any other in Cambridge. 

When Cranch first went to live there he occupied a small but sunny andotherwise desirable house on the westerly side of Appian Way, --a namethat amused him mightily, --but in 1876 he purchased the house on thesouthwestern corner of Ellery and Harvard Streets. Having arranged hishousehold goods there he sent one of his own paintings as a present toEmerson in order to renew their early acquaintance. Emerson responded toit by a characteristic note, in which he said that his son and daughter, who were both good artists, had expressed their approval of his present. He then referred to the danger which arises from a multiplicity oftalents, and said: "I well recollect how you made the frogs vocal in theponds back of Sleepy Hollow. "

Cranch did not feel that this was very complimentary, but a few dayslater there came an invitation for Mr. And Mrs. Cranch to spend the dayat Concord. Emerson met them at the railway station with his carryall. Hehad on an old cylinder hat which had evidently seen good service, and yetbecame him remarkably. He was interested to hear what George WilliamCurtis thought about politics, and to find that it agreed closely withthe opinion of his friend, Judge Hoar. The Cranchs had a delightfulvisit. 

Cranch's baritone voice was like his poem, the "Riddle, " deep, rich andsonorous. He might have earned a larger income with it, perhaps, than hedid by writing and painting. He sang comic songs in a manner peculiarlyhis own, --as if the words were enclosed in a parenthesis, --as much as tosay, "I do not approve of this, but I sing it just the same, " and thismade the performance all the more amusing. He sang Bret Harte's "Jim" ina very effective manner, and he often sang the epitaph on Shakespeare'stomb, "Good friend, for Jesus sake forbeare, "

as a recitative, both in English and Italian, --_In questa tomba_. He seemed to bring out a hidden force in his singing, which was notapparent on ordinary occasions. His reading of poetry was also fine, buthe depended in it rather too much on his voice, too little on the meaningof the verse. It was not equal to Celia Thaxter's reading. 

The same types of physiognomy continually reappear among artists. WilliamM. Hunt looked like Horace Vernet, and Cranch in his old age resembledthe Louvre portrait of Tintoretto, although his features were not sostrong. He used to say in jest that he was descended from Lucas Cranach, but that the second vowel had dropped out. He cared as little for thefashions as poets and artists commonly do, but there was no dandy inBoston who appeared so well in a full dress suit. 

In 1873 the Velasquez method of painting was in full vogue at Boston. Cranch did not believe in imitations, or in adopting the latest stylefrom Paris, and he set himself against the popular hue-and-cry somewhatto his personal disadvantage. Charles Perkins and the other art scholarswho founded the Art Museum in Copley Square were all on Cranch's side, but that did not seem to help him with the public. "They cannot bend thebow of Ulysses, " said Cranch in some disgust. He preferred Murillo toVelasquez, and once had quite an argument with William Hunt on thesubject in Doll & Richards's picture-store. Hunt asserted that there wasno essential difference between a sketch and a finished picture, --hemight have said there was no difference between a boy and a man, --thatall the artist needed was to express himself, and that it was immaterialin what way he did so. Cranch thought afterwards, though unfortunately itdid not occur to him at the moment, that the test of such a theory wouldbe its application to sculpture. He wondered what Raphael would havethought of it. 

It was quite a grief to Cranch that his own daughter, who inherited histalent, should have deserted him at this juncture, and gone over to theopposition. She filled his house with rough, heavily-shaded studies ofstill-life, flowers, and faces of her friends; but of all Hunt's pupils, Miss Cranch, Miss Knowlton, and Miss Lamb were the only ones who achievedartistic distinction in their special work. 

It was in order to withdraw her from this Walpurgis art-dance that Cranchundertook his last journey to Paris in his seventieth year. There theyoung lady quickly dropped her Boston method, and, acquiring a moreconservative handling, became an excellent portrait painter; too soon, however, obliged to relinquish her art on account of ill-health. 

Cranch's landscapes now adorn the walls of private houses; very largelythe houses of his numerous friends. He did not paint in the fashion ofthe time, but like Millet followed a fashion of his own; and I do notknow of any of his pictures in public collections, although there aremany that deserve the honor. The best landscape of his that I have seenwas painted just before his last visit to Paris. It represents a low-toned sunset like the "Two Oaks"; an autumnal scene on a narrow river, with maples here and there upon its banks. The sky is covered by a dullgray cloud, but in the west the sun shines through a low opening andgives promise of a better day. The peculiar liquid effect of the settingsun is wonderfully rendered, and the rich browns and russets of thefoliage lead up, as it were, like a flight of steps to this final glory, --a restful and impressive scene. This landscape is not painted in thesmooth manner of the "Two Oaks, " but with soft, flakelike touches whichslightly remind one of Murillo. Its coloring has the peculiarity thatartificial light wholly changes its character, whereas Cranch'spaintings, previous to 1875, appear much the same by electric light thatthey do in daytime. It is called the "Home of the Wood Duck. "

Between 1870 and 1880 he published a number of poems in the _AtlanticMonthly_ as well as a longer piece called "Satan, " for which it wassaid by a certain wit that he received the devil's pay. His two books foryoung folks, "The Last of the Huggermuggers" and "Kobboltozo, " ought notto be overlooked, for the illustrations in them are the only remains wehave of his rare pencil drawings, as good, if not better, thanThackeray's drawings. 

It is likely that the parents read these stories with more pleasure thantheir children; for they not only contain a deal of fine wit, but thereis a moral allegory running through them both. An American vessel iswrecked on a strange island, and the sailors who have escaped death areastonished at the gigantic proportions of the sand and the sea-shells, and of the bushes by the shore. Presently the Huggermuggers appear, andthe American mariners in terror run to hide themselves; but they soonfind that these giants are the kindliest of human beings. There are alsodwarfs on the island, larger than ordinary men, but small compared withthe Huggermuggers. They are disagreeable, envious creatures, who wish toruin the giants in order to have the island more entirely to themselves. Having accomplished this in a somewhat mysterious manner, they attemptedto improve their own stature by eating a certain shell-fish which hadbeen the favorite food of the giants; but the shell-fish had alsodisappeared with the Huggermuggers, and after searching for it a longtime they finally summoned the Mer-King, the genius of the sea, whoraised his head above the water in a secluded cove and spoke theseverses:

 "Not in the Ocean deep and clear, Not on the Land so broad and fair, Not in the regions of boundless Air, Not in the Fire's burning sphere-- 'Tis not here--'tis not there: Ye may seek it everywhere. He that is a dwarf in spirit Never shall the isle inherit. Hearts that grow 'mid daily cares Come to greatness unawares; Noble souls alone may know How the giants live and grow. "

This is an allegory, but of very general application; and it has moreespecially a political application. Cranch may have intended it toillustrate the life of Alexander Hamilton. 

Cranch was not a giant himself, but he knew how to distinguish truegreatness from the spurious commodity. Emerson considered his variedaccomplishments his worst enemy; but that depends on how you choose tolook at it. It is probable enough that if Cranch had followed out asingle pursuit to its perfection, and if he had not lived so many yearsin Europe, he would have been a more celebrated man; but Cranch did notcare for celebrity. He was content to live and to let live. Men of greatforce, like Macaulay and Emerson, who impress their personality on thetimes in which they live, communicate evil as well as good; but Cranchhad no desire to influence his fellow men, and for this reason hisinfluence was of a purer quality. It was like the art of Albert Durer. Noone could conceive of Cranch's injuring anybody; and if all men were likehim there would be no more wars, no need of revolutions. Force, however, is necessary to combat the evil that is already established. 

He died at his house on Ellery Street January 20, 1890, as gently andpeacefully as he had lived. There is an excellent portrait of him byDuveneck in the rooms of the University Club, at Boston; but the sketchof his life, by George William Curtis, was refused on the ground that hewas an Emersonian. The same objection might have been raised againstLowell, or Curtis himself with equally good reason. 

T. G. APPLETON. 

Thomas G. Appleton, universally known as "Tom" Appleton, was a notablefigure during the middle of the last century not only in Boston andCambridge, but in Paris, Rome, Florence, and other European cities. Hewas descended from one of the oldest and wealthiest families of Boston, and graduated from Harvard in 1831, together with Wendell Phillips andGeorge Lothrop Motley. He was not distinguished in college for hisscholarship, but rather as a wit, a _bon vivant_, and a good fellow. Yet his companions looked upon him as a strong character and much abovethe average in intellect. After taking his degree of Bachelor of Arts hewent through the Law School, and attempted to practise that profession inBoston. At the end of the first year, happening to meet Wendell Phillipson the sidewalk, the latter inquired if he had any clients. He had not;neither had Phillips, and they both agreed that waiting for fortune inthe legal profession was wearisome business. They were both well adaptedto it, and the only reason for their ill success would seem to have beenthat they belonged to wealthy and rather aristocratic families, amongstwhom there is little litigation. 

At the same time Sumner was laying the foundation by hard study for hisfuture distinction as a legal authority, and Motley was discussing Goetheand Kant with the youthful Bismarck in Berlin. Wendell Phillips soon gaveup his profession to become an orator in the anti-slavery cause; and TomAppleton went to Rome and took lessons in oil painting. 

Nothing can be more superficial than to presume that young men who writeverses or study painting think themselves geniuses. A man may have agenius for mechanics; and in most instances men and women are attractedto the arts from the elevating character of the occupation. It is notlikely that Tom Appleton considered himself a genius, for although he hadplenty of self-confidence, his opinion of himself was always a modestone. He painted the portraits of some of his friends, but he never fairlymade a profession of it. However, he learned the mechanism of pictorialart in this way, and soon became one of the best connoisseurs of histime. 

His finest enjoyment was to meet with some person, especially a stranger, with whom he could discuss the celebrated works in the galleries ofEurope. He soon became known as a man who had something to say, and whoknew how to say it. He told the Italian picture-dealers to cheat him asmuch as they could, and he gave amusing accounts of their variousattempts to do this. He knew more than they did. 

After this time he lived as much in Europe as he did in America. Before1860 he had crossed the Atlantic nearly forty times. The marriage of hissister to Henry W. Longfellow was of great advantage to him, for throughLongfellow he made the acquaintance of many celebrated persons whom hewould not otherwise have known, and being always equal to such occasionshe retained their respect and good will. One might also say, "What couldLongfellow have done without _him_?" His conversation was neverforced, and the wit, for which he became as much distinguished in sociallife as Lowell or Holmes, was never premeditated, often making itsappearance on unexpected occasions to refresh his hearers with itssparkle and originality. 

In the "Autocrat of the Breakfast Table" Doctor Holmes quotes this sayingby the "wittiest of men, " that "good Americans, when they die, go toParis. " Now this wittiest of men was Tom Appleton, as many of us knew atthat time. He said of Leonardo da Vinci's "Last Supper" that it probablyhad faded out from being stared at by sightseers, and that the same thingmight have happened to the Sistine Madonna if it had not been put underglass, --these being the two most popular paintings in Europe. His fund ofanecdotes was inexhaustible. 

Earlier in life he was occasionally given to practical jokes. A woman whokept a thread and needle store in Boston was supposed to have committedmurder, and was tried for it but acquitted. One day, as Appleton wasgoing by her place of business with a friend he said: "Come in here withme; I want to see how that woman looks. " Then surveying the premises, asif he wished to find something to purchase, he asked her if she had any"galluses" for sale, --gallus being a shop-boy's term at the time forsuspenders. 

When the Art Museum in Boston was first built its odd appearanceattracted very general attention, and some one asked Tom Appleton what hethought of it. "Well, " he said, "I have heard that architecture is a kindof frozen music, and if so I should call the Art Museum frozen 'YankeeDoodle. '"

Thomas G. Appleton was no dilettante; his interest in the subject wasserious and abiding. He did not wear his art as he did his gloves, nordid he turn it into an intellectual abstraction. There was nothing hedisliked more than the kind of pretension which tries to make a knowledgeof art a vehicle for self-importance. "Who, " he said, "ought not to feelhumble before a painting of Titian's or Correggio's? It is only when wefeel so that we can appreciate a great work of art. " He believed that animportant moral lesson could be inculcated by a picture as well as by apoem, --even by a realistic Dutch painting. "Women worship the Venus ofMilo now, " he said, "just as they did in ancient Greece, and it is goodfor them, too. " He respected William Morris Hunt as the best Americanpainter of his time, but thought he would be a better painter if he werenot so proud. Pride leads to arrogance, and arrogance is blinding. 

After he came into possession of his inheritance he showed that he couldmake a good use of money. One of his first acts was to purchase a set ofengravings in the Vatican, valued at ten thousand dollars, for the BostonPublic Library. "I was not such a fool as to pay that sum for it, though, " he remarked to Rev. Samuel Longfellow. He visited the studios ofstruggling artists in Rome and Boston, gave them advice andencouragement, --made purchases himself, sometimes, and advised hisfriends to purchase when he found a painting that was really excellent. He also purchased some valuable old paintings to adorn his house onCommonwealth Avenue. 

He placed two of these at one time on free exhibition at Doll's picture-store, and going into the rooms where they hung, I found Tom Appletonexplaining their merits to a group of remarkably pretty school-girls. 

At the same moment, another gentleman who knew Mr. Appleton entered, andsaid, "Ah! a Palma Vecio, Mr. Appleton; how delightful! It is a Palma, isit not?"

"That, " replied Mr. Appleton, "is probably a Palma; but what do you sayto this, which I consider a much better picture?" The gentleman did notknow; but it looked like Venetian coloring. 

"Quite right, " said Mr. Appleton; "I bought it at the sale of a privatecollection in Rome, and it was catalogued as a Tintoretto, but I said, 'No, Bassano;' and it is the best Bassano I ever saw. The Italians callit '_Il Coconotte_. '"

Mr. Appleton had no intention of palming off doubtful paintings on hisfriends or the public; but in regard to "_Il Coconotte_" he wasconfident of its true value, and rightly so. The painting, so called froma head in the group covered very thinly with hair, was the pride of hiscollection and one of the best of Bassano's works. The other paintinglooked to me like a Palma, and I have always supposed that it was one. 

After this Mr. Appleton branched off on to an interesting anecdoteconcerning an Italian cicerone, and finally left his audience as wellentertained as if they had been to the theatre. 

In 1871 he published a volume of poems for private circulation, in whichthere were a number of excellent pieces, and especially two which deservea place in any choice collection of American poetry. One is called the"Whip of the Sky" and relates to a subject which Mr. Appleton often dweltupon, --the unnecessary haste and restlessness of American life, and isgiven here for the wider circulation which it amply deserves:

THE WHIP OF THE SKY. 

 Weary with travel, charmed with home, The youth salutes New England's air; Nor notes, within the azure dome, A vigilant, menacing figure there, Whose thonged hand swings A whip which sings: "Step, step, step, " sings the whip of the sky: "Hurry up, move along, you can if you try!"

 Remembering Como's languid side, Where, pulsing from the citron deep, The nightingale's aerial tide Floats through the day, repose and sleep, Reclined in groves, -- A voice reproves. "Step, step, step, " cracks the whip of the sky: "Hurry up, jump along, rest when you die!"

 Slave of electric will, which strips From him the bliss of easeful hours; And bids, as from a tyrant's lips, Rest, quiet, fly, as useless flowers, He wings his heart To make him smart. "Step, step, step, " snaps the whip of the sky: "Hurry up, race along, rest when you die!"

 He maddens in the breathless race, Nor misses station, power or pelf; And only loses in the chase The hunted lord of all, --himself. His gain is loss, His treasure dross. "Step, step, step, " mocks the whip of the sky, "Hurry up, limp along, rest when you die!"

 With care he burthens all his soul; Heaped ingots curve his willing back; Submissive to that fierce control, He needs at last the sky-whip's crack, Till at the grave, No more a slave, -- "Rest, rest, rest, " sighs the whip of the sky: "Hurry not, haste no more, rest when you die!"

Celia Thaxter, the finest of poetic readers, read this to me oneSeptember morning at the Isles of Shoals, and at the conclusion sheremarked: "If that could only be read every year in our public schools itmight do the American people some good. "

As compared with this, the sonnet on Pompeii has the effect of a strongcomplementary color, --for instance, like orange against dark blue. Itechoes the pathetic reverie that we feel on beholding the monuments ofthe mighty past. It contains not the pathos of yesterday, nor of ahundred years ago, but as Emerson says, "of the time out of mind. "

POMPEII. 

 The silence there was what most haunted me. Long, speechless streets, whose stepping-stones invite Feet which shall never come; to left and right Gay colonnades and courts, --beyond, the glee, Heartless, of that forgetful Pagan sea. O'er roofless homes and waiting streets, the light Lies with a pathos sorrowfuler than night. Fancy forbids this doom of Life with Death Wedded; and with a wand restores the Life. The jostling throngs swarm, animate, beneath The open shops, and all the tropic strife Of voices, Roman, Greek, Barbarian, mix. The wreath Indolent hangs on far Vesuvius's crest; And beyond the glowing town, and guiltless sea, sweet rest. 

Tom Appleton was greatly interested in the performances of thespiritualists, trance mediums, and other persons pretending tosupernatural powers. How far he believed in this occult science can nowonly be conjectured, but he was not a man to be easily played upon. Hethought at least that there was more in it than was dreamed of byphilosophers. When the Longfellow party was at Florence in April, 1869, Prince George of Hanover, recently driven from his kingdom by Bismarck, called to see the poet, and finding that he had gone out, was entertainedby Mr. Appleton with some remarkable stories of hypnotic andspiritualistic performances. The prince, who was a most amiable lookingyoung German, was evidently very much interested. 

Deafness came upon Mr. Appleton in the last years of his life, though notso as to prevent his enjoying the society of those who had clear voicesand who spoke distinctly. When one of his friends suggested that thetrouble might be wax in his ears, he shook his head sadly and said: "Ohno: not _wax_, but _wane_. "

He was finally taken ill while all alone in New York City, and theLongfellows were telegraphed for. When one of his relatives came to himhe spoke of his malady in a stoically humorous manner; and his last wordswere when he was dying: "How interesting this all is!" A man never leftthis world with a more perfect faith in immortality!

DOCTOR HOLMES

I have often been inside the old Holmes house in Cambridge. It served asa boarding-house during our college days, but afterwards Professor JamesB. Thayer rented it for a term of years, until it was finally swept awaylike chaff by President Eliot's broom of reform. The popular notion thatit was a quaint-looking old mansion of the eighteenth century, whichseems to have been encouraged by Doctor Holmes himself, is amisconception. It was a two-and-a-half story, low-studied house, such aswere built at the beginning of the last century, with a roof at an angleof forty-five degrees and a two-story ell on the right side of the frontdoor. Doctor Holmes says:

 "Gambrel, gambrel; let me beg You will look at a horse's hinder leg. First great angle above the hoof, -- That is the gambrel; hence gambrel roof. "

Now, any one who looks carefully at the picture of the old Holmeshouse, in Morse's biography of the Doctor, will perceive that thiswas not the style of roof which the house had, --at least, in its lateryears. 

Doctor Holmes graduated at Harvard in 1829 at the age of twenty. Hisclass has been a celebrated one in Boston, and there were certainly somegood men in it, --especially Benjamin Pierce and James Freeman Clarke, --but I think it was Doctor Holmes's class-poems that gave it its chiefcelebrity, which, after all, means that it was a good deal talked about. In one of these he said:

 "No wonder the tutor can't sleep in his bed With two twenty-niners over his head. "

He was said to have composed twenty-nine poems for his class, and thendeclared that he had reached the proper limit, --that it would not beprudent to go beyond the magical number. It was not a dissipated class, but one with a good deal of life in it, much given to late hours andjokes, practical and unpractical. The Doctor himself is mysteriouslysilent concerning his college course, and so are his biographers; but wemay surmise that it was not very different in general tenor fromLowell's; although his Yankee shrewdness would seem to have preserved himfrom serious catastrophes. 

In the "Autocrat of the Breakfast Table" Doctor Holmes mentions an earlyacquaintance with Margaret Fuller, which is not referred to by Mr. Morse, but must have arisen either at Mrs. Prentiss's Boston school or at theCambridgeport school which young Oliver afterwards attended. Even at thatage he recognized Margaret's intellectual gifts, and he was not a littleemulous of her; for he fancied that he "had also drawn a small prize inthe great literary lottery. " He looked into one of her compositions, which was lying on the teacher's desk, and felt quite crest-fallen bydiscovering a word in it which he did not know the meaning of. This wordwas _trite_; and it may he suspected that a good many use it withoutbeing aware of its proper significance. 

Margaret Fuller rose to celebrity with the spontaneity of true genius, and left her name high upon the natural bridge of American literature. Holmes did not come before the public until years after her death; andthen perhaps it might not have happened but for James Russell Lowell andthe _Atlantic_. He was a bright man, and possessed a peculiar mentalquality of his own; but as we think of him now we can hardly call him agenius. He would evidently have liked in his youth to have made aprofession of literature; but his verse lacked the charm and universalitywhich made Longfellow popular so readily; nor did he possess the daringspirit of innovation with which Emerson startled and convinced hiscontemporaries. He first tried the law, and as that did not suit histaste he fell into medicine, but evidently without any natural bent orinclination for the profession. He was fond of the university, and when, after a temporary professorship at Dartmouth he was appointed lecturer onanatomy at the Harvard Medical-School, his friends realized that he hadfound his right position. 

Lecturing on anatomy is a routine, but by no means a sinecure. Itrequires a clearness and accuracy of statement which might be compared tothe work of an optician. Some idea of it can be derived from the factthat there may be eight or ten points to a human bone, each of which hasa name of eight or ten syllables, --only to be acquired by the hardeststudy. Doctor Holmes's lecturing manner was incisive and sometimespungent, like his conversation, but always good-humored and wellcalculated to make an impression even on the most lymphatic temperaments. While it may be said that others might have done it as well, it isdoubtful if he could have been excelled in his own specialty. His readyfund of wit often served to revive the drooping spirits of his audience, and many of his jests have become a kind of legendary lore at theMedical-School. Most of them, however, were of a too anatomical characterto be reproduced in print. 

So the years rolled over Doctor Holmes's head; living quietly, workingsteadily, and accumulating a store of proverbial wisdom by the way. InJune, 1840, he married Amelia Lee Jackson, of Boston, an alliance whichbrought him into relationship with half the families on Beacon Street, and which may have exercised a determining influence on the future courseof his life. Doctor Holmes was always liberally inclined, and ready towelcome such social and political improvements as time might bring; buthe never joined any of the liberal or reformatory movements of his time. Certain old friends of Emerson affirmed, when Holmes published hisbiography of the Concord sage in 1885, that no one else was so much givento jesting as Emerson in his younger days. This may have been true; butit is also undeniable that Emerson himself had changed much during thattime, and that the socialistic Emerson of 1840 was largely a differentperson from the author of "Society and Solitude. " Holmes had alreadycomposed one of the fairest tributes to Emerson's intellectual qualitythat has yet been written. 

 "He seems a winged Franklin, heavenly wise, Born to unlock the secrets of the skies. "

Emerson began his course in direct apposition to the conventional world;but he was the great magnet of the age, and the world could not helpbeing attracted by him. It modified its course, and Emerson also modifiedhis, so that the final reconciliation might take place. Meanwhile DoctorHolmes pursued the even tenor of his way. Concord does not appear to havebeen attractive to him. He had a brother, John Holmes, who was reputed byhis friends to be as witty as the "Autocrat" himself, but who lived aquiet, inconspicuous life. John was an intimate friend of Hon. E. R. Hoarand often went to Concord to visit him; but I never heard of the Doctorbeing seen there, though it may have happened before my time. He does notspeak over-much of Emerson in his letters, and does not mentionHawthorne, Thoreau or Alcott, so far as we know, at all. They do notappear to have attracted his attention. 

We are indebted to Lowell for all that Doctor Holmes has given us. TheDoctor was forty-eight when the _Atlantic Monthly_ appeared beforethe public, and according to his own confession he had long since givenup hope of a literary life. We hardly know another instance like it; butso much the better for him. He had no immature efforts of early life toregret; and when the cask once was tapped, the old wine came forth with afine bouquet. When Phillips & Sampson consulted Lowell in regard to theeditorship of the _Atlantic, _ he said at once: "We must getsomething from Oliver Wendell Holmes. " He was Lowell's great discoveryand proved to be his best card, --a clear, shining light, and not an_ignis fatuus. _

When the "Autocrat of the Breakfast Table" first appeared few were in thesecret of its authorship and everybody asked: "Who is this new luminary?"It was exactly what the more intelligent public wanted, and Holmes jumpedat once into the position in literature which he has held ever since. Readers were delighted with his wit, surprised at his originality andimpressed by his proverbial wisdom. It was the advent of a sound, healthyintelligence, not unlike that of President Lincoln, which could deal withcommon-place subjects in a significant and characteristic manner. Thelandlady's daughter, the schoolmistress, little Boston, and the young mancalled John, are as real and tangible as the _dramatis personae_ inone of Moliere's plays. They seem more real to us than many of thedistinguished men and women whom we read of in the newspapers. 

Doctor Holmes is the American Sterne. He did not seek a vehicle for hiswit in the oddities and mishaps of English middle-class domestic life, but in the contrasts and incongruities of a Boston boarding-house. Heinforms us at the outset that he much prefers a family with an ancestry--one that has had a judge or a governor in it, with old family portraits, old books and claw-footed furniture; but if Doctor Holmes had depended onsuch society for his material he would hardly have interested the publicwhom he addressed. One of Goethe's critics complained that the class ofpersons he had introduced in "Wilhelm Meister" did not belong to goodsociety; and to this the "aristocratic" poet replied: "I have often beenin society called good, from which I have not been able to obtain an ideafor the shortest poem. "

So it is always: the interesting person is the one who struggles. Afterthe struggle is over, and prosperity commences, the moral ends, --youngCorey and his bride go off to Mexico. The lives of families arerepresented by those of its prominent individuals. The ambitious son ofan old and wealthy family makes a new departure from former precedents, thus creating a fresh struggle for himself, and becomes an orator, likeWendell Philips, or a scientist, like Darwin. 

In the "Autocrat" we recognize the dingy wall-paper of the dining-room, the well-worn furniture, the cracked water-pitcher, and the slight aromaof previous repasts; but we soon forget this unattractive background, forthe scene is full of genuine human life. The men and women who congregatethere appear for what they really are. They wear no mental masks andother disguises like the people we meet at fashionable entertainments;and each acts himself or herself. Boarding-houses, sanitariums, and seavoyages are the places to study human nature. When a man is half seasickthe old original Adam shows forth in him through all the wrappings ofeducation, social restraint, imitation and attempts at self-improvement, with which he has covered it over for so many years. Once on a Cunardsteamship I heard an architect from San Francisco tell the story of thehoop-snake, which takes its tail in its teeth and rolls over the prairiesat a speed equal to any express train. He evidently believed the storyhimself, and as I looked round on the company I saw that they allbelieved it, too, excepting Captain Martyn, who gave me a sly look fromthe corner of his eye. "Rocked in the cradle of the deep, " they hadbecome like children again, and were ready to credit anything that wastold in a confident manner. But Doctor Holmes's digressions areinfectious. 

The "Autocrat of the Breakfast Table" is an irregular panorama of humanlife without either a definite beginning or end, --unless the autocrat'soffering himself to the schoolmistress (an incident which only took placeon paper) can be considered so; but it is by no means a patchwork. Hetalks of horse-racing, the Millerites, elm trees, Doctor Johnson, thecomposition of poetry and much else; but these subjects are introducedand treated with an adroitness that amounts to consummate art. He isalways at the boarding-house, and if his remarks sometimes shoot over theheads of his auditors, this is only because he intends that they should. The first ten or fifteen pages of the "Autocrat" are written in such acold, formal and pedantic manner that the wonder is that Lowell shouldhave published it. After that the style suddenly changes and the Doctorbecomes himself. It is like a convention call which ends in a sympatheticconversation. 

Doctor Holmes's humor permeates every sentence that he wrote. Even in hismost serious moods we meet with it in a peculiar phrase, or the use ofsome exceptional word. 

Now and then his wit is very brilliant, lighting up its surroundings likethe sudden appearance of a meteor. The essence of humor consists in acontrast which places the object or person compared at a disadvantage. Ifthe contrast is a dignified one we have high comedy; but if the reverse, low comedy. Some of Holmes's comparisons make the reader laugh out aloud. He says that a tedious preacher or lecturer, with an alert listener inthe audience, resembles a crow followed by a king-bird, --a spectaclewhich of itself is enough to make one smile; and as for an elevatedcomparison, what could be more so, unless we were to seek one in themoon. There is a threefold wit in it; but the full force of this can onlybe appreciated in the original text. 

Nature commonly sets her own stamp on the face of a humorist. The longpointed nose of Cervantes is indicative of immeasurable fun, and therehave been many similar noses on the faces of less distinguished wits. Doctor Holmes ridiculed phrenology as an attempt to estimate the money ina safe by the knobs on the outside, but he evidently was a believer inphysiognomy, and he exemplified this in his own case. His face had acomical expression from boyhood; its profile reminded one of thoseprehistoric images which Di Cesnola brought from Cyprus. As if he wereconscious of this he asserted his dignity in a more decided manner than aman usually does who is confident of the respect of those about him. Thushe acquired a style of his own, different from that of any other personin Boston. He was not a man to be treated with disrespect or unduefamiliarity. 

A medical student named Holyoke once had occasion to call on him, and assoon as he had introduced himself Doctor Holmes said: "There, me friend, stand there and let me take an observation of you. " He then fetched anold book from his library which contained a portrait of Holyoke'sgrandfather, who had also been a physician. He compared the two faces, saying: "Forehead much the same; nose not so full; mouth rather morefeminine; chin not quite so strong; but on the whole a very goodlikeness, and I have no doubt you will make an excellent doctor. " AfterHolyoke had explained his business Doctor Holmes finally said: "I likedyour grandfather, and shall always be glad to see you here. "

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. , was class poet of 1861, an honor whichpleased his father very much. Immediately after graduating he went to thewar, and came near losing his life at the battle of Antietam. A rifle-ball passed through both lungs, and narrowly missed his heart. AlexanderHamilton died of exactly such a wound in seven hours; and yet in threedays Captain Holmes was able to write to his father. The Doctor startedat once for the seat of war, and met with quite a series of smalladventures which he afterwards described in a felicitous article in the_Atlantic, _ called "My Hunt after the Captain. " His friend, Dr. Henry P. Bowditch, lost his son in the same battle, and when they met atthe railway depot Holmes said: "I would give my house to have yourfortune like mine. "

In a letter to Motley dated February 3, 1862, he says:

"I was at a dinner at Parker's the other day where Governor Andrew andEmerson, and various unknown dingy-linened friends of progress met tohear Mr. Conway, the not unfamous Unitarian minister of Washington, --Virginia-born, with seventeen secesh cousins, fathers, and otherrelatives, --tell of his late experience at the seat of Government. He isan out-and-out immediate emancipationist, --believes that is the only wayto break the strength of the South; that the black man is the life of theSouth; that they dread work above all things, and cling to the slave asthe drudge that makes life tolerable to them. I do not know if hisopinion is worth much. "

This was a meeting of the Bird Club which Doctor Holmes attended and thedingy-linened friends of progress were such men as Dr. Samuel G. Howe, Governor Washburn, Governor Claflin, Dr. Estes Howe, and Frank B. Sanborn. It has always been a trick of fashionable society, a trick asold as the age of Pericles, to disparage liberalism by accusing it ofvulgarity; but we regret to find Doctor Holmes falling into line in thisparticular. He always speaks of Sumner in his letters with something likea slur--not to Motley, for Motley was Sumner's friend, but to others whomight be more sympathetic. This did not, however, prevent him from goingto Sumner in 1868 to ask a favor for his second son, who wanted to beprivate secretary to the Senator and learn something of foreign affairs. Sumner granted the request, although he must have been aware that theDoctor was not over-friendly to him; but it proved an unfortunatecircumstance for Edward J. Holmes, who contracted malaria in Washington, and this finally resulted in an early death. 

Why is it that members of the medical profession should take anexceptional interest in poisonous reptiles? Professor Reichert and Dr. S. Weir Mitchell spent a large portion of their leisure hours for severalyears in experimenting with the virus of rattlesnakes, and of the Gilamonster, without, however, quite exhausting the subject. Doctor Holmeskept a rattlesnake in a cage for a pet, and was accustomed to stir it upwith an ox-goad. A New York doctor lost his life by fooling with apoisonous snake, and another in Liverpool frightened a whole congregationof scientists with two torpid rattlesnakes which suddenly came to life onthe president's table. Does it arise from their custom of dealing withdeadly poisons, or is it because they officiate as the high priests ofmortality?

Doctor Holmes's "Elsie Venner" was one of the offshoots of this peculiarmedical interest, and when we think of it in that light the story seemsnatural enough. The idea of a snaky woman is as old as the fable ofMedusa. I read the novel when I was fifteen, and it made as decided animpression on me as "Ivanhoe" or "Pickwick. " I remember especially aproverbial saying of the old doctor who serves as the presiding genius ofthe plot: he knew "the kind of people who are never sick but what theyare going to die, and the other kind who never know they are sick untilthey are dead. " If Doctor Holmes had taken this as his text, and writtena novel on those lines, he might have created a work of far-reachingimportance. He appears to have known very little concerning poisonousreptiles; had never heard of the terrible fer-de-lance, which infests thecane-swamps of Brazil--a snake ten feet in length which strikes withoutwarning and straight as a fencer's thrust. But "Elsie Venner" andHolmes's second novel, "The Guardian Angel, " are, to use Lowell'sexpression on a different subject:

 "As full of wit, gumption and good Yankee sense, As there are mosses on an old stone fence. "

In the autumn of 1865 some Harvard students, radically inclined, obtainedpossession of a religious society in the college called the ChristianUnion, revolutionized it and changed its name to the Liberal Fraternity. They then invited Emerson, Henry James, Sr. , Doctor Holmes, and ColonelHigginson to deliver lectures in Cambridge under their auspices. This wasa pretty bold stroke, but Holmes evidently liked it. He said to thecommittee that waited upon him: "What is your rank and file? How deep doyou go down into the class?" He also promised to lecture, and that he didnot was more the fault of the students than his own. He was by no means aradical in religious matters, but he hated small sectarian differences--the substitution of dogma for true religious feeling. In his poem at thegrand Harvard celebration in 1886 he made a special point of thisprinciple:

 "For nothing burns with such amazing speed As the dry sticks of a religious creed. "

Creeds are necessary, however, and an enlightened education teaches usnot to value them above their true worth. 

In 1867 Doctor Holmes published a volume of poetry which was generallywell received, but was criticised in the _Nation_ with needless andunmerciful severity. Rev. Edward Everett Hale and other friends of hishad already been attacked in the same periodical, and the Doctor thoughthe knew the man who did it; but whether he was right in his conjecturecannot be affirmed. There can be no doubt that these diatribes werewritten by a Harvard professor who owned a large interest in the_Nation_, and who was obliged to go to Europe the following year inorder to escape the odium of an imprudent speech at a public dinner. Inthis critique Holmes's poetry was summed up under the heading of"versified misfortunes"; and Holmes himself wrote to Mrs. Stowe that theobject of the writer was evidently "to injure at any rate, and to woundif possible. "

It was certainly contemptible to treat a man like Doctor Holmes in thismanner, --one so universally kind to others, and whose work was always, atleast, above mediocrity. He behaved in a dignified manner in regard toit, and he made no attempt at self-justification, although the wound wasevidently long in healing. What recourse has a man who places himselfbefore the public against the envenomed shafts of an invisible adversary?Of this at least we may be satisfied, that whatever is extravagant andoverwrought always brings its own reaction in due course; and DoctorHolmes's reputation does not appear to have suffered permanently fromthis attack. The general public, especially the republic of womankind, forms its own opinion, and pays slight attention to literary criticismsof that description. 

Holmes's poetry rarely rises to eloquence, but neither does it descend tosentimentality. It resembles the man's own life, in which there were nobold endeavors, great feats, or desperate struggles; but it was a life sojudicious, healthful and highly intellectual that we cannot help admiringit. "Dorothy Q. " is perhaps the best of his short poems, as it is themost widely known. The name itself is slightly humorous, but it is aperfect work of art, and the line, "Soft and low is a maiden's 'Yes, '"

has the beautiful hush of a sanctuary in it. A finer verse could not bewritten. Also for a comic piece nothing equal to "The Wonderful One-hossShay" has appeared since Burns's "Tam O'Shanter. " It is based on alogical illusion which brings it down to recent times, and the gravitywith which the story is narrated makes its impossibility all the moreamusing. The building of the chaise is described with a practicalaccuracy of detail, and yet with a poetical turn to every verse:

 "The hubs of logs from the 'Settler's ellum', -- Last of its timber, --they couldn't sell 'em; Never an axe had seen their chips, And the wedges flew from between their lips, Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips";

I believe that even cultivated readers have found more real satisfactionin the "One-Hoss Shay" than in many a more celebrated lyric. 

Doctor Holmes lived amid a comparatively narrow circle of friends andacquaintances. He attended the Saturday Club, but Lowell appears to havebeen the only member of it with whom he was on confidential terms. He wasrarely seen or heard of in Longfellow's house. In the winter of 1878 hemet Mrs. L. Maria Child for the first time at the Chestnut Street Club. It appears that she did not catch his name when he was introduced to her, and stranger still did not recognize his face. When the Doctor inquiredconcerning her literary occupation she replied that she consideredherself too old to drive a quill any longer, and then fortunately added:"Now, there is Doctor Holmes, I think he shows his customary goodjudgment in retiring from the literary field in proper season. " What theDoctor thought of this is unknown, but he still continued to write. 

At the age of seventy his _alma mater_ conferred on Doctor Holmes anLL. D. , and this was followed soon afterwards by Oxford and Cambridge, inEngland; but why was it not given ten or fifteen years earlier, whenHolmes was in his prime? Then it might have been a service and asatisfaction to him; but when a man is seventy such tributes have smallvalue for him. There had been an _Atlantic_ breakfast for DoctorHolmes in Boston, and a Holmes breakfast in New York. He was in thepublic eye, and by honoring him the University honored itself. So Harvardconferred an LL. D. On General Winfield Scott just before the fatal battleof Bull Run, --instead of after his brilliant Mexican campaign. If thedegree was not conferred on Holmes for his literary work, what reasoncould be assigned for it; and if he deserved it on that account, Emersonand Hawthorne certainly deserved it much more. Let us be thankful that nosuch mischief was contemplated. If honorary degrees are to be given inorder to attract attention to a university, or worse still, for thepurpose of obtaining legacies, they had better be abolished altogether. 

During his last visit to England Doctor Holmes was the guest of F. MaxMuller at Oxford, and years afterwards Professor Muller wrote to anAmerican correspondent concerning him and others:

"Froude was a dear friend of mine, related to my wife; so was Kingsley--dear soul. Renan used to fetch books for me when we first met at theBibliothique Royale. Emerson stayed at my house on his last visit here. But the best of all my American friends was Wendell Holmes. When he leftus he said, 'I have talked to thousands of people--you are the only onewith whom I have had a conversation. ' We had talked about [Greek: tamegisthta]--the world as the logos, as the thought of God. What a puresoul his was--a real Serene Highness. "

This is trancendentalism from the fountainhead; and here Doctor Holmesmay fairly be said to have avenged himself on the _Nation's_excoriating critic. 

FRANK W. BIRD, AND THE BIRD CLUB. 

It is less than four miles from Harvard Square to Boston City Hall, abuilding rather exceptional for its fine architecture among publicedifices, but the change in 1865 was like the change from one sphere ofhuman thought and activity to another. In Boston politics was everything, and literature, art, philosophy nothing, or next to nothing. There wasmercantile life, of course, and careworn merchants anxiously waitingabout the gold-board; but there were no tally-ho coaches; there was nogolf or polo, and very little yachting. Fashionable society was also at alow ebb, and as Wendell Phillips remarked in 1866, the only parties wereboys' and girls' dancing-parties. A large proportion of the finest youngmen in the city had, like the Lowells, shed their blood for the Republic. The young people danced, but their elders looked grave. 

At this time the political centre of Massachusetts and, to a certainextent of New England, was the Bird Club, which met every Saturdayafternoon at Young's Hotel to dine and discuss the affairs of the nation. Its membership counted both Senators, the Governor, a number of ex-Governors and four or five members of Congress. They were a strong teamwhen they were all harnessed together. 

[Illustration: F. W. BIRD]

Francis William Bird, the original organizer of the club, was born inDedham, October 22, 1809, and the only remarkable fact concerning hisancestry would seem to be that his great-grandmother was a Hawthorne, ofthe same family as Nathaniel Hawthorne; but there was no trace of thatstrongly-marked lineage in his composition. As a boy he was quick atmathematics, but not much of a student, so that he was full eighteenyears of age before he entered Brown University. His college course alsoleft him in a depleted physical condition, and it was several years laterwhen he commenced the actual labor of life. His father had intended himfor the law; but this did not agree with his health, and his physicianadvised a more active employment. Accordingly we find him in 1835 engagedin the manufacture of paper at East Walpole, an occupation in which hecontinued until 1892, --always suffering from dyspepsia, but always equalto whatever occasion demanded of him. He was a tall, thin, wiry-lookingman, with a determined expression, but of kind and friendly manners. 

He must have been a skilful man of business, for all the great financialstorms of the half century, in which he lived and worked, rolled over himwithout causing him any serious embarrassment. His note was always good, and his word was as good as his note. He always seemed to have moneyenough for what he wanted to do. In prosperous times he spent generously, although habitually practising a kind of stoical severity in regard tohis private affairs. He considered luxury the bane of wealth, andcontinually admonished his children to avoid it. He was an old-fashionedPuritan with liberal and progressive ideas. 

After his marriage in 1843 to Miss Abigail Frances Newell, of Boston, hebuilt a commodious house in a fine grove of chestnuts on a hill-side atEast Walpole; and there he brought up his children like Greeks andAmazons. Chestnut woods are commonly infested with hornets, but hedirected us boys not to molest them, for he wished them to learn thathornets would not sting unless they were interfered with; an excellentprinciple in human nature. Mrs. Bird resembled her husband so closely inface and figure, that they might have been mistaken for brother andsister. She was an excellent New England woman of the old style, and welladapted to make her husband comfortable and happy. 

The connection between manufacturing and politics is a direct and naturalone. A man who employs thirty or forty workmen, and treats them fairly, can easily obtain an election to the Legislature without exercising anydirect influence over them; but Frank Bird's workmen felt that he had apersonal interest in each one of them. He never was troubled withstrikes. When hard times came his employees submitted to a reduction ofwages without murmuring, and when business was good they shared again inthe general prosperity. As a consequence Mr. Bird could go to theLegislature as often as he desired; and when he changed from theRepublican to the Democratic party, in 1872, they still continued to votefor him, until at the age of seventy-one he finally retired from publiclife. 

On one election day he is said to have called his men together, and tohave told them: "You will have two hours this afternoon to cast yourvotes in. The mill will close at 4 o'clock, and I expect every man tovote as I do. Now I am going to vote just as I please, and I hope youwill all do the same; but if any one of my men does not vote just as hewants to, and I find it out, I will discharge him to-morrow. " One canimagine Abraham Lincoln making a speech like this, on a similar occasion. 

Frank W. Bird, like J. B. Sargent, of New Haven, was a rare instance ofan American manufacturer who believed in free-trade. This was one reasonwhy he joined the Democratic party in 1872. He considered that protectionencouraged sleazy and fraudulent work, and placed honest manufacturers ata disadvantage; though he obtained these ideas rather from readingEnglish magazines than from any serious study of his own. He wasnaturally much more of a Democrat than a Whig, or Federalist, but heopposed the doctrine of State Rights, declaring that it was much moreresponsible for the Civil War than the anti-slavery agitation was. 

The same political exigency which roused James Russell Lowell alsobrought Francis William Bird before the public. In company with CharlesFrancis Adams he attended the Buffalo convention, in 1848, and helped tonominate Martin Van Buren for the Presidency. He was, however, doing moreeffective work by assisting Elizur Wright in publishing the_Chronotype_ (the most vigorous of all the anti-slavery papers), both with money and writing; and in a written argument there were few whocould equal him. He appears to have been the only person at that time whogave Elizur Wright much support and encouragement. 

In 1850 Bird was elected to the State Legislature and worked vigorouslyfor the election of Sumner the ensuing winter. His chief associatesduring the past two years had been Charles Francis Adams, the mostdistinguished of American diplomats since Benjamin Franklin, John A. Andrew, then a struggling lawyer, and Henry L. Pierce, afterwards Mayorof Boston. Now a greater name was added to them; for Sumner was not onlyan eloquent orator, perhaps second to Webster, but he had a worldwidereputation as a legal authority. 

Adams, however, failed to recognize that like his grandfather he wasliving in a revolutionary epoch, and after the Kansas struggle commencedhe became continually more conservative--if that is the word for it--andfinally in his Congressional speech in the winter of 1861 he made thefatal statement that personally he would be "in favor of permitting theSouthern States to secede, " although he could not see that there was anylegal right for it. This acted as a divider between him and his formerassociates, until in 1876 he found himself again in the same party withFrank W. Bird. 

During the administration of Governor Banks, that is, between 1857 and1860, Bird served on the Governor's council, although generally inopposition to Banks himself. He went as a delegate to the ChicagoConvention of 1860, where he voted at first for Seward, and afterwardsfor Lincoln. From that time forward, until 1880, he was always to befound at the State House, and devoted so much time to public affairs thatit is a wonder his business of paper manufacturing did not suffer fromit. Yet he always seemed to have plenty of time, and was never so muchabsorbed in what he was doing but that he could give a cordial greetingto any of his numerous friends. His face would beam with pleasure at thesight of an old acquaintance, and I have known him to dash across thestreet like a school-boy in order to intercept a former member of theLegislature who was passing by on the other side. Such a man has a goodheart. 

Frank Bird's abilities fitted him for higher positions than he everoccupied; but he was so serviceable in the Legislature that all hisfriends felt that he ought to remain there. He was inexorable in hisdemand for honest government, and when he rose to speak all the guiltyconsciences in the house began to tremble. He was the terror of thelobbyist, and of the legislative log-roller. This made him many enemies, but he expected it and knew how to meet them. He was especially fearedwhile Andrew was Governor, for every one knew that he had consulted withAndrew before making his motion. He was the Governor's man of business. 

He came to know the character of every politician in the State, --what hisopinions were, and how far he could be depended on. In this way he alsobecame of great service to Sumner and Wilson, who wished to know what wastaking place behind their backs while they were absent at Washington. Sumner did not trouble himself much as to public opinion, but this was ofgreat importance to Wilson, who depended on politics for his daily bread. Both, however, wanted to know the condition of affairs in their ownState, and they found that Frank Bird's information was alwaystrustworthy, --for he had no ulterior object of his own. 

Thus he acquired much greater influence in public affairs than most ofthe members of Congress. When Mr. Baldwin, who represented his district, retired in 1868, Frank Bird became a candidate for the NationalLegislature, but he suffered from the disadvantage of living at the smallend of the district, and the prize was carried off by George F. Hoar, afterwards United States Senator; but going to Congress in the seventieswas not what it had been in the fifties and sixties, when the halls ofthe Capitol resounded with the most impressive oratory of the nineteenthcentury. 

Frank Bird did not pretend to be an orator. His speeches were frank, methodical and directly to the point; and very effective with those whocould be influenced by reason, without appeals to personal prejudice. Hehated flattery in all its forms, and honestly confessed that thetemptation of public speakers to cajole their audiences was the one greatdemon of a democratic government. He liked Wendell Phillips on account ofthe manly way in which he fought against his audiences, and strove tobring them round to his own opinion. 

He was as single-minded as Emerson or Lincoln. In November, 1862, Emersonsaid to me: "I came from Springfield the other day in the train with yourfather's friend, Frank Bird, and I like him very much. I often see hisname signed to newspaper letters, and in future I shall always readthem. " Strangely enough, a few days later I was dining with Mr. Bird andhe referred to the same incident. When I informed him that Emerson hadalso spoken of it he seemed very much pleased. 

If any one paid him a compliment or expressed gratitude for some act ofkindness, he would hesitate and become silent for a moment, as if he werereflecting whether he deserved it or not; and then would go on to someother subject. 

His acts of kindness were almost numberless. He assisted those whomothers would not assist; and if he suspected that a small office-holderwas being tyrannized over, he would take no rest until he had satisfiedhimself of the truth of the case. In February, 1870, he learned that ahigh official in the Boston Post-office, who was supported in hisposition by the Governor of the State, was taking advantage of this tolevy a blackmail on his subordinates, compelling them to pay him acommission in order to retain their places. Frank Bird was furious withhonest indignation. He said: "I will go to Washington and have that manturned out if I have to see Grant himself for it"; and so he did. 

One evening at Walpole a poor woman came to him in distress, because heronly son had been induced to enlist in the Navy, and was already on boarda man-of-war at the Boston Navy-yard. Mr. Bird knew the youth, and wasaware that he was very slightly feeble-minded. The vessel would sail inthree days, and there was no time to be lost. He telegraphed the facts asbriefly as possible to Senator Wilson, and in twenty-four hours receivedan order to have the widow's son discharged. Then he would not trust theorder to the commandant, who might have delayed its execution, but sentit to an agent of his own in the Navy-yard, who saw that the thing wasdone. 

Frank Bird's most distinguished achievement in politics was thenomination of Andrew for Governor in 1860. Governor Banks was notfavorable to Andrew and his friends, and used what influence he possessedfor the benefit of Henry L. Dawes. An organization for the nomination ofDawes had already been secretly formed before Frank Bird was acquaintedwith Banks's retirement from the field. Bird and Henry L. Pierce were atPlymouth when they first heard of it, about the middle of July, and theyimmediately returned to Boston, started a bureau, opened a subscription-list, and with the cooperation of the Bird Club carried the movementthrough. It would have made a marked difference in public affairs duringthe War for the Union if Dawes had been Governor instead of Andrew. [Footnote: Dawes was an excellent man in his way, but during eighteenyears in the United States Senate he never made an important speech. ]

Frank Bird had this peculiarity, that the more kindly he felt to thosewho were unfortunate in life, the more antagonistic he seemed to thosewho were exceptionally prosperous. He appeared to have a sort of spiteagainst handsome men and women, as if nature had been over-partial tothem in comparison with others. He was not a pedantic moralist, but atthe same time rather exacting in his requirements of others, as he was ofhimself. 

The Bird Club was evolved out of the conditions of its times, like anatural growth. Its nucleus was formed in the campaign of 1848, whenBird, Andrew, Henry L. Pierce, and William S. Robinson fell into thehabit of dining together and discussing public affairs every Saturdayafternoon. It was not long before they were joined by Elizur Wright andHenry Wilson. Sumner came to dine with them, when he was not inWashington, and Dr. S. G. Howe came with him. The Kansas excitementbrought in George L. Stearns and Frank B. Sanborn, --one the president andthe other the secretary of the Kansas Aid Society. In 1860 the club hadfrom thirty to forty members, and during the whole course of itsexistence it had more than sixty members; but it never had any regularorganization. A member could bring a friend with him, and if the friendwas liked, Mr. Bird would invite him to come again. No vote ever appearsto have been taken. Mr. Bird sat at the head of the table, and if he waslate or absent his place would be supplied by George L. Stearns. At hisright hand sat Governor Andrew, and either Sumner or Stearns on his left. Doctor Howe and Wilson sat next to them, and were balanced on theopposite side by Sanborn, Governor Washburn, and two or three members ofCongress. However, there was no systematic arrangement of the guests atthis feast, although the more important members of the club naturallyclustered about Mr. Bird. 

N. P. Banks never appeared there, either as Governor or General; and fromthis it was argued that he was ambitious to become Senator; or it mayhave been owing to his differences with Bird, while the latter was on theGovernor's Council. In this way the Bird Club became the test of a man'spolitical opinion, and prominent politicians who absented themselves fromit were looked upon with more or less distrust. 

The discussions at the club were frank, manly, and unreserved. Memberswho talked from the point were likely to be corrected without ceremony, and sometimes received pretty hard knocks. On one occasion General B. F. Butler, who had come into the club soon after his celebrated contraband-of-war order, was complaining that the New York Republicans had nominatedGeneral Francis C. Barlow for Secretary of State, and that General Barlowhad not been long enough in the Republican party to deserve it, whenRobinson replied to him that Barlow had been a Republican longer thansome of those present, and Frank Bird remarked that he was as good aRepublican as any that were going. Butler looked as if he had swallowed apill. 

William S. Robinson was at once the wit and scribe of the club, and theonly newswriter that was permitted to come to the table. He enjoyed theadvantage of confidential talk and authentic information, which no otherwriter of that time possessed, and his letters to the Springfield_Republican_, extending over a period of fifteen years, come next invalue to the authentic documents of that important period. They possessedthe rare merit of a keen impartiality, and though sometimes rather sharp, were never far from the mark. He not only criticised Grant and thepolitical bosses of that time, but his personal friends, Sumner, Wilson, and Frank Bird himself. 

In 1872 Emerson said to a member of the club: "I do not like WilliamRobinson. His hand is against every man"; but it is doubtful if Robinsonever published so hard a criticism of any person, and certainly none sounjust. Emerson without being aware of it was strongly influenced by acabal for the overthrow of Robinson, in which General Butler took aleading hand. Robinson was clerk of the State Senate, and could notafford to lose his position; afterwards, when he did lose it, he fellsick and died. He preferred truth-telling and poverty to a compromisingprosperity, and left no one to fill his place. 

Frank B. Sanborn was for a time editor of the Boston _Commonwealth_, and afterwards of the Springfield _Republican_; but he was betterknown as the efficient Secretary of the Board of State Charities, aposition to which he was appointed by Governor Andrew, and from which hewas unjustly removed by Governor Ames, twenty years later. He was anindefatigable worker, and during that time there was not an almshouse orother institution, public or private, in the State for the benefit of theunfortunate portion of mankind where he was not either feared orrespected--a man whose active principle was the conscientious performanceof duty. He was also noted for his fidelity to his friends. He cared forthe family of John Brown and watched over their interests as if they hadbeen his own family; he made a home for the poet Channing in his old age, and was equally devoted to the Alcotts and others, who could notaltogether help themselves. He was himself a charitable institution. 

Henry Wilson is also worth a passing notice, for the strange resemblanceof his life to President Lincoln's, if for no other reason. His name wasoriginally Colbath, and he was reputed to have been born under a barbery-bush in one of the green lanes of New Hampshire. The name is anexceptional one, and the family would seem to have been of the sameroving Bedouin-like sort as that of Lincoln's ancestors. He began life asa shoemaker, was wholly self-educated, and changed his name to escapefrom his early associations. He would seem to have absorbed all thevirtue in his family for several generations. No sooner had he enteredinto politics than he was recognized to have a master hand. He roserapidly to the highest position in the gift of his State, and finally tobe Vice-President. If his health had not given way in 1873 he might evenhave become President in the place of Hayes; for he was a person whomevery man felt that he could trust. His loyalty to Sumner bordered onveneration, and was the finest trait in his character. There was nopretense in Henry Wilson's patriotism; everyone felt that he would havedied for his country. 

In 1870 General Butler disappeared from the club, to the great relief ofSumner and his immediate friends. He had already shown the cloven foot byattacking the financial credit of the government; and the question was, what would he do next? He had found the club an obstacle to his furtheradvancement in politics, and when in the autumn campaign Wendell Phillipsmade a series of attacks on the character of the club, and especially onBird himself, the hand of Butler was immediately recognized in it, andhis plans for the future were easily calculated. It is probable thatPhillips supposed he was doing the public a service in this, but themethods he pursued were not much to his credit. Phillips learned that thepresident of the Hartford and Erie Railroad had recently given Mr. Birdan Alderney bull-calf, and as he could not find anything else againstBird's character he made the most of this. He spoke of it as of thenature of a legislative bribe, and in an oration delivered in the BostonMusic Hall he called it "a thousand dollars in blood. "

"Who, " he asked of his audience, "would think of exchanging a _bird_for a bull!"

This was unfortunate for the calf, which lost its life in consequence;but it was not worth more than ten dollars, and the contrast between therespective reputations of General Butler and Mr. Bird made WendellPhillips appear in rather a ridiculous light. 

The following year, 1871, as the Bird Club expected, General Butler madea strong fight for the gubernatorial nomination, and the club opposed himin a solid body. Sanborn at this time was editing the Springfield_Republican_, and he exposed Butler's past political course in anunsparing manner. Butler made speeches in all the cities and larger townsof the State, and when he came to Springfield he singled out Sanborn, whom he recognized in the audience, for a direct personal attack. Sanbornrose to reply to him, and the contrast between the two men was like thatbetween Lincoln and Douglas; Sanborn six feet four inches in height, andButler much shorter, but very thick-set. The altercation became a warmone, and Butler must have been very angry, for he grew red in the faceand danced about the platform as if the boards were hot under his feet. The audience greeted both speakers with applause and hisses. 

It was a decided advantage for General Butler that there were three othercandidates in the field; but both Sumner and Wilson brought theirinfluence to bear against him, and this, with Sanborn's tellingeditorials, would seem to have decided his defeat; for when the finalstruggle came at the Worcester Convention the vote was a very close oneand a small matter might have changed it in his favor. 

The difference between Sumner and the administration, in 1872, on the SanDomingo question accomplished what Phillips and Butler were unable toeffect. Frank Bird and Sumner's more independent friends left the club, which was then dining at Young's Hotel, and seceded to the Parker House, where Sumner joined them not long afterwards. Senator Wilson and the moredeep-rooted Republicans formed a new organization called theMassachusetts Club, which still existed in the year 1900. 

The great days of the Bird Club were over. With the death of Sumner, in1874, its political importance came to an end, and although its memberscontinued to meet for five or six years longer, it ceased to attractpublic attention. 

At the age of eighty Frank W. Bird still directed the financial affairsof his paper business, but he looked back on his life as a "wretchedfailure. " No matter how much he accomplished, it seemed to him as nothingcompared with what he had wished to do. Would there were more suchfailures!

SUMNER. 

Charles Pickney Sumner, the father of Charles Sumner, was a man of anessentially veracious nature. He was high sheriff of Suffolk County, Massachusetts, and when there was a criminal to be executed he alwaysperformed the office himself. Once when some one inquired why he did notdelegate such a disagreeable task to one of his deputies, he is said tohave replied, "Simply because it is disagreeable. " It was this elevatedsense of moral responsibility which formed the keynote of his son'scharacter. 

Charles Sumner's mother was Miss Relief Jacobs, a name in which wedistinguish at once a mixture of the Hebrew and the Puritan. She belongedin fact to a Christianized Jewish family, but how long since herancestors became Christianized remains in doubt. Yet it is easy torecognize the Hebrew element in Sumner's nature; the inflexibility ofpurpose, the absolute self-devotion, and even the prophetic forecast. Sumner was an old Hebrew prophet in the guise of an American statesman. True to his mother's name, he was at once a Puritan and an Israelite inwhom there was no guile; for he was wholly exempt from covetousness andother meaner qualities of the Hebrew nature. In such respects Jews andYankees are much alike. Either they are generous and high-minded, or theyare not. 

Charles was rather a peculiar boy, as great men are apt to be in theiryouth. He cared little for boyish games, and still less for the brighteyes of the girls. He had remarkably long arms and legs, which were toooften in the way of his comrades, and from which he derived the nicknameat the Latin-School of "gawky Sumner"; and it may be well to notice herethat there is no better sign for future superiority than for a lad to beridiculed in this manner; while the wags who invent such _sobriquets_usually come to no good end. [Footnote: More than one such has died thedeath of an inebriate. ] There is sufficient evidence, however, thatSumner was well liked both at school and at college. 

He had his revenge on declamation day, for whereas others stumbledthrough their pieces, he seemed perfectly at home on the platform; hisawkwardness disappeared and his performance gave plain indications of thefuture orator. Wendell Phillips was in the class after him, and they bothwere excellent speakers. 

Sumner's early life was not like that of Lincoln, neither was he obligedto split rails for a living; but it was a life of good stoical trainingnevertheless. Sheriff Sumner had eight children living at one time, andwith the natural desire to give them as good an education as his own, hecould not afford to spend much on external elegances. It was not untilCharles had become a distinguished lawyer that his mother dispensed withthe iron forks and spoons on her dinner table; and this gives a fair ideaof their domestic economy. We learn from Pierce's biography that hiscollege expenses did not exceed two hundred dollars a year; and thisincluded everything. 

He entered at Harvard in the class of 1830; a year after Doctor Holmesand a year before Wendell Phillips. Much more is known concerning hiscollege life than that of other distinguished men of that time, and it ishighly interesting to recognize the mature man foreshadowed in the youthof eighteen. He was a good scholar in everything but mathematics; yet, atthe same time, he cared little for rank. He was an enthusiastic reader, and sometimes neglected his studies for a book in which he was moredeeply interested. He also liked to converse about the books he read, andin this way acquired a reputation for loquacity which never left him aslong as he lived. It was sometimes troublesome to his friends, but it wasof great advantage to him as a public speaker. He lived a quiet, sober, industrious life in college, attracting comparatively little attentionfrom either his instructors or his fellow students. Yet, he showed theindependence of his character by attending a cattle-show at Brighton, aproceeding for which he would have been suspended if it had beendiscovered by the college faculty. There were many foolish, monkishrestrictions at Harvard in those days, and among them it was notconsidered decorous for a student to wear a colored vest. He might wear awhite vest, but not a buff or a figured one. Sumner preferred a buffvest, and insisted on wearing it. When he was reprimanded for doing so hedefended his course vigorously, and exposed the absurdity of theregulation in such plain terms that the faculty concluded to let himalone for the future. [Footnote: In 1860 he still continued to wear a buffvest in summer weather. ] He was exceedingly fond of the Greek and Latinauthors, and quoted from them in his letters at this time, as he didafterwards in his speeches. His college course was not a brilliant onelike Everett's and Phillips's, but seems to have been based on a moresolid ground-work. 

It was in the Law-School that Sumner first distinguished himself. JudgeStory, who had left the United States Supreme Bench to become a Harvardprofessor, was the chief luminary of the school and the finest instructorin law of his time. He soon discovered in Sumner a pupil after his ownheart, and in spite of the disparity of their ages they became intimatefriends. This is the more significant because Phillips was also in thesame class, and the more brilliant scholar of the two; but Judge Storysoon discovered that Phillips was studying as a means to an end, whileSumner's interest in the law was like that of a great artist who worksfrom the pure love of his subject. 

William W. Story, who was a boy at this time, records the fact thatSumner was always pleasant and kind to children. 

At the age of twenty-four Charles Sumner was himself appointed aninstructor at the Law-School; and during the two following years heedited the reports of Judge Story's decisions in the United StatesCircuit Courts. 

It is evident from James Russell Lowell's "Fable for Critics" that thepersonalities of his contemporaries troubled him: he could not see overtheir heads. In 1837 Sumner went to Europe and we find from his lettersto Judge Story, George S. Hillard, and others, that he had alreadyobtained a vantage ground from which the civilized world lay before him, as all New England does from the top of Mount Washington. He goes into aFrench law court, and analyzes the procedure of French justice in aletter which has the value of an historical document. He noticed thatNapoleon was still spoken of as _l'Empereur_, although there was aking in France, --a fact pregnant with future consequences. He remained inParis until he was a complete master of the French language, and attendedone hundred and fifty lectures at the university and elsewhere. Heenjoyed the grand opera and the acting in French theatres; nor did heneglect to study Italian art. He was making a whole man of himself; andit seemed as if an unconscious instinct was guiding him to his destiny. 

Fortunate was the old Sheriff to have such a son; but Charles Sumner wasalso fortunate to have had a father who was willing to save and economizefor his benefit. Otherwise he might have been a sheriff himself. 

Judge Story's letters of introduction opened the doors wide to him inEngland. In the course of ten months he became acquainted with almostevery distinguished person in the United Kingdom. He never asked forintroductions, and he never presented himself without one. He was handedfrom one mansion to another all the way from London to the ScotchHighlands. Only twenty-seven years of age, he was treated on an equalityby men ten to fifteen years his senior; and he proved himself equal totheir expectations. No American except Lowell has ever made such afavorable impression in England as Sumner; but this happened in Sumner'syouth, while Lowell in his earlier visits attracted little attention. 

It is perfectly true that if he had been the son of an English sheriffthis would not have happened; but he encountered the same obstacles inBoston society that he would have done under similar conditions in GreatBritain. The doors of Wentworth House and Strachan Park were open to him, but those of Beacon Street were closed, --and perhaps it was better forhim on the whole that they were. 

Sumner's letters from Europe are at least as interesting as those writtenby any other American. Such breadth of vision is not often united withclearness and accuracy of detail. All his letters ought to be publishedin a volume by themselves. Sumner returned to America the following yearand settled himself quietly and soberly to his work as a lawyer. He wasnot a success, however, as a practitioner in the courts, unless he couldplead before a bench of judges. In the Common Pleas an ordinarypettifogger would often take a case away from him. He could not, if hewould, have practised those seductive arts by which Rufus Choate drew thejury into his net, in spite of their deliberate intentions to thecontrary. Yet, Sumner's reputation steadily improved, so that whenLongfellow came to live in Cambridge he found Sumner delivering lecturesat the Harvard Law-School, where he might have remained the rest of hislife, if he had been satisfied with a merely routine employment, and thefortunes of the republic had not decided differently. 

The attraction between Sumner and Longfellow was immediate and permanent. It was owing more perhaps to the essential purity of their natures, thanto mutual sympathy in regard to art and literature; although Longfellowheld Sumner's literary judgment in such respect that he rarely publisheda new poem without first subjecting his work to Sumner's criticism. 

Those who admired Sumner at this time, for his fine moral andintellectual qualities, had no adequate conception of the far noblerquality which lay concealed in the depths of his nature. Charles Sumnerwas a hero, --one to whom life was nothing in comparison with his duty. 

It was in the anti-Irish riot of June, 1837, that he first gave evidenceof this. Nothing was more hateful to him than race prejudice, and whatmight be called international malignity, which he believed was the mostfrequent cause of war. 

As soon as Sumner was notified of the disturbance, he hastened to thescene of action, seized on a prominent position, and attempted to addressthe insurgents; but his pacific words only excited them to greater fury. They charged on him and his little group of supporters, knocked him downand trampled on him. Dr. S. G. Howe, who stood near by, a born fighter, protected Sumner's prostrate body, and finally carried him to a place ofsafety, although twice his own size. Sumner took his mishap very coolly, and, as soon as he could talk freely, addressed his friends on the evilsresulting from race prejudice. 

This incident may have led Sumner to the choice of a subject for hisFourth of July oration in 1845. The title of this address was "The TrueGrandeur of Nations, " but its real object was one which Sumner always hadat heart, and never relinquished the hope of, --namely, the establishmentof an international tribunal, which should possess jurisdiction over thedifferences and quarrels between nations, and so bring warfare forever toan end. The plan is an impracticable one, because the decisions of acourt only have validity if it is able to enforce them, and how could thedecisions of an international tribunal have value in case the partiesconcerned declined to accept them? It would only result in waging war inorder to prevent war. Yet, of all the Fourth of July orations that weredelivered in the nineteenth century, Sumner's and Webster's are the onlytwo that have survived; and the "True Grandeur of Nations" has recentlybeen published by the London Peace Society as an argument in favor oftheir philanthropic movement. 

Sumner was now in the prime of manhood, and a rarely handsome man. He hadan heroic figure, six feet two inches in height, and well proportioned inall respects. His features, too large and heavy in his youth, had becomestrong and regular, and although he had not acquired that leonine look ofreserved power with which he confronted the United States Senate, hisexpression was frank and fearless. As L. Maria Child, who heard himfrequently, said, he seemed to be as much in his place on the platform asa statue on its pedestal. His gestures had not the natural grace ofPhillips's or the more studied elegance of Everett, but he atoned forthese deficiencies by the manly earnestness of his delivery. He madean impression on the highly cultivated men and women who composed hisaudience which they always remembered. 

The question has often been raised by the older abolitionists, "Why didnot Sumner take an earlier interest in the anti-slavery struggle?" Theanswer is twofold. That he did not join the Free-soilers in 1844 was mostprobably owing to the influence of Judge Story, who had already markedSumner out for the Supreme Bench, and wished him to concentrate hisenergies in that direction. His friends, too, at this time--Hillard, Felton, Liebe, and even Longfellow--were either opposed to introducingthe slavery question into politics or practically indifferent to it. 

On the other hand, Sumner never could agree with Garrison's position onthis question. He held the Constitution in too great respect to admitthat it was an agreement with death and a government with the devil. Hebelieved that the founders of the Constitution were opposed to slavery, and that the expression, "persons held to labor, " was good evidence ofthis. One of his finest orations in the Senate was intended to prove thispoint. Furthermore he perceived the futility of Garrison's idea--and thiswas afterwards disproved by the war--that if it were not for the NationalGovernment the slaves would rise in rebellion and so obtain theirfreedom. He always asserted that slavery would be abolished under theConstitution or not at all. Like Abraham Lincoln he waited for his timeto come. 

Charles Sumner was the reply that Massachusetts made to the FugitiveSlave Law, and a telling reply it was. Unlike his legal contemporaries herecognized the law as a revolutionary act which, unless it wassuccessfully opposed, would strike a death-blow at American freedom. Hesaw that it could only be met by counter-revolution, and he prepared hismind for the consequences. It was only at such a time that souncompromising a statesman as Sumner could have entered into politicallife; for the possibility of compromise had passed away with thesuspension of the writ of _habeas corpus_, and Sumner's policy of"no compromise" was the one which brought the slavery question to asuccessful issue. For fifteen years in Congress he held to that policy asfaithfully as a planet to its course, and those who differed with himwere left in the rear. 

Sumner's first difference was with his conservative friends, andespecially with his law-partner, George S. Hillard, a brilliant man inhis way, and for an introductory address without a rival in Boston. Hillard was at heart as anti-slavery as Sumner, and his wife had evenassisted fugitive slaves, but he was swathed in the bands of fashionablesociety, and he lacked the courage to break loose from them. He adheredto the Whigs and was relegated to private life. They parted withoutacrimony, and Sumner never failed to do his former friend a service whenhe found an opportunity. 

His difference with Felton was of a more serious kind. Emerson, perhaps, judged Felton too severely, --a man of ardent temperament who was alwaysin danger of saying more than he intended. 

Sumner's election to the Senate was a chance in ten thousand. It is wellknown that at first he declined to be a candidate. He did not think hewas fitted for the position, and when Caleb Gushing urged him to courtthe favor of fortune he said: "I will not leave my chair to become UnitedStates Senator. " Whatever vanity there might be in the man, he wasentirely free from the ambition for power and place. 

There were several prominent public men at the time who would have givenall they owned for the position, but they were set aside for the man whodid not want it, --the bold jurist who dared to set himself against theveteran statesmen of his country. It reads like a Bible-tale, or thestory of Cincinnatus taken from his plow to become dictator. 

The gates of his _alma mater_ were now closed to Sumner, not onlyduring his life but even long after that. Such is the fate ofrevolutionary characters, that they tear asunder old and familiar bondsin order to contract new ties. In Washington he found a broader and morevigorous life, if less cultivated, and the Free-soil leaders with whom henow came in contact in his own State were much more akin to his ownnature than Story, and Felton, and Hillard. Sumner was never popular inWashington, as he had been among the English liberals and Cambridge menof letters; but he was respected on all sides for his fearlessness, hisability, and the veracity of his statements. His previous life now proveda great advantage to him in most respects, but he had become accustomedto dealing and conversing with a certain class of men, and this made itdifficult for him to assimilate himself to a wholly different class. Sumner's ardent temperament required constant self-control in this newand trying position; and a man who continually reflects beforehand on hisown actions acquires an appearance of greater reserve than a person ofreally cold nature. 

Seward had thus far been the leader of the Free-soil and Republicanparties, not only before the country at large but in the Senate. It wassoon found, however, that Sumner was not only a more effective speaker, but possessed greater resources for debate. Judge Story had noticed longbefore that facts were so carefully and systematically arranged inSumner's mind that whatever spring was touched he could always respond tothe subject with a full and exact statement. He was like a librarian whocould lay his hand on the book he wanted without having to look for it inthe catalogue, --and this upon a scale which seems almost incredible. Webster possessed the same faculty, but united it with a sense ofartistic beauty which Sumner could not equal. 

Sumner, however, was the best orator in Congress at this time, as well asthe best legal authority. On all constitutional questions it was feltthat he had Judge Story's support behind him. His oration on "FreedomNational, Slavery Sectional, " was a revelation, not only to theopposition, but to his own party. From that time forth, he became thespokesman of his party on all the more important questions. 

It frequently happens that the essential character of a governmentchanges while its form remains the same. In 1801 France was nominally aRepublic, but its administration was Imperial. In 1853 the United Statesceased to be a democracy and became an oligarchy, governed by thirtythousand slave-holders, --until the people reconquered their rights on thefield of battle. Accustomed to despotic power in their own States formore than two generations, and justifying themselves always by divineright, the slave-holders possessed all the self-confidence, pretension, and arrogance of the old French nobility. They were a self-deluded classof men, of all classes the most difficult to deal with, and Sumner wasthe Mirabeau who faced them at Washington and who pricked the bubble oftheir Olympian pretensions by a most pitiless exposure of their truecharacter. 

Those men had come to believe that the ownership of slaves was equivalentto a patent of nobility, and they were encouraged in this monarchicalillusion by the nobility of Europe. In Disraeli's "Lothair" an Englishduke is made to say: "I consider an American with large estates in theSouth a genuine aristocrat. " The pretension was ridiculous, and the onlyway to combat it was to make it appear so. Sumner characterized Butler, of South Carolina, and Douglas, of Illinois, who was their northern manof business, as the Don Quixote and Sancho Panza of an antiquated cause. The satire hit its mark only too exactly; and two days later Sumner wasassaulted for it in an assassin-like manner, --struck on the head frombehind while writing at his desk, and left senseless on the floor. Sumnerwas considered too low in the social scale for the customary challenge toa duel, and there was no court in Washington that would take cognizanceof the outrage. 

The following day, when Wilson made the most eloquent speech of his lifein an indignant rebuke to Butler and Brooks, Butler started from his seatto attack him, but was held back by his friends. They might as well haveallowed him to go, for Wilson was a man of enormous strength and couldeasily have handled any Southerner upon the floor. 

In "The Crime against Kansas" there are two or three sentences whichSumner afterwards expunged, and this shows that he regretted having saidthem; but it is the greatest of his orations, and Webster's reply toHayne is the only Congressional address with which it can be compared. One is in fact the sequence of the other; Webster's is the flower, andSumner's the fruit; the former directed against the active principle ofsedition, and the latter against its consequences; and both were directedagainst South Carolina, where the war originated. Sumner's speech has notthe finely sculptured character of Webster's, but its architecturalstructure is grand and impressive. His Baconian division of the variousexcuses that were made for the Kansas outrages into "the apology_tyrannical_, the apology _imbecile_, the apology _absurd_, and the apology_infamous_, " was original and pertinent. 

Preston S. Brooks only lived about six months after his assault onSumner, and some of the abolitionists thought he died of a guiltyconscience. Both in feature and expression he bore a decided likeness toJ. Wilkes Booth, the assassin of President Lincoln. It might have provedthe death of Sumner, but for the devotion of his Boston physician, Dr. Marshall S. Perry, who went to him without waiting to be telegraphed for. It was also fortunate for him that his brother George, a very intelligentman, happened to be in America instead of Europe, where he lived thegreater part of his life. The assault on Sumner strengthened theRepublican party, and secured his re-election to the Senate; but itproduced nervous irritation of the brain and spinal cord, a disorderwhich can only be cured under favorable conditions, and even then islikely to return if the patient is exposed to a severe mental strain. Sumner's cure by Dr. Brown-Sequard was considered a remarkable one, andhas a place in the history of medicine. The effect of bromide and ergotwas then unknown, and the doctor made such good use of his cauterizing-iron that on one occasion, at least, Sumner declared that he could notendure it any longer. Neither could he tell positively whether it wasthis treatment or the baths which he afterwards took at Aix-les-Bainsthat finally cured him. His own calm temperament and firmness of mind mayhave contributed to this as much as Dr. Brown-Sequard. 

When Sumner returned to Boston, early in 1860, all his friends went toDr. S. G. Howe to know if he was really cured, and Howe said: "He is awell man, but he will never be able to make another two hours' speech. "Yet Sumner trained himself and tested his strength so carefully that inthe following spring he delivered his oration on the barbarism ofslavery, more than an hour in length, before the Senate; and in 1863 hemade a speech three hours in length, a herculean effort that has neverbeen equalled, except by Hamilton's address before the ConstitutionalConvention of 1787. 

I remember Sumner in the summer of 1860 walking under my father's grapetrellis, when the vines were in blossom, with his arms above his head, and saying: "This is like the south of France. " To think of Europe, itsart, history, and scenery, was his relaxation from the cares andexcitement of politics; but there were many who did not understand this, and looked upon it as an affectation. Sumner in his least serious momentswas often self-conscious, but never affected. He talked of himself as aninnocent child talks. On all occasions he was thoroughly real andsincere, and he would sometimes be as much abashed by a genuinecompliment as a maiden of seventeen. 

At the same time Sumner was so great a man that it was simply impossibleto disguise it, and he made no attempt to do this. The principle that allmen are created equal did not apply in his case. To realize this it wasonly necessary to see him and Senator Wilson together. Wilson was also aman of exceptional ability, and yet a stranger, who did not know him bysight, might have conversed with him on a railway train withoutsuspecting that he was a member of the United States Senate; but thiscould not have happened in Sumner's case. Every one stared at him as hewalked the streets; and he could not help becoming conscious of this. That there were moments when he seemed to reflect with satisfaction onhis past life his best friends could not deny; but the vanity that isborn of a frivolous spirit was not in him. He was more like a Homerichero than a Sir Philip Sidney, and considering the work he had to do itwas better on the whole that he should be so. 

He carried the impracticable theory of social equality to an extentbeyond that of most Americans, and yet he was frequently complained offor his reserve and aristocratic manners. The range of his acquaintancewas the widest of any man of his time. It extended from Lord Brougham toJ. B. Smith, the mulatto caterer of Boston, who, like many of his race, was a person of gentlemanly deportment, and was always treated by Sumneras a valued friend. As the champion of the colored race in the Senatethis was diplomatically necessary; but to the rank and file of his ownparty he was less gracious. He had not grown up among them, but hadentered politics at the top, so that even their faces were unfamiliar tohim. The representatives of Massachusetts, who voted for him at the StateHouse, were sometimes chagrined at the coldness of his recognition, --acoldness that did not arise from lack of sympathy, but from ignorance ofthe individual. Before Sumner could treat a stranger in a friendlymanner, he wished to know what sort of a person he had to deal with. There is a kind of insincerity in universal cordiality, --like that of thecandidate who is seeking to obtain votes. 

A recent writer, who complains of Sumner's lack of graciousness, would dowell to ask his conscience what the reason for it was. If he will dropthe three last letters of his own name the solution will be apparent tohim. 

The more Sumner became absorbed in public affairs the less he seemed tobe suited to general society, --or general society to him. He was alwaysready to talk on those subjects that interested him, but in generalconversation, in the pleasant give-and-take of wit and anecdote, he didnot feel so much at home as he had in his Cambridge days. His thoughtswere too serious, and the tendency of his mind was argumentative. 

Every man is to a certain extent the victim of his occupation; and theformalities of the Senate were ever tightening their grasp on Sumner'smode of life. One afternoon, as he was leaving Dr. Howe's garden at SouthBoston, the doctor's youngest daughter ran out from the house, and calledto him, "Good-bye, Mr. Sumner. " His back was already turned, but he facedabout like an officer on parade, and said with formal gravity: "Goodevening, child, " so that Mrs. Howe could not avoid laughing at him. YetSumner was fond of children in his youth. L. Maria Child heard of thisincident and made good use of it in one of her story-books. 

The grand fact in Sumner's character, however, rests beyond dispute thathe never aspired to the Presidency. That lingering Washington maladywhich victimized Clay, Webster, Calhoun, Seward, Chase, Sherman, andBlaine, and made them appear almost like sinners in torment, neverattacked Sumner. He had accepted office as a patriotic duty, and, likeWashington, he was ready to resign it whenever his work would be done. 

Sumner's speech on the barbarism of slavery, timed as it was to meet theBaltimore convention, was evidently intended to drive a wedge into thesplit between the Northern and Southern Democrats, but it also must haveencouraged the secession movement. Sumner, however, can hardly be blamedfor this, after the indignity he had suffered. That a high member of theGovernment could have been assaulted with impunity in open day indicateda condition of affairs in the United States not unlike that of France atthe time when Count Toliendal was judicially murdered by Louis XV. Washington City was an oligarchical despotism. 

A dark cloud hung over the Republic during the winter of 1860-'61. Theimpending danger was that war would break out before Lincoln could beinaugurated. Such secrecy was observed by the Republican leaders thateven Horace Greeley could not fathom their intentions. Late in DecemberJohn A. Andrew and George L. Stearns went to Washington to survey theground for themselves, and the latter wrote to William Robinson, "Thewatchword is, _keep quiet_. " He probably obtained this from Sumner, and it gives the key to the whole situation. 

It demolishes Von Hoist's finely-spun melodramatic theory in regard tothat period of our history, in which he finally compares the condition ofthe United States to a drowning man who sees lurid flames before hiseyes. In the Republican and Union parties there were all shades ofcompromise sentiment, --from those who were ready to sacrifice anything inorder to prevent secession, to Abraham Lincoln, who was only willing tosurrender the barren and unpopulated State of New Mexico to theslaveholders. [Footnote: A not unreasonable proposition. ] But Sumner, Wade, Trumbull, Wilson, and King stood together like a rocky coastagainst which the successive waves of compromise dashed without effect. Von Hoist was notified of this fact years before the last volume of hishistory was published, but he disregarded it evidently because itinterfered with his favorite theory. 

The last of January, however, a report was circulated in Boston thatSumner had joined the compromisers for the sake of consistency with thepeace principles which he had advocated in his Fourth of July oration. Boston newspapers made the most of this, although it did not seem likelyto Sumner's friends, and George L. Stearns finally wrote to him forpermission to make a denial of it. Sumner first replied to him bytelegraph saying: "I am against sending commissioners to treat ofsurrender by the North. Stand firm. " Then he wrote him this memorableletter. 

WASHINGTON, 3d Feb. , '61. 

My Dear Sir:

There are but few who stand rooted, like the oak, against a storm. Thisis the nature of man. Let us be patient. 

My special trust is this: _No possible compromise or concession will beof the least avail. _ Events are hastening which will supersede allsuch things. This will save us. But I like to see Mass. In this breakingup of the Union ever true. God keep her from playing the part of Judasor--of Peter! You may all bend or cry pardon--I will not. Here I am, andI mean to stand firm to the last. God bless you!

Ever yours, CHARLES SUMNER. 

The handwriting of this letter is magnificent. Sumner had a stronglycharacteristic hand with something of artistic grace in it, too; but inthis instance his writing seems like the external expression of the moodhe was in when he wrote the letter. 

The question may be asked, Why then did not Sumner rise in the Senate andmake one of his telling speeches against compromise during that long, wearisome session? I think the answer will be found in the watchword:"Keep quiet!" He perfectly understood the game that Seward was playingand he was too wise to interfere with it. Seward was the cat andcompromise was the mouse. Whatever mistakes he may have afterwards made, Seward at this time showed a master hand. He encouraged compromise, buthe must have been aware that the proposed constitutional amendment, whichwould forever have prevented legislation against slavery, would not havebeen confirmed by the Northern States. He could easily count thelegislatures that would reject it. It finally passed through Congress onthe last night of this session by a single vote, and was ratified by onlythree States!

As soon as Lincoln was inaugurated there was no more talk of compromise, and Seward was firmness itself. He declined to receive the disunioncommissioners; [Footnote: At the same time he coquetted with themunofficially. ] he compelled the Secretary of War to reinforce FortPickens; he overhauled General Scott, who proved an impediment tovigorous military operations. These facts tell their own tale. 

After Seward and Chase had left the Senate Sumner was _facileprinceps_. Trumbull was a vigorous orator and a rough-rider in debate, but he did not possess the store of legal knowledge and the vast fund ofgeneral information which Sumner could draw from. One has to read thefourth volume of Pierce's biography to realize the dimensions of Sumner'swork during the period from 1861 to 1869. Military affairs he neverinterfered with, but he was Chairman of the Committee on Foreign Affairs, the most important in the Senate, and in the direction of home politicshe was second to none. No other voice was heard so often in thelegislative halls at Washington, and none heard with more respect. A listof the bills that he introduced and carried through would fill a longcolumn. 

The test of statesmanship is to change from the opposition to theleadership in a Government, --from critical to constructive politics. CarlSchurz was a fine orator and an effective speaker on the minority side, but he commenced life as a revolutionist and always remained one. If hehad once attempted to introduce legislation, he would have shown hisweakness, exactly where Sumner proved his strength. Froude says that tobe great in politics "is to recognize a popular movement, and to have thecourage and address to lead it"; but three times Sumner planted hisstandard away in advance of his party, and stood by it alone until hisfollowers came up to him. 

He was always in advance of his party, but conspicuously so in regard tothe abolition of slavery, the exposure of Andrew Johnson's perfidy, andthe reconstruction of the rebellious States. We might add the annexationof San Domingo as a fourth; for I believe there are few thinking personsat present who do not feel grateful to him for having saved the countryfrom that uncomfortable acquisition. 

The bill to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia was introduced byWilson. Sumner did not like to be always proposing anti-slavery measureshimself, and he wished Wilson to have the honor of it. Wilson would not, of course, have introduced the measure without consulting his colleague. 

Lincoln evidently desired to enjoy the sole honor of issuing theEmancipation Proclamation of 1862, and he deserved to have it; but Sumnerthought it might safely have been done after the battles of FortDonaldson and Shiloh, and the victories of Foote and Farragut on theMississippi, six months before it was issued; and he urged to have itdone at that time. Whether his judgment was correct in this, it isimpossible to decide. 

Early in July, 1862, he introduced a bill in the Senate for theorganization of the "contrabands" and other negroes into regiments, --apolicy suggested by Hamilton in 1780, --and no one can read PresidentLincoln's Message to Congress in December, 1864, without recognizing thatit was only with the assistance of negro troops that the Union wasfinally preserved. 

In spite of the continued differences between Sumner and Seward onAmerican questions they worked together like one man in regard to foreignpolitics. Sumner's experience in Europe and his knowledge of public menthere was much more extensive than Seward's, and in this line he was ofinvaluable assistance to the Secretary of State. 

Lowell could make a holiday of six years at the Court of St. James, butduring the war it was a serious matter to be Minister to England. In thesummer of 1863 affairs there had reached a climax. The _Alabama_ and_Florida_ were scaring all American ships from the ocean, and fiveironclad rams, built for the confederate government, were nearly ready toput to sea from English ports. If this should happen it seemed likelythat they would succeed in raising the blockade. As a final resortLincoln and Seward sent word to Adams to threaten the British Governmentwith war unless the rams were detained. 

Meanwhile it was necessary to brace up the American people to meet thepossible emergency. On September 10 Sumner addressed an audience of threethousand persons in Cooper Institute, New York, for three hours on theforeign relations of the United States; and there were few who left thehall before it was finished. He arraigned the British Government for itsinconsistency, its violation of international law, and its disregard ofthe rights of navigators. It was not only a heroic effort, but a self-sacrificing one; for Sumner knew that it would separate him forever fromthe larger number of his English friends. 

At the same time Minister Adams had an equally difficult task before him. War with England seemed to be imminent. He held a long consultation withBenjamin Moran, the Secretary of Legation, and they finally concluded tosee if an opinion could be obtained on the confederate rams from anEnglish legal authority. They went to Sir Robert Colyer, one of the lordsof the admiralty, and asked him if he was willing to give them anopinion. He replied that he considered the law above politics, and thathe wished to do what was right. After investigating the subject Colyermade a written statement to the effect that the United States was whollyjustified in demanding detention of the rams. Adams then placed thisopinion together with Lincoln's notification before the British Cabinet, but the papers were returned to him with a refusal of compliance. "Thereis nothing now, " said Adams to Moran, "but for us to pack up and gohome"; but Moran replied, "Let us wait a little; while there is lifethere is hope"; and the same evening Adams was notified that HerMajesty's Government still had the subject under consideration. The ramsproved a dead loss. 

When Benjamin Moran related this incident to the Philadelphia Hock Clubafter his return, he added: "We owe it to our Irish-American citizens asmuch as to the monitors that we did not suffer from Englishinterference. "

Seward, and also Chase, wished to issue letters of reprisal to privateersto go in search of the _Alabama_, but Sumner opposed this in an ablespeech on the importance of maintaining a high standard of procedure forthe good reputation of the country; and he carried his point. 

Sumner's greatest parliamentary feat was occasioned by Trumbull'sintroduction of a bill for the reconstruction of Louisiana in the winterof 1864. There were only ten thousand loyal white voters in the State;and nothing could be more imprudent or prejudicial than such a hastyattempt at reorganization of the rebellious South, before the war wasfairly ended. It was like a man building an annex to one side of hishouse while the other side was on fire; yet it was known to be supportedby Seward, and, as was alleged, also by Lincoln. It was thrust uponCongress at the last moment, evidently in order to prevent an extendeddebate, and Sumner turned this to his own advantage. For two days andnights his voice resounded through the Senate chamber, until, with theassistance of his faithful allies, Wade and Wilson, he succeeded inpreventing the bill from being brought to a vote. It was an extremeinstance of human endurance, without parallel before or since, and maypossibly have shortened Sumner's life. Five weeks later PresidentLincoln, in his last speech, made the significant proposition ofuniversal amnesty combined with universal suffrage. Would that he couldhave lived to see the completion of his work!

Something may be said here of Sumner's influence with Mrs. Lincoln. IfDon Piatt is to be trusted, Mrs. Lincoln came to Washington with astrong feeling of antipathy towards Seward and "those easternabolitionists. " She was born in a slave state and had remained pro-slavery, --a fact which did not trouble her husband because he did notallow it to trouble him. Fifteen months in Washington brought a decidedchange in her opinions, and Sumner would seem to have been instrumentalin this conversion. It is well known that she preferred his society tothat of others. She had studied French somewhat, and he encouraged her totalk it with him, --which was looked upon, of course, as an affectation onboth sides. 

At the time of General McClellan's removal, October, 1862, Mrs. Lincolnwas at the Parker House in Boston. Sumner called on her in the forenoon, and she said at once: "I suppose you have heard the news, and that youare glad of it. So am I. Mr. Lincoln told me he expected to remove himbefore I left Washington. "

Sumner resembled Charles XII. Of Sweden in this: there is no evidencethat he ever was in love. His devotion to the law in early life, surrounded as he was by interesting friends, may have been antagonisticto matrimony. The woman he ought to have married was the noble daughterof his old friend, Cornelius Felton, whom he often met, but whose worthhe never recognized. The marriage which he contracted late in life wasnot based on enduring principles, and soon came to a grievous end. It wasmore like the marriages that princes make than a true republicancourtship. Sumner apparently wanted a handsome wife to preside at hisdinner parties in Washington, but he chose her from among his opponentsinstead of from among his friends. 

Since there has been much foolish talk upon this subject, it may be wellto state here that the true difficulty between Mr. And Mrs. Sumner wasowing to the company which he invited to his house. She only wished toentertain fashionable people, but a large proportion of Sumner's friendscould not be included within these narrow limits. As Senator fromMassachusetts that would not do for him at all. This is the explanationthat was given by Mrs. Sumner's brother, and it is without doubt thecorrect one; but women in such cases are apt to allege somethingdifferent from the true reason. 

Sumner's most signal triumph happened on the occasion of PresidentJohnson's first Message to Congress in January, 1865. He rose from hisseat and characterized it as a "whitewashing document. " That day he stoodalone, yet within six weeks every Republican Senator was at his side. 

Sumner knew how to be silent as well as to talk. On one occasion he wasmaking a speech in the Senate when he suddenly heard Schuyler Colfaxbehind him saying, "This is all very good, Sumner, but here I have theAppropriation bills from the House, and the Democrats know nothing aboutthem. " Sumner instantly resumed his seat, and the bills were acted onwithout serious opposition. He would sometimes sit through a dinner atthe Bird Club without saying very much, but if he once started on asubject that interested him there was no limit to it. 

Sumner's speech on the "Alabama claims" was considered a failure becausethe administration did not afterwards support him; and it is true that nogovernment would submit to a demand for adventitious damages so long asit could prevent this; but it was a far-reaching exposure of anunprincipled foreign policy, and this speech formed the groundwork forthe Treaty of Washington and the Geneva arbitration. It was a moreimportant case than the settlement of the Northeastern boundary. 

Sumner died the death of a hero. The administration of General Grantmight well be called the recoil of the cannon: it was the reactionaryeffect of a great military movement on civil affairs. Sumner alonewithstood the shock of it, and he fought against it for four years like aveteran on his last line of defence, feeling victory was no longerpossible. Many of his friends found the current too strong for them; hisown party deserted him; even the Legislature of his own State turnedagainst him in a senseless and irrational manner. Still his spirit wasunconquerable, and he continued to face the storm as long as life was inhim. It was a magnificent spectacle. 

It was the last battlefield of a veteran warrior, and although Sumnerretired from it with a mortal wound, he had the satisfaction of winning aglorious victory. No end could have been more appropriate to such a life. _Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. _

Since Richard Coeur de Leon forgave Bertram de Gordon, who caused hisdeath, there has never been a more magnanimous man than Charles Sumner. Once when L. Maria Child was anathematizing Preston S. Brooks in hispresence, he said: "You should not blame him. It was slavery and notBrooks that struck me. If Brooks had been born and brought up in NewEngland, he would no more have done the thing he did than Caleb Cushingwould have done it, "--Cushing always being his type of a pro-slaveryYankee. 

In 1871 Charles W. Slack, the editor of the Boston _Commonwealth_, for whom Sumner had obtained a lucrative office, turned against hisbenefactor in order to save his position. When I spoke of this to Sumner, he said: "Well, it is human nature. Slack is growing old, and if he keepshis office for the next six years, he will have a competency. I have nodoubt he feels grateful to me, and regrets the course he is taking. " Atthe same time, he spoke sadly. 

Sumner resembled Lord Chatham more closely than any statesman of thenineteenth century. He carried his measures through by pure force ofargument and clearness of foresight. From 1854 to 1874 it was his policythat prevailed in the councils of the nation. He succeeded where othersfailed. 

He defeated Franklin Pierce, Seward, Trumbull, Andrew Johnson, HamiltonFish, and even Lincoln, on the extradition of Mason and Slidell. He tiedJohnson down, so that he could only move his tongue. 

In considering Sumner's oratory, we should bear in mind what Coleridgesaid to Allston, the painter, --"never judge a work of art by itsdefects. " His sentences have not the classic purity of Webster's, and hisdelivery lacked the ease and elegance of Phillips and Everett. His stylewas often too florid and his Latin quotations, though excellent inthemselves, were not suited to the taste of his audiences. But Sumner wasalways strong and effective, and that is, after all, the main point. LikeWebster he possessed a logical mind, and the profound earnestness of hisnature gave an equally profound conviction to his words. Besides this, Sumner possessed the heroic element, as Patrick Henry and James Otispossessed it. After Webster's death there was no American speaker whocould hold an audience like him. 

Matthew Arnold, in his better days, said that Burke's oratory was toorich and overloaded. This is true, but it is equally true that Burke isthe only orator of the eighteenth century that still continues to beread. He had a faulty delivery and an ungainly figure, but if he emptiedthe benches in the House of Commons he secured a larger audience incoming generations. The material of his speeches is of such a vitalquality that it possesses a value wholly apart from the time and occasionof its delivery. 

Much the same is true of Sumner, who would have had decidedly theadvantage of Burke so far as personal impressiveness is concerned. HisPhi Beta Kappa address of 1845 is so rich in material that it is evenmore interesting to read now than when it was first delivered, and hisremarks on Allston in that oration might be considered to advantage byevery art critic in the country. It should always be remembered that aspeech, like a play, is written not to be read, but to be acted; andthose discourses which read so finely in the newspapers are not commonlythe ones that sounded the best when they were delivered. 

Great men create great antagonisms. The antagonism which Lincoln excitedwas concentrated in Booth's pistol shot, and the Montagues and Capuletsbecame reconciled over his bier; but the antagonism against Sumner stillcontinues to smoke and smoulder like the embers of a dying conflagration. 

CHEVALIER HOWE. 

The finest modern statue in Berlin is that of General Ziethen, the greatHussar commander in the Seven Years' War. [Footnote: Von Schlater'sstatue of the Great Elector is of course a more magnificent work of art. ]He stands leaning on his sabre in a dreamy, nonchalant attitude, as if hewere in the centre of indifference and life had little interest for him. Yet there never was a man more ready for action, or more quick to seizeupon and solve the _nodus_ of any new emergency. The Prussiananecdote-books are full of his exploits and hairbreadth escapes, a numberof which are represented around the base of the statue. He combined theintelligence of the skilful general with the physical dexterity of anacrobat. 

Very much such a man was Samuel Gridley Howe, born in Boston November 10, 1801, whom Whittier has taken as the archetype of an American hero in histune. 

If a transient guest at the Bird Club should have seen Doctor Howesitting at the table with his indifferent, nonchalant air, head leaningslightly forward and his grayish-black hair almost falling into his eyes, he would never have imagined that he was the man who had fought the Turkshand-to-hand like Cervantes and Sir John Smith; who had been imprisonedin a Prussian dungeon; who had risked his life in the July Revolution atParis; and who had taken the lead in an equally important philanthropicrevolution in his own country. 

Next to Sumner he is the most distinguished member of the club, even moreso than Andrew and Wilson; a man with a most enviable record. He does nottalk much where many are gathered together, but if he hears an imprudentstatement, especially an unjust estimate of character, his eyes flash outfrom beneath the bushy brows, and he makes a correction which just hitsthe nail on the head. He is fond of his own home and is with difficultyenticed away from it. Once in awhile he will dash out to Cambridge onhorseback to see Longfellow, but the lion-huntresses of Boston spreadtheir nets in vain for him. He will not even go to the dinner parties forwhich Mrs. Howe is in constant demand, but prefers to spend the eveningwith his children, helping them about their school lessons, and listeningto the stories of their everyday experiences. 

There never was a more modest, unostentatious hero; and no one hasrecorded his hairbreadth escapes and daring adventures, for those whowitnessed them never told the tale, nor would Doctor Howe willingly speakof them himself. He was of too active a temperament to be much of ascholar in his youth, although in after life he went through withwhatever he undertook in a thorough and conscientious manner. He went toBrown University, and appears to have lived much the same kind of lifethere which Lowell did at Harvard, --full of good spirits, admired by hisclassmates, as well as by the young ladies of Providence, andexceptionally fond of practical jokes; always getting into smalldifficulties and getting out of them again with equal facility. He was soamiable and warm-hearted that nobody could help loving him; and so itcontinued to the end of his life. 

He could not himself explain exactly why he joined the Greek Revolution. He had suffered himself while at school from the tyranny of older boys, and this strengthened the sense of right and justice that had beenimplanted in his nature. He had not the romantic disposition of Byron;neither could he have gone from a desire to win the laurels of Miltiades, for he never indicated the least desire for celebrity. It seems morelikely that his adventurous disposition urged him to it, as one man takesto science and another to art. 

It was certainly a daring adventure to enlist as a volunteer against theTurks. Byron might expect that whatever advantage wealth and reputationcan obtain for an individual he could always count upon; but what chanceswould young Howe have in disaster or defeat? I never heard that Byron didmuch fighting, though he spent his fortune freely in the cause; andDoctor Howe, as it happened, was not called upon to fight in line ofbattle, though he was engaged in some pretty hot skirmishes and riskedhimself freely. 

He went to Greece in the summer of 1824 and remained till after thebattle of Navarino in 1827. Greece was saved, but the land was a desertand its people starving. Doctor Howe returned to America to raise fundsand beg provisions for liberated Hellas, in which he was remarkablysuccessful; but we find also that he published a history of the GreekRevolution, the second edition of which is dated 1828. For this he musthave collected the materials before leaving Greece; but as it contains anaccount of the sea-fight of Navarino, it must have been finished afterhis return to America. The book was hastily written, and hastilypublished. To judge from appearances it was hurried through the presswithout being revised either by its author or a competent proofreader;but it is a vigorous, spirited narrative, and the best chronicle of thatperiod in English. Would there were more such histories, even if thewriting be not always grammatical. Doctor Howe does not sentimentalizeover the ruins of Sparta or Plato's Academy, but he describes Greece ashe found it, and its inhabitants as he knew them. He possesses what somany historians lack, and that is the graphic faculty. He writes in abetter style than either Motley or Bancroft. His book ought to be revisedand reprinted. 

We quote from it this clearsighted description of the preparation for aGraeco-Turkish sea-fight:

 "Soon the proud fleet of the Capitan Pashaw was seen coming down toward Samos, and the Greek vessels advanced to meet it. And here one cannot but pause a moment to compare the two parties, and wonder at the contrast between them. On one side bore down a long line of lofty ships whose very size and weight seemed to give them a slow and stately motion; completely furnished at every point for war; their decks crowded with splendidly armed soldiers, and their sides chequered with double and triple-rows of huge cannon that it seemed could belch forth a mass of iron which nothing could resist. On the other side came flying along the waves a squadron of light brigs and schooners, beautifully modelled, with sails of snowy white, and with fancifully painted sides, showing but a single row of tiny cannon. There seemed no possibility of a contest; one fleet had only to sail upon the other, and by its very weight, bear the vessels under water without firing a gun. 

 "But the feelings which animated them were very different. The Turks were clumsy sailors; they felt ill at ease and as if in a new element; but above all, they felt a dread of Greek fire-ships, which made them imagine every vessel that approached them to be one. The Greeks were at home on the waves, --active and fearless mariners, they knew that they could run around a Turkish frigate and not be injured; they knew the dread their enemies had of fire-ships, and they had their favorite, the daring Kanaris, with them. "

 * * * * *

The heroic deeds of the modern Greeks fully equalled those of theancients; and the death of Marco Bozzaris was celebrated in all thelanguages of western Europe. William Muller, the German poet, composed avolume of fine lyrics upon the incidents of the Greek Revolution; so thatafter his death the Greek Government sent a shipload of marble to Germanyfor the construction of his monument. 

One day Doctor Howe, with a small party of followers, was anchored in ayawl off the Corinthian coast, when a Turk crept down to the shore andcommenced firing at them from behind a large tree. After he had done thistwice, the doctor calculated where he would appear the third time, andfiring at the right moment brought him down with his face to the earth. Doctor Howe often fired at Turks in action, but this was the only onethat he felt sure of having killed; and he does not appear to have evencommunicated the fact to his own family. 

After Doctor Howe's triumphant return to Greece with a cargo ofprovisions in 1828 he was appointed surgeon-general of the Greek navy, and finally, as a reward for all his services, he received a present ofByron's cavalry helmet, --certainly a rare trophy. [Footnote: This helmethung for many years on the hat tree at Dr. Howe's house in South Boston. ]

Doctor Howe's mysterious imprisonment in Berlin in 1832 is the moreenigmatical since Berlin has generally been the refuge of the oppressedfrom other European countries. The Huguenots, expelled by Louis XIV. , went to Berlin in such numbers that they are supposed by Menzel to havemodified the character of its inhabitants. The Salzburg refugees werewelcomed in Prussia by Frederick William I. , who had an official hangedfor embezzling funds that were intended for their benefit. In 1770Frederick the Great gave asylum to the Jesuits who had been expelled fromevery Catholic capital in Europe; and when the brothers Grimm and otherprofessors were banished from Cassel for their liberalism, they werereceived and given positions by Frederick William IV. Why then should thePrussian government have interfered with Doctor Howe, after he hadcompleted his philanthropic mission to the Polish refugees? Why was henot arrested in the Polish camp when he first arrived there?

The futile and tyrannical character of this proceeding points directly toMetternich, who at that time might fairly be styled the Tiberias ofGermany. The Greek Revolution was hateful to Metternich, and he did whathe could to prevent its success. His intrigues in England certainlydelayed the independence of Greece for two years and more. He foresawclearly enough that its independence would be a constant annoyance to theAustrian government, --and so it has proved down to the present time. Metternich imagined intrigues and revolution in every direction; andbesides, there can be no doubt of the vindictiveness of his nature. Thecunning of the fox is not often combined with the supposed magnanimity ofthe lion. 

The account of his arrest, which Doctor Howe gave George L. Stearns, differs very slightly from that in Sanborn's biography. According to theformer he persuaded the Prussian police, on the ground of decency, toremain outside his door until he could dress himself. In this way hegained time to secrete his letters. He tore one up and divided the smallpieces in various places. While he was doing this he noticed a bust ofsome king of Prussia on top of the high porcelain stove which forms apart of the furniture of every large room in Berlin. Concluding it mustbe hollow he tipped it on edge and inserted the rest of his letterswithin. The police never discovered this stratagem, but they searched hisroom in the most painstaking manner, collecting all the pieces of theletter he had torn up, so that they read every word of it. Whether hisletters were really of a compromising character, or he was only afraidthat they might be considered so, has never been explained. 

The day after his arrest he was brought before a tribunal and asked amultitude of questions, which he appears to have answered willinglyenough; and a week or more later the same examiners made a different setof inquiries of him, all calculated to throw light upon his formeranswers. Doctor Howe admitted afterwards that if he had attempted todeceive them they would certainly have discovered the fact. He was inprison five weeks, for which the Prussian government had the impudence tocharge him board; and why President Jackson did not demand an apology andreparation for this outrage on a United States citizen is not the leastmysterious part of the affair. 

A good Samaritan does not always find a good Samaritan. After his returnto Paris Doctor Howe went to England, but was taken so severely ill onthe way that he did not know what might have become of him but for anEnglish passenger with whom he had become acquainted and who carried himto his own house and cared for him until he was fully recovered. Thisexcellent man, name now forgotten, had a charming daughter who materiallyassisted in Howe's convalescence, and he said afterwards that if he hadnot been strongly opposed to matrimony at that time she would probablyhave become his wife. He was not married until ten years later; but healways remembered this incident as one of the pleasantest in his life. 

The true hero never rests on his laurels. Doctor Howe had no soonerreturned from Europe than he set himself to work on a design he hadconceived in Paris for the instruction of the blind. Next to DoctorMorton's discovery of etherization, there has been no undertaking equalto this for the amelioration of human misery. He brought the best methodsfrom Europe, and improved upon them. Beginning at first in a small way, and with such means as he could obtain from the merchants of Boston, hewent on to great achievements. He had the most difficulty in dealing withlegislative appropriations and enactments, for as he was not acquaintedwith the ruling class in Massachusetts, they consequently looked upon himwith suspicion. He not only made the plan, but he carried it out; heorganized the institution at South Boston and set the machinery inmotion. 

The story of Laura Bridgman is a tale told in many languages. The deafand blind girl whom Doctor Howe taught to read and to _think_ soonbecame as celebrated as Franklin or Webster. She was between seven andeight years old when he first discovered her near Hanover, N. H. , and forfive years and a half she had neither seen nor heard. It is possible thatshe could remember the external world in a dim kind of way, and she musthave learned to speak a few words before she lost her hearing. DoctorHowe taught her the names of different objects by pasting them in raisedletters on the objects about her, and he taught her to spell by means ofseparate blocks with the letters upon them. She then was taught to readafter the usual method of instructing the blind, and communicated withher fingers after the manner of deaf mutes. Doctor Howe said in hisreport of the case:

"Hitherto, the process had been mechanical, and the success about asgreat as teaching a very knowing dog a variety of tricks. The poor childhad sat in mute amazement and patiently imitated everything her teacherdid; but now the truth began to flash upon her; her intellect began towork; she perceived that here was a way by which she could herself makeup a sign of anything that was in her own mind, and show it to anothermind, and at once her countenance lighted up with a human expression; itwas no longer a dog or parrot, --it was an immortal spirit, eagerlyseizing upon a new link of union with other spirits!"

Finally she was educated in the meaning of the simplest abstract termslike right and wrong, happy and sad, crooked and straight, and in thisshe evinced great intelligence, for she described being alone as _allone_, and being together _all two_, --the original meaning ofalone and altogether, which few persons think of. In trying to expressherself where she found some difficulty she made use of agglutinativeforms of speech. [Footnote: Like the Aztecs, Kanackers and otherprimitive races. ]

The education of Laura has rare value as a psychological study; for itproves incontestably that mind is a thing in itself, and not merely acombination of material forces, as the philosophers of our time wouldhave us believe. Laura Bridgman's mind was there, though wholly unable toexpress itself, and so soon as the magic key was turned, she developed asrapidly and intelligently as other girls of her age. She soon became muchmore intelligent than the best trained dog who has all his senses in anacute condition; and she developed a sensibility toward those about hersuch as Indian or Hottentot girls of the same age would not have done atall. She soon began to indicate that sense of order which is the firststep on the stairway of civilization. If these qualities had not been inher they never could have come out. 

Why is it that so many superior women remain unmarried, and why do men ofsuperior intellect and exceptional character so often mate themselveswith weak or narrow-minded women? That a diffident man, with a taste forplaying on the flute, should be captured by a virago, is not soremarkable, --that is his natural weakness; but it is also true that theworthiest man often chooses indifferently. This thing they call matrimonyis in fact like diving for pearls: you bring up the oyster, but what itcontains does not appear until afterward. A friend of Sumner, whoimagined his wife had a beautiful nature because she was fond of wild-flowers, discovered too late that she cared more for botany than for herhusband. 

Chevalier Howe met with better fortune. He waited long and to goodpurpose. It was fitting that such a man should marry a poetess; and hefound her, not in her rose-garden or some romantic sylvan retreat, but inthe city of New York. Miss Julia Ward was the daughter, as she oncestyled herself, of the Bank of Commerce, but her mind was not bent onmoney or a fashionable life. She was graceful, witty and charming in thedrawing-room; but there was also a serious vein in her nature which couldonly be satisfied by earnest thought and study. She went from one book toanother through the whole range of critical scholarship, disdainingeverything that was not of the best quality. She soon knew so much thatthe young men became afraid of her, but she cared less for theiradmiration than for her favorite authors. Above all, the deep religiousvein in her nature, which never left her, served as a balance to herromantic disposition. Her first admirer is said to have been an eloquentpreacher who came to New York while Miss Ward was in her teens. 

Another man might have crossed Julia Ward's path and only have rememberedher as a Sumner friend. Doctor Howe recognized the opportunity, and hadno intention of letting it slip. His reputation and exceptional characterattracted her; and he wooed and won her with the same courage that hefought the Greeks. Her sister married Crawford, the best sculptor of histime, whom Sumner helped to fame and fortune. 

Doctor Howe's wedding journey, which included a complete tour of Europe, seems to have been the first rest that he had taken in twenty years. Suchwedding journeys are frequent enough now, but it is a rare bride thatfinds the doors of distinguished houses opened to her husband fromEdinburgh to Athens. Was it not a sufficient reward for any man's serviceto humanity?

For that matter Doctor Howe's lifelong work received comparatively slightrecognition or reward. A few medals were sent to him from Europe, --a goldone from the King of Prussia, --and he was always looked upon in Bostonas a distinguished citizen; but his vocation at the Blind Asylum withdrewhim from the public eye, and the public soon forgets what happenedyesterday. What a blaze of enthusiasm there was for Admiral Dewey in1899, and how coldly his name was received as a presidential candidateone year later!

Doctor Howe was once nominated for Congress as a forlorn hope, and hisname was thrice urged unavailingly for foreign appointments. He certainlydeserved to be made Minister to Greece, but President Johnson looked uponhim as a very "ultra man", --the real objection being no doubt that he wasa friend of Sumner, and the second attempt made by Sumner himself wasdefeated by Hamilton Fish. Doctor Howe was fully qualified at any time tobe Minister to France, and as well qualified as James Russell Lowell forthe English Mission; but the appointment of such men as Lowell and Howehas proved to be a happy accident rather than according to the naturalorder of events. What reward did Doctor Morton ever obtain, until twenty-five years after his death his name was emblazoned in memorial hall ofBoston State House! It is an old story. 

Yet Doctor Howe may well be considered one of the most fortunateAmericans of his time. Lack of public appreciation is the least evil thatcan befall a man of truly great spirit, --unless indeed it impairs theusefulness of his work, and Edward Everett, who had sympathized socordially with Doctor Howe's efforts in behalf of the Greeks, could alsohave told him sympathetically that domestic happiness was fully asvaluable as public honor. Fortunate is the man who has wandered much overthe earth and seen great sights, only the better to appreciate the quietand repose of his own hearth-stone! The storm and stress period of DoctorHowe's life was over, and henceforth it was to be all blue sky and smoothsailing. 

Sumner expressed a kind of regret at Doctor Howe's marriage, --a regretfor his own loneliness; but he found afterwards that instead of losingone friend he had made another. His visits to South Boston were asfrequent as ever, and he often brought distinguished guests with him, --English, French, and German. There was no lady in Boston whom he liked toconverse with so well as Mrs. Howe; and if he met her on the street hewould almost invariably stop to speak with her a few minutes. Hesometimes suffered from the keen sallies of her wit, but he accepted thisas part of the entertainment, and once informed her that if she werepresident of the Senate it would be much better for the procedure of thepublic business. 

George Sumner also came; like his brother, a man much above the averagein general ability, and considered quite equal to the Delivery of aFourth of July oration. He was the more entertaining talker of the two, and in other respects very much like Tom Appleton, --better known on theParis boulevards than in his native country. Instead of being witty likeAppleton he was brilliantly encyclopaedic; and they both carried theirstatements to the verge of credibility. 

Doctor Howe organized the blind asylum so that it almost ran itselfwithout his oversight, and as always happens in such cases he wasidolized by those who were under his direction. There was somethingexceedingly kind in his tone of voice, --a voice accustomed to command andyet much subdued. His manner towards children was particularly charmingand attractive. He exemplified the lines in Emerson's "Wood-notes":

 "Grave, chaste, contented though retired, And of all other men desired, "

applied to Doctor Howe more completely than to the person for whom theywere originally intended; for Thoreau's bachelor habits and isolated modeof life prevented him from being an attractive person to the generalityof mankind. 

It was said of James G. Blaine that he left every man he met withthe impression that he was his best friend. This may have been wellintended, but it has the effect of insincerity, for the thing ispractically impossible. The true gentleman has always a kind manner, buthe does not treat the man whom he has just been introduced to as afriend; he waits for that until he shall know him better. It is said ofAmericans generally that they are generous and philanthropic, but thatthey do not make good friends, --that their idea of friendship depends toomuch on association and the influence of mutual interests, instead of theunderlying sense of spiritual relationship. When they cease to havemutual interests the friendship is at an end, or only continues to existon paper. Doctor Howe was as warm-hearted as he was firm-hearted, but henever gave his full confidence to any one until he had read him throughto the backbone. His friends were so fond of him that they would go anydistance to see him. His idea of friendship seemed to be like that of thefriends in the sacred band of Thebes, whose motto was either to avengetheir comrades on the field of battle or to die with them. 

He did not like a hypocritical morality, which he said too often resultedin the hypocritical sort. He complained of this in Emerson's teaching, which he thought led his readers to scrutinize themselves too closely aswell as to be too censorious of others; and he respected Emerson more forhis manly attitude on the Kansas question than for anything he wrote. 

He always continued to be the chevalier. He was like Hawthorne's gray-haired champion, who always came to the front in a public emergency, andthen disappeared, no one knew whither. When the Bond Street riot tookplace in 1837, there was Doctor Howe succoring the oppressed; in 1844 hejoined the Conscience Whigs and was one of the foremost among them; hehelped materially toward the election of Sumner in 1851, and for yearsafterwards was a leader in the vigilance committee organized to resistthe Fugitive Slave law. He stood shoulder to shoulder with George L. Stearns in organizing resistance to the invasions of Kansas by theMissourians; and again in 1862 when Harvard University made its lastdesperate political effort in opposition to Lincoln's EmancipationProclamation; but when his friends and his party came into power Howeneither asked nor hinted at any reward for his brilliant services. 

Edward L. Pierce, the biographer of Sumner, was not above exhibiting hisprejudices as to certain members of the Bird Club, both by what he haswritten and what he neglected to write. He says of the Chevalier: "Dr. Howe, who had a passion for revolutions and civil disturbances of allkinds, and had no respect for the restrictions of international law orcomity, was vexed with Sumner for not promoting the intervention of theUnited States in behalf of the insurgent Cubans. "

This reminds one of Boswell's treatment of Doctor Johnson's friends. LikeJohn Adams and Hampden, Doctor Howe was a revolutionary character, --andso were Sumner and Lincoln, --but he was a man in all matters prudent, discreet and practical. He was as much opposed to inflammatory haranguesand French socialistic notions as he was to the hide-bound conservatismagainst which he had battled all his life. Like Hampden and Adams hisrevolutionary strokes were well timed and right to the point. Experiencehas proved them to be effective and salutary. It was the essential meritof Sumner and his friends that they recognized the true character of thetimes in which they lived and adapted themselves to it. Thousands ofwell-educated men lived through the anti-slavery and civil war periodwithout being aware that they were taking part in one of the greatrevolutionary epochs of history. That Doctor Howe and Senator Sumnerdiffered in regard to the Cuban rebellion is a matter of small moment. Howe considered the interests of the Cubans; Sumner the interests ofrepublicanism in Spain and in Europe generally. Both were right fromtheir respective standpoints. 

At the beginning of the war he was sixty years of age, --too old to takean active part in it. This cannot be doubted, however, that if he hadbeen thirty years younger he would either have won distinction as acommander or have fallen on the, field of honor. The best contributionfrom the Howe family to the war was Julia Ward Howe's "Battle Hymn of theRepublic. " The war was a grand moral struggle, a conflict of historicalforces; and neither Lowell, Emerson, nor Whittier expressed this so fullyand with such depth of feeling as Mrs. Howe. There are occasions whenwoman rises superior to man, and this was one of them. It was evidentlyinspired by the John Brown song, that simple martial melody; but it risesabove the personal and temporal into the universal and eternal. Itsmeasure has the swing of the Greek tragic chorus, extended to embrace thewider scope of Christian faith, and its diction is of an equally classicpurity and vigor. The last stanza runs:

 "In the beauty of the lily Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me. As he died to make men holy let us die to make men free; As we go marching on. "

This was the fine fruit of Mrs. Howe's early religious faith. It welledup in her nature from a deep undercurrent, which few would have suspectedwho only met her at Sam G. Ward's dinner parties and other fashionableentertainments. Yet, there was always a quiet reserve in her laughter, and her wittiest remarks were always followed by a correspondingseriousness of expression. Although she studied Spinoza, admired Emerson, and attended meetings of the Radical Club on Chestnut Street, she neverseparated herself from the Church, and always expressed her dissent fromany opinion that seemed to show a lack of reverence. 

On a certain occasion when a member of the club spoke of newspapers aslikely to supersede the pulpit, Mrs. Howe replied to him: "God forbidthat should happen. God forbid we should do without the pulpit. It is theold fable of the hare and the tortoise. We need the hare for lightrunning, but the slow, steady tortoise wins the goal at last. " Religioussubjects, however, were not so much discussed at the Radical Club asphilosophy and politics, --and in these Mrs. Howe felt herself very muchat home. 

On another occasion, when a member of the club said that he was prepared, like Emerson, to accept the universe, Mrs. Howe interposed with theremark that it was Margaret Fuller who accepted the universe; she "wasnot aware that the universe had been offered to Emerson. " She said thisbecause Margaret Fuller was a woman. 

Once, when writing for the newspapers was under discussion, Mrs. Howeremarked that in that kind of composition one felt prescribed like St. Simeon Stylites by the limitations of the column. 

One of the best of her witty poems describes Boston on a rainy day, andis called "Expluvior, " an innocent parody on Longfellow's "Excelsior, "which, by the way, ought to have been called Excelsius. 

 "The butcher came a walking flood, Drenching the kitchen where he stood. 'Deucalion, is your name?' I pray. 'Moses, ' he choked and slid away. _Expluvior_, "

is one of the most characteristic verses; but in the last stanza shewishes to construct a dam at the foot of Beacon Hill and cause a floodthat would sweep the rebel sympathizers out of Boston. 

The office of the Blind Asylum was formerly near the middle of BromfieldStreet on the southern side. This is now historic ground. Between 1850and 1870 some of the most important national councils were held there inDr. Howe's private office. It was the first place that Sumner went to inthe morning and the last place that Governor Andrew stopped beforereturning to his home at night. There Dr. Howe and George L. Stearnsconsulted with John Brown concerning measures for the defence of Kansas;and there Howe, Stearns, and Bird concerted plans for the election ofAndrew in 1860, and for the re-election of Sumner in 1862. It was aquiet, retired spot in the midst of a hustling city, where a celebratedman could go without attracting public attention. 

Chevalier Howe outlived Sumner just one year, and Wilson followed him notlong after. 

THE WAR GOVERNOR. 

Sebago is one of the most beautiful of the New England lakes, and hasbeen celebrated in Longfellow's verse for its curiously winding riverbetween the upper and the lower portion, as well as for the Indiantraditions connected with it. John A. Andrew's grandfather, likeHawthorne's father, lived in Salem and both families emigrated to Sebago, the former locating himself in the small town of Windham. At the timewhen Hawthorne was sailing his little boat on the lake, at the age offourteen, John Andrew was in his nurse's arms, --born May 31, 1818. LikeHawthorne and Longfellow he went to Bowdoin College, but did notdistinguish himself there as a scholar, --had no honors at commencement. We are still in ignorance concerning his college life, what his interestswere, and how he spent his time; but Andrew never cared much for anythingwhich had not an immediate and practical value. Greek and Latin, merelyfor their own sake as ancient languages, did not appeal to him; nor didthe desiccated history and cramping philosophy of those days attract himmore strongly. Yet he ultimately developed one of the finest of Americanintellects. 

[Illustration: JOHN A. ANDREW]

He was admitted to the Suffolk bar at the age of twenty-two. He hadalready formed decided opinions on the slavery question. The practitionerwith whom he studied was precisely the opposite of Andrew, --a brilliantscholar, but formal and unsympathetic. Although a young man of finepromise he was soon excelled by his less learned but more energeticpupil. At the age of twenty-six we find Andrew presiding at a conventionof Free-soilers, the same which nominated Dr. S. G. Howe for Congress. Why he did not appear in politics between 1844 and 1859 is something of amystery, which may be explained either by his devotion to his professionor his unwillingness to make politics a profession. He was in constantcommunication with Charles Francis Adams, Frank W. Bird, and otherleading independents, and played a part in the election of Sumner as wellas at various nominating conventions; but he apparently neither soughtoffice nor was sought for it. It may have been a modest conscientiousnessof his own value, which prevented the acceptance of public honors untilhe was prepared to claim the best; but the fact is difficult to accountfor on any supposition. 

Neither was his success at the bar remarkable. He never earned a largeincome, and died comparatively poor. There were few who cared to meet himin debate, yet his legal scholarship was not exceptional, and hispolitical opinions may have proved an impediment to him in a city whichwas still devoted to Webster and Winthrop. Moreover, his kindness ofheart prompted him to undertake a large number of cases for which hereceived little or no remuneration. As late as 1856 he was known as thepoor man's lawyer rather than as a distinguished pleader. One cannot helpreflecting what might have been John A. Andrew's fortune if he had beenborn in Ohio or Illinois. In the latter State he would have proved a mostimportant political factor; for he was fully as able a speaker asDouglas, and he combined with this a large proportion of those estimablequalities which we all admire in Abraham Lincoln. He had not the wit ofLincoln, nor his immense fund of anecdote, which helped so much to makehim popular, but the cordial manners and manly frankness of Andrew werevery captivating. He would have told Douglas to his face that he was ademagogue, as Mirabeau did to Robespierre, and would have carried theaudience with him. It certainly seems as if he would have risen todistinction there more rapidly than in old-fashioned, conventionalBoston. 

Governor Andrew was an inch shorter than the average height of man, andmuch resembled Professor Child in personal appearance. He was a largerman than Professor Child, and his hair was darker, but he had the sameround, good-humored face, with keen penetrating eyes beneath a brow asfinely sculptured as that of a Greek statue, and closely curling hairabove it. He was broad-shouldered, remarkably so, and had a strong figurebut not a strong constitution. His hands were soft and as white as awoman's; and though his step was quick and elastic he disliked to walklong distances, and was averse to physical exercise generally. 

He also resembled Professor Child in character, --frank without bluntness;sincere both formally and intellectually, --full to the brim of moralcourage. He was not only kind-hearted, but very tender-hearted, so thathis lips would quiver on occasions and his eyes fill with tears, --whatdoctors improperly call a lachrymose nature; but in regard to a questionof principle or public necessity he was as firm as Plymouth Rock. Neitherdid he deceive himself, as kindly persons are too apt to do, in regard tothe true conditions of the case in hand. He would interrogate anapplicant for assistance in as judicious a manner as he would a witnessin a court room. He never degenerated into the professed philanthropist, who makes a disagreeable and pernicious habit of one of the noblestattributes of man. "A mechanical virtue, " he would say, "is no virtue atall. "

The impressions of youth are much stronger and more enduring than thoseof middle life, and I still remember Andrew as he appeared presiding atthe meeting for the benefit of John Brown's wife and daughters inNovember, 1859. This was his first notable appearance before the public, and nothing could have been more daring or more likely to make himunpopular; and yet within twelve months he was elected Governor. Hisattitude and his whole appearance was resolute and intrepid. He had sethis foot down, and no power on earth could induce him to withdraw it. Aclergyman who had been invited to speak at the meeting had at firstaccepted, but being informed by some of his parishioners that the thingwould not do, declined with the excuse that he had supposed there wouldbe two sides to the question. "As if, " said Andrew, "there could be twosides to the question whether John Brown's wife and daughters should bepermitted to starve. " Thomas Russell, Judge of the Superior Court, satclose under the platform, clapping his hands like pistol shots. 

John A. Andrew's testimony before the Harper's Ferry investigatingcommittee has a historical value which Hay and Nicolay, Wilson, andVon Holst would have done well to have taken into consideration; but thedefinitive history of the war period is yet to be written. There was noreason why Andrew should have been summoned. He had never met John Brownbut once--at a lady's house in Boston--and had given him twenty-fivedollars without knowing what was to be done with it. Jefferson Davis andthe other Southern members of the committee evidently sent for him tomake capital against the Republican party, but the result was differentfrom what they anticipated. Andrew told them squarely that the Harper'sFerry invasion was the inevitable consequence of their attempt to forceslavery on Kansas against the will of its inhabitants, and that thePottawatomie massacre, whether John Brown was connected with it or not, was not so bad in its moral effect as the assault on Sumner. It was whatthey might expect from attempting to tyrannize over frontier farmers. Itis not to be supposed that such men will be governed by the nice sense ofjustice of an eastern law court. 

His testimony in regard to the personal magnetism of John Brown is ofgreat value; but he also admitted that there was something about the oldman which he could not quite understand, --a mental peculiarity which mayhave resulted from his hard, barren life, or the fixedness of hispurpose. 

Andrew had already been elected to the Legislature, and had taken hisseat there in January, 1860. Almost in an instant he became the leader ofhis party in the House. Always ready to seize the right moment, he unitedthe two essential qualities of a debater, a good set speech and apertinent reply. Perfectly fearless and independent, he was exactly theman to guide his party through a critical period. There were few in thehouse who cared to interfere with him. 

Andrew was chairman of the Massachusetts delegation at the ChicagoConvention in May, and although he voted for Seward he was directlyinstrumental in the nomination of Lincoln. It is said to have been at hissuggestion that the Massachusetts delegation called together thedelegations of those States that defeated Fremont in 1856, and inquiredof them which of the candidates would be most certain to carry theirconstituencies; and with one accord they all answered Lincoln. ThusLincoln's nomination was practically assured before the voting began. 

It has been repeatedly asserted that the nomination of Andrew forGovernor was the result of a general popular movement; but this wassimply impossible. He was chiefly known to the voters of the State atthat time as the presiding officer of a John Brown meeting, and that wasquite as likely to retard as to advance his interests. He had, however, become a popular leader in the Legislature, and the fact that GovernorBanks was opposed to him and cast his influence in favor of a Pittsfieldcandidate, left a sort of political vacuum in the more populous portionof the State, which Frank W. Bird and Henry L. Pierce took advantage ofto bring his name forward. Sumner and Wilson threw their weight into thescales, and Andrew was easily nominated; but he owed this to Frank W. Bird more than to any other supporter. 

In the New York _Herald_ of December 20, 1860, there was thefollowing item: "Governor-elect Andrew, of Massachusetts, and George L. Stearns have gone to Washington together, and it is said that the objectof their visit is to brace up weak-kneed Republicans. " This was oneobject of their journey, but they also went to survey the ground and seewhat was the true state of affairs at the Capital. Stearns wrote fromWashington to the Bird Club: "The watchword here is 'Keep quiet, '" asentence full of significance for the interpretation of the policypursued by the Republican leaders that winter. Andrew returned with theconviction that war was imminent and could not be prevented. Hiscelebrated order in regard to the equipment of the State militia followedimmediately, and after the bombardment of Fort Sumter this was lookedupon as a true prophecy. He foresaw the difficulty at Baltimore, and hadalready chartered steamships to convey regiments to Washington, in casethere should be a general uprising in Maryland. 

Both Sumner and Wilson opposed the appointment of General Butler to thecommand of the Massachusetts Volunteers, and preferred Caleb Gushing, whoafterwards proved to be a more satisfactory member of the Republicanparty than Butler; but, on the whole, Andrew would seem to have actedjudiciously. They were both bold, ingenious and quick-witted men, but itis doubtful if Gushing possessed the dash and intrepidity which Butlershowed in dealing with the situation at Baltimore. That portion of hismilitary career was certainly a good success, and how far he should beheld responsible for the corrupt proceedings of his brother at NewOrleans I do not undertake to decide. 

It is likely that Governor Andrew regretted his choice three weeks later, when General Butler offered his services to the Governor of Maryland tosuppress a slave insurrection which never took place, and of which therewas no danger then or afterwards. A sharp correspondence followed betweenthe Governor and the General, in which the latter nearly reached thepoint of insubordination. For excellent reasons this was not made publicat the time, and is little known at the present day; but General Butlerowed his prominence in the war wholly to Governor Andrew's appointment. 

Another little-known incident was Andrew's action in regard to themeeting in memory of John Brown, which was held on December 2, 1861, byWendell Phillips, F. B. Sanborn and others, who were mobbed exactly asGarrison was mobbed thirty years earlier. The Mayor would do nothing toprotect them, and when Wendell Phillips went to seek assistance fromAndrew the latter declined to interfere. It would be a serious matter tointerfere with the Mayor, and he did not feel that the occasion demandedit. Moreover he considered the celebration at that time to be prejudicialto the harmony of the Union cause. Phillips was already very muchirritated and left the Governor's office in no friendly mood. Andrewmight have said to him: "You have been mobbed; what more do you want?There is no more desirable honor than to be mobbed in a good cause. "

Governor Andrew's appointments continued to be so favorable to theDemocrats that Martin F. Conway, the member of Congress from Kansas, said: "The Governor has come into power with the help of his friends, andhe intends to retain it by conciliating his opponents. " It certainlylooked like this; but no one who knew Andrew intimately would believethat he acted from interested motives. Moreover it was wholly unnecessaryto conciliate them. It is customary in Massachusetts to give the Governorthree annual terms, and no more; but Andrew was re-elected four times, and it seemed as if he might have had as many terms as Caius Marius hadconsulships if he had only desired it. 

His object evidently was to unite all classes and parties in a vigoroussupport of the Union cause, and he could only do this by taking a numberof colonels and other commissioned officers from the Democratic ranks. For company officers there was no better recommendation to him than for ayoung man to be suspended, or expelled, from Harvard University. "Thoseturbulent fellows, " he said, "always make good fighters, and, " he addedin a more serious tone, "some of them will not be greatly missed if theydo not return. " The young aristocrat who was expelled for threatening totweak his professor's nose obtained a commission at once. 

Another case of this sort was so pathetic that it deserves to becommemorated. Sumner Paine (named after Charles Sumner), the finestscholar in his class at Harvard, was suspended in June, 1863, for sometrifling folly and went directly to the Governor for a commission asLieutenant. Having an idea that the colored regiments were a particularhobby with the Governor, he asked for a place in one of them; but Andrewreplied that the list was full; he could, however, give him a Lieutenancyin the Twentieth Massachusetts, which was then in pursuit of General Lee. Sumner Paine accepted this, and ten days later he was shot dead on thefield of Gettysburg. Governor Andrew felt very badly; for Paine was notonly a fine scholar but very handsome, and, what is rare among hardstudents, full of energy and good spirits. 

Governor Andrew tried a number of conclusions, as Shakespeare would callthem, with the National Government during the war, but the most seriousdifficulty of this kind resulted from Secretary Stanton's arbitraryreduction of the pay of colored soldiers from thirteen to eight dollars amonth. This, of course, was a breach of contract, and Governor Andrewfelt a personal responsibility in regard to it, so far as theMassachusetts regiments were concerned. 

He first protested against it to the Secretary of War; but, strange tosay, Stanton obtained a legal opinion in justification of his order fromWilliam Whiting, the solicitor of the War Department. Governor Andrewthen appealed to President Lincoln, who referred the case to Attorney-General Bates, and Bates, after examining the question, reportedadversely to Solicitor Whiting and notified President Lincoln that theGovernment would be liable to an action for damages. The Presidentaccordingly referred this report to Stanton, who paid no attentionwhatever to it. 

Meanwhile the Massachusetts Legislature had passed an act to make goodthe deficiency of five dollars a month to the Massachusetts coloredregiments, but the private soldiers, with a magnanimity that should neverbe forgotten, refused to accept from the State what they considered duethem from the National Government. At last Governor Andrew applied toCongress for redress, declaring that if he did not live to see justicedone to his soldiers in this world he would carry his appeal "before theTribunal of Infinite Justice. "

Thaddeus Stevens introduced a bill for the purpose June 4, 1864, and afterwaiting a whole year the colored soldiers received their dues. Andrewdeclared in his message to Congress that this affair was a disgrace tothe National Government; and I fear we shall have to agree with him. [Footnote: At this time there were not less than five thousand officersdrawing pay in the Union armies above the requisite proportion of oneofficer to twenty-two privates. ]

Sixty years ago Macaulay noticed the injurious effects on oratory ofnewspaper publication. Parliamentary speeches were written to be readrather than to be listened to. It was a peculiarity of Andrew, however, that he wrote his letters and even his messages to the Legislature as ifhe were making a speech. In conversation he was plain, sensible andkindly. 

He made no pretensions to oratory in his public addresses, but hisdelivery was easy, clear, and emphatic. At times he spoke rather rapidly, but not so much so as to create a confused impression. I never knew himto make an _argumentum ad hominem_, nor to indulge in thoserhetorical tricks which even Webster and Everett were not wholly freefrom. He convinced his hearers as much by the fairness of his manner asby anything that he said. 

The finest passage in his speeches, as we read them now, is his tributeto Lincoln's character in his address to the Legislature, following uponLincoln's assassination. After describing him as the man who had added"martyrdom itself to his other and scarcely less emphatic claims to humanveneration, gratitude and love, " he continued thus: "I desire on thisgrave occasion to record my sincere testimony to the unaffectedsimplicity of his manly purpose, to the constancy with which he devotedhimself to his duty, to the grand fidelity with which he subordinatedhimself to his country, to the clearness, robustness, and sagacity of hisunderstanding, to his sincere love of truth, his undeviating progress inits faithful pursuit, and to the confidence which he could not fail toinspire in the singular integrity of his virtues and the conspicuouslyjudicial quality of his intellect. "

Could any closer and more comprehensive description be given of Andrew'sown character; and is there another statement so appreciative in thevarious biographies of Lincoln?

The instances of his kindness and helpfulness were multitudinous, buthave now mostly lapsed into oblivion. During his five years in office itseemed as if every distressed man, woman, and child came to the Governorfor assistance. William G. Russell, who declined the position of ChiefJustice, once said of him: "There was no better recommendation toAndrew's favor than for a man to have been in the State's prison, if itcould only be shown that he had been there longer than he deserved. "

Andrew considered the saving of a human soul more important than rescuinga human life. That he was often foiled, deceived, and disappointed inthese reformatory attempts is perfectly true; but was it not better sothan never to have made them? For a long time he had charge of anintemperate nephew, who even sold his overcoat to purchase drink; but theGovernor never deserted the fellow and cared for him as well as he could. 

This is the more significant on account of Andrew's strong argumentagainst prohibitory legislation, which was the last important act of hislife. 

In February, 1864, there was a military ball at Concord for the benefitof the Thirty-second Massachusetts Regiment. Governor Andrew was present, and seeing the son of an old friend sitting in a corner and looking muchneglected while his brother was dancing and having a fine time, theGovernor went to him, took him by the arm and marched several timesaround the hall with him. He then went to Mrs. Hawthorne, inquired whather husband was writing, and explained the battle of Gettysburg to her, drawing a diagram of it on a letter which he took from his coat pocket. Years afterwards Mrs. Hawthorne spoke of this as one of the pleasantestinterviews of her life. 

He would come in late to dinner at the Bird Club, looking so full offorce that he seemed as much like a steam-engine as a man. They usuallyapplauded him, but he paid no attention to it. "Waiter, bring me someminced fish with carrots and beets, " he would say. His fish-dinner becameproverbial, but he complained that they could not serve it at fine hotelsin the way our grandmothers made it. He said it did not taste the same. 

His private secretary states that Governor Andrew's favorite _sanssouci_ was to take a drive into the country with some friend, andafter he had passed the thickly settled suburbs to talk, laugh and jestas young men do on a yachting excursion, --but his talk was alwaysrefined. There was no recreation that Professor Francis J. Child likedbetter than this. 

Andrew's valedictory address on January 5, 1865, which was chieflyconcerned with the reconstruction of the Southern States, was littleunderstood at the time even by his friends; and in truth he did not makeout his scheme as clearly as he might have done. He considered negrosuffrage the first essential of reconstruction, but he did not believe inenfranchising the colored people and disfranchising the whites. Heforesaw that this could only end in disaster; and he advised that therebellious States should remain under military government until the whitepeople of the South should rescind their acts of secession and adoptnegro suffrage of their own accord. There would have been certainadvantages in this over the plan that was afterwards adopted--that is, Sumner's plan--but it included the danger that the Southern States mighthave adopted universal suffrage and negro citizenship for the sake ofCongressional representation, and afterwards have converted it into adead letter, as it is at present. Andrew considered Lincoln's attempts atreconstruction as premature, and therefore injudicious. 

For nearly twenty-five years John A. Andrew was a parishioner of Rev. James Freeman Clarke, who preached in Indiana Place Chapel. In 1848 Rev. Mr. Clarke desired to exchange with Theodore Parker, but older members ofhis parish strenuously opposed it. Andrew, then only twenty-seven yearsold, came forward in support of his pastor, and argued the casevigorously, not because he agreed with Parker's theological opinions, butbecause he considered the opposition illiberal. After this both Andrewand Clarke would seem to have become gradually more conservative, forwhen the latter delivered a sermon or lecture in 1866 in opposition toEmerson's philosophy, the ex-Governor printed a public letter requestinghim to repeat it. It is easy to trace the influence of James FreemanClarke in Governor Andrew's religious opinions and Andrew's influence onRev. Mr. Clarke's politics. Each was a firm believer in the other. 

The movement to supersede Sumner with Andrew as United States Senator, in1869, originated in what is called the Back Bay district. It was notbecause they loved Andrew there, but because they hated Sumner, whorepresented to their minds the loss of political power which they hadenjoyed from the foundation of the Republic until his election in 1850, and have never recovered it since. Andrew's political record and hisdemocratic manners could hardly have been to their liking. 

The Boston aristocracy counted for success on the support of the GrandArmy veterans, who were full of enthusiasm for Andrew; but it is notprobable that the ex-Governor would have been willing to lead a movementwhich his best friends disapproved of, and which originated with the sameclass of men who tried so hard to defeat him in 1862. Moreover, theywould have found a very sturdy opponent in Senator Wilson. It was Wilsonwho had made Sumner a Senator, and for fifteen years they had fought sideby side without the shadow of a misunderstanding between them. Under suchconditions men cannot help feeling a strong affection for one another. Besides this, Wilson would have been influenced by interested motives. Sumner cared nothing for the minor Government offices--the classifiedservice--except so far as to assist occasionally some unfortunate personwho had been crowded out of the regular lines; and this afforded Wilson afine opportunity of extending his influence. If Andrew were chosenSenator in the way that was anticipated Wilson knew well enough that thispatronage would have to be divided between them. 

Andrew could not have replaced Sumner in the Senate. He lacked thephysical strength as well as the experience, and that extensive range oflegal and historical knowledge which so often disconcerted Sumner'sopponents. He had a genius for the executive, and the right position forhim would have been in President Grant's cabinet. That he would have beenoffered such a place can hardly be doubted. 

But Governor Andrew's span of life was over. He might have lived longerif he had taken more physical exercise; but the great Civil War provedmore fatal to the statesmen who were engaged in it than to the generalsin the field. None of the great leaders of the Republican party lastedvery long after this. 

Andrew's friends always felt that the man was greater than his position, and that he really missed the opportunity to develop his ability to itsfull extent. His position was not so difficult as that of GovernorMorgan, of New York, or Governor Morton, of Indiana; for he was supportedby one of the wealthiest and most patriotic of the States. It was hisclear insight into the political problems of his time and thefearlessness with which he attacked them that gave him such influenceamong his contemporaries, and made him felt as a moral force to theutmost limits of the Union. No public man has ever left a more stainlessreputation, and we only regret that he was not as considerate of himselfas he was of others. 

THE COLORED REGIMENTS

The first colored regiment in the Civil War was organized by GeneralHunter at Beaufort, S. C. , in May, 1862, without permission from theGovernment; and some said, perhaps unjustly, that he was removed from hiscommand on that account. It was reorganized by General Saxton thefollowing August, and accepted by the Secretary of War a short timeafterwards. Rev. T. W. Higginson, who had led the attack on Boston CourtHouse in the attempt to rescue Anthony Burns, was commissioned as itsColonel. 

In August also George L. Stearns, being aware that Senator Sumner waspreparing a speech to be delivered at the Republican State convention, went to his house on Hancock Street and urged that he should advocate init the general enlistment of colored troops; but Sumner said decisively, "No, I do not consider it advisable to agitate that question until theProclamation of Emancipation has become a fact. Then we will take anotherstep in advance. " At a town meeting held in Medford, in December, Mr. Stearns made a speech on the same subject, and was hissed for his painsby the same men who were afterwards saved from the conscription of 1863by the negroes whom he recruited. 

[Illustration: MAJOR GEORGE L. STEARNS]

Lewis Hayden, the colored janitor of the State House, always claimed thecredit of having suggested to Governor Andrew to organize a coloredregiment of Massachusetts Volunteers. William S. Robinson, who was thenClerk of the State Senate, supported Hayden in this; but he also remarkedthat Representative Durfee, of New Bedford, proposed a bill in May, 1861, for the organization of a colored regiment, and that it was only defeatedby six votes. 

As soon as the Proclamation of Emancipation had been issued the Governorwent to Washington for a personal interview with the Secretary of War, and returned with the desired permission. Mr. Stearns went with him andobtained a commission for James Montgomery, who had defended the Kansasborder during Buchanan's administration, to be Colonel of another coloredregiment in South Carolina. Colonel Montgomery arrived at Beaufort aboutthe first of February. 

Governor Andrew formed the skeleton of a regiment with Robert G. Shaw asColonel, but was able to obtain few recruits. There were plenty of sturdynegroes about Boston, but they were earning higher wages than everbefore, and were equally afraid of what might happen to them if they werecaptured by the Confederate forces. Colonel Hallowell says: "The Governorcounselled with certain leading colored men of Boston. He put thequestion, Will your people enlist in my regiments? 'They will not, ' wasthe reply of all but Hayden. 'We have no objection to white officers, butour self-respect demands that competent colored men shall be at leasteligible to promotion. '" By the last of February less than two companieshad been recruited, and the prospects of the Fifty-fourth Massachusettsdid not look hopeful. 

When Governor Andrew was in doubt he usually sent for Frank W. Bird andGeorge L. Stearns, but this time Mr. Stearns was before him. To theGovernor's question, "What is to done?" he replied, "If you will obtainfunds from the Legislature for their transportation, I will recruit you aregiment among the black men of Ohio and Canada West. There are a greatmany runaways in Canada, and those are the ones who will go back andfight. " "Very good, " said the Governor; "go as soon as you can, and ourfriend Bird will take care of the appropriation bill. " A handsomerecruiting fund for incidental expenses had already been raised, to whichMr. Stearns was, as usual, one of the largest subscribers. 

He arrived at Buffalo, New York, the next day at noon, and went to acolored barber to have his hair cut. He disclosed the object of hismission, and the barber promised to bring some of his friends together todiscuss the matter that evening. The following evening Mr. Steams calleda meeting of the colored residents of Buffalo, and made an address tothem, urging the importance of the occasion, and the advantage it wouldbe to their brethren in slavery and to the future of the negro race, ifthey were to become well-drilled and practiced soldiers. "When you haverifles in your hands, " he said, "your freedom will be secure. " To theobjection that only white officers were being commissioned for thecolored regiments he replied: "See how public opinion changes; howrapidly we move forward! Only three months ago I was hissed in a townmeeting for proposing the enlistment of colored troops; and now here weare! I have no doubt that before six months a number of colored officerswill be commissioned. " His speech was received with applause; but when heasked, "Now who will volunteer?" there was a prolonged silence. At lengtha sturdy-looking fellow arose and said: "I would enlist if I felt surethat my wife and children would not suffer for it. " "I will look afteryour family, " said Mr. Stearns, "and see that they want for nothing; butit is a favor I cannot promise again. " After this ten or twelve moreenrolled themselves, and having provided for their maintenance until theycould be transported to the camp at Readville, he went over to Niagara, on the Canada side, to see what might be effected in that vicinity. 

In less than a week he was again in Buffalo arranging a recruitingbureau, with agencies in Canada and the Western States as far as St. Louis--where there were a large number of refugees who had lately beenliberated by Grant's campaign at Vicksburg. Mr. Lucian B. Eaton, an oldlawyer and prominent politician of the city, accepted the agency there asa work of patriotic devotion. Among Mr. Stearns's most successful agentswere the Langston brothers, colored scions of a noble Virginia family, --both excellent men and influential among their people. All his agentswere required to write a letter to him every evening, giving an accountof their day's work, and every week to send him an account of theirexpenses. Thus Mr. Stearns sat at his desk and directed their movementsby telegraph as easily as pieces on a chess-board. The appropriation fortransportation had already passed the Massachusetts Legislature, butwhere this did not suffice to meet an emergency he drew freely on his ownresources. 

By the last of April recruits were coming in at the rate of thirty orforty a day, and Mr. Stearns telegraphed to the Governor: "I can fill upanother regiment for you in less than six weeks, "--a hint which resultedin the Massachusetts Fifty-fifth, with Norwood P. Hallowell, a gallantofficer who had been wounded at Antietam, for its commander. 

The Governor, however, appears to have suddenly changed his mind, for onMay 7th Mr. Stearns wrote to his wife:

"Yesterday at noon I learned from Governor Andrew by telegram that he didnot intend to raise another regiment. I was thunderstruck. My work forthree weeks would nearly, or quite, fall to the ground. I telegraphed inreply: 'You told me to take all the men I could get without regard toregiments. Have two hundred men on the way; what shall I do with them?'The reply came simultaneously with your letter: 'Considering yourtelegraph and Wild's advice, another regiment may proceed, expecting itfull in four weeks. Present want of troops will probably prevent my beingopposed. ' I replied: 'I thank God for your telegram received thismorning. You shall have the men in four weeks. ' Now all is right. "

The Surgeon-General had detailed one Dr. Browne for duty at Buffalo toexamine Mr. Stearns's recruits, and if found fit for service by him therewas presumably no need of a second examination. This, however, did notsuit the medical examiner at Readville, who either from ill will or fromsome unknown motive, insisted on rejecting every sixth man sent therefrom the West. Thus there was entailed on Mr. Stearns an immense expensewhich he had no funds to meet, and he was obliged to make a private loanof ten thousand dollars without knowing in the least how or where he wasto be reimbursed. 

Finally, on May 8, Mr. Stearns made a remonstrance against this abuse toGovernor Andrew in a letter in which he also gave this account ofhimself:

 "I have worked every day, Sunday included, for more than two months and from fourteen to sixteen hours a day; I have filled the West with my agents; I have compelled the railroads to accept lower terms of transportation than the Government rates; I have filled a letter-book of five hundred pages, most of it closely written. "

This letter is now in the archives of the StateHouse at Boston, and on the back of it GovernorAndrew has written:

 "This letter is respy. Referred to Surgeon-General Dole with the request that he would confer with Surgeon Stone and Lieutenant-Colonel Hallowell. It is surprising, and not fair nor fit, that a man trying as Mr. Stearns is, to serve the country at a risk, should suffer thus by such disagreement of opinion. 

"JOHN A. ANDREW. "

Shortly after this Mr. Stearns returned to Boston for a brief visit, andwas met in the street by a philanthropic lady, Mrs. E. D. Cheney, whoasked: "Where have you been all this time, Mr. Stearns? I supposed youwere going to help us organize the colored regiment? You will be glad toknow that it is doing well. We have nearly a thousand men. " Mr. Stearnsmade no reply, but bowed and passed on. This is the more surprising, asMrs. Cheney was president of a society of ladies who had presented theFifty-fourth Regiment with a flag; but the fault would seem to have beenmore that of others than her own. At the celebration which took place onthe departure of the regiment for South Carolina, however, WendellPhillips said: "We owe it chiefly to a private citizen, to George L. Stearns, of Medford, that these heroic men are mustered into theservice, "--a statement which astonished a good many. [Footnote: Thestatement made by Governor Andrew's private secretary concerning thecolored regiments in his memoir of the Governor would seem to have beenintentionally misleading. ]

The Governors of the Western States had never considered their coloredpopulation as of any importance, but now, when it was being drained offto fill up the quota of Massachusetts troops they began to thinkdifferently. The Governor of Ohio advised Governor Andrew that no morerecruiting could be permitted in his State unless the recruits wereassigned to the Ohio quota. Andrew replied that the Governor of Ohio wasat liberty to recruit colored regiments of his own; but the MassachusettsFifty-fifth, having now a complement, it was decided not to continue thebusiness any further, and Mr. Stearns's labors at Buffalo were thusbrought to an end about the middle of June. He had recruited fully one-half of the Fifty-fourth, and nearly the whole of the Fifty-fifthregiments. 

He now conceived the idea of making his recruiting bureau serviceable byplacing it in the hands of the Government. He therefore went toWashington and meeting his friend, Mr. Fred Law Olmstead, at Willard'sHotel, the latter offered to go with him to the War Department andintroduce him to Secretary Stanton. They found Stanton fully alive to theoccasion, and in reply to Mr. Stearns's offer he said:

"I have heard of your recruiting bureau, and I think you would be thebest man to run the machine you have constructed. I will make you anAssistant Adjutant-General with the rank of Major, and I will give youauthority to recruit colored regiments all over the country. "

Stearns thanked him, and replied that there was nothing which he had somuch at heart as enlisting the black men on a large scale; for no peoplecould be said to be secure in their freedom unless they were alsosoldiers; but his wife was unwell, and had suffered much from his absencealready, and he did not feel that he ought to accept the offer withouther consent. In answer to the question how funds for recruiting were tobe obtained without any appropriation by Congress, Mr. Stanton said theycould be supplied from the Secret Service fund. 

When Mr. Stearns and Mr. Olmstead were alone on the street again, thelatter said: "Mr. Stearns, go to your room and sleep if you can. "

Having returned to Boston, to arrange his affairs for a prolongedabsence, and having obtained his wife's consent, Mr. Stearns ordered hisrecruiting bureau to report at Philadelphia, where he soon after followedit. 

The battle of Gettysburg had stirred Philadelphia to its foundations, andits citizens were prepared to welcome anything that promised a vigorousprosecution of the war. Major Stearns was at once enrolled among themembers of the Union League Club, the parent of all the union leagues inthe country, and was invited to the meetings of various other clubs andfashionable entertainments. A recruiting committee was formed from amongthe most prominent men in the city. Camp William Penn, while the coloredregiment was being drilled, became a fashionable resort, and fineequipages filled the road thither every after-noon. By the middle of Julythe first regiment was nearly full. 

Fine weather does not often last more than a few weeks at a time, and inthe midst of these festivities suddenly came Secretary Stanton's orderreducing the pay of colored soldiers from thirteen to eight dollars amonth. This was a breach of contract and the men had a right to theirdischarge if they wished it; but that, of course, was not permitted them. Such an action could only be excused on the ground of extreme necessity. The Massachusetts Legislature promptly voted to pay the deficiency to theFifty-fourth and Fifty-fifth regiments; but the one at Philadelphia wasin organization, and Mr. Stearns found himself in the position of a manwho has made promises which he is unable to fulfil. 

Hon. William D. Kelley and two other gentlemen of the committee went withMajor Stearns to Washington to see Stanton, and endeavored to persuadehim to revoke the order. Kelley was one of the most persistent debaterswho ever sat in Congress, and he argued the question with the Secretaryof War for more than an hour, --to the great disgust of the latter, --butStanton was as firm as Napoleon ever was. Major Stearns never had anotherpleasant interview with him. 

The Secretary's argument was that some white regiments had complained ofbeing placed on an equality with negroes, and that it interfered withrecruiting white soldiers. There was doubtless some reason in this; butthe same result might have been obtained by a smaller reduction. 

The next morning some one remarked to Major Stearns that it wasexceedingly hot weather, even for Washington, and his reply was: "Yes, but the fever within is worse than the heat without. " He talked ofresigning; but finally said, decisively, "I will go and consult withOlmstead. "

He found Mr. Olmstead friendly and sympathetic. He spoke of SecretaryStanton in no complimentary terms, but he advised Mr. Stearns to continuewith his work, and endure all that he could for the good of the cause, --not to be worried by evils for which he was in no way responsible. Mr. Stearns returned to Willard's with a more cheerful countenance. 

In the afternoon Judge Kelley came in with the news of the repulse of theFifty-fourth Massachusetts regiment at Fort Wagner and the death ofColonel Shaw. 

There was a colored regiment in process of formation at Baltimore, andanother was supposed to be organizing at Fortress Monroe. 

Both were nominally under Mr. Stearns's supervision, and he inspected theformer on his return trip to Philadelphia, and sent his son toinvestigate and report on the latter. Not the trace of a colored regimentcould be discovered at Fortress Monroe, but there were scores of Unionofficers lounging and smoking on the piazza of the Hygeia Hotel. Mr. Stearns thought that business economy had better begin by reducing thenumber of officers rather than the pay of the soldiers. On July 28 MajorStearns wrote from Baltimore:

 "I am still perplexed as to the mode in which I can best carry out the work intrusted to me. It is so difficult to adjust my mode of rapid working to the slow routine of the Department that I sometimes almost despair of the task and want to abandon it. "

No private business could succeed if carried on after the manner of theNational Government at that time, and this was not the fault of Lincoln'sadministration at all, but of the whole course of Jackson democracy from1829 to 1861. The clerks in the various departments did not hold theirpositions from the heads of those departments, but from outsidepoliticians who had no connection with the Government business, and as aconsequence they were saucy and insubordinate. They found it to theirinterest to delay and obstruct the procedure of business in order to givethe impression that they were overworked, and in that way make theirpositions more secure and if possible of greater importance. 

Major Stearns had found himself continually embarrassed in his Governmentservice from lack of sufficient funds, and the continual delay in havinghis accounts audited. The auditors of the War Department repeatedly tookexception to expenditures that were absolutely necessary, and he wasobliged to advance large sums from his own capital in order to providethe current expenses of his agents. In this emergency he returned toBoston and held a conference with Mr. John M. Forbes and other friends;and they all agreed that he ought to be better supported in the work ofrecruiting than he had been. A subscription was immediately set on foot, and in a few days a recruiting fund of about thirty thousand dollars wasraised and placed in charge of Mr. R. P. Hallowell. 

On September 1, Secretary Stanton transferred Major Stearns to Nashville, where he could obtain recruits in large numbers, not only from Tennesseebut from the adjoining States. Fugitives flocked to his standard fromAlabama, Mississippi, and Kentucky. For the succeeding five months heorganized colored regiments so rapidly that it was with difficulty theGeneral commanding at Nashville could supply the necessary quota ofofficers for them. His letter-writing alone rarely came to less thantwenty pages a day, and besides this he was obliged to attend personallyto innumerable details which were constantly interfering with moreimportant affairs. Serious questions concerning the rights and legalposition of the freedmen were continually arising, and these required acool head and a clear understanding for their solution. 

Edward J. Bartlett, of Concord, who was one of his staff in Nashville, stated afterwards that he never saw a man who could despatch so muchbusiness in a day as George L. Stearns. He says:

 "I shall never forget the fine appearance of the first regiment we sent off. They were all picked men, and felt a just pride in wearing the blue. As fast as we obtained enough recruits they were formed into regiments, officered and sent to the front. When men became scarce in the city we made trips into the country, often going beyond the Union picket line, and generally reaping a harvest of slaves. These expeditions brought an element of danger into our lives, for our forage parties were fired into by the enemy more than once, but we always succeeded in bringing back our men with us. The black regiments did valuable service for the Union, leaving their dead on many a southern battle-field. Mr. Stearns was a noble man, courteous, with great executive ability, and grandly fitted for the work he was engaged in. "

At this time Major Stearns's friend, General Wilde, was recruiting acolored brigade in North Carolina, and General Ullman was organizingcolored regiments in Louisiana. 

Major Stearns's labors were brought to a close in February, 1864, by theeccentric conduct of Secretary Stanton, --the reason for which has neverbeen explained. He obtained leave of absence to return to Boston atChristmas time, and after a brief visit to his family went to Washingtonand called upon the Secretary of War, who declined to see him three daysin succession. On the evening of the fourth day he met Mr. Stanton at anevening party and Stanton said to him in his roughest manner: "MajorStearns, why are you not in Tennessee?" This was a breach of officialetiquette on the part of the Secretary of War and Major Stearns sent inhis resignation at once. His reason for doing so, however, was not somuch on account of this personal slight as from the conclusion that hehad accomplished all that was essential to be done in this line. Hischief assistant at Nashville, Capt. R. D. Muzzey, was an able man andperfectly competent to run the machine which Mr. Stearns had constructed. 

The importance of his work cannot readily be measured. It was no longereasy to obtain white volunteers. With a population ten millions less thanthat of France, the Northern States were maintaining an army much largerthan the one which accompanied Napoleon to Moscow. General Thomas's rightwing, at the battle of Nashville, was formed almost entirely of coloredregiments. They were ordered to make a feint attack on the enemy, so asto withdraw attention from the flanking movement of his veterans on theleft; but when the charge had once begun their officers were unable tokeep them in check--the feint was changed into a real attack andcontributed largely to the most decisive victory of the whole war. 

In his last annual Message President Lincoln congratulated Congress onthe success of the Government's policy in raising negro regiments, and onthe efficiency of the troops organized in this way. It seems verydoubtful if the war could have been brought to a successful terminationwithout them. 

In 1898 the Legislature of Massachusetts, at the instance of the veteransof the Fifty-fourth and Fifty-fifth regiments, voted to have a memorialtablet for the public services of George Luther Stearns set up in theDoric Hall of Boston State House, and the act was approved by GovernorWalcott, who sent the quill with which he signed it to Major Stearns'swidow. 

EMERSON'S TRIBUTE TO GEORGE L. STEARNS. 

_Delivered in the First Parish Church of Medford on the Sundayfollowing Major Stearns's death, April 9, 1867. _

"We do not know how to prize good men until they depart. High virtue hassuch an air of nature and necessity that to thank its possessor would beto praise the water for flowing or the fire for warming us. But, on theinstant of their death, we wonder at our past insensibility, when we seehow impossible it is to replace them. There will be other good men, butnot these again. And the painful surprise which the last week brought us, in the tidings of the death of Mr. Stearns, opened all eyes to the justconsideration of the singular merits of the citizen, the neighbor, thefriend, the father, and the husband, whom this assembly mourns. We recallthe all but exclusive devotion of this excellent man during the lasttwelve years to public and patriotic interests. Known until that time inno very wide circle as a man of skill and perseverance in his business;of pure life; of retiring and affectionate habits; happy in his domesticrelations, --his extreme interest in the national politics, then growingmore anxious year by year, engaged him to scan the fortunes of freedomwith keener attention. He was an early laborer in the resistance toslavery. This brought him into sympathy with the people of Kansas. Asearly as 1855 the Emigrant Aid Society was formed; and in 1856 heorganized the Massachusetts State Kansas Committee, by means of which alarge amount of money was obtained for the 'free-State men, ' at times ofthe greatest need. He was the more engaged to this cause by making in1857 the acquaintance of Captain John Brown, who was not only anextraordinary man, but one who had a rare magnetism for men of character, and attached some of the best and noblest to him, on very shortacquaintance, by lasting ties. Mr. Stearns made himself at once necessaryto Captain Brown as one who respected his inspirations, and had themagnanimity to trust him entirely, and to arm his hands with all neededhelp. 

"For the relief of Kansas, in 1856-57, his own contributions were thelargest and the first. He never asked any one to give so much as hehimself gave, and his interest was so manifestly pure and sincere that heeasily obtained eager offerings in quarters where other petitionersfailed. He did not hesitate to become the banker of his clients, and tofurnish them money and arms in advance of the subscriptions which heobtained. His first donations were only entering wedges of his later;and, unlike other benefactors, he did not give money to excuse his entirepreoccupation in his own pursuits, but as an earnest of the dedication ofhis heart and hand to the interests of the sufferers, --a pledge keptuntil the success he wrought and prayed for was consummated. In 1862, onthe President's first or preliminary Proclamation of Emancipation, hetook the first steps for organizing the Freedman's Bureau, --a departmentwhich has since grown to great proportions. In 1863, he began to recruitcolored soldiers in Buffalo; then at Philadelphia and Nashville. Butthese were only parts of his work. He passed his time in incessantconsultations with all men whom he could reach, to suggest and urge themeasures needed for the hour. And there are few men of real or supposedinfluence, North or South, with whom he has not at some timecommunicated. Every important patriotic measure in this region has hadhis sympathy, and of many he has been the prime mover. He gave to eachhis strong support, but uniformly shunned to appear in public. Forhimself or his friends he asked no reward: for himself, he asked only todo the hard work. His transparent singleness of purpose, his freedom fromall by-ends, his plain good sense, courage, adherence, and his romanticgenerosity disarmed first or last all gainsayers. His examination beforethe United States Senate Committee on the Harper's Ferry Invasion, inJanuary, 1860, as reported in the public documents, is a chapter wellworth reading, as a shining example of the manner in which a truth-speaker baffles all statecraft, and extorts at last a reluctant homagefrom the bitterest adversaries. 

"I have heard, what must be true, that he had great executive skill, aclear method, and a just attention to all the details of the task inhand. Plainly he was no boaster or pretender, but a man for up-hill work, a soldier to bide the brunt; a man whom disasters, which dishearten othermen, only stimulated to new courage and endeavor. 

"I have heard something of his quick temper: that he was indignant atthis or that man's behavior, but never that his anger outlasted for amoment the mischief done or threatened to the good cause, or ever stoodin the way of his hearty co-operation with the offenders, when theyreturned to the path of public duty. I look upon him as a type of theAmerican republican. A man of the people, in strictly private life, girtwith family ties; an active and intelligent manufacturer and merchant, enlightened enough to see a citizen's interest in the public affairs, andvirtuous enough to obey to the uttermost the truth he saw, --he became, inthe most natural manner, an indispensable power in the State. Withoutsuch vital support as he, and such as he, brought to the government, where would that government be! When one remembers his incessant service;his journeys and residences in many States; the societies he worked with;the councils in which he sat; the wide correspondence, presently enlargedby printed circulars, then by newspapers established wholly or partly athis own cost; the useful suggestions; the celerity with which his purposetook form; and his immovable convictions, --I think this single will wasworth to the cause ten thousand ordinary partisans, well-disposed enough, but of feebler and interrupted action. 

"These interests, which he passionately adopted, inevitably led him intopersonal communication with patriotic persons holding the same views, --with two Presidents, with members of Congress, with officers of thegovernment and of the army, and with leading people everywhere. He hadbeen always a man of simple tastes, and through all his years devoted tothe growing details of his prospering manufactory. But this suddenassociation now with the leaders of parties and persons of pronouncedpower and influence in the nation, and the broad hospitality whichbrought them about his board at his own house, or in New York, or inWashington, never altered one feature of his face, one trait in hismanners. There he sat in the council, a simple, resolute Republican, anenthusiast only in his love of freedom and the good of men; with no prideof opinion, and with this distinction, that, if he could not bring hisassociates to adopt his measure, he accepted with entire sweetness thenext best measure which could secure their assent. But these publicbenefits were purchased at a severe cost. For a year or two, the mostaffectionate and domestic of men became almost a stranger in hisbeautiful home. And it was too plain that the excessive toil andanxieties into which his ardent spirit led him overtasked his strengthand wore out prematurely his constitution. It is sad that such a lifeshould end prematurely; but when I consider that he lived long enough tosee with his own eyes the salvation of his country, to which he had givenall his heart; that he did not know an idle day; was never called tosuffer under the decays and loss of his powers, or to see that otherswere waiting for his place and privilege, but lived while he lived, andbeheld his work prosper for the joy and benefit of all mankind, --I counthim happy among men. 

"Almost I am ready to say to these mourners, Be not too proud in yourgrief, when you remember that there is not a town in the remote State ofKansas that will not weep with you as at the loss of its founder; not aSouthern State in which the freedmen will not learn to-day from theirpreachers that one of their most efficient benefactors has departed, andwill cover his memory with benedictions; and that, after all his effortsto serve men without appearing to do so, there is hardly a man in thiscountry worth knowing who does not hold his name in exceptional honor. And there is to my mind somewhat so absolute in the action of a good man, that we do not, in thinking of him, so much as make any question of thefuture. For the Spirit of the Universe seems to say: 'He has done well;is not that saying all?'"

This monograph was printed in the _Boston Commonwealth_, April 20, 1867, and has never been republished. It is exceptional in Emerson'swritings as the account of a man with whom he was personally andintimately acquainted. 

ELIZUR WRIGHT

The influence of Ohio in the United States of America during the pasthalf century may be compared to that of Virginia during the first fortyyears of the Republic. All of our Presidents, elected as such since 1860, have come from Ohio, or adjacent territory. Cleveland came from beyondthe Alleghenies, and Lincoln was born on the southern side of the OhioRiver. General Grant and General Sherman came from Ohio; and so didSalmon P. Chase, and John Brown, of Harper's Perry celebrity. Chase gavethe country the inestimable blessing of a national currency; and even theVirginians admitted that John Brown was a very remarkable person. 

The fathers of these men conquered the wilderness and brought up theirsons to a sturdy, vigorous manliness, which resembles the colonialculture of Franklin, Adams, and Washington. 

Sitting in the same school-house with John Brown, in 1816, was a boynamed Elizur Wright who, like Brown, came from Connecticut, and to whomthe people of this country are also somewhat under obligation. Everywidow and orphan in the United States who receives the benefit of a life-insurance policy owes a blessing to Elizur Wright, who was the first toestablish life insurance in America on a strong foundation, and whosereports on that subject, made during his long term as InsuranceCommissioner for Massachusetts, have formed a sort of constitution bywhich the policy of all life-insurance companies is still guided. Hisname deserves a place beside those of Horace Mann and William LloydGarrison. 

[Illustration: ELIZUR WRIGHT]

Apart from this, his biography is one of the most interesting, one of themost picturesque, when compared with those of the many brilliant men ofhis time. His grandfather was a sea captain, and his father, who was alsonamed Elizur, was a farmer in Canaan, Connecticut. His mother's name wasClarissa Richards, and he was born on the twelfth of February, 1804. Inthe spring of 1810 the family moved to Talmage, Ohio, making the journeyin a two-horse carriage with an ox-team to transport their householdgoods. Their progress was necessarily slow, and it was nearly six weeksbefore they reached Talmage, as it was generally necessary to camp atnight by the way-side. This romantic journey, the building of their log-cabin, the clearing of the forest, and above all his solitary watches inthe maple-orchard (where he might perhaps be attacked by wolves), made adeep poetic impression on young Elizur, and furnished him with a store ofpleasant memories in after life. 

They lived at first in a log-cabin, and afterwards his father built asquare frame-house with a piazza and veranda in front, which is stillstanding. The school where Elizur, Jr. , met John Brown was at a longdistance for a boy to walk. He does not appear to have made friends withJohn, remarkably alike as they were in veracity, earnestness, andadherence to principle; but John was somewhat the elder, and two or threeyears among boys counts for more than ten among grown people. In laterlife, however, Mr. Wright told an interesting anecdote of young Brown, which runs as follows:

John was the best-behaved boy in the school, and for this reason theteacher selected him to occupy a vacant place beside the girls. Someother boys were jealous of this, and after calling Brown a milk-sop, attacked him with snowballs. John proved himself as good a fighter thenas he did afterwards at Black Jack. He made two or three snow-balls, rushed in at close quarters, and fought with such energy that he finallydrove all the boys before him. 

Elizur Wright may have taken note of this affair, and it served him whenhe entered Yale College in 1822. He had never heard of hazing, and whenthe Sophomores came to his room to tease him, he received them with trueWestern cordiality. He found out his mistake quickly enough, and at thefirst insult he rose in wrath and ordered them out with such furiouslooks that they concluded it was best to go. 

He helped to support himself during his college course not only byteaching in winter, but by making fires, waiting on table, and ringingthe recitation bell. In spite of these menial services, he was popular inhis class and had a number of aristocratic friends, --among them PhilipVan Rensselaer. He was one of the best scholars in his class, --first inmathematics, and so fluent in Greek that to the end of his life he couldread it with ease. 

He did not wait for graduation. In May, 1826, the Groton Academy suddenlywanted a teacher, and Elizur Wright was invited to take the position. Thecollege faculty sent him his degree a month later, --which they might nothave done if they had known how little he cared for it. In his school atGroton was a pretty, dark-eyed girl named Susan Clark, who, for two yearspreviously, had been at school with Margaret Fuller and was very wellacquainted with her. Elizur Wright became interested in Miss Clark, andthree years later they were married. 

One day, while he was living at Groton, Mr. Wright went by the Bostonstage to Fitchburg, and on his return held a long conversation with afellow-passenger, a tall, slender young man with aquiline features, whogave his name as Ralph Waldo Emerson. Mr. Wright found him an exceedinglyinteresting gentleman, but of so fragile an appearance that it seemedimpossible that he should live many years. 

From this time the paths of these two young scholars diverged. Emersonbecame an idealist and an ethical reformer. Elizur Wright became arealist and a political reformer. Realism seems to belong to the soil ofOhio. 

Ill health came next in turn, a natural consequence of his severe life atYale College. He was obliged to leave his school, and for an occupationhe circulated tracts for the American Congregational Society, making astipulation, however, which was characteristic of him, that he should notdistribute any that ran contrary to his convictions. In this itinerantfashion he became sufficiently recuperated at the end of a year to marryMiss Clark, September 13, 1829, and accept the professorship ofmathematics at Western Reserve College, at Hudson, Ohio. There heremained till 1833, strengthening himself in the repose of matrimony forthe conflict that lay before him, --a conflict that every justice-lovingman feels that he will have to face at one time or another. 

This probably came sooner than he expected. Some anti-slavery tracts, circulated by Garrison, reached Western Reserve College and set the placein a ferment. Elizur Wright became the champion of the anti-slaverymovement, not only in the town of Hudson but throughout the State. WhatGarrison was in New England he became in the West. In the spring of 1833he resigned his professorship and spent the next five months deliveringlectures on the slavery question. In December of the same year the firstnational anti-slavery convention met in Philadelphia, and Elizur Wrightwas unanimously chosen secretary of it. After that he went to New York toedit a newspaper, the _Anti-Slavery Reporter_, remaining until 1839. During the pro-slavery riot in New York he was attacked on the sidewalkby two men with knives, but instantly rescued by some teamsters who werepassing. When he reached his home in Brooklyn he found a note from theMayor advising him to leave the city for some days; to which he repliedadvising the Mayor to stop the New York ferry-boats. Meanwhile, as Mrs. Wright was too ill to be removed, he purchased an axe and prepared todefend his house to the last extremity. The Mayor, however, adopted hisadvice, and by this excellent stratagem Brooklyn was saved from the furyof the mob. In 1837 he moved to Dorchester, Massachusetts, to prosecute asimilar work in Boston. 

Nothing is more remarkable in Mr. Wright's life than his perfect self-poise and peace of mind during such a long period of external agitation. It is doubtful, in spite of his highly nervous temperament, if he everlost a night's sleep. When he was editing the _Chronotype_, andwaiting for the telegraphic news to arrive, he would sometimes lie downon a pile of newspapers and go to sleep in less than half a minute. Formental relaxation he studied the higher mathematics and wrote poetry--much of it very good. His faith in Divine Providence was absolute. He hadthe soul of a hero. 

During his first years in Boston, Elizur Wright translated La Fontaine'sFables into English verse, --one of the best metrical versions of aforeign poet, --and it is much to be regretted that the book is out ofprint. It did not sell, of course, and Elizur Wright, determined thatneither he nor the publisher should lose money on it, undertook to sellit himself. In carrying out this plan he met with some curiousexperiences. He called on Professor Ticknor, who received him kindly, spoke well of his translation, offered to dispose of a number of copies, but--advised him to keep clear of the slavery question. 

He went to Washington with the twofold object of selling his book andtalking emancipation to our national legislators; and he succeeded inboth attempts, for there were few men who liked to argue with ElizurWright. His brain was a store-house of facts and his analysis of themequally keen and cutting. One Congressman, a very gentlemanly Virginian, said to him: "Mr. Wright, I wish you could go across the Potomac and lookover my district. I think you will find that African slavery is not halfas bad as it is represented. " Elizur Wright went and returned with theemphatic reply: "I find it much worse than I expected. " Having disposedof more than half of his edition in this manner, in the spring of 1842 hewent to England, and with the kind assistance of Browning and Pringlesucceeded in placing the rest of his books there to his satisfaction. Having a great admiration for Wordsworth's poetry, he made a long journeyto see that celebrated author, but only to be affronted by Wordsworth'ssaying that America would be a good place if there were only a fewgentlemen in it. With Carlyle he had, as might have been expected, afurious argument on the slavery question, and "King Thomas, " as Dr. Holmes calls him, encountered for once a head as hard as his own. TheBrownings, Robert and Elizabeth, received him with true Englishhospitality. More experienced than Wordsworth in the great world, theyrecognized Elizur Wright to be what he was, --a man of intellect and rareintegrity. Mr. Wright always spoke of Browning as one of the mostsatisfactory men with whom he had ever conversed. 

In 1840, as is well known, the anti-slavery movement became divided intothose who still believed in the efficacy of "moral suasion" and those whoconsidered that the time had come for introducing the question intopractical politics. The Texas question made the latter course inevitable, and Elizur Wright concluded that moral suasion had done its work. As heexpressed it, in a letter to Mrs. Maria Chapman: "Garrison has alreadyleft his enemies thrice dead behind him. " He was a delegate to theconvention of April 1, 1840, which nominated James G. Birney for thePresidency, and took an active share in the Free-soil movement of 1844, --a movement which produced exactly the opposite effect from that which wasintended; for the defeat of Henry Clay opened the door for the Mexicanwar and the annexation of a much larger territory than Texas. If Clay hadbeen elected, the history of the United States must have been differentfrom what it has proved. 

How Elizur Wright supported his family during this long period ofphilanthropy will always be a mystery, but support them he did. He had noregular salary like Garrison, but, in an emergency, he could turn hishand to almost anything, and earn money by odd jobs. Fortunately, he hada wife who was not afraid of any kind of house-work. He purchased hisclothes of a tailor named Curtis, who kept a sailors' clothing store onNorth Street, and his mode of living otherwise was not less economical. 

That his children suffered by their father's philanthropy must beadmitted, but it is a general rule that the families of publicbenefactors also contribute largely to the general good. His eldestdaughters inherited their father's intellect, and as they grew upcheerfully assisted him in various ways. 

When the Mexican war began there was great indignation over it in NewEngland, and Lowell wrote his most spirited verses in opposition to it. Elizur Wright took advantage of the storm to establish a newspaper, the_Chronotype_, in opposition to the Government policy. He began thisenterprise almost without help, but soon obtained assistance from leadingFree-soilers like John A. Andrew, Dr. S. G. Howe, and especially Frank W. Bird, the most disinterested of politicians, who gave several thousanddollars in support of the _Chronotype_. The object of the paper, stated in Mr. Wright's own words, was "To examine everything that is newand some things that are old, without fear or favor; to promote goodnature, good neighborhood, and good government; to advocate a justdistribution of the proper reward, whether material or immaterial, bothof honest labor and rascally violence, cunning and idleness; last, butnot least, to get an honest living. " In 1848 he had a list of sixthousand subscribers; and his incisive pen was greatly feared. The_Post_, which was the Government organ in Boston, attacked him once, but met with such a crushing rejoinder that its editor concluded not totry that game again. His capacity for brain labor was wonderful. He couldwork fourteen hours a day, and did not seem to need recreation at all. 

In the campaign of 1844 Elizur Wright made a number of speeches for theFree-soil candidate in various New England cities. One morning he wasreturning from a celebration at Nashua, when at the Lowell station DanielWebster entered the train with two or three friends, and turned over theseat next to Mr. Wright. A newsboy followed Webster, and they allpurchased papers. Elizur Wright purchased a Whig paper, and seeing astatement in it concerning the Free-soil candidate which he believed frominternal evidence to be untrue, he said quite loud: "Well! this is thefinest roorback I have met with. " Webster inquired what it was, and, after looking at the statement, pronounced it genuine. A short argumentensued, which closed with Webster's proposing to bet forty poundsthat the allegation was true. "I am not a betting man, " replied Wright, "but since the honor of my candidate is at stake, I accept your wager. "Webster then gave him his card, and Wright returned it by writinghis name on a piece of the newspaper. 

Elizur Wright no sooner reached his office than he found letters anddocuments there disproving the Whig statement _in toto_, and laterin the day he carried them over to Mr. Webster, who had an office in whatwas then Niles's Block. Mr. Webster looked carefully through them, congratulated Mr. Wright on his good fortune, and handed him two hundred-dollar bills. Peter Harvey, who was in Webster's office at the time, afterwards stopped Elizur Wright on the sidewalk and said to him: "Mr. Wright, you could have afforded to lose that wager much better thanWebster could. "

It is remarkable how all the different interests in this man's life--mathematics, philanthropy, journalism, and the translation of LaFontaine--united together like so many different currents to further thegrand achievement of his life. While in England he had taken notice ofthe life-insurance companies there, which were in a more advanced stagethan those in America. They interested him as a mathematical study, andalso from the humanitarian point of view. He purchased "David Jones onAnnuities, " and the best works on life insurance. These he read with thesame ardor with which young ladies devour an exciting novel, and withoutthe least expectation that they might ever bring dollars and cents tohim; until one day in the spring of 1852 an insurance solicitor placed anadvertising booklet in his hand as he was entering the office of the_Chronotype_. 

Elizur Wright looked it over and perceived quickly enough that no companycould undertake to do what this one pretended to and remain solvent. Thebooklet served him for an editorial, and before one o'clock the next dayagents from every life company in Boston were collected in his office. They supposed at first that it was an attempt at blackmail, but soondiscovered that Elizur Wright knew more about the subject than any ofthem. Neither threats nor persuasions had any effect on thisuncompromising backwoodsman. Only on one condition would Mr. Wrightretract his statements, --that the companies should reform their circularsand place their affairs in a more sound condition. The consequence ofthis was an invitation from the presidents of several of the companiesfor Mr. Wright to call at their offices and discuss the subject withthem. 

The situation was this, and Mr. Wright saw it clearly: the presidents ofthe companies were excellent men, --as honorable and trustworthy as thepresidents of our best national banks, --and they knew how to organize andconduct their companies in all business matters, but of life insurance asa science they knew as little as they knew of Greek. In those days therewas a prejudice against college graduates which prevented their obtainingthe highest mercantile positions, and it is doubtful if there was anyperson connected with the life-insurance companies who could solve aproblem in the higher mathematics. The consequence of this was that itplaced the presidents quite at the mercy of their own accountants. Recentevents have proved with what facility the teller of a bank can abstracttwenty or thirty thousand dollars without its appearing in the accounts. Temptations and opportunities of this sort must have been much greater inlife-insurance companies, as they were formerly conducted, than it is nowin banks. Money may have been stolen without its having been discovered. 

Besides this, the temptations of the companies to continually over-bidone another for public favor was another evil which, sooner or later, would lead some of them into bankruptcy. This danger could only beaverted by placing their rates of insurance on a scientific basis, whichshould be the same and unalterable for all companies. 

The charters of the companies had been drafted in the interest of themanagement, without much consideration for the rights or advantages ofthose who were insured. There were no laws on the statute book whichwould practically prevent directors of life-insurance companies fromdoing as they pleased with the immense trust properties in theirpossession. After two or three interviews with Elizur Wright thepresidents of the companies came to the conclusion that he was exactlythe man that they wanted, and they commissioned him to draw up a revisedset of tables and rates which could serve them for a uniform standard. This work occupied him and two of his daughters for a full year, forwhich he was compensated with the paltry sum of two thousand dollars. Thetime was fast approaching, however, when Elizur Wright would be in aposition to dictate his own terms to the insurance companies. 

It was now that the Bird Club, the most distinguished political club ofits time, became gradually formed out of the leading elements of theFree-soil party. At one time this club counted among its members twoSenators, three Governors, and a number of Congressmen, and it was apower in the land. Elizur Wright's services as editor of the_Chronotype_ gave him an early entrance to it; and having lifeinsurance on the brain, as it were, other members of the club soon becameinterested in the subject as a political question. In this way Mr. Wrightwas soon able to effect legislation. Sumner, Wilson, Andrew, and Birdgave him an almost unqualified support. In 1858 he was appointedInsurance Commissioner for Massachusetts, a position which he held until1866. As Commissioner he formulated the principal legislation on lifeinsurance; and his reports, which have been published in a volume, arethe best treatise in English on the practical application of life-insurance principles. 

In 1852 he resigned the editorship of the _Chronotype_, and fromthat time till 1858 he was occupied with life-insurance work, the editingof a paper called the _Railroad Times_, and making a number ofmechanical inventions, most important of which was a calculating machine, enough in itself to give a man distinction. 

This machine was simply a Gunther rule thirty feet in length wrapped on acylinder and turned by a crank. Gunther's rule is a measure on whichlogarithms are represented by spaces, so that by adding and subtractingspaces on this cylinder Mr. Wright could perform the longest sums inmultiplication and division in two or three minutes of time. 

Not only did the Massachusetts insurance companies come under Mr. Wright's surveillance, but the New York Life, the Connecticut Mutual, andthe Mutual Benefit of New Jersey, all large and powerful companies, wereobliged to conform to his regulations, for their Boston offices were toolucrative to be surrendered. About this time Gladstone caused anoverhauling of the English life-insurance companies, and a number whichproved to be unsound were obliged to surrender their charters. Amongthese latter were two companies which held offices in Boston, and whosecharacter had already been exposed by Elizur Wright. 

In 1850, when he became Commissioner, Mr. Wright sent to their agents fora statement of their financial standing, and not receiving a replyrequested them to leave the State. Finding that the matter could not beevaded, they at length forwarded two reports signed by two actuaries, both Fellows of the Royal Society, which were not of a satisfactorycharacter, so that Mr. Wright insisted on his previous order. The agentsthen applied for support to Prof. Benjamin Pierce, the distinguishedmathematician of Harvard University, and one of the most aggressivelypro-slavery men about Boston. He probably looked upon Elizur Wright as avulgar fanatic, and supposing that a Fellow of the Royal Society mustnecessarily be an honorable man, came forward in support of Messrs. Neisen and Woolhouse without sufficiently investigating the question atissue; and the result was a controversy between Elizur Wright and himselfin which he was finally beaten off the field. 

The statements of both Neisen and Woolhouse was proved to be fraudulent, and the two English companies were expelled from the State. 

Mr. Wright's insurance reports brought him such celebrity that all thecompanies wished to have his name connected with them. His son, Walter C. Wright, became actuary of the New England Life, and his daughter, MissJane Wright, was made actuary of the Mutual Union Company. Mr. Wright andhis eldest son, John, set up a business for calculating the value ofinsurance policies, in which the logarithm machine helped them to obtaina large income. With his first ten thousand dollars Mr. Wright purchaseda large house and a tract of land in Middlesex Fells, where his familystill resides. 

In 1865 the office of Life Insurance Commissioner was filched from him bya trade politician who knew as much of the subject as fresh collegegraduates do of the practical affairs of life. Mr. Wright alwaysregretted this, for he felt that his work was not yet complete; and it isa fact that American life insurance, with its good and bad features, still remains almost exactly as he left it. 

It was only after Elizur Wright had ceased to be Commissioner that hediscovered a serious error in the calculation of the companies, which maybe explained in the following manner:

In the beginning, nearly all the insurance policies were made payable atdeath, with annual premiums; but the introduction of endowment policies, payable at a certain age, effected a peculiar change in their affairs, ofwhich the managers of the companies were not sensible. Elizur Wrightperceived that there were two distinct elements in the endowment policieswhich placed them at a disadvantage with ordinary life policies, and hecalled this combination "savings-bank life insurance. " An endowmentpolicy, being payable at a fixed date, required a larger premium than onewhich ran on indefinitely and by customary usage, and the agent whonegotiated the policy received the same percentage for commission that hewould on an ordinary-life policy; that is, he received a much largercommission in proportion. This evil was increased in cases whereendowment policies were paid for, as often happened, in five or teninstalments; and where they were paid for in a single instalment theagent received four or five times what he was properly entitled to. 

The same principle was observed by the companies in the distribution oftheir surplus, so that the holders of endowment policies were practicallymulcted at both ends of the line. 

In his reports as Insurance Commissioner Elizur Wright had recommendedthis class of policies as a salutary provision against poverty in oldage, and he felt under obligations to the public to correct thisinjustice, [Footnote: On a policy of ten thousand dollars, it wouldamount to an appreciable sum. ] but the insurance agents had alsoadvocated them for evident reasons and were naturally opposed to anyproject of reform. The managers of the companies also treated the subjectcoldly, for the discrimination against endowments enabled them toaccumulate a larger reserve which made them appear to better advantagebefore the general public. The numerous agents and solicitors formed asolid body of opposition and raised a chorus against Elizur Wright likethat which the robins make when you pick your own cherries. This class ofpersons when they are actuated by a common impulse make a formidableimpression. 

Mr. Wright, after arguing his case with the insurance companies fornearly a year without effect, appealed to the public through thenewspapers. This, however, had unexpected consequences. Mr. Wright'sletters produced the impression, which he did not intend at all, that theinsurance companies were unsound, and policy-holders rushed to theoffices to make inquiries. Many surrendered their policies. 

In this emergency the officers of the companies went to the editors andexplained to them that their business would be ruined if Mr. Wright waspermitted to continue his attacks on them. They then made Mr. Wright whatmay have been intended for a magnanimous offer, though he did not look onit in that light, --namely, an offer of ten thousand dollars a year, if hewould retire from the actuary business and not molest them any longer. [Footnote: These events took place thirty years ago and have no relationto the present condition and practice of American insurance companies. ]Elizur Wright refused this, as he might have declined the offer of acigar, and appealed to the Legislature. The companies then withdrew theirbusiness from Mr. Wright and thus reduced his income from twelve thousanddollars a year to about three thousand; but this troubled him no morethan it would have Diogenes. 

In the summer of 1872 a portly gentleman called at Elizur Wright's officeon State Street and introduced himself as the president of a well-knownWestern insurance company. As it was a pleasant day Mr. Wright invitedhis visitor to Pine Hill, where they could converse to better advantagethan in a Boston office; but being much absorbed in his subject, whilepassing through Medford Centre, he neglected to order a dinner; and theconsequence of this was that his portly friend was obliged to make alunch on cold meat and potato salad. That same evening Mr. Wright'sdaughter twitted him on his lack of forethought, and hoped such a thingwould not happen again, to which he only replied: "The kindest thing youcan do for such a man is to starve him. " Such was his philosophy on alloccasions. 

He devised a plan for combining life insurance with a savings bank, bywhich the laboring man could obtain a certain amount of insurance for hisfamily (or old age) instead of interest upon his deposits. This was anadmirable idea, and if he had undertaken to carry it out in the prime oflife he might have succeeded in realizing it; but he was now upwards ofseventy, and his friends concluded that the experiment would be a riskyone, as a favorable result would depend entirely on Mr. Wright'slongevity. At the same time he had another enterprise in hand, namely, toconvert the Middlesex Fells, in which Pine Hill is situated, into apublic park. This was greatly needed for the crowded population on thenorthern side of Boston, and though the plan was not carried out untilafter his death, he was the originator and earliest promoter of it. 

Elizur Wright's most conspicuous trait was generosity. He lived for theworld and not for himself. He was a man of broad views and great designs;a daring, original thinker. He respected Emerson, but preferred thephilosophy of John Stuart Mill, from the study of which he became anadvocate of free trade and woman suffrage. 

He died November 21, 1885, in the midst of a rain-storm which lasted sixdays and nights. He lies interred at Mt. Hope Cemetery. 

DR. W. T. G. MORTON

A distinguished American called upon Charles Darwin, and in the courseof conversation asked him what he considered the most important discoveryof the nineteenth century. To which Mr. Darwin replied, after a slighthesitation: "Painless surgery. " He thought this more beneficial in itseffects on human affairs than either the steam-engine or the telegraph. Let it also be noted that he spoke of it as an invention, rather than asa discovery. 

The person to whom all scientific men now attribute the honor of thisdiscovery, or invention, is Dr. William T. G. Morton; and, although inthat matter he was not without slight assistance from others, as well aspredecessors in the way of tentative experiments, yet it was DoctorMorton who first proved the possibility of applying anaesthesia tosurgical operations of a capital order; and it was he who pushed histheory to a practical success. It may also be admitted that Columbuscould not have discovered the Western Hemisphere without the assistanceof Ferdinand and Isabella; but it was Columbus who divined the existenceof the American continent, and afterwards proved his theory to be true. There is an underlying similarity between the labors and lives ofColumbus and Morton, in spite of large superficial differences. 

William Thomas Greene Morton was born August 19, 1819, in Charlton, Massachusetts, a small town in the Connecticut Valley. His father was aflourishing farmer and lived in an old-fashioned but commodious countryhouse, with a large square chimney in the centre of it. William was notonly a bright but a very dexterous boy, and was sent to school in theacademy at Northfield, and afterwards at Leicester. It is a familytradition that he early showed an experimental tendency by brewingconcoctions of various kinds for the benefit of his young companions, andthat he once made his sister deathly sick in this manner. His father, finding him a more energetic boy than the average of farmers' sons, advised him to go to Boston, to seek whatever fortune he could findthere. 

This resulted in his obtaining employment, probably through the Charltonclergyman, in the office of a religious periodical, the _ChristianWitness_; but the situation, though a comfortable one, was not adaptedto his tastes, and from some unexplained attraction to the profession, hedecided to study dentistry. This he accordingly did, graduating at theBaltimore Dental College in 1842. He then engaged an office in Boston, and soon acquired a lucrative practice. He was an uncommonly handsomeman, with a determined look in his eye, but also a kindly expression andpleasing manners, which may have brought him more practice than his skillin dentistry, --although that was also good. 

The following year he was married to Miss Elizabeth Whitman, ofFarmington, Connecticut, whose uncle, at least, had been a member ofCongress, --a highly genteel family in that region. In fact, her parentsobjected to Doctor Morton on account of his profession, and it was onlyafter his promise to study medicine and become a regular practitionerthat they consented to the match. Accordingly, Doctor Morton in theautumn of 1844 commenced a course at the Harvard Medical-School. 

Mrs. Morton was a handsome young woman, with a fair face and elegantfigure. It would have been difficult to find a better looking coupleanywhere in the suburbs, and with good health and strength it seemed asif fortune would certainly smile on them. Doctor Morton built a summercottage at Wellesley, where the public library now stands, and planted agrove of trees about it; but a mere earthly paradise could not satisfyhim. He was not an ambitious man, or he would not have chosen the dentalprofession; but the food he lived on was not of this world. He had thedaring spirit, the speculative temperament, and restless energy of theborn discoverer. Already he had made improvements in the manufacture ofartificial teeth. He was the first, or one of the first, to recognize theimportance of chemistry in connection with the practice of medicine. Hehad no sooner returned to Boston than he commenced the study of chemistrywith Dr. Charles T. Jackson, spending from six to ten hours a week in hislaboratory; and he thus became acquainted with the properties andpeculiarities of most of the chemical ingredients known at that time. 

Mrs. Morton soon discovered with awe and trepidation that she had marriedno ordinary man. That he had a real skeleton in his closet was to havebeen expected; but, besides this, there were rows of mysterious-lookingbottles, with substances in them quite different from the medicines whichwere prescribed by the doctors in Farmington. He tried experiments ontheir black water-spaniel and nearly killed him; and even descended tofishes and insects. He would muse for hours by himself, and if she askedhim what he was thinking of he gave her no explanation that she couldunderstand. Although he was so attractive and pleasing, he did not caremuch for human society. [Footnote: McClure's Magazine, September, 1896. ]He was kind and good to her, and with that she was content. A moredevoted wife, or faithful mother, has not been portrayed in poetry orromance. 

These phenomena in Doctor Morton's early life remind one of certainprocesses in the budding of a flower. They indicate a tendency to someobject which perhaps was not at the time wholly clear to the man himself. Impelled by the humanitarian spirit of the age, he moved forward with aclear eye and firm hand to grasp the opportunity when it arrived, --norwas it long delayed. 

In considering the discovery of etherization we ought to eliminate allevidence of an _ex parte_ character, unless it is supportedcircumstantially; but there is no reason why we should disbelieve Mrs. Morton's statement that her husband made experiments with sulphuricether; that his clothes smelt of it; and that he tried to persuadelaboring-men to allow him to experiment upon them with it. As Dr. J. Collins Warren says: "Anaesthesia had been the dream of many surgeons andscientists, but it had been classed with aerial navigation and otherimprobable inventions. " [Footnote: Anaesthesia in Surgery, 15. ] As longago as 1818 Faraday had discovered the chief properties of ether, withthe exception of its effect in deadening sensibility. In 1836 Dr. MorrillWyman and Dr. Samuel Parkman had experimented with it on themselves atthe Massachusetts Hospital, but without taking a sufficient quantity toproduce unconsciousness. It was actually employed in 1842 by Dr. CrawfordW. Long, at the University of Pennsylvania, in some minor cases ofsurgery, but he would seem to have lost confidence in his method andafterwards abandoned it. 

In December, 1844, Horace Wells, a dentist of Hartford, had a toothextracted by his own request while under the influence of nitrous oxide;and the following month he came to Boston, and having made his discoveryknown, an operation at the hospital was undertaken with his assistance, but the patient screamed, and it proved a failure so far as anaesthesiawas concerned. 

From these facts we readily draw the following conclusions: That thediscovery of painless surgery was essentially a practical affair forwhich only a slight knowledge of chemistry was required; that it was nota discovery made at hap-hazard, but one that necessitated a skilful handand a clear understanding of the subject; and that the supposition whichhas sometimes been advanced that Doctor Morton was necessarily indebtedto Doctor Jackson for a knowledge of the hypnotic effect of ether iswholly gratuitous. 

We will now quote directly from Doctor Warren's lecture on "The Influenceof Anaesthesia on the Surgery of the Nineteenth Century, " deliveredbefore the American Surgical Association in 1897:

"Morton having acquainted himself by conversation with Mr. Metcalf andMr. Burnett, both leading druggists, as to purity and qualities of ether, and having also conversed with Mr. Wightman, a philosophical instrument-maker, and with Doctor Jackson as to inhaling apparatus, proceeded toexperiment upon himself. After inhaling the purer quality of ether from ahandkerchief he awoke to find that he had been insensible for seven oreight minutes. 

"The same day a stout, healthy man came to his office suffering fromgreat pain and desiring to have a tooth extracted. Dreading the pain, hoaccepted willingly Morton's proposal to use ether, and the tooth wasextracted without suffering. Morton reported his success the next day toJackson, and conversed with him as to the best methods of bringing hisdiscovery to the attention of the medical profession and the public. Jackson pointed out that tooth-pulling was not a sufficient test, as manypeople claimed to have teeth pulled without pain. It was finally decidedthat the crucial test lay in a public demonstration in the operatingtheatre of a hospital in a surgical case. "

There is one statement in the above to which, according to our rules ofliterary procedure, we feel obliged to take exception, --that is, thestatement concerning the interview between Morton and Jackson after thesuccessful administration of ether to Morton's patient. It issubstantially Doctor Jackson's own statement. Doctor Morton gave a whollydifferent account before the Congressional Committee of 1852. He said:

"I went to Doctor Jackson, told him what I had done, and asked himto give me a certificate that ether was harmless in its effects. Thishe positively refused to do. I then told him I should go to the principalsurgeons and have the question thoroughly tried. _I then called on DoctorWarren, who promised me an early opportunity to try the experiment, andsoon after I received the invitation. . . . _"

Now as these are both _ex parte_ statements, and as there are nowitnesses on either side, according to the rule we have alreadyestablished, they will both have to be eliminated. [Footnote: TheCongressional Committee of 1852 did not find Doctor Jackson's report ofthis interview trustworthy. ] Doctor Morton, however, says previously thatit was Doctor Hayward with whom he consulted as to the best method ofbringing his discovery before the world. 

In the consideration of this subject we come upon a man of rarecharacter--rare even, in his profession. Dr. John C. Warren was theperfect type of an Anglo-Saxon surgeon. His courage and dexterity werefully equalled by his kindness and sympathy for the patient. Cool andcollected in the most trying emergencies, it has been said of him that henever performed a capital operation without feeling a pain in his heart;and the evidence of this was marked upon his face, so that it is evenvisible in the photographs of him. He deserved to have his portraitpainted by Rubens. In 1847 Dr. Mason Warren published a review ofetherization, in which he makes this important statement:

"In the autumn of 1846 Dr. W. T. G. Morton, a dentist in Boston, a personof great ingenuity, patience, and pertinacity of purpose, called on meseveral times to show some of his inventions. At that time I introducedhim to Dr. John C. Warren. Shortly after, in October, I learned fromDoctor Warren that Doctor Morton had visited him and informed him that hewas in possession of or had discovered a means of preventing pain, whichhe had proved in dental operations, and wished Doctor Warren to give himan opportunity in a surgical operation. After some questions on thesubject in regard to its action and the safety of it, Doctor Warrenpromised that he would do so. . . . The operation was therefore deferreduntil Friday, October 16, when the ether was administered by DoctorMorton, and the operation performed by Doctor Warren. "

It was eminently fitting that Dr. John C. Warren should be the one tointroduce painless surgery to the medical profession. Next to Morton hedeserves the highest credit for the revolution which it effected: aglorious revolution, fully equal to that of 1688. His quick recognitionof Morton's character, and the confidence he placed in him as the man ofthe hour, deserve the highest commendation. Doctor Warren had invitedDoctor Jackson to attend this critical experiment with sulphuric ether atthe Massachusetts Hospital; but he declined with the trite excuse that hewas obliged to go out of town. This has been generally interpreted by themedical profession as a lack of courage on Jackson's part to face themusic, but it may also have been owing to his jealousy of Morton. 

This happened October 16th, and on November 13th, Dr. C. T. Jackson wroteto M. Elie de Beaumont, a member of the French Academy, this remarkableletter:

"I request permission to communicate through your medium to the Academyof Sciences a discovery which I have made, and which I believe importantfor the relief of suffering humanity, as well as of great value to thesurgical profession. Five or six years ago I noticed the peculiar stateof insensibility into which the nervous system is thrown by theinhalation of the vapor of pure sulphuric ether, which I respiredabundantly, --first by way of experiments, and afterwards when I had asevere catarrh, caused by the inhalation of chlorine gas. I have latterlymade a useful application of this fact by persuading a dentist of thiscity to administer the vapor of ether to his patients, when about toundergo the operation of extraction of teeth. It was observed thatpersons suffered no pain in the operation, and that no inconvenienceresulted from the administration of the vapor. "

It was the opinion of Robert Rantoul and other members of theCongressional Committee that Doctor Jackson suffered from a "heated anddisordered imagination, " and that is the most charitable view that onecan take of such a letter as this. Whatever may have been the result ofDoctor Jackson's investigations with sulphuric ether, it is certain thathe added nothing to the scientific knowledge of his time in that respect;[Footnote: Edinburgh Medical Journal, April 1, 1857. ] and if he persuadedDoctor Morton to make use of it, why was he not present to oversee hissubordinate? also, why did he make a charge on his books a few days lateragainst Doctor Morton of five hundred dollars for advice and informationconcerning the application of ether? It is not customary to chargesubordinates for their service but to reward them. The two horns of thisdilemma are sharp and penetrating. 

In a later memorial of the same general tenor, which Doctor Jacksonforwarded to Baron Humboldt, he stated that he had applied to otherdentists in Boston to make the experiment of etherization, but found themunwilling to take the risk; but the names of the dentists have never beenmade public, nor did any such appear afterwards to testify in DoctorJackson's behalf. 

Still more remarkable was the action of the French Academy of Arts andSciences in these premises. The French Academy was founded by Richelieu, but abolished in the first French Revolution, with so many otherenchanted phantasms. Napoleon re-established it, and gave it new life andvigor by a discriminating choice of membership; but it is a closecorporation which renews itself by its own votes, and such a body of menis always in danger of becoming a mutual admiration society, and if thishappens its public utility is at an end. In the present instance theaction of the French Academy was illogical, unscientific, andmischievous. 

Doctor Jackson's letter was brought before that august body on January18, 1847, but previous to that time Doctor Warren had written to DoctorVelpeau, an eminent French surgeon, concerning the success ofetherization at the Massachusetts Hospital, and suggesting the use of itin the hospitals at Paris; and Doctor Velpeau referred to this fact atthe meeting of January 18th. The contents of this letter have never beenmade public; but it is incredible that Doctor Jackson's claim should havereceived any support from it. Nevertheless, the members of the FrenchAcademy decided to divide one of the Mouthyon prizes (of five thousandfrancs for great scientific discoveries) between Dr. W. T. G. Morton andElie de Beaumont's American friend, Dr. C. T. Jackson; and they_conferred this particular favor on Dr. Jackson at his ownrepresentation, without one witness in his favor, and without making aninquiry into the circumstances of the discovery. _ Could the NorthfieldAcademy of boys and girls have acted in a more heedless or unscientificmanner?

After the justice of this decision had been questioned, the FrenchAcademy promulgated a defence of their previous action, of which theessence was that the scientific theory of Doctor Jackson was as essentialto the discovery of etherization as the practical skill of Doctor Morton;that is, they attempted to decide a matter of fact by an _a priori_dogmatism. Was not the instruction that Doctor Morton received from thedental college in Baltimore also essential to the discovery, --and to gobehind that, --what he learned at the primary school at Churiton? Whenlearning is divorced from reason it becomes mere pedantry or sublimatedignorance, and is more dangerous to the community than unletteredignorance can be. 

This blunder of the French Academy had evil consequences for both Mortonand Jackson; for it placed the latter in a false position towards theworld, and brought about a collision between them which not only lastedduring their lives, but was also carried on by their friends andrelatives long afterwards. It is doubtful if Jackson would have contestedMorton's claim without European support. 

With true dignity of character Doctor Morton declined to divide theMouthyon prize with Doctor Jackson, and the French Academy accordinglyhad a large gold medal stamped in his honor, and as this did not exhaustthe original donation, the remainder of the sum was expended on a highlyornamental case. The trustees of the Massachusetts Hospital partlysubscribed and partly collected a thousand dollars which they presentedto Doctor Morton in a handsome silver casket. The King of Sweden sent himthe Cross of the Order of Wasa; and he also received the Cross of theOrder of St. Vladimir from the Tsar of Russia. He was only twenty-sevenyears of age at this time. 

The ensuing eight years of Morton's life were spent in a desperate effortfor recognition--recognition of the importance of his discovery and ofhis own merits as the discoverer. No one can blame him for this. Asevents proved, it would have been far better for him if he had finishedhis course at the medical-school and set up his sign in the vicinity ofBeacon Street; but the wisest man can but dimly foresee the future. Doctor Morton had every reason to believe that there was a fortune to bemade in etherization. He consulted Rufus Choate, who advised him toobtain a patent or proprietary right in his discovery. Hon. Caleb Eddyundertook to do this for him, and being supported by a sound opinion fromDaniel Webster, easily obtained it. Now, however, Morton's troublesbegan. 

He exempted the Massachusetts Hospital from the application of hisroyalty, and it was only right that he should do so; but, unfortunately, it was the only large hospital where etherization was regularlypractised. In order to extend its application Doctor Morton secured theservices of three young physicians, practised them in the use of the gas, and paid them a thousand dollars each to go forth into the world asproselytes of his discovery; but they met everywhere with a coldreception, and were several times informed that if the MassachusettsHospital enjoyed the use of etherization, other hospitals ought to havethe same privilege; so that his enterprise proved of no immediateadvantage. 

The Mexican War was now at its height, and Doctor Morton offered the useof etherization to the government for a very small royalty, but his offerwas declined by the Secretary of War. He soon discovered, however, thatsurgeons in the army and navy were making free use of it, --contrary tolaw and the rights of men. Individuals all over the country--dentists andsurgeons--were doing the same thing; and it was more difficult to preventthis than to execute the game-laws. For such an order of affairs thedecision of the French Academy was largely responsible, for if men onlyfind a shadow of right on the side of self-interest, they are likelyenough to take advantage of it. 

Meanwhile Doctor Jackson, with a few friends and a large body ofHomoeopaths who acted in opposition to the regulars of the MassachusettsHospital, kept up a continual fusillade against Doctor Morton; but thisdid him little harm, for early in 1847 the trustees of the hospitaldecided, by a unanimous vote, that the honor of discovering etherizationproperly belonged to him. 

Doctor Jackson questioned the justice of this decision, and applied for areconsideration of the subject. Whereupon the subject was reconsideredthe following year, and the same verdict rendered as before. DoctorJackson then carried his case to the Boston Academy of Arts and Sciences, when Professor Agassiz asked him the pertinent question: "But, DoctorJackson, did you make one little experiment?" adding drily, afterreceiving a negative reply: "It would have been better if you had. "

It is to be regretted that Doctor Jackson should have attacked DoctorMorton's private life (which appears to have been fully as commendable ashis own), and also that R. W. Emerson should have entered the lists infavor of his brother-in-law. In one of his later books Emerson designatesDoctor Jackson as the discoverer of etherization. This was setting hisown judgment above that of the legal and medical professions, and evenabove the French Academy; but Emerson had lived so long in intuitions andpoetical concepts that he was not a fairly competent person to judge of amatter of fact. It is doubtful if he made use of the inductive method ofreasoning during his life. 

Doctor Morton sought legal advice in regard to the infringement of hispatent rights; but he found that legal proceedings in such cases werevery expensive, and was counselled to apply to Congress for redress andassistance. This seemed to him a good plan, for if he could exchange hisrights in etherization for a hundred thousand dollars, he would besatisfied; but in the end it proved a Nessus shirt to strangle the lifeout of him. He soon found that Congress could not be moved by a sense ofjustice, but only by personal influence. He gave up his business inBoston and went to Washington with his family, but this soon exhaustedhis slender resources. Knowing devils informed him that if he wished toobtain a hundred thousand dollars from the government he would have toexpend fifteen or twenty thousand in lobbying, but the idea of this washateful to him, and he declined to make the requisite pledges. 

The winter of 1850 and of 1851 passed without result, until finally inDecember of the latter year, Bissel, of Illinois, made a speech in DoctorMorton's favor, calling attention to the fact that the government hadbeen pirating his patent, and proposing that the subject be referred to acommittee. Robert Rantoul seconded the motion, and the step was taken. Itwas considered better for the chances of success that the propositionshould come from a Western man. 

This committee continued its meeting throughout the winter and made athorough-going examination of the question before it. The frankness andplain character of Doctor Morton's testimony is much in his favor, andthe description he gave of his own proceedings previous to the firstoperation in the Massachusetts Hospital show how hard he wrestled withhis discovery, --wrestled like Jacob of old, --working half the night withan instrument-maker to devise a suitable apparatus for inhalation. DoctorJackson and Horace Wells also presented their claims to the committee andwere respectfully considered. 

The report of this committee is a valuable document, --a study for younglawyers in the sifting of evidence, --and of itself a severe criticism onthe judgment of the French Academy, which it considered at too great adistance to judge fairly of the circumstances attending the advent ofpainless surgery. The committee decided unanimously that Doctor Wells didnot carry his experiments far enough to reach a decided result; thatDoctor Jackson's testimony was contradictory and not much to be dependedon; and that the credit of discovering painless surgery properlyappertained to Dr. W. T. G. Morton. They recommended an appropriation ofa hundred thousand dollars to be given to Doctor Morton in return for thefree use of etherization by the surgeons of the army and navy. 

A hundred thousand dollars was little enough. The British Government paidthirty thousand pounds as a gratuity for the discovery of vaccination;and more recently a poor German student made a much larger sum by theinvention of a drug which has since fallen into disuse. Half a millionwould not have been more than Morton deserved, and a hundred thousandmight have been bestowed on Wells. 

Doctor Morton must have thought now that the clouds were lifting for himat last; but they soon settled down darker than ever. The committee'sreport was only printed towards the close of the session, and Congress, gone rabid over the Presidential election, neglected to consider it. Neither did it take further action the following winter. A year later abill was introduced in the Senate for Doctor Morton's relief, and wasably supported by Douglas, of Illinois, and Hale, of New Hampshire. Itpassed the Senate by a small majority, but was defeated by the "mud-gods"of the House--defeated by men who were pilfering the national treasury insinecures for their relatives and supporters. In the history of ourgovernment I know of nothing more disgraceful than this, --except theexculpation of Brooks for his assault on Sumner. 

Doctor Morton was a ruined man. His slender means had long since beenexhausted, and he had been running in debt for the past two or threeyears, as Hawthorne did at the old manse. Even his house at Wellesley wasmortgaged. His business was gone, and his health was shattered. He feltas a man does in an earthquake. The government could not have treated himmore cruelly unless it had put him to death. 

It was now, as a final resort, that he went to see President Pierce, always a kindly man, except where Kansas affairs were concerned; andPierce advised him to bring a suit for infringement of his rights againsta surgeon in the navy. Doctor Morton found a lawyer who was willing totake the risk for a large share of the profits, and gained his case. Hishouse was saved, but he returned to Wellesley poorer than when he came toBoston to seek his fortune, a youth of eighteen. 

There was great indignation at the Massachusetts Hospital when the resultof Doctor Morton's case before Congress was known there, and soon afterhis return an effort was made to raise a substantial testimonial for him. That noble-hearted physician, Dr. Henry I. Bowditch, interested himselfso conspicuously in this that Doctor Morton named his youngest son forhim. 

A similar effort was made by the medical profession in New York city, anda sufficient sum obtained to render Doctor Morton moderately comfortableduring the remainder of his earthly existence, and to educate his eldestson. 

Doctor Morton's health was too much shattered for professional work now, and he resigned himself to his fate. He raised cattle at Wellesley, andimported fine cattle as a healthful out-of-door occupation. In the autumnof 1862 he joined the Army of the Potomac as a volunteer surgeon, andapplied ether to more than two thousand wounded soldiers during thebattles of Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and the Wilderness. At thesame time Senator Wil- [*printer's error--double line and missing text]revive the gratuity for Morton in Congress, but the decision of the FrenchAcademy was in men's minds, and a vicious precedent proved stronger thanreason. 

I saw Doctor Morton for the last time about nine months before his death;and the impression his appearance made on me was indelible. He waswalking in the path before his house with his eldest daughter, and heseemed like the victim of an old Greek tragedy--a noble Oedipus who hadsolved the Sphynx's riddle, attended by his faithful Antigone. 

In July, 1868, a torrid wave swept over the Northern States which carriedoff many frail and delicate persons in the large cities, and DoctorMorton was one of those who suffered from it. He happened to be in NewYork City at the time, and went to Central Park to escape the feeling ofsuffocation which oppressed him, but never returned alive. He now lies inMount Auburn Cemetery, with a modest monument over his grave erected byhis Boston friends, with this epitaph composed by Dr. Jacob Bigelow:

WILLIAM T. G. MORTON

INVENTOR AND REVEALER OF ANAESTHETIC INHALATION BY WHOM, PAIN IN SURGERYWAS ARRESTED AND ANNULLED BEFORE WHOM, IN ALL TIME, SURGERY WAS AGONYSINCE WHOM, SCIENCE HAS CONTROL OF PAIN

Doctor Morton was a self-made man, but not a rough diamond, --rather oneof Nature's gentlemen. The pleasant urbanity of his manner was soconspicuous that no person of sensibility could approach him withoutbeing impressed by it. His was a character such as those who live byacademic rules would be more likely to misjudge than to comprehend. 

The semi-centennial of painless surgery was celebrated, in 1896, inBoston, New York, London, and other cities, and the credit of itsdiscovery was universally awarded to William T. G. Morton. About the sametime it happened that the Massachusetts State House was reconstructed, and William Endicott, as Commissioner, and a near relative of RobertRantoul, had Morton's name emblazoned in the Hall of Fame with those ofFranklin, Morse, and Bell. This may be said to have decided thecontroversy; but, like many another benefactor of mankind, DoctorMorton's reward on earth was a crown of thorns. 

LEAVES FROM A ROMAN DIARY

February, 1869

(Rewritten in 1897)

As I look out of P----'s windows on the Via Frattina every morning atthe plaster bust of Pius IX. , I like his face more and more, and feelthat he is not an unworthy companion to George Washington and the youngAugustus. [Footnote: Three busts in a row. ] I think there may besomething of the fox, or rather of the _crow_, in his composition, but his face has the wholeness of expression which shows a sound andhealthy mind, --not a patchwork character. I was pleased to hear that hewas originally a liberal; and the first, after the long conservativereaction of Metternich, to introduce reforms in the states of the Church. The Revolution of 1848 followed too quickly, and the extravagantproceedings of Mazzini and Garibaldi drove him into the ranks of theconservatives, where he has remained ever since. Carlyle compared him toa man who had an old tin-kettle which he thought he would mend, but assoon as he began to tinker it the thing went to pieces in his hands. TheRevolution of 1848 proved an unpractical experiment, but it opened theway for Victor Emanuel and a more sound liberalism in 1859. 

We attended service at the Sistine Chapel yesterday in company with twoyoung ladies from Philadelphia, who wore long black veils so that PiusIX. Might not catch the least glimpse of their pretty faces. I wasdisappointed in my hope of obtaining a view of the Pope's face. CardinalBonaparte sat just in front of us, a man well worth observing. He looksto be the ablest living member of that family, and bears a decidedresemblance to the old Napoleon. His features are strong, his eyes keen, and he wears his red cap in a jaunty manner on the side of his head. Whenthe blessing was passed around the conclave of Cardinals, Bonapartetransferred it to his next neighbor as if he meant to put it through him. It is supposed that he will be the successor of Pius IX. ; but, as Rev. Samuel Longfellow says, that will depend very much upon whether LouisNapoleon is alive at the time of the election. 

The singing in the Sistine Chapel is not worth listening to, besideshaving unpleasant associations; so during the service we had an excellentopportunity to study Michael Angelo's Last Judgment--for there wasnothing else to be done. 

Kugler considers the picture an inharmonious composition, and thatnothing could be more disagreeable than the stout figure of St. Bartholomew holding a flaying knife in one hand and his own mortal hidein the other. This is not a pleasant spectacle; but Michael Angelo didnot paint for other people's pleasure, but rather to satisfy his ownconscience. It was customary to introduce St. Bartholomew in this manner, for there was no other way in which he could be identified. We found thetowering form of St. Christopher on the left side of the Saviour rathermore of an eyesore than St. Bartholomew, whose expression of awepartially redeems his appearance. 

The Saviour has a herculean frame, but his face and head are magnificent. He has no beard, and his hair is arranged in festoons which gives theimpression of a wreath of grape leaves. The expression of his face is thenoblest I have seen in any work of art in Rome; the face that has risenthrough suffering; calm, compassionate, immutable. The Madonna seems likea girl beside this stalwart form, and she draws close to her son withnaive timidity at the vast concourse which crowds about them. Her face isexpressive of resignation and compassion rather than any joyful feeling. 

The left side of this vast painting, in which the bodies of men and womenare rising from their graves, is less interesting than the right side, where the saints and blessed are gathered together above and the sinnersare hurled down below. Michael Angelo's saints and apostles look likevigorous men of affairs, and are all rather stout and muscular. Theattitudes of some of them are by no means conventional, but they arenatural and unconstrained. St. Peter, holding forth the keys, is amagnificent figure. The group of the saved who are congregated above thesaints is the pleasantest portion of the picture. Here Damion and Pythiasembrace each other; a young husband springs to greet the wife whom helost too early; a poor unfortunate to whom life was a curse is timidlyraising his eyes, scarcely believing that he is in paradise; men withfine philosophic heads converse together; and a number of honest serving-women express their astonishment with such gestures as are customaryamong that class of persons. 

In the lunettes above, wingless angels are hovering with the cross, thecolumn, and other instruments of Christ's agony, which they clasp with aloving devotion. In the lower right-hand corner, Charon appears (takenfrom pagan mythology) with a boat-load of sinners, whom he smites withhis oar according to Dante's description. He is truly a terrible demon, and his fiery eyes gleam across the length of the chapel. Minos, whoreceives the boat-load in the likeness of Biagio da Cesena, the pope'smaster of ceremonies, is another to match him. A modern fop with bangedhair is stepping from the boat to the shore of hell. This is said to bethe best painted portion of the picture, --most life-like and free frommannerism. It is a mighty work, and too little appreciated, like manyother works of art, chiefly owing to the critics, who do not understandit, and write a lingo of their own which is not easy to make out and doesnot come to much after all. [Footnote: All this shows what a heart therewas in Michael Angelo, and dissipates the assertion of a recent Englishbiographer that Michael Angelo painted masks instead of faces, withlittle or no expression. ]

After the service we went into St. Peter's with the ladies, and walkedthe whole circuit of the church. Our ladies talked meanwhile exactly asthey might at an American watering-place, without apparently observinganything about them. When we came to the statue of St. Peter, P---- said, pointing to the big toe: "You see there the mischief that can be done bytoo much kissing. " Nearly a third of the toe has been worn away by theoscular applications of the faithful. 

_Feb_. 4. --Dr. B. B. Appleton, an American resident of Florence, ishere on a flying visit. We have heard from many sources of the kindnessof this man to American travellers, especially to young students. Infact, he took P---- into his house while at Florence, and entertained himin the most generous manner. He has done the same for Mrs. Julia WardHowe and many others. He lives with an Italian family who were formerlyin the service of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, and who were ruined by therecent change of rulers. Dr. Appleton boards with them, and helps tosupport them in other ways. In spite of his goodness he does not seem tobe happy. 

One of his chief friends in Florence is Fraulein Assig, who was banishedfrom Prussia together with her publisher for editing Von Humboldt'smemoirs, which were perhaps too severely critical of the late king ofPrussia. The book, however, had an excellent sale, and she now livescontentedly in Florence, where she is well acquainted both with prominentliberals and leading members of the government. Dr. Appleton reports thata cabinet officer lately said to her, "We may move to Rome at any time. "

Louis Napoleon is the main-stay of the papacy, and the only one it has. The retrocession of Venetia to Italy has separated Austria effectuallyfrom the states of the Church, and the Spaniards are too much taken upwith their internal affairs to interfere at present in the pope's behalf. Napoleon's health is known to be delicate, and prayers for hispreservation are offered up daily in Roman churches. If he should diebefore his son comes of age great political changes may be looked for. 

Meanwhile murmurs of discontent are heard on all sides. The city isunclean and badly cared for. The civil offices are said to be filledmainly with _nephews_ of cardinals and other prelates. Even Italiansof the lower classes know enough of political economy to foresee that ifRome was the capital of Italy it would be more prosperous than it is atpresent. The value of land would rise, and all the small trades wouldflourish. This is what is really undermining the power of Pius IX. A mostcurious sign of the times is the general belief among the Roman populacethat the Pope has an evil eye. How long since this originated I have notbeen able to learn; but it is not uncommon for those who chance to seethe pope in his carriage, especially women, to go immediately into thenearest church for purification. A few days since the train from Rome toFlorence ran into a buffalo, and the locomotive was thrown off the track. Even this was attributed to the fact that the engineer had encounteredthe pope near the Quirinal the previous Sunday. 

Dr. Appleton told us a story at dinner about the youth of Louis Napoleon. His Florentine housekeeper, Gori, remembers Hortense and her two sonsvery distinctly; for Louis once met him in the Boboli Gardens andinsisted on his smoking a cigar, in order to laugh at him when it hadmade him sick, --as it was Gori's first experience with tobacco. He alsosays that on one occasion when the young princes had some sort of a feasttogether, the others all gave the caterer from five to ten francs as a_pour-boir_, but Louis Napoleon gave him a twenty-franc piece. Whenhis companions expressed their surprise at this Louis said: "It is onlyright that I should do so, for some day I shall be Emperor. "

As a rule few Italian men attend church. The women go; but the men, ifnot heretical, are at least rather indifferent, on the subject ofreligion. Macaulay refers to this fact in his essay on Macchiavelli, andDr. Appleton, who has lived among them, knows it to be true. To makeamends for it, English and American ladies are returning to the fold ofSt. Peter in large numbers; and many of them bring their male relativeseventually with them. I believe this to be largely a matter of fashion. They have always accepted the Protestant creed as a matter of course, andcoming here, where they are separated from all previous associations, they find themselves out of tune with their surroundings. They feellonely, as all travellers do at times, and being in need of sympathy areeasily impressed by those about them. Most of them have Catholic maids, who often serve as stepping-stones to the acquaintance of the priest. Conversion gives them a kind of importance, which Catholic ladies of rankknow how to make the most of. The external grandeur of Catholicism as wesee it here has also its due influence. 

_Feb. 9. _--I was greatly disgusted last evening while calling on twoNew England ladies, who were formerly my schoolmates, to have a pompouspriest walk in and take possession of the parlor, spoiling my pleasant_tete-a-tete_. He sat in the middle of the room like a pail ofwater, and stared about in the most ill-mannered way. My friends remarkedthat he was the _abbate_ of the Pantheon, and he inquired if I hadbeen to see it; to which I replied that I had, and that I considered itthe noblest building in Rome. This seemed to be a new idea to him, andone which he did not altogether like. Not long since I came upon a priestdrinking wine with some young artists, and laughing at jokes for which astage-driver might be ashamed. There are fine exceptions among them, butas a class they appear to me coarse and even vicious, --by no meansspiritually attractive. Monks are not attractive either, but in their waythey are much more interesting. Religion seems to be meat and drink tothem. 

P---- and I were invited to dine by an American Catholic lady who wasformerly a friend of Margaret Fuller, and who having been incautiouslyleft in Rome by her husband, embraced Catholicism before he was fairlyacross the Atlantic, --to his lasting sorrow and vexation. Being in aninfluential position she has made many converts, and it is said that shehas come to Rome on the present occasion to be sainted by the pope. Shehas already loaned P---- a biography of Father Lacordaire, which he hasnot had leisure to read. He referred to it, as soon as politenesspermitted, with a shrewd inquiry as to whether the book did not giverather a rose-colored view of practical Catholicism. Mrs. X---- turned toher daughters and said with all imaginable sweetness: "Just hear him, --the poor child!" Then she went off into a long, eloquent, and reallyinteresting discourse on the true, sole, and original Christian Church. She admitted, however, that during the sixteenth century the Christianfaith had much fallen into decay, and that Martin Luther was not to beblamed for his exhortations against the evil practices of popes andcardinals. Now that the Church had been reformed it was altogetherdifferent. She told us how she became converted. It came to her like avision on a gloomy winter day, while she was looking into the embers of awood-fire. 

Then she talked about Margaret Fuller, whom she called the most brilliantwoman she had ever known. She had never loved another woman so much; butit was a dangerous love. If she wrote a rather gushing letter toMargaret, she would receive in reply, "How could you have written sobeautifully! You must have been inspired. " This, she said, had all theeffect of flattery without being intended for it, and was so much themore mischievous. "Emerson and Margaret Fuller, " said Mrs. X----, "putinspiration in the place of religion. They believed that some people haddirect communication with the Almighty. " P---- and I thought this mightbe true of Miss Fuller, but doubted it in Emerson's case. 

Miss X---- told me that she had lately ascended to the rotunda of theCapitol, from which the pope's flag flies all day, and that she had askedthe Swiss guard what he would do if she hoisted the tricolor there. Hereplied: "I should shoot you. " Nothing could be more kind or trulycourteous than the manner in which these ladies treated us. 

Another distinguished convert here is Mrs. Margaret Eveleth, a rare, spirituelle woman, who was born within a mile of my father's house. Shewas formerly a Unitarian, but soon became a Catholic on coming to Rome. While she was in process of transition from one church to the other shewrote a number of letters to her former pastor in New York, requestinginformation on points of faith. Not one of these letters was everanswered, and it is incredible to suppose that they would not have beenif he had received them. It is highly probable that they never left Rome. I have myself been warned to attach my stamps to letters firmly, so thatthey may not be stolen in passing through the Post-office. Postage hereis also double what it is in Florence. 

_Feb_. 12. --I have been looking for some time to find a good pictureof Marcus Aurelius, and have generally become known among Romanphotographers as the man who wants the _Marc Aureli_. This morning Ihad just left my room when I discovered Rev. Samuel Longfellow in aphotograph shop in the Via Frattina. "I was just coming to see you, " hesaid; "and I stopped here to look for a photograph of Marcus Aurelius. "He laughed when I told him that I had been on the same quest, andsuggested that we should walk to the Capitol together and look at thestatue and bust of our favorite emperor. "I think he was the greatest ofthe Romans, " said Mr. Longfellow, "if not the noblest of all theancients. "

So we walked together--as we never shall again--through the long Corsowith its array of palaces, past the column of Aurelius and the fragmentsof Trajan's forum, until we reached the ancient Capitol of Rome, rearranged by Michael Angelo. Here we stood before the equestrian statueof Marcus Aurelius, and considered how it might be photographed toadvantage. "I do not think, " said Rev. Mr. Longfellow, "that we canobtain a satisfactory picture of it. The face is too dark to beexpressive, and it is the man's face that I want; and I suppose you doalso. "

I asked him how he could explain the creation of such a noble statue inthe last decline of Greek art; he said he would not attempt to explain itexcept on the ground that things do not always turn out as critics andhistorians would have them. It was natural that the arts should revivesomewhat under the patronage of Hadrian and the Antonines. 

We went into the museum of the Capitol to look for the bust of the youngAurelius, which shone like a star (to use Homer's expression) among itsfellows, but we discovered from the earth-stains on portions of it whythe photographers had not succeeded better with it. We decided that ourbest resource would be to have Mr. Appleton's copy of it photographed, and Rev. Mr. Longfellow agreed to undertake the business with me in theforenoon of the next day. 

The busts of the Roman emperors were interesting because their charactersare so strongly marked in history. The position would seem to have madeeither brutes or heroes of them. Tiberius, who was no doubt the naturalson of Augustus, resembles him as a donkey does a horse. Caligula, Nero, and Domitian had small, feminine features; Nero a bullet-head and sensuallips, but the others quite refined. During the first six years of Nero'sreign he was not so bad as he afterwards became; and I saw an older bustof him in Paris which is too horrible to be looked at more than once. Vespasian has a coarse face, but wonderfully good-humored; and Titus, called "the delight of mankind, " looks like an improvement on Augustus. The youthful Commodus bears a decided resemblance to his father, andthere is no indication in his face to suggest the monster which hefinally became. 

Early in the next forenoon I reached the Hotel Costanzi in good seasonand inquired for the Rev. Mr. Longfellow. He soon appeared, together withMr. T. G. Appleton, who was evidently pleased at my interest in the youngAurelius, and remarked that it was a more interesting work than the youngAugustus. The bust had been sent to William Story's studio to be cleaned, and thither we all proceeded in the best possible spirits. 

We found a photographer named Giovanni Braccia on the floor a_piano_ above Mr. Story; and after a lengthy discussion with him, inwhich Mr. Longfellow was the leading figure, he agreed to take thephotographs at two napoleons a dozen. [Footnote: These pictures proved tobe fine reproductions, and are still to be met with in Boston andCambridge parlors. ] When the bust was brought in Mr. Longfellow called myattention to the incisions representing pupils in the eyes, which he saidwere a late introduction in sculpture, and not generally considered animprovement. After this Mr. Appleton called to us to come with him to thestudio of an English painter in the same building, whose name I cannotnow recollect. He was the type of a graceful, animated young artist, andhad just finished a painting representing ancient youths and maidens in aprocession with the light coming from the further side, so that theirfaces were mostly in shadow, with bright line along the profile, --aneffect which it requires skill to render. 

On returning to the street we looked into Mr. Story's outer room again, where the casts of all his statues were seated in a double row likepersons at a theatre. Mr. Appleton was rather severe in his criticism ofthem, though he admitted that the Cleopatra (which I believe was areplica) had a finely modulated face. 

_Feb. _ 15. --Warrington Wood invited P---- and myself to lunch withhim in his studio, and at the appointed time a waiter appeared from the_Lapre_ with a great tin box on his shoulder filled with spaghetti, roast goat, and other Italian dishes. We had just spread these on a tablein front of the clay model of Michael and Satan, when Wood's marble-cutter rushed in to announce the King and Queen of Naples. Wood hastilythrew a green curtain over the dishes, while P---- and I retreated to thefurther end of the room. 

The Queen of Naples is a fine-looking and spirited person, still quiteyoung, and talks English well. She conversed with Wood and asked him anumber of questions about his group, and also about the stag-hound, Eric, that was standing sentinel. The King said almost nothing, and movingabout as if he know not what to do with himself, finally backed upagainst the table where our lunch was covered by the green cloth. I thinkhe had an idea of sitting down on it, but the dishes set up such aclatter that he beat a hasty retreat. The King did not move a muscle ofhis countenance, but the Queen looked around and said something to him inItalian, laughing pleasantly. She is said to be friendly to Americans andis quite intimate with Miss Harriet Hosmer. She is at least a woman ofnoble courage, and when Garibaldi besieged Naples she went on to theramparts and rallied the soldiers with the shells bursting about her. 

They subscribed themselves in Wood's register under the name of Bourbon, and after their departure we found our lunch cold, but perhaps werelished it better for this visitation of royalty. Then we all went tothe carnival, where an Italian _lazzaroni_ attempted to pick Wood'spocket, but was caught in the act and soundly kicked by Wood. 

This was the most entertaining event of the afternoon. The best part ofthe carnival was the quantity of fresh flowers that were brought in fromthe country and sold at very moderate prices. P---- distinguished himselfthrowing bouquets to ladies in the balconies. It is said that he has anadmirer among them. For the first hour or so I found it entertainingenough, but after that I became weary of its endless repetition. Eightyyears since Goethe, seated in one of these balconies, was obliged to askfor paper and pencil to drive away _ennui_, as he afterwardsconfessed. The carnival now is almost entirely given up to the Englishand Americans; while many of the lower class of Italians mix in itdisguised in masks and fancy dresses. Four masked young women greeted uswith confetti and danced about me on the sidewalk. One tipped up my hatbehind and another whispered a name in my ear which I did not suppose wasknown in Europe. I have not yet discovered who they were. 

_Feb_. 19. --I have had the pleasure of dining with that remarkablewoman and once distinguished actress, Miss Charlotte Cushman. Her nephewwas consul at Rome, appointed by William II. Seward, who was one of herwarmest American friends. She is still queen of the stage, and of her ownhousehold, and unconsciously gives orders to the servants in a dramaticmanner which is sometimes very amusing. So it was to hear her sing, "Mary, call the cattle home, " as if she were sending for the heavyartillery. She impresses me, however, as one of the most genuine ofwomankind; and her conversation is delightful, --so sympathetic, appreciative, full of strong good sense, and fresh original views. Shehas small mercy on newly-converted Catholics. "The faults of men, " shesaid, "are chiefly those of strength, but the faults of my own sex arisefrom weakness. " I happened to refer to Mr. Appleton's bust of Aurelius, and she said she was surprised he had purchased it, for it did not seemto her a satisfactory copy; a conclusion that I had been slowly coming tomyself. She has a bronze replica of Story's "Beethoven" which, like mostof his statues, is seated in a chair, and a rather realistic work, asMiss Cushman admitted. I judged from the conversation at table that sheis not treated with full respect by the English and American societyhere, although looked upon as a distinguished person. The reason for thismay be more owing to the social position of her relatives than her formerprofession. Mrs. Trelawney, the wife of Byron's eccentric friend, spokeof her to me a few days ago in terms of the highest esteem. She is agreat-hearted woman, and her presence would be a moral power anywhere. 

There is snobbishness enough in Rome--English, American, and Italian. Doolittle, who is the son of a highly respectable New York lawyer, wentto the hunt last week, as he openly confessed, to give himselfdistinction. A young lady was thrown from her horse, and he was the firstperson to come to her assistance. She thanked him for it at the time, buttwo days afterwards declined to recognize his acquaintance. This wasprobably because he was an artist, or rather sets up for one, for he ismore like a gentleman of leisure. 

MY LAST VISIT TO THE LONGFELLOWS. 

The Longfellow party will soon depart for Naples, and I went to theCostanzi to make my final call. Mr. Henry W. Longfellow was alone in hisparlor cutting the leaves of a large book. He said that his brother hadgone to the Pincion with the ladies, but would probably return soon. Everything this man says and does has the same grace and elevated tone ashis poetry. I took a chair and pretty soon he said to me, "How do youlike your books, Mr. S----? For my part, I prefer to cut the leaves of abook, for then I feel as if I had earned the right to read it. " I repliedthat I liked books with rough edges if they were printed on good paper;and then he said, "See this remarkable picture. "

I drew my chair closer to him, and he showed me a large colored chart ofHell and Purgatory, according to the theory that prevailed in Dante'stime. Satan with his three faces was represented in the centre, and onthe other side rose the Mount of Purgatory. 

"It is an Italian commentary, " he said, "on the _Divina Commedia_, "which had been sent to him that day; and he added that some of theinformation in it was of a very curious sort. 

I asked him if he could read Italian as easily as English. "Very nearly, "he replied; "but the fine points of Italian are as difficult as those ofGerman. "

He inquired how I and my friends spent our evenings in Rome, and I said, "In all kinds of study and reading, but just now P---- was at work onBrowning's 'Ring and the Book. '"

Mr. Longfellow laughed. "I do not wonder you call it work, " he said. "Itseems to me a story told in so many different ways may be something of acuriosity--not much of a poem. " [Footnote: I have since observed thatpoets as a class are not fair critics of poetry; for they are sure toprefer poetry which is like their own. This is true at least of Lowell, Emerson, or Matthew Arnold; but when I came to read "The Ring and theBook" I found that Longfellow's objection was a valid one. ]

I remarked that Rev. Mr. Longfellow had a decided partiality forBrowning. "Yes, " he said; "Sam likes him, and my friend John Weissprefers him to Tennyson. My objection is to his diction. I have alwaysfound the English language sufficient for my purpose, and have nevertried to improve on it. Browning's 'Saul' and 'The Ride from Ghent toAix' are noble poems. "

"Carlyle also, " I said, "has a peculiar diction. " "That is true, " hereplied, "but one can forgive anything to a writer who has so much totell us as Carlyle. Besides, he writes prose, and not poetry. "

He took up a photograph which was lying on the table and showed it to me, saying, "How do you like Miss Stebbins's 'Satan'?" I told him I hardlyknew how to judge of such a subject. Then we both laughed, and Mr. Longfellow said: "I wonder what our artists want to make Satans for. Idoubt if there is one of them that believes in the devil's existence. "

I noticed on closer examination that the features resembled those of MissStebbins herself. Mr. Longfellow looked at it closely, and said, "So itdoes, --somewhat. " Then I told him that I asked Warrington Wood how heobtained the expression for his head of Satan, and that he said he did itby looking in the glass and making up faces. Mr. Longfellow laughedheartily at this, saying, "I suppose Miss Stebbins did the same, and thatis how it came about. Our sculptors should be careful how they putthemselves in the devil's place. Wood has modelled a fine angel, and hisgroup (Michael and Satan) is altogether an effective one. "

Rev. Mr. Longfellow and the ladies now came in, and as it was late Ishook hands with them all. 

It is reported that when Mr. Longfellow met Cardinal Antonelli heremarked that Rome had changed less in the last fifteen years than otherlarge cities, and that Antonelli replied, "Yes; God be praised for it!"

_Feb. _ 25. --The elder Herbert [Footnote: The elder of two brothers, sons of an English artist. ] has painted a fine picture, and we all wentto look at it this afternoon, as it will be packed up to-morrow for theRoyal Exhibition at London. He has chosen for his subject the verse of aGreek poet, otherwise unknown:

 "Unyoke your oxen, you fellow, And take the coulter out of your plough; For you are ploughing amid the graves of men, And the dust you turn up is the dust of your ancestors. "

Herbert has substituted buffalos for oxen as being more picturesque, though they were not imported into Italy until some time in the MiddleAges. It is generally predicted that Herbert will become an R. A. Likehis father; but the subject is even more to his credit than his treatmentof it. It is discussed at the _Lapre_ whether this verse has beenequalled by Tennyson or Longfellow, and the conclusion was: "Not proven. "

_March_ 1. --The Longfellows are gone, and Rome is filling up with adifferent class of people who have come here to witness the fatiguingspectacles of Easter. One look at Michael Angelo's "Last Judgment" wouldbe worth the whole of it to me. 

P---- is said to have captured his young lady, and it seems probable, forI see very little of him now. He disappears after breakfast, rushesthrough his dinner, and returns late in the evenings. So all the worldchanges. 

CENTENNIAL CONTRIBUTIONS

THE ALCOTT CENTENNIAL

_Read at the Second Church, Copley Square, Boston, Wednesday, November29, 1899_

A hundred years ago A. Bronson Alcott was born, and thirty-three yearslater his daughter Louisa was born, happily on the same day of the year, as if for this very purpose, --that you might testify your appreciation ofthe good work they did in this world, at one and the same moment. It wasa fortunate coincidence, which we like to think of to-day, as itundoubtedly gave pleasure to Bronson Alcott and his wife sixty-sevenyears ago. 

How genuine were Mr. Alcott and his daughter, Louisa! "All else, " saysthe sage, "is superficial and perishable, save love and truth only. " Itis through the love and truth that was in these two that we still feeltheir influence as if they were living to-day. How well I recollect Mr. Alcott's first visit to my father's house at Medford, when I was a boy! Ihad the same impression of him then that the consideration of his lifemakes on me now, --as an exceptional person, but one greatly to betrusted. I could see that he was a man who wished well to me, and to allmankind; who had no intention of encroaching on my rights as anindividual in any way whatever; and who, furthermore, had no suspicion ofme as a person alien to himself. The criticism made of him by my youngbrother held good of him then and always, --that "he looked like one ofChrist's disciples. " His aspect was intelligently mild and gentle, unmixed with the slightest taint of worldly self-interest. 

He heard that Goethe had said, "We begin to sin as soon as we act;" buthe did not agree to this, and was determined that one man at least shouldlive in this world without sinning. He carried this plan out soconsistently that, as he once confessed to me, it brought him to theverge of starvation. Then he realized that in order to play our part inthe general order of things, --in order to obviate the perpetual tendencyin human affairs to chaos, --we are continually obliged to compromise. However, to the last he would never touch animal food. Others mightmurder sheep and oxen, but he, Bronson Alcott, would not be a partaker inwhat he considered a serious transgression of moral law. This brought himinto antagonism with the current of modern opinion, which considers manthe natural ruler of this earth, and that it is both his right and hisduty to remodel it according to his ideas of usefulness and beauty. 

It brought him into a life-long conflict with society, but how gallantly, how amiably he carried this on you all know. It cannot be said that hewas defeated, for his spirit was unconquerable. His purity of intentionalways received its true recognition; and wherever Bronson Alcott went hecollected the most earnest, high-minded people about him, and made themmore earnest, more high-minded by his conversation. 

How different was his daughter, Louisa, --the keen observer of life andmanners; the witty story-teller with the pictorial mind; alwayssympathetic, practical, helpful--the mainstay of her family, a pillar ofsupport to her friends; forgetting the care of her own soul in herinterest for the general welfare; heedless of her own advantage, andthereby obtaining for herself as a gift from heaven, the highest of alladvantages, and the greatest of all rewards!

And yet, with so wide a difference in the practical application of theirlives, the well-spring of Louisa's thought and the main-spring of heraction were identical with those of her father, and may be considered aninheritance from him. For the well-spring of her thought was_truth_, and the main-spring of her action was _love_. Therecan be no fine art, no great art, no art which is of service to mankind, which does not originate on this twofold basis. We are told that when shewas a young girl, on a voyage from Philadelphia to Boston, her facesuddenly lighted up with the true brightness of genius, as she said, "Ilove everybody in this whole world!" If, afterwards, a vein of satirecame to be mingled with this genial flow of human kindness, it was notLouisa's fault. 

In like manner, Bronson Alcott rested his argument for immortality on theground of the family affections. "Such strong ties, " he reasoned, "couldnot have been made merely to be broken. " Let us share his faith, andbelieve that they have not been broken. 

THE EMERSON CENTENNIAL

EMERSON AND THE GREAT POETS

_Read in the Town Hall, Concord, Mass. , July_ 23, 1903

On his first visit to England, Emerson was so continually besieged withinvitations that, as he wrote to Carlyle, answering the notes he received"ate up his day like a cherry;" and yet I have never met but oneEnglishman, Dr. John Tyndall, the chemist, who seemed to appreciateEmerson's poetry, and few others who might be said to appreciate the manhimself. Tyndall may have recognized Emerson's keen insight for thepoetry of science in such verses as:

 "What time the gods kept carnival; Tricked out in gem and flower; And in cramp elf and saurian form They swathed their too much power. "

A person who lacks some knowledge of geology would not be likely tounderstand this. Matthew Arnold and Edwin Arnold had no very high opinionof Emerson's poetry; and even Carlyle, who was Emerson's best friend inEurope, spoke of it in rather a disparaging manner. The "Mountain and theSquirrel" and several others have been translated into German, but notthose which we here consider the best of them. 

On the other hand, Dr. William H. Furness considered Emerson "heaven-highabove our other poets;" C. P. Cranch preferred him to Longfellow; Dr. F. H. Hedge looked upon him as the first poet of his time; Rev. SamuelLongfellow and Rev. Samuel Johnson held a very similar opinion, and DavidA. Wasson considered Emerson's "Problem" one of the great poems of thecentury. 

These men were all poets themselves, though they did not make aprofession of it, and in that character were quite equal to MatthewArnold, whose lecture on Emerson was evidently written under unfavorableinfluences. They were men who had passed through similar experiences tothose which developed Emerson's mind and character, and could thereforecomprehend him better than others. We all feel that Emerson's poetry issometimes too abstruse, especially in his earlier verses, and that itsmeaning is often too recondite for ready apprehension; but there arepassages in it so luminous and so far-reaching in their application thatonly the supreme poets of all time have equalled them. 

Homer's strength consists in his pictorial descriptions, but alsosometimes in pithy reflections on life and human nature; and it is inthese latter that Emerson often comes close to him. Most widely known ofHomer's epigrams is that reply of Telemachus to Antiochus in the Odyssey, which Pope has rendered:

 "True hospitality is in these terms expressed, Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest. "

To which the following couplet from "Woodnotes" seems almost like acontinuation:

 "Go where he will, the wise man is at home, His hearth the earth, --his hall the azure dome;"

The wise man carries rest and contentment in his own mental life, and isequally himself at the Corona d'Italia and on a western ranch; while theweakling runs back to earlier associations like a colt to its stable. ButHomer is also Emersonian at times. What could be more so than Achilles'smemorable saying, which is repeated by Ulysses in the Odyssey: "Morehateful to me than the gates of death is he who thinks one thing andspeaks another;" or this exclamation of old Laertes in the last book ofthe Odyssey: "What a day is this when I see my son and grandsoncontending in excellence!"

It seems a long way from Dante to Emerson, and yet there are Danteanpassages in "Woodnotes" and "Voluntaries. " They are not in Dante'smatchless measure, but they have much of his grace, and more of hisinflexible will. This warning against mercenary marriages might becompared to Dante's answer to the embezzling Pope Nicholas III. In CantoXIX. Of the Inferno:

 "He shall be happy in his love, Like to like shall joyful prove; He shall be happy whilst he woos, Muse-born, a daughter of the Muse. But if with gold she bind her hair, And deck her breast with diamond, Take off thine eyes, thy heart forbear, Though thou lie alone on the ground. The robe of silk in which she shines, It was woven of many sins; And the shreds Which she sheds In the wearing of the same, Shall be grief on grief, And shame on shame. "

There is a Spartan-like severity in this, but so was Dante very severe. It was his mission to purify the moral sense of his countrymen in an agewhen the Church no longer encouraged virtue; and Emerson no lessvigorously opposed the rank materialism of America in a period ofexceptional prosperity. 

The next succeeding lines are not exactly Dantean, but they are amongEmerson's finest, and worthy of any great poet. The "Pine Tree" says:

 "Heed the old oracles, Ponder my spells; Song wakes in my pinnacles When the wind swells. Soundeth the prophetic wind, The shadows shake on the rock behind, And the countless leaves of the pine are strings Tuned to the lay the wood-god sings. "

Again we are reminded of Dante in the opening passages of "Voluntaries":

 "Low and mournful be the strain, Haughty thought be far from me; Where a captive lies in pain Moaning by the tropic sea. Sole estate his sire bequeathed-- Hapless sire to hapless son-- Was the wailing song he breathed, And his chain when life was done. "

It is still more difficult to compare Emerson with Shakespeare, for theone was Puritan with a strong classic tendency, and the other anti-Puritan with a strong romantic tendency; but allowing for this and forShakespeare's universality, it may be affirmed that there are fewpassages in King Henry IV. And Henry V. Which take a higher rank thanEmerson's description of Cromwell:

 "He works, plots, fights 'mid rude affairs, With squires, knights, kings his strength compares; Till late he learned through doubt and fear, Broad England harbored not his peer: Unwilling still the last to own, The genius on his cloudy throne. "

Emerson learned a large proportion of his wisdom from Goethe, as hefrequently confessed, but where in Goethe's poetry will you find aquatrain of more penetrating beauty or wider significance than this from"Woodnotes":

 "Thou canst not wave thy staff in air Nor dip thy paddle in the lake, But it carves the bow of beauty there, And ripples in rhyme the oar forsake. "

Or this one from the "Building of the House"--considered metaphoricallyas the life structure of man:

 "She lays her beams in music, In music every one, To the cadence of the whirling world Which dances round the sun. "

There is a flash as of heaven's own lightning in some of his verses, andhis name has become a spell to conjure with. 

THE HAWTHORNE CENTENNIAL

HAWTHORNE AS ART CRITIC

When the "Marble Faun" was first published the art criticism in it, especially of sculptors and painters who were then living, created a dealof discussion, which has been revived again by the recent centennialcelebration. Hawthorne himself was the most perfect artist of his time asa man of letters, and the judgment of such a person ought to have itsvalue, even when it relates to subjects which are beyond the customarysphere of his investigations, and for which he has not made a seriouspreparation. In spite of the adage, "every man to his own trade, " it maybe fairly asserted that much of Hawthorne's art criticism takes rankamong the finest that has been written in any language. On the otherhand, there are instances, as might be expected, in which he has failedto hit the mark. 

These latter may be placed in two classes: Firstly, those in which heindicates a partiality for personal acquaintances; and secondly, those inwhich he has followed popular opinion at the time, or the opinion ofothers, without sufficient consideration. 

American society in Rome is always split up into various cliques, --whichis not surprising in view of the adventitious manner in which it comestogether there, --and in Hawthorne's time the two leading parties were theStory and the Crawford factions. The latter was a man of true genius, andnot only the best of American sculptors, but perhaps the greatestsculptor of the nineteenth century. His statue of Beethoven is in thegrand manner, and instinct with harmony, not only in attitude andexpression, but even to the arrangement of the drapery. Crawford's geniuswas only too well appreciated, and he was constantly carrying off theprizes of his art from all competitors. Consequently it was inevitablethat other sculptors should be jealous of him, and should unite togetherfor mutual protection. Story was a man of talent, and not a little of anamateur, but he was the gentlemanly entertainer of those Americans whocame to the city with good letters of introduction. Hawthorne evidentlyfell into Story's hands. He speaks slightingly of Crawford, and praisesStory's statue of Cleopatra in unqualified terms; and yet there seems tohave been an undercurrent of suspicion in his mind, for he says more thanonce in the "Marble Faun" that it would appear to be a failing withsculptors to speak unfavorably of the work of other sculptors, and this, of course, refers to those with whom he was acquainted, and whom hesometimes rated above their value. 

Warrington Wood, the best English sculptor of thirty years ago, praisedStory's "Cleopatra" to me, and I believe that Crawford also would havepraised it. Neither has Hawthorne valued its expression too highly--theexpression of worldly splendor incarnated in a beautiful woman on thetragical verge of an abyss. If she only were beautiful! Here thelimitations of the statue commence. Hawthorne says: "The sculptor had notshunned to give the full, Nubian lips, and other characteristics of theEgyptian physiognomy. " Here he follows the sculptor himself, and it isremarkable that a college graduate like William Story should have made sotransparent a mistake. Cleopatra was not an Egyptian at all. ThePtolemies were Greeks, and it is simply impossible to believe that theywould have allied themselves with a subject and alien race. This kind ofsmall pedantry has often led artists astray, and was peculiarly virulentduring the middle of the last century. The whole figure of Story's"Cleopatra" suffers from it. He says again: "She was draped from head tofoot in a costume minutely and scrupulously studied from that of ancientEgypt. " In fact, the body and limbs of the statue are so closely shroudedas to deprive the work of that sense of freedom of action and royalabandon which greets us in Shakespeare's and Plutarch's "Cleopatra. "Story might have taken a lesson from Titian's matchless "Cleopatra"in the Cassel Gallery, or from Marc Antonio's small woodcut ofRaphael's "Cleopatra. "

Hawthorne was an idealist, and he idealized the materials in Story'sstudio, for literary purposes, just as Shakespeare idealized Henry V. , who was not a magnanimous monarch at all, but a brutal, narrow-mindedfighter. The discourse on art, which he develops in this manner, formsone of the most valuable chapters in the "Marble Faun. " It assists us inreading it to remember that Story was not the model for Hawthorne's"Kenyon, " but a very different character. The passage in which hecriticises the methods of modern sculptors has often been quoted in laterwritings on that subject; and I suppose the whole brotherhood of artistswould rise up against me if I were to support Hawthorne's condemnation ofnude Venuses and "the guilty glimpses stolen at hired models. "

They are not necessarily guilty glimpses. To an experienced artist thecustomary study from a naked figure, male or female, is little more thanwhat a low-necked dress would be to others. Yet the instinct of the ageshrinks from this exposure. We can make pretty good Venuses, but wecannot look at them through the same mental and moral atmosphere as thecotemporaries of Scopas, or even with the same eyes that Michael Angelodid. We feel the difference between a modern Venus and an ancient one. There is a statue in the Vatican of a Roman emperor, of which every onesays that it ought to wear clothes; and the reason is because the facehas such a modern look. A raving Bacchante may be a good acquisition toan art museum, but it is out of place in a public library. A femalestatue requires more or less drapery to set off the outlines of thefigure and to give it dignity. We feel this even in the finest Greekwork--like the Venus of Cnidos. 

In this matter Hawthorne certainly exposes his Puritanic education, andhe also places too high a value on the carving of buttonholes andshoestrings by Italian workmen. Such things are the fag-ends of statuary. 

His judgment, however, is clear and convincing in regard to the tintedEves and Venuses of Gibson. Whatever may have been the ancient practicein this respect, Gibson's experiment proved a failure. Nobody likes thosestatues; and no other sculptor has since followed Gibson's example. 

Hawthorne overestimates the Apollo Belvidere, as all the world did atthat time; but his single remark concerning Canova is full ofsignificance: "In these precincts which Canova's genius was not quite ofa character to render sacred, though it certainly made them interesting, "etc. 

He goes to the statue gallery in the Vatican and returns with a feelingof dissatisfaction, and justly so, for the vast majority of statues thereare merely copies, and many of them very bad copies. He recognizes theLaocoon for what it really is, the abstract type of a Greek tragedy. Henotices what has since been proved by severe archaeological study, thatmost of the possible types and attitudes of marble statues had beenexhausted by the Greeks long before the Christian era. Miss Hosmer'sZenobia was originally a Ceres, and even Crawford's Orpheus stronglyresembles a figure in the Niobe group at Florence. 

But Hawthorne's description of the Faun of Praxiteles stands by itself. As a penetrative analysis of a great sculptor's motive it is unequalledby any modern writer on art, and this is set forth with a grace anddelicacy worthy of Praxiteles himself. The only criticism which one feelsinclined to make of it is that it _too_ Hawthornish, too modern andelaborate; but is not this equally true of all modern criticism? Wecannot return to the simplicity of the Greeks any more than we can totheir customs. If Hawthorne would seem to discover too much in thisstatue, which is really a poor Roman copy, he has himself given us ananswer to this objection. In Volume II. , Chapter XII. , he says: "Let thecanvas glow as it may, you must look with the eye of faith, or itshighest excellence escapes you. There is always the necessity of helpingout the painter's art with your own resources of sensibility andimagination. " His cursory remarks on Raphael are not less pertinent andpenetrating. Of technicalities he knew little, but no one, perhaps, hassounded such depths of that clairvoyant master's nature, and so broughtto light the very soul of him. 

The "Marble Faun" may not be the most perfect of Hawthorne's works, butit is much the greatest, --an epic romance, which can only be comparedwith Goethe's "Wilhelm Meister. "

HAWTHORNE AND HAMLET. 

_A Reply to Professor Bliss Perry. _

To compare a person in real life with a character in fiction is notuncommon, but it is more conducive to solidity of judgment to compare theliving with the living, and the imaginary with the imaginary. The chiefdifficulty, however, in Hamlet's case, is that he only appears before usas a person acting in an abnormal mental condition. The mysterious deathof his father, the suspicion of his mother's complicity in crime, whichtakes the form of an apparition from beyond the grave, is too much of astrain for his tender and impressible nature. His mental condition hasbecome well known to physicians as _cerebral hyperaemia_, and allhis strange speeches and eccentric actions are to be traced to thissource; and it is for this reason that the dispute has arisen as towhether Hamlet was not partially insane. If the strain continued longenough he would no doubt have become insane. 

As well as we can penetrate through this adventitious _nimbus_, wediscover Hamlet to be a person of generous, princely nature, high-mindedand chivalrous. He is cordial to every one, but always succeeds inasserting the superiority of his position, even in his conversation withHoratio. If he is mentally sensitive he shows no indication of it. Henever appears shy or reserved, but on the contrary, confident and evenbold. This may be owing to the mental excitement under which he labors;but the best critics from Goethe down have accredited him with a lack ofresolution; and it is this which produces the catastrophe of the play. Hemust have realized, as we all do, that after the scene of the players inwhich he "catches the conscience of a king, " his life was in greatdanger. He should either have organized a conspiracy at once, or fled tothe court of Fortinbras; but he allows events to take their course, andis controlled by them instead of shaping his own destiny. Instead ofplanning and acting he philosophizes. 

Of Hawthorne, on the contrary, we know nothing except as a person in aperfectly normal condition. His wife once said that she had rarely knownhim to be indignant, and never to lose his temper. He was the mostsensitive of men, but he also possessed an indomitable will. It was onlyhis terrible determination that could make his life a success. Emerson, who had little sympathy with him otherwise, always admired the perfectequipoise of his nature. A man could not be more thoroughly himself; but, such a reticent, unsociable character as Hawthorne could never be used asthe main-spring of a drama, for he would continually impede the progressof the plot. A dramatic character needs to be a talkative person; onethat either acts out his internal life, or indirectly exposes it. Hawthorne's best friends do not appear to have known what his realopinions were. This perpetual reserve, this unwillingness to assimilatehimself to others, may have been necessary for the perfection of his art. 

The greater a writer or an artist, the more unique he is, --the moresharply defined from all other members of his class. Hawthorne certainlydid not resemble Scott, Dickens, or Thackeray, either in his life or hiswork. He was perhaps more like Auerbach than any other writer of thenineteenth century, but still more like Goldsmith. The "Vicar ofWakefield" and the "House of the Seven Gables" are the two perfectromances in the English tongue; and the "Deserted Village, " thoughwritten in poetry, has very much the quality of Hawthorne's shortersketches. "And tales much older than the ale went round" is closely akinto Hawthorne's humor; yet there was little outward similarity betweenthem, for Goldsmith was often gay and sometimes frivolous; and althoughHawthorne never published a line of poetry he was the more poetic of thetwo, as Goldsmith was the more dramatic. He also resembled Goldsmith inhis small financial difficulties. 

In his persistent reserve, in the seriousness of his delineation, and inhis indifference to the opinions of others, Hawthorne reminds us somewhatof Michael Angelo; but he is one of the most unique figures among theworld's geniuses.